Fasten Your Seat Belts! "Dave?" Amanda cried, pounding his shoulder. "Dave—why are you doing that? Stop! Stop it—please!" Dave continued to sway, his expression blank, his eyes unblinking. "Dave—please! Please!" Amanda shrieked helplessly. Suddenly Dave pitched forward. His forehead slammed hard against the steering wheel. "Dave!" Amanda screamed. She cradled his head in her hands and tried to pull him up. But when she saw his face, she let go. i Books by R. L. Stine Fear Street THE NEW GIRL THE SURPRISE PARTY THE OVERNIGHT MISSING THE WRONG NUMBER THE SLEEPWALKER HAUNTED HALLOWEEN PARTY THE STEPSISTER SKI WEEKEND THE FIRE GAME LIGHTS OUT THE SECRET BEDROOM THE KNIFE PROM QUEEN FIRST DATE THE BEST FRIEND THE CHEATER SUNBURN THE NEW BOY THE DARE BAD DREAMS DOUBLE DATE THE THRILL CLUB ONE EVIL SUMMER The Fear Street Saga THE BETRAYAL THE SECRET THE BURNING Fear Street Cheerleaders THE FIRST EVIL THE SECOND EVIL THE THIRD EVIL Fear Street Super Chillers PARTY SUMMER SILENT NIGHT GOODNIGHT KISS BROKEN HEARTS SILENT NIGHT 2 THE DEAD LIFEGUARD Other Novels HOW I BROKE UP WITH ERNIE PHONE CALLS CURTAINS BROKEN DATE Available from ARCHWAY Paperbacks For orders other than by individual consumers, Archway Books grants a discount on the purchase of 10 or more copies of single titles for special markets or premium use. For further details, please write to the Vice-President of Special Markets, Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020. For information on how individual consumers can place orders, please write to Mail Order Department, Paramount Publishing, 200 Old Tappan Road, Old Tkppan, NJ 07675. ii rmymr- Qnefril Summer A Parachute Press Book AN ARCHWAY PAPERBACK Published by POCKET BOOKS New York London Toronto Sydney Tokyo Singapore iii The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized, if you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as "unsold and destroyed." Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this "stripped book." This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. AN ARCHWAY PAPERBACK Original An Archway Paperback published by POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 Copyright © 1994 by Parachute Press, Inc. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 ISBN: 0-671-78596-6 First Archway Paperback printing July 1994 10 98765432 1 FEAR STREET is a registered trademark of Parachute Press, Inc. AN ARCHWAY PAPERBACK and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc. Cover art by Bill Schmidt Printed in the U.S.A. iv Onefril Summer v 1 1 One Evil Word ,/i.manda Conklin rolled over in bed. She opened her eyes and stretched slowly. Did I leave my tank suit on the line last night? she wondered. Yes. I'll wear my two-piece instead. I hope it's early enough to take a swim before summer school. She turned toward her bed table to read the clock. If I get up right now, I can probably get to the pool in time, she thought, her mind still hazy. "Huh?" Amanda blinked hard. The table wasn't there. Neither was her bedroom. Her eyes darted wildly. The moment she saw the gray cement ceiling, she remembered where she was. And everything that had happened. 2 Grabbing hold of her rough sheet, she yanked it over her head and rolled herself into a ball. Go away, world. Just go away! she thought. A piney, antiseptic odor crept under the sheet. Amanda felt as if the smell had implanted itself in her nose forever. Metal bedsprings screeched. The other girls in the room began getting up. Good morning, fellow psychopaths. Amanda laughed bitterly to herself. Clack, clack, clack. Amanda recognized the sound of footsteps on the hard floor. She'd quickly learned that only the guards made that much noise. Everyone else shuffled along in soft green slippers. In the wing for "psychologically disturbed offenders" they were permitted nothing hard or sharp. Not even a shoe. Of course, Amanda knew not to call these harsh, noisy women "guards." She was supposed to call them by their names. Ms. Macbain. Mrs. Garcia. Amanda called them guards. "Up, Conklin! Let's go!" barked Mrs. Garcia, a fat woman with short brown hair and beady, dark eyes. Amanda knew she had no choice but to push down the sheet. The rules at the Maplewood Juvenile Detention Center were strict. A worn gray towel hung over the metal frame of Amanda's bed. She grabbed it as she stepped into her official Maplewood Juvenile Detention Center 3 green paper slippers. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she folded her arms over her official-issue, pocket-less green nightgown. "In line," commanded Mrs. Garcia. The girls lined up by the door. Amanda followed them down the cold mustard yellow hall to the bathrooms. As she walked, she glanced out the barred windows. What a rainstorm! It looked as if someone were tossing buckets of water against the glass. A sudden crack of thunder made Amanda jump. I'd do anything to be out in that storm, she thought miserably. Freedom—even the freedom to be wet and shivering—would be better than this. Anything would be better than this. They stopped outside the bathroom entrance. They were allowed to go in four at a time. When Amanda's turn came, she went inside with three sullen-looking girls. Other "psychologically disturbed offenders" like herself. I probably look as bad as they do, thought Amanda. She glanced at the others from the corners of her dark eyes. All us psycho-offenders have a certain look. Inside the harshly lit bathroom, Amanda splashed water on her face. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Not good, Amanda, she silently told her reflection. You're a disaster! Her large brown eyes had dark circles under them. Her suntan had turned yellow—the same sickly color as the walls. And what's happened to my perm? she won- 4 dered, tugging on a listless, drooping curl. Her hair had flopped dead in just three days. That's how long I've been in this nightmare place, she told herself. Just three days. It could be three years. Amanda sighed. Might as well try to get used to it. I'll be here a long time. She remembered overhearing her lawyer when he told her parents that she couldn't go home with them. "Murder is an extremely serious offense," he said. "No kidding!" Amanda laughed to herself as she brushed her chestnut brown hair. The girl at the next sink glanced up at her sharply. Amanda turned away. Great, I'm talking to myself now. I really am wacky. Maybe I do belong here, she added. "Hurry up in there," Ms. Macbain, a big woman with cakey makeup, shouted into the doorway. "Conklin, you have an appointment with Dr. Miller right after breakfast. Put a move on." Amanda cringed. Not another session with Dr. Miller! The day before he'd asked her so many questions, her head throbbed. What had happened? What had she been thinking? How had she been feeling? Amanda didn't want to talk to him anymore. Why keep talking when it could all be boiled down to one word? One evil word . . . Chrissy! 5 2 Chrissy o long, Fear Street. Seahaven here we come!" Amanda cheered as her father pulled the car out of the driveway. She watched her house grow smaller and smaller as the family drove away. Amanda fished a yellow hair scrunchy from the pocket of her khaki shorts and pulled her long brown ponytail through it. Then she kicked off her tan leather sandals and pushed up the long sleeves of her lightweight yellow T-shirt. She settled back into her seat and smiled at the kids to the right of her. Her brother Kyle was eight, and her sister Merry was three. In minutes the seat felt hot and sticky. "Can you turn on the air conditioner?" Amanda asked her parents. 5 S 6 "It's on," Mr. Conklin called back. "Well, we can't feel it!" Kyle whined. "I'm cold!" Merry complained. She liked to be different. Amanda gazed out at the old houses bathed in shade. Fear Street looked so normal in the daytime, she thought. But at night.. . She shuddered. Why am I thinking about this now? We're getting away from here! Amanda was happy she wouldn't be stuck in Shadyside for the summer. She and her family would be at the seaside town of Seahaven. Her parents had rented a house not far from the ocean. It would be a working vacation for them. Her father, a lawyer in the public defender's office, defended people too poor to hire a lawyer. He'd asked to have no trials for the summer so he could catch up on a mountain of paperwork. Mrs. Conklin was a journalist. Her latest assignment was a magazine article entitled "New Pressures on Today's Young People." It would be about the stress of being young in the modern world. She planned to finish the article in Seahaven. As their car merged onto the highway, Mrs. Conklin turned toward the backseat. "Amanda?" she asked thoughtfully. "What would you say is your greatest source of stress?" Oh, no! Amanda groaned silently. Please don't start with the questions already! I can't take it! Have mercy! 7 "Well?" Mrs. Conklin prodded as she pushed her dark blunt-cut hair back into a leather headband. "I know there are a lot of stresses in your life. But which do you feel is the greatest?" Sometimes Amanda felt like a living test-case...
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