“He—he’s dead,” I repeated, the words hanging in the cold, bare room.
The two boys huddled together, shock frozen on their faces.
Cassie crouched in the corner.
I dropped Spencer’s hand and stood up. The room seemed to spin around me.
“I don’t believe this!” Cassie wailed. “First Mr. Crowell. Now Spencer. Which one of us will be next? How did we get ourselves into this?” she sobbed.
Jordan hugged her tightly, trying to calm her down.
“What should we do?” I asked Lenny. “Call the police?”
He shook his head. “If we call them, we’ll have to tell them everything—about the Night Games and Mr. Crowell. We’ll be charged with murder. And no one will believe we didn’t do it.”
“Well, what then?” I replied. “Do we run away and pretend we don’t know anything?”
Lenny shrugged. “Whoever killed Spencer is coming for us next,” he said. “Maybe we should run away.”
I turned away from him, struggling to think straight. My gaze fell on Spencer’s body.
How long had he been lying here in this dark, empty place?
“Try the light switch,” I told Lenny.
He flipped the switch. Nothing.
Lenny opened the bedroom door and peered into the shadows beyond. He disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps growing softer until I couldn’t hear them.
“Where do you think Spencer’s parents are?” Jordan asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I guess they’re not home.”
Lenny burst through the door, his eyes wide. “Not home?” he repeated. “I don’t think they’re even in the same state!”
“What?” I cried.
Lenny jabbed a thumb toward the hall. “This whole house is empty. No furniture. No electricity. Nothing.”
“It’s like a freezer in here,” Jordan added. “How did Spencer stand it?”
Cassie coughed again. “I told you Spencer changed,” she reminded us. “Living in an abandoned house only proves it. Do you think we should try to find his parents?”
I turned back to Spencer.
“I don’t know,” Lenny replied. “It doesn’t look like he was in a fight or anything.”
“Then what happened?” I wondered.
“Does it matter?” Cassie wailed. “He’s dead! We have to do something.”
“M-maybe he’s only unconscious,” Jordan stammered. “We didn’t check for a pulse or anything.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped. “Of course he’s dead.”
“You’re right, Diane,” whispered a raspy voice.
“Huh?” I gasped and turned in time to see Spencer roll over and slowly sit up.
A strangled scream stuck in my throat.
Spencer’s blank eyes stared into mine.
“I’m dead,” he whispered. “You’re right, Diane. I’m really dead.”