Free Welcome to the Dark House by Laurie Faria Stolarz

e-mailing me. For whatever reason, despite many attempts to
     unsubscribe, I’m on his e-newsletter list, which means I’m constantly getting updates
     about his numerous contests.
     
    ME
    Does the Nightmare Elf even have an e-newsletter?
     
    Ivy lets out an exhausted sigh and then flops back onto the bed, making it impossible
     for me to stay focused. I put my mental video camera away, zeroing in on the silhouette
     of her body beneath the thin cotton sundress—her curvy hips, her narrow waist, and
     the soft mounds of her chest. It’s almost too much to handle, and I don’t quite know
     where to look.
    “Ivy?” I ask, after several awkward seconds.
    Her eyes are wide. She stares toward the open window. Her chest moves up and down
     with each breath, accentuating the sweet layer of perspiration on her skin. “What?”
     she asks, rolling onto her side to face me.
    But I’ve suddenly forgotten the question.
    She props herself up on her elbow, brushing up against something beneath the coverlet,
     by the pillow.
    “What is it?” I move closer to get a better look.
    Ivy pulls a cell phone from beneath the bedsheet. Like Taylor’s luggage, the case
     is leopard print too.
    “I assume that belongs to Taylor?” I ask.
    Ivy’s mouth falls open. “Why would she go for a walk and not take her cell phone with
     her?”
    “Maybe she forgot it. I forget my cell all the time.”
    “Yes, but Midge said that Taylor called her.”
    “She probably used a pay phone.”
    “I think we should tell the others,” she says.
    “And I think you need to relax. Do you want some more tea?”
    Instead of answering, she pockets the cell phone and goes for the door, leaving me
     even more curious about her.

I T’S JUST AFTER DINNER , and while Shayla, Garth, and Frankie snoop around in the living room, I hang back
     in the doorway, staring at the phone on the desk.
    “Come on,” Shayla calls out to Garth, pointing inside a media cabinet.
    Meanwhile Frankie checks out a photo album. “Anyone want to see a picture of Blake
     at prom?”
    They continue to look around. And then Shayla moves into the adjoining kitchen, where
     she lets out a screech.
    Frankie drops the album to go see what happened. I move closer too, leaning over the
     kitchen island.
    Shayla whimpers, like she’s injured. There’s something dark and hairy in her arms.
     Its body coils against her skin.
    “I’m bleeding,” she whines.
    “Help her!” I cry out.
    Frankie tries to assess the situation, but Shayla’s crouched on the floor now, her
     body angled away from him. Garth steps closer and pushes Frankie out of the way. He
     grabs Shayla, pulls her up, spins her around, and finally we’re able to see.
    A rat.
    A huge, hairy rat.
    Its teeth are crusted red. Its mouth opens and closes. “Eek!” it screeches. Or rather,
     Shayla screeches.
    I realize then it’s a puppet—the most realistic rat puppet I’ve ever seen. Shayla’s
     hand is poked into the belly, making the mouth gape open.
    “Are you kidding?” Garth laughs. “Where did you find that?”
    “In the sink, next to the bloody rubber arm sticking out from the disposal. And, yes,
     obviously I am kidding—kidding you, that is.” Her eyes are teary with laughter.
    “Payback,” Frankie declares. “That’s what this calls for, so you’d better watch your
     back.”
    “I guess three summers at performing arts camp paid off,” shesays.
    Frankie grabs the rat and chases Shayla with it, making like it’s going to bite her.
     Garth joins in too. He plucks the bloody arm from the sink, following right after
     them—out of the kitchen and into another room.
    Leaving me alone.
    I look back at the phone, and then take a seat at the desk. I start to dial, feeling
     the urge to pull just a few hairs at the nape of my neck. But I push the last digit
     before I do.
    The number connects. I listen to the phone ring, picturing the receiver on the night
     table in my parents’ room, sitting