The Nightmarys - By Dan Poblocki Page 0,32

“You came. I’m so glad.”

“Yeah, I skipped swim practice tonight.”

Mrs. Chen looked at Abigail and struggled to hold on to her spontaneous smile.

“This is … Abigail,” said Timothy. “She wanted to see Stuart too.”

“Abigail?” said Mrs. Chen. She’d obviously heard the name before. That smile became more of a struggle. “It’s … nice to meet you. Please, come in.”

Stuart was sitting in his bed, hugging his knees, staring at the blanket. A large snapdragon bouquet sat on the side table. Mrs. Chen made her way to the table, conspicuously silent, and began to fiddle with the arrangement. Timothy paused in the doorway. When Stuart saw Timothy, he burst into tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. You were right! I was such a fart-slap.” Mrs. Chen flinched, pretending not to hear that.

Timothy froze. Abigail was hidden several steps behind him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” said Timothy.

“Yes, I do. You don’t understand. She’s going to come back if I don’t. And I don’t want to think about what she’ll bring next time.”

Mrs. Chen rested her palm on his forehead. She looked nervously toward the door, as if contemplating calling the nurse. “Now, Stuart. Timothy came to see you. Calm down. Okay?”

“Who …,” Timothy began, “who’s going to come back?”

Mrs. Chen threw him a look, as if to say, Please don’t start. But Timothy couldn’t help it. He needed to know.

“The girl.”

“What girl?”

Tears were streaming down Stuart’s face now. “Please. You have to forgive me. That’s the only way to make it stop.”

Mrs. Chen came toward Timothy and pulled him away from the bed. She whispered, “He’s been having these delusions since they brought him here. They’re running tests to see what might be causing them.”

“They’re not delusions,” said Stuart, from his bed.

“Can we …,” Timothy began, “can I have a second alone with Stuart? I think I might be able to help.”

Mrs. Chen glanced at Abigail, who was standing in the hallway, still outside Stuart’s field of vision. Abigail held her hands in front of herself. She looked terrified. “I suppose a short time alone will be all right,” said Stuart’s mother hesitantly. “But if he starts throwing things at … the corner of the room, please call me immediately.”

“The corner of the room?” said Timothy.

Mrs. Chen shook her head, then left and closed the door behind her. Once the latch clicked, Stuart leaned forward again. “You came,” he said. “That has to mean something.” His pupils were large, as if he was sitting in a room much darker than this one.

“Yeah,” said Timothy. “Well, I wanted to make sure you’re okay. I saw Coach Thom pull you out of the water.”

“You’re here,” said Stuart, ignoring what Timothy was saying. “Everything’s going to go back to the way it was before, now. Right?”

“Before?” said Timothy, sitting on the end of the bed. “Before what?”

“Before she came,” Stuart whispered.

“Who?”

“Abigail.” He said her name so harshly Timothy felt a hole open in his stomach. What would Stuart do when he found out she was standing in the hallway?

Still, Timothy answered, “Everything’s exactly the same as it used to be.” It felt weird lying to Stuart, but Stuart looked like he needed to be lied to. “I’m here. It’s all good. Everything is going to be fine now.” Stuart smiled a true smile. “Hey, I have a favor to ask.”

Stuart leaned away, cautious. “What is it?”

“Tell me what you’ve being seeing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me about … your monster.”

Timothy was surprised at how easily Stuart opened up. Randy Weiss’s story had been right. Stuart believed he’d seen the Wraith Wars claw monster at the bottom of the pool, that it had dragged him under.

The first night in the hospital, he began to hear a voice from underneath his bed. It told him that his “accident” had happened because of what he’d done at the museum. Abigail was angry at him now—a bad thing. The next morning, after he told a nurse about the voice, the doctors became even more concerned.

“They think I’m crazy,” said Stuart, “but I know I’m not.”

Timothy nodded. “I know you’re not either.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve known you forever,” said Timothy, with finality. “I mean, I’ve always thought you were a little weird, but crazy? Come on.”

Stuart smiled weakly. Then he continued his story.

The night before, Stuart lay awake, expecting the voice to return. Sometime after midnight, he heard a noise at the foot of his bed. He sat up and whispered, “Who’s there?” Slowly, a tall, skinny girl