Free First Evil by R.L. Stine

him at the same time.
    The ball dribbled out of Chip’s hand as they covered him, pulled him down, and piled on top of him.
    Players scrambled for the ball.
    Whistles blew.
    The stadium remained strangely silent.
    â€œThey buried him!” Bobbi heard Kimmy say.
    Buried him.
    Bobbi moved closer to the sidelines, stepping in front of the players’ bench. The Winstead players wereslowly climbing off Chip, making their way triumphantly to their bench across the field.
    Buried him. Buried him.
    Bobbi suddenly felt cold all over.
    The tacklers were all gone now.
    But Chip, sprawled flat on his back, wasn’t getting up.

Chapter 13

“I Was Dead”
    B obbi showered and changed quickly into a green turtleneck sweater and a short, straight black skirt, which she pulled over green tights. She brushed her hair, frowning at herself in the water-spotted locker-room mirror.
    Feeling excited, she made her way out of the room, calling out good night to the few girls who were still there. As she half-walked, half-jogged back outside to the football team’s locker room, she relived that second-quarter nightmare, seeing the scene repeat in her mind.
    There was Chip frozen in place. And there were the Winstead tacklers swarming over him. And there was Chip out cold on the ground, sprawled so flat, so still.
    And then there came the stretcher. The worried coach and players forming a tight circle around theirfallen quarterback. And then Chip being carried away. Under the bright—too bright—stadium lights, Bobbi saw his hands dangling limply, lifelessly, over the sides of the stretcher, saw that his eyes were closed, his head tilted at such a strange angle.
    He’s dead, she thought.
    It was so silent in the stadium. So unearthly silent.
    We’re all dead. All.
    But then whistles blew. The game resumed.
    â€œChasner injured on the play,” the stadium announcer informed everyone. Old news already.
    The voices came back. The cheers and shouts. The band revived, blared out the Tigers’ fight song, the tubas punctuating each beat with a raucous blat.
    Bobbi, feeling shaken and stunned, called out the cheers. Somehow, she knew, she had to keep going.
    But is he okay? she wondered.
    Is he okay?
    Winstead scored quickly. The Tigers came back with Overman, Chip’s backup. They tried some running plays that didn’t work. After three plays, they had to punt.
    Again Bobbi heard scattered boos. The cheerleaders across the field were leaping high, shouting with renewed enthusiasm.
    Is he okay? Is Chip okay?
    The game lost all interest for her. She called out cheers, kept the routines going, all on automatic pilot.
    Word on the bench was that Chip had probably suffered a mild concussion and was feeling fine now. Everyone was very relieved.
    She saw that he didn’t come out for the second half.
    Did they take him to a hospital? Bobbi wondered. Is he still in the locker room? Does he still expect me to meet him?
    The Tigers lost twenty-one to six.
    And now here she was, nervously waiting in the student parking lot, in front of the door to the team dressing room. The stadium lights dimmed, then went out, casting the stadium, the parking lot, the entire back of the school, into sudden night.
    As if someone had turned off the sun, Bobbi thought.
    As her eyes adjusted to the new darkness, she saw Debra and Ronnie heading across the parking lot. Involved in conversation, they didn’t notice her. Bobbi watched them disappear around the corner, both of them talking animatedly, gesturing with their hands.
    Strange that Kimmy isn’t with them, she thought. Maybe Kimmy had a date.
    The locker-room door swung open. Bobbi recognized Dave Johnson, the running back. He came bouncing out, carrying a small knapsack, his hair still wet from the shower.
    â€œIs Chip—Is he in there?” Bobbi stammered.
    â€œYeah. He’s coming out,” Johnson told her.
    â€œIs he okay?” Bobbi asked.
    But