The Dead Boyfriend by R. L. Stine

scaring me, Deena. I don’t need this.”
    Her strange, tight-lipped smile returned. “Yes, I’m scary. That’s why you’re going to help me, Caitlyn.”
    â€œI-I don’t understand,” I stammered.
    â€œYou don’t have to,” she snapped. “Don’t try to understand. Just come with me. We don’t have much time.”
    â€œTo bring Blade back to life?” My voice came out tiny. Fear tightened my throat.
    She nodded. “They didn’t bury him. He’s still in the chapel. We have to go there now.” She stepped away from the parrot perch. “You saw what I can do. We have to do it before it’s too late.”
    â€œBut … why?” I said. “Why bring him back, Deena?”
    The parrot suddenly spoke up: “ Why? Why? Why ?”
    Deena’s eyes widened behind her large, round glasses. Circles of pink appeared on her pale cheeks. “Because I saw him first.”
    I gasped. “Huh? What does that mean? That doesn’t make any sense.”
    â€œI saw him first, Caitlyn, and now it’s my turn.” She started to the door. “This time he’ll be mine.”
    â€œDeena, wait,” I said, hurrying after her. “Wait. I’m not doing this. I can’t. I don’t want to bring Blade back.”
    She wheeled around, and her eyes bulged with anger. “Why not? I thought you loved him. I thought you were crazy about him.”
    â€œI … I thought so, too,” I said, my voice cracking. “But no. I can’t do it. I don’t want him back. It can’t happen because—”
    I stopped. I was about to confess why I didn’t want to see Blade back. I was about to tell her that I was the one who killed Blade. And if he comes back … if he comes back …
    I don’t know what Blade will do to me, and I’m too terrified to find out.
    I was about to confess. I was about to explain. I hesitated. I stood there debating, thinking hard. I didn’t want to confide in this strange, frightening girl. What would she do if she learned the truth about me, the truth about Blade’s murder?
    I knew I couldn’t tell Deena the truth. I knew I had to get away from her.
    I took a deep breath, spun to the door, and took off. I raised both hands and shoved her out of my way.
    Startled, Deena uttered a cry and staggered back a few steps, off-balance just long enough for me to escape. My shoes pounded the hard floor as I burst into the hallway, glanced right, then left.
    Which way? Which way had we come in?
    Shouting my name, Deena came running into the hall. I spun around and bolted to the right. The dimly lit hall gave me no clue as to the right direction to run.
    I passed rooms on both sides, their doors shut tight. A high window at the end of the hall let in a wash of gray evening light. It made me feel as if I was running in a fog.
    A mirror to my right gave me a glimpse of myself as I ran past, disheveled and frightened. At the end of the hall, another long corridor led in both directions.
    I took the right again. I remembered there was only one door to this strange, old guest house. Was I running to it—or away from it?
    Deena’s shouts followed me, ringing off the walls, repeating my name again and again.
    A sharp pain stabbed my side. I pressed my hand against it and kept running. The hall ended in black double doors. Not the entrance. I must have run the wrong way. And now I was trapped back here. Unless …
    I grabbed both door knobs and swung the doors open. I could see a large dark room, the darkness cut by two slender beams of light from the high ceiling.
    Deena’s cries in my ears, I slammed the doors behind me. I fumbled for a lock on them. But no. I couldn’t find any.
    Gasping for breath, I staggered into the inky shadow of the room. I gazed up at the twin beams of light. So mysterious. And then I followed the light down …