Party Games by R. L. Stine Page B

something else? Want a beer?”
    He didn’t answer. He gazed into the glass. A single tear rolled down one cheek.
    Suddenly, I felt like crying, too.
    A wave of sadness rolled over me. I’d been trying so hard to calm Kerry down, I had been forcing down my own feelings of fright and regret. Now they came bursting to the surface, and my whole body trembled.
    I’d known Patti since second grade. She was so tiny and cute and adorable. Our families were so close. So close … And now …
    I lowered myself into the chair next to Kerry. The doors opened, and the rest of the party guests stampeded into the ballroom, followed by Brendan.
    Brendan motioned everyone to the rows of chairs. His face was pale. His normally perfect hair was pointing in all directions. He kept his head down as he walked to the front.
    â€œWe have to get out of here,” Eric Finn shouted.
    â€œDid you call the police?” Spider demanded.
    â€œBrendan, did you call 911?” April repeated.
    Brendan shrugged. He pulled his phone from his pocket and waved it. “I can’t. No bars. Remember? There’s no service on the island. And the landlines have all been shut off for the winter.”
    â€œSo we can’t call anyone? We can’t report the murder?” April asked.
    The word murder sent a gasp through the crowd. It was as if saying it made it even more real and more horrible.
    Once again, I pictured Patti’s body all twisted up on the floor in that bedroom. And I remembered the handwritten note: Twister, Anyone?
    Someone is playing games, I thought. Deadly games.
    â€œWe can’t just sit here,” Spider shouted. “There’s a killer in the house.”
    â€œCould it be one of us ?” Brendan’s cousin Kenny asked.
    â€œDon’t be stupid,” Eric snapped. “We’re not killers.”
    â€œI’m not stupid,” Kenny replied. He jumped to his feet. “Don’t call me stupid.”
    Eric raised both hands as if in surrender. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it. You’re not stupid.”
    Kenny glared at him, then lowered himself to his chair.
    Morgan turned to Eric. “Kenny has a short fuse,” he said.
    Eric stared back at him. “Was that supposed to be a warning?”
    â€œNo,” Morgan said. “I was just saying.”
    â€œWho would kill Patti?” Kerry asked. “Who?” He buried his head in his hands.
    â€œSomeone strung up a dummy of me,” Brendan told everyone. “It was hanging in one of the empty rooms. Swinging from the ceiling. Wearing my clothes. With a note that said something about wanting to play Hangman.”
    â€œSick,” Delia muttered. She was hunched in her chair, twisting a strand of her white-blonde hair tensely.
    â€œI thought the hanging dummy was some kind of warning,” Brendan said. “But then…” He didn’t finish his thought.
    â€œHangman and Twister,” Delia said. “Someone is totally sick.”
    â€œSomeone is definitely playing games with us,” Geena said. “Only…” Her voice broke. “Murder isn’t a game.”
    â€œWe have to get on the boat—now,” Eric said. “We have to get out of here, Brendan.”
    â€œYes. Let’s go.”
    â€œIs the boat ready?”
    â€œWe have to get off this island.”
    Brendan waved both hands to quiet everyone. “The boat is ready. But the pilot. Randy. He … He’ll be okay, but he’s out of commission. He’s down. He can’t do it. We don’t have anyone to pilot the boat.”
    â€œYou said you sent for someone?” Spider asked.
    Geena said, “We’re not totally stranded here—are we?”
    â€œCan anyone here handle the yacht?” Eric said.
    â€œI sent one of the workers in a speedboat back to town,” Brendan said. “My family has another pilot we use in the summer. I told the worker to