第 11 页

thinking. How could she have been so stupid as to have freaked out over this? A natural disaster

explained everything. And when Cassie had asked her grandmother about the mound at the cemetery last

night, the old woman had looked at her, blinking, and finally said, was there a mound at the old burying

ground? If there was, it might be some sort of bunker-a place for storing ammunition in one of the old

wars. Again, a simple explanation.

Laurel and Melanie came in and took seats in front of Cassie and Diana. Cassie took a deep breath.

"Melanie, I went back to the cemetery yesterday to look for your crystal-but I still couldn't find it. I'm

sorry; I guess it's gone for good," she said.

Melanie's gray eyes were thoughtful and serious. "Cassie, I told you that night it didn't matter. The only

thing 1 wish is that you and Adam and Nick and Deborah hadn't run off without the rest of us. It was

dangerous."

"I know," Cassie said softly. "But right then it didn't seem dangerous-or at least, it did, but 1 didn't have

time to think about how dangerous it really was. I just wanted to find whatever killed Jeffrey." She saw

Melanie and Diana trade a glance; Melanie surprised and Diana rather smug.

time to think about how dangerous it really was. I just wanted to find whatever killed Jeffrey." She saw

Melanie and Diana trade a glance; Melanie surprised and Diana rather smug.

Diana sobered. "Yes. But it's all ridiculous, you know. Sally would never do anything like that, and as for

Faye . . . well, she may be difficult at times, but she certainly isn't capable of killing anybody."

Cassie opened her mouth, and found herself looking at Melanie, whose gray eyes now reflected

something like head-shaking cynicism. She looked back at Diana quickly and said, "No, I'm sure you're

right," but she wasn't. Melanie was right; Diana was too trusting, too naive. Nobody knew better than

Cassie just what Faye was capable of.

Ms. Lanning was starting class. Laurel and Melanie turned around, and Cassie opened her book and

tried to keep her mind on history.

That entire school week was strange. Jeffrey's death had done something to the outsider students; it was

different than the other deaths. Kori had been a Club member, or practically, and the principal hadn't

been very popular. But Jeffrey was a football hero, one of their own, a guy just about everyone liked and

admired. His death upset people in a different way.

The whispers started quietly. But by Wednesday Sally was saying openly that Faye and the Club had

killed Jeffrey. Tension was building between Club members and the rest of the school. Only Diana

seemed unaware of it, looking shocked when Melanie suggested that the Circle might not be welcome at

Jeffrey's funeral. "We have to go," she said, and they did go, except Faye.

As for Faye . . . Faye spent the week quietly seething. She hadn't forgiven Suzan and Deborah for

helping to get Cassie ready for the dance, she hadn't forgiven Nick for snubbing her, and she hadn't

forgiven the rest of them for witnessing her humiliation. The only people she wasn't furious with were the

Henderson brothers. When Jeffrey's death was mentioned, she looked hard and secretive.

Every day Cassie expected to get a phone call with some bizarre new demand, some new blackmail.

But, for the moment, Faye seemed to be leaving her alone.

It was Friday afternoon, car-pooling home after school, that Laurel mentioned the Halloween dance.

"Of course you're coming, Cassie," she said as they dropped Cassie off at Number Twelve. "You have

to. And you've got plenty of time, two weeks, to think of somebody to ask."

Cassie walked into the house with her legs feeling weak. Another dance? She couldn't believe it.

One thing she knew: It couldn't be anything like the last one. She wouldn't let it be. She'd do what Laurel

said, she'd find somebody to go with-and then she'd just stick with him the entire time. Somebody,

anybody. Sean, maybe. Cassie winced. Well, maybe not anybody. Starved for attention as he was, Sean

might end up being a problem himself. She might never get rid of him.

No, Cassie needed some guy to be an escort and nothing else. Some guy who would absolutely not get

interested in her, under any circumstances. Some guy who'd be completely indifferent. . .

A vision flashed through her mind, of mahogany eyes, rich and deep and absolutely dispassionate. Nick.

Nick didn't even like girls. And Faye wouldn't care; Faye wasn't even speaking to Nick anymore. Nick

would be safe-but would he ever want to go with her to a dance?

Only one way to find out, she thought. Nick was Deborah's cousin, and lived with her parents at Number

Two Crowhaven Road. The peach-colored house was run-down, and the garage was usually open,

showing the car Nick was continually working on.

Only one way to find out, she thought. Nick was Deborah's cousin, and lived with her parents at Number

Two Crowhaven Road. The peach-colored house was run-down, and the garage was usually open,

showing the car Nick was continually working on.

When Cassie walked in late that afternoon, Nick was bent over the workbench, his dark hair shining

faintly in the light of the naked bulb hanging from the rafters. He was doing something with a screwdriver

to a part. "Hi," Cassie said.

Nick straightened up. He didn't look surprised to see her, but then Nick never looked surprised. He

didn't look particularly happy to see her either. He was wearing a T-shirt so covered with grease stains

that it was difficult to read the slogan underneath, but faintly Cassie could make out the odd words

Friends don't let friends drive Chevys.

Cassie cleared her throat. Just walk in and ask him, she'd thought-but now that was proving to be

impossible. After a moment or two of staring at her, waiting, Nick looked back down at the workbench.

"I was just walking to Diana's," Cassie said brightly. "And I thought I'd stop by and say hi." "Hi," Nick

said, without looking up. Cassie's mouth was dry. What had ever made her think she could ask a guy to

a dance? So what if lots of guys had wanted to dance with her last time; that had probably just been a

fluke. And Nick certainly hadn't been hanging around her.

She tried to make her voice sound casual. "So what are you doing ..." She had meant to ask "for the

Halloween dance" but her throat closed up and she panicked. Instead she finished in a squeak, "... right

now?"

"Rebuilding the carburetor," Nick replied briefly.

"Oh," Cassie said. She searched her mind desperately for some other topic of conversation. "Um . . ."

She picked up a little metal ball from the workbench. "So-what's this for?"

"The carburetor."

"Oh." Cassie looked at the little ball. "Uh, Nick, you know, I was just wondering"-she started to set the

ball back down-"whether you might, um, want to-oops."

The ball had shot out of her sweaty fingers like a watermelon seed, landing with a ping somewhere under

the workbench and disappearing. Cassie looked up, horrified, and Nick slammed down the screwdriver

and swore.

"I'm sorry-honest, Nick, I'm sorry-"

"What the hell did you have to touch it for? What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I . . ." Cassie looked at his wrathful face and the last of her courage left her. "I'm sorry, Nick," she

gasped again, and she fled.

Out of the garage and down the driveway. Without thinking she turned right when she got to the street,

heading back for her own house. She didn't want to go to Diana's, anyway- Adam was probably there.

She walked up Crowhaven Road, her cheeks still burning and her heart thumping.

It had been a stupid idea from the beginning. Suzan was right; Nick was an iguana. He didn't have any

normal human emotions. Cassie hadn't expected him to want to go to the dance with her in the first

place; she'd just thought maybe he wouldn't mind, because he'd been nice to her in the boiler room that

night. But now he'd shown his true colors. She was just glad she hadn't actually asked him before she'd

dropped the ball-that would have been the ultimate embarrassment.

normal human emotions. Cassie hadn't expected him to want to go to the dance with her in the first

place; she'd just thought maybe he wouldn't mind, because he'd been nice to her in the boiler room that

night. But now he'd shown his true colors. She was just glad she hadn't actually asked him before she'd

dropped the ball-that would have been the ultimate embarrassment.

The sun had just set and the color was draining out of everything. It gets dark so early these days, she

was thinking, when the roar of a motor caught her attention.

It was a black Suzuki Samurai with the license plate FLIP ME. The Henderson brothers were in it, Doug

driving too fast. As soon as they spotted her they pulled over and stuck their heads out the windows,

shouting comments.

"Hey, what's a nice girl like you doing in a neighborhood like this?" "You wanna party, Cassie?" "C'mon,

baby, we can show you a good time!" They were just harassing her for the fun of it, but something made

Cassie look up into Doug's tilted blue-green eyes and say nervily, "Sure."

They stared at her, nonplussed. Then Chris burst into laughter.

"Cool; get in," he said, and opened the passenger side door.

"Wait a minute," Doug began, frowning, but Cassie was already getting in, Chris helping her up the high

step. She didn't know what had possessed her. But she was feeling wild and irresponsible, which she

guessed was the best way to be feeling when you were with the Henderson brothers.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they roared off. Chris and Doug looked at each other cagily.

"Gonna buy some pumpkins for Halloween,"

Chris said.

"Buy pumpkins?"

"Well, not buy, exactly," Chris temporized.

For some reason, at this particular moment, that struck Cassie as funny. She began to giggle. Chris

grinned.

"We're goin' down to Salem," he explained. "They have the best pumpkin patches to raid. And if we get

done early enough we can hide in the Witch Dungeon and scare the tourists."

The Witch Dungeon? thought Cassie, but all she said was, "Okay."

The floor of the minijeep was littered with bottles, bits of pipe, rags, Dunkin' Donut bags, unraveling

cassette tapes, and raunchy magazines. Chris was explaining to Cassie about how to construct a pipe

bomb when they reached the pumpkin patch.

"Okay, now, shut up," Doug said. "We've gotta go around back." He turned the lights and engine off and

cruised.

The pumpkin patch was a huge fenced enclosure full of pumpkins, some piled up, some scattered across

the ground. Doug stopped the Samurai just behind a large pile by the booth where you paid for the

pumpkins. It was fully dark now, and the light from the enclosure didn't quite reach them.

"Over the fence," Doug mouthed, and to Cassie: "Stay here." Cassie was glad he didn't want her to climb

it; there was barbed wire at the top. Chris laid his jacket on it and the two boys swarmed over easily.

"Over the fence," Doug mouthed, and to Cassie: "Stay here." Cassie was glad he didn't want her to climb

it; there was barbed wire at the top. Chris laid his jacket on it and the two boys swarmed over easily.

What on earth do they want with all of these, anyway? Cassie wondered dizzily as she staggered back

with armload after armload. Can you make a bomb out of a pumpkin?

"Okay," Doug hissed at last. "That's enough." He swarmed back over the fence. Chris started to climb

over too, but just at that moment there was a frenzied barking and a large black dog with wiry legs

appeared.

"Help!" squawked Chris. He was caught hanging over the top of the fence. The Doberman had him by

the boot and was worrying it furiously, snarling. A man exploded out of the booth and began yelling at

them and shaking his fist.

"Help! Help!" Chris shouted. He started to giggle and then yelped, "Ow! He's takin' my foot off! Ow!

Help!"

Doug, his strange slanted eyes glittering wildly, rushed back to the jeep. "Gonna kill that dog," he said

breathlessly. "Where's that army pistol?"

"Hold on, Max! Hold him till 1 get my shotgun!" the man was yelling.

"Ow! He's chewin' on me! It hurts, man!" Chris bellowed.

"Don't kill him," Cassie pleaded frantically, catching Doug by the arm. All she needed was for him and the

pumpkin man to start shooting at each other. Doug continued ransacking the litter on the jeep's floor.

"Don't kill the dog! We can just give him this," Cassie said, suddenly inspired. She snatched up a Dunkin'

Donuts bag with several stale doughnuts in it. While Doug was still looking for a gun, she ran back to the

fence.

"Here, doggy, nice doggy," she gasped. The dog snarled. Chris continued bellowing; the pumpkin man

continued yelling. "Good dog," Cassie told the Doberman desperately. "Good boy, here, look,

doughnuts, see? Want a doughnut?" And then, surprising herself completely, she shouted, "Come here!

NOW."

At the same time, she did-she didn't know what. She did . . . something . . . with her mind. She could feel

it going out of her like a blast of heat. It hit the dog and the dog let go of Chris's foot, hind legs collapsing.

Belly almost on the ground, it slunk over to the fence and crouched.

Cassie felt tall and terrible. She said, "Good dog," and tossed the doughnut bag over the fence. Chris was