Midnight Games by R.L. Stine

one I could talk to after that. Even Nate sounded different when I talked to him.
    I called his cell late Wednesday night. I didn’t want to go to Nights, but I couldn’t bear to be alone, either. “I just need to talk,” I told Nate.
    â€œYou kinda woke me up,” he said.
    â€œI don’t care,” I snapped. I was in bed with the blankets pulled up over my head. But I still didn’t feel safe. “You have no idea what my life has been like,” I said.
    I heard Nate yawn. “Listen, Dana—”
    â€œThank God Jamie’s dad is a lawyer,” I said. “He’s been so wonderful. He sat in while the police questioned me. He took care of everything.”
    â€œGreat,” Nate said sleepily. “That was lucky.”
    â€œI called my own dad,” I continued. “I told him I was in major trouble. Know what he said? He said he was on a big business trip and couldn’t make it. Do you believe that?”
    â€œWeird,” Nate replied.
    What was with the one-word answers? Was he deliberately acting cold to me?
    He couldn’t believe I killed Whitney— could he?
    I didn’t care. I had to talk to someone. I had to let it all out.
    â€œThe police were tough,” I continued, squeezing my cell against my ear. “They think they see a pattern. So far, two girls competing for the Collingsworth Prize have been killed: Ada and Whitney. They know how desperate I am to win that prize. So . . . I have a motive. A motive for killing those two.”
    â€œOh, wow,” Nate murmured.
    â€œI don’t think they believed me about my blackouts. About how dizzy and faint I felt. How I kinda passed out and everything went gray. They’re checking with my doctor back home. But it never happened to me back home!”
    I took a deep breath. My heart was hammering in my chest. “Sure, the prize means a lot to me,” I told Nate. “But I’m not a killer. And I’ll tell you one thing the police never mentioned.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Nate asked.
    â€œIf someone is killing all the Collings-worth contestants, I could be next. Don’t you see? I could be the next victim!”
    â€œDon’t think like that,” Nate said. “You’ll be okay.”
    I was shivering under the blankets. Nate sounded so cold and insincere. I suddenly felt terrified—and totally alone.
    â€œI’ve got to catch some sleep,” he said, yawning.
    â€œBye,” I said, and clicked off the phone.
    I stifled a sob. Was he just tired, or was he like all the others? They all believed I killed those girls.
    Was it possible?
    Could I have murdered them while I was in that gray fog? Could I be guilty and have no memory of what I’d done?
    No. No way. I wouldn’t let myself think that way. Not for a moment.
    I dropped my cell phone to the floor. Nate’s cold, uninterested voice lingered in my ears. I sat up and shoved the blankets away.
    I knew I couldn’t sleep. I had to talk to someone, someone who believed in me.
    Jamie.
    When I came home from the police station Monday night, she threw her arms around me and hugged me. I could feel the hot tears on her cheeks.
    â€œI know you didn’t do it,” she whispered. “I know you didn’t. I’ll stick by you, Dana. No matter what happens next.”
    Yes, Jamie seemed to be my last remaining friend. I hoped she hadn’t sneaked out to Nights. I really needed her tonight.
    I climbed out of bed and straightened my nightshirt. I pushed back my hair. Then I tiptoed down the attic stairs and across the hall to Jamie’s room.
    Was she in there? Her bedroom door was open just a crack. From the hall I could see flickering light inside the room.
    I pushed the door open a little more. And realized I was peering into candlelight. Light and shadows danced and darted around the room.
    I poked my head in. To my surprise, I saw Jamie down on her