First Evil by R.L. Stine

window, the shadow didn’t change or fade away.
    Jennifer, Bobbi knew, was the only one home. And Jennifer was out of her wheelchair. Jennifer was walking!
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Bobbi asked out loud.
    I’m definitely cracking up, she decided. I’ve got to get help. I’m seeing things.
    She took a step up the driveway. Then another. Her sneakers slid over the wet gravel.
    I’m crazy. Crazy. Crazy.
    But, no. As she drew closer to the house, the gray shadow against the orange shade continued to move steadily back and forth. The image grew clearer. Sharper.
    It was Jennifer. She was walking, her hands knotted in front of her.
    What’s going on? Bobbi wondered, her mind whirring with wild ideas.
    Is it a miracle? Did Jennifer just this second discover she could walk?
    No. That wasn’t likely. Then . . .
    Has Jennifer been faking all along?
    Why? Why would she fake paralysis?
    Why?
    Bobbi stepped back onto the stoop. She rang the doorbell.
    She had to know. She had to ask Jennifer what was going on.
    She leaned toward the door and listened for Jennifer’s footsteps.
    Silence.
    She rang the bell again.
    Finally the front door was pulled open, revealing a widening rectangle of light.
    â€œJennifer!” Bobbi cried.

Chapter 17

Cracking Up
    S tanding on the front stoop, Bobbi stared into the yellow light of the front hallway. Jennifer held the door open, her face filled with surprise.
    â€œBobbi—what’s the matter?”
    â€œOh . . . uh . . .” Bobbi stammered. “Nothing. I . . . thought I forgot my gloves.”
    Jennifer’s face relaxed. She settled back in her wheelchair. She wheeled herself back a few inches, still gripping the doorknob. “Do you want to come in and look for them?”
    â€œNo,” Bobbi replied quickly. “I just remembered I didn’t bring any gloves. Sorry.”
    Jennifer laughed. “You’re really in a state, aren’t you?” “Yeah. I guess.” Bobbi felt totally embarrassed. And confused.
    And worried.
    Jennifer was in her wheelchair, a small blanket over her lap. Why had Bobbi imagined that she’d seen her pacing back and forth across the window?
    Had Bobbi imagined it all, imagined the moving shadow, imagined the dark figure walking across the living room?
    What’s wrong with me? Bobbi asked herself, saying good night to Jennifer again and trudging back down the gravel driveway.
    Her breath rose in puffs of white steam against the cold night air.
    But Bobbi didn’t feel the cold.
    In fact, she felt hot. Feverish. Her forehead throbbed, a sharp pain just behind her eyes.
    Why am I seeing things?
    Am I seeing things?
    Am I cracking up? Really cracking up?
    The headlights seemed to skip and dance as she drove through the silent darkness back to her house on Fear Street. The house was dark except for the porch light. She realized everyone must have gone to bed.
    Tossing her jacket onto the banister, she hurried up to her bedroom and, without turning on the light, shook Corky awake.
    â€œHuh?” Corky cried out, frightened, and sat up stiffly.
    â€œIt’s me,” Bobbi whispered. “Wake up.”
    â€œYou scared me to death!” Corky cried angrily. She never liked to be awakened.
    Bobbi clicked on the bedside lamp. “I saw Jennifer walk!” she blurted out.
    Corky yawned. “Huh?”
    â€œI think I saw Jennifer walk. I’m not sure, but—”
    â€œWhat time is it?” Corky asked crankily. “You must have been dreaming.”
    â€œNo. I wasn’t asleep,” Bobbi insisted. “I was standing outside her house. I saw shadows.”
    Corky stretched, turned, and lowered her feet to the floor. She brushed a strand of blond hair from over her eyes. “You saw shadows?” Her face filled with concern. “Bobbi, I’m really worried about you.”
    â€œNo! Really! I saw her,”