Free The Second Horror by R. L. Stine Page B

Mrs. McCloy hurried to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. Brandt sat down beside Abbie. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” he began. “But someone knew that you would have an accident. Someone predicted it.” “Huh?” Abbie sat up straight. “Who? Who predicted it?” “I don’t know,” Brandt replied uneasily. “One of the twins who used to live here—her name was Cally—kept a diary. I found it in the attic. But sometimes when I look at it—” He hesitated. “What?” Abbie asked. “Go on, Brandt.” “There are new entries,” Brandt told her. “I know it sounds crazy. But someone is still writing in it. And the last entry predicted that you would get hurt.” “I told you this house was evil!” Abbie exclaimed, close to tears. Brandt put his arms around her, trying to calm her. “It could have been an accident,” he said in a soothing voice, though he didn’t believe it himself. “Or just a coincidence.” “It wasn’t,” Abbie declared. “I know it wasn’t.” “Anyway, you’re okay,” Brandt said. “You weren’t really hurt, right?” Abbie sniffed. “I guess not. But someone will get hurt here, Brandt. The stories about this house must be true.” Brandt held his arms around her but said nothing. It could have been an accident, he told himself again. James is buried. The ghost is gone. The house is no longer haunted. Right?
    Brandt sat up as the bell rang, ending school. He rubbed his eyes. Then slowly followed the other kids out of the classroom. Well, I made it through another day, he thought. But if I don’t get some sleep soon, I’ll start dozing off in class. He had spent another sleepless night. The footsteps in the attic had returned. He lay staring up at the ceiling, gripping the blankets tightly, listening. Listening all night. With a weary sigh, he stood at his locker, daydreaming. He heard a basketball being bounced on the hard floor. “McCloy. I want to talk to you.” Brandt raised his eyes to discover Jon Burks beside him. “Listen, Jon,” Brandt said, “I don’t have much time—” Jon tucked the basketball under one arm and placed his other hand on Brandt’s shoulder. “What’s up, man?” he asked, grinning at Brandt. “Not much,” Brandt replied, edging away. “I’ve got to get going, Jon.” Glancing down the hall, Brandt noticed that all the other kids had left. “How’s the bad shoulder?” Jon asked, ignoring Brandt’s impatience. He slapped the shoulder. “How’s that feel? Not too bad?” His grin remained frozen on his face. “See you later,” Brandt uttered. He turned and headed away. But Jon kept up with him. “Hey, what’s up with you and Jinny?” Brandt stopped short. “Why don’t you ask her?” he snapped. Jon’s face turned bright red. He leaned menacingly toward Brandt. “Don’t mess with me,” he muttered. He bumped Brandt’s shoulder hard. Brandt knew he should back away. But he never could take the easy way out. “Watch out for those fouls, Jon,” he said sharply.
    Jon’s face turned even redder. “Jinny and you—it isn’t going to happen,” he said softly. He bounced the ball against the wall, just missing Brandt’s head. Then he bounced it again. “You’ve got to remember one thing,” he told Brandt, his grin returning. “You bruise real easily.” Brandt didn’t reply. His eyes were staring over Jon’s shoulder. He saw something in the empty hall. A dark shape. A shadow. It hovered behind Jon. Jon seemed unaware of the presence behind him. But Brandt saw it. He gaped at it in terror. It’s back, Brandt realized. Whoever it is—whatever it is—it’s following me. Jon’s threats meant nothing to Brandt now. He sensed that the shadow figure was far more dangerous than Jon could ever be. I can’t let Jon leave me, Brandt thought. I’ve got to stick with him until this thing goes away. “Maybe you bruise easily too,” he told Jon. “Want to find out? Want to see who bruises the most