BadDreams-FearStreet

Bad Dreams - Fear Street

R. L. Stine

Prologue

"No . . . no . . ."

The girl tossed fitfully in the large canopy bed, mumbling in her sleep. "Please--no--stay away."

If only she could wake up. If only she could open her eyes, then she'd be safe. Safe in her bed, safe in her house on Fear Street .

But she couldn't wake up.

"No . . . no . . ." Her moans grew louder.

"NOOO!"

Suddenly, the girl sat straight up in bed, wide awake. She shuddered, gasping for breath. Grabbing the covers, she glanced around her dark, familiar bedroom.

No one here. Just a bad dream.

Just a bad dream. She repeated the words over and over like a lullaby.

From her bed, she could see out the window. She peered out at another cold fall night. The large old maple shivered in the icy breeze, dropping its last leaves. Through the bare branches of the tree, she could see the streetlight, casting an eerie yellow glow.

She sank back against the pillows, wet with sweat. Her long blond hair was matted to her head.

I'd be better off not sleeping at all, she told herself. She sighed softly, feeling a little better now. She closed her eyes.

Which is when she felt the presence.

Felt that she wasn't alone in the room, after all.

Her eyes snapped back open. She had never been so alert in her whole life.

What made her so sure there was someone there?

She didn't know.

"Who is it?" she whispered.

No answer. She sat up slowly, clutching the bedsheet to her. She stared into the room's dark corners, studied the shadows.

Then she saw it.

A glint of light in the far corner.

She opened her mouth to speak but was too frightened. For she was now able to make out the human figure who lurked in the corner of her room.

She heard an angry growl.

Then the darkness exploded. The other girl rushed out at her so quickly, she didn't have time to react.

The knife came down.

The first blow missed. She struggled desperately, trying to twist away.

But she was tangled in the covers now, and the girl was holding her down.

"Sister--!" she protested, trying to push her away. "But you're my sister!"

She tried to scream but hadn't enough breath.

She forced herself up, but her attacker shoved her back, smashing her skull hard against the headboard.

For a moment everything went black.

Then she felt a searing stab of pain.

And again.

And again.

And then darkness closed in on her from all sides.

In the eerily silent room, nothing moved now except for the trembling canopy over the bed.

Chapter 1

Maggie Travers's bad dreams didn't start until the night she slept in the canopy bed for the first time.

The bed was just one of the surprises awaiting Maggie and her family at their new house on Fear Street .

But for a while, it appeared the Travers family would never find the house.

Maggie had stared at the map in her lap, trying to trace the route to Fear Street with her finger. She pushed a strand of long red hair behind one ear. It fell right back again. "I guess we turn left here," she told her mother.

Mrs. Travers slowed the car to a crawl. She peered through the windshield into the glare of the sunny spring afternoon. "Are you sure?"

"No, she's not sure," Andrea grumbled from the backseat. "I told you, Mom--we should have turned right on Canyon Road . But, nooo, Maggie says go straight, so you go straight. It's so stupid!"

Maggie kept quiet. She didn't want to start a fight with her sister. Starting a fight with Andrea was one of the easiest things in the world. Not starting a fight with Andrea--now that was tricky.

Gus, Maggie's old golden retriever, was sharing the backseat with Andrea. The dog had his head out the window. He gave a low, pitiful growl.

Maggie glanced in her side mirror. Gus was wearing the forlorn look he always had on during car trips. I know how you feel, Maggie told him silently.

It was Saturday. The day of their big move had finally arrived. We're off to a terrific start, Maggie thought grimly.

They were supposed to follow the huge white whale of a moving van. But then Andrea had insisted on stopping at a 7-Eleven for Cokes. They had lost the van, Maggie misread the map, and now they were wandering through a maze of streets that circled north of town toward the Fear Street woods for almost--

Maggie glanced at her watch. Ten after three! She would never get to practice now! The other girls on the Shadyside High swim team must be wondering where they were.

"We're missing practice," she informed her sister.

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Naturally," she muttered unhappily.

"If only we could find someone out walking," Mrs. Travers said, nervously brushing her reddish gray hair back with her hand. "We could ask where we are."

"We're lost," Andrea said. "That's where we are. Thanks to you-know-who."

"We were supposed to be following the moving van," Maggie reminded her sister as calmly as she could.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Andrea shot back.

Maggie sighed. It seemed as if Andrea wanted to argue no matter what. "Look," Maggie said, "I'm just saying it's not all my fault, okay?"

"Who said to go straight?" Andrea demanded. "Gus?"

Maggie tried to keep her face blank, but she could feel her anger mounting. It always worked this way. No matter how many times she told herself not to let Andrea get her angry, she got angry.

Maggie tried to push the large, unwieldy street map back to her sister. "You want to take over?" she asked. "Here. If you think you can do better, be my guest."

"No thanks," Andrea muttered. "I'm sure I couldn't do it as well as you. You do everything better."

"Well--" Maggie began.

Mrs. Travers gave her older daughter a warning glance. "Maggie," she said. "Please."

Maggie felt her face flush. It seemed as if Mrs. Travers was always warning her to go easy on Andrea. Always explaining how Andrea had it much harder than Maggie did.

Maggie was seventeen, Andrea sixteen. But the way their mom acted, you'd think Andrea was five.

Maggie glanced back at her sister, who was now staring out the window, scowling, her jaw jutting forward in that way she had when she was frustrated. Maggie felt her anger easing, a rush of pity taking its place. Mom was right. She should go easy on Andrea.

With their red hair and green eyes, she and Andrea looked a lot alike. But the same features that made Maggie pretty--the green eyes, the red hair, the high cheekbones--just didn't fit together right on Andrea.

Maggie was tall and thin; Andrea shorter with a broadness in her shoulders that bordered on stocky. Also, Maggie's long red hair was thick and wavy. Andrea's shoulder-length hair was fine and always hung limp and straight, no matter what she did.

Looks weren't Maggie's only advantage. Maggie had always been one step ahead of her sister in everything--grades, sports, guys.

There was no doubt about it, she thought sadly. This move was going to be harder on Andrea than any of them.

After all, Andrea had never been very popular at school, and the one thing she felt she had going for her was that she was a North Hills girl.

North Hills was the most exclusive section of Shadyside. Andrea liked the status of North Hills. She loved hanging out at the country club. Maggie winced when she remembered how Andrea and her friends had snubbed kids from other parts of town.

Well, now they were leaving North Hills far behind. And all the kids Andrea had snubbed over the years would have the last laugh.

I will not argue with my sister, Maggie told herself. I will not, I will not, she thought, as if her mind were a blackboard and some teacher had assigned her to write the words over and over.

Maggie still felt guilty. And the feeling came back every time she argued with Andrea.

She'd been arguing with Andrea the day their dad died.

So dumb. There wasn't any milk for cereal that morning.

Andrea blamed Maggie for finishing the milk the night before. Maggie protested that she hadn't touched the milk. Then Andrea called her a liar.

They were off in an angry torrent of words. Maggie found herself reminding Andrea of things that had happened years before. Like the time when Andrea was seven and she had set fire to the hair on Maggie's favorite Barbie doll.

Then Andrea started yelling that Maggie had ruined her life. She sputtered angry nonsense about how Maggie stole any guy she was interested in.

By then, they were shrieking at each other and Andrea was crying. And then Mr. Travers told Maggie to stop picking on her sister. That made Maggie so mad, she dumped her bowl of dry cereal on the floor.

It was one of the great injustices in Maggie's life. Andrea could have a tantrum, scream, cry, break plates, whatever. Everyone was used to her fits.

But let Maggie lose it one little bit, and her parents acted as if the whole house had blown up.

Right after she had dumped the cereal, Maggie felt ashamed.

Her dad's face turned bright red. "I am so fed up with this bickering!" he yelled. "Really, Maggie. Why can't you act your age?"

Then he scooted his chair back, tossed down his newspaper, and stormed out of the house.

That was the last time Maggie saw him.

Mr. Travers had a stroke that afternoon in his office while sitting at his desk. When his secretary found him, he was already dead.

I never even got a chance to apologize, Maggie thought bitterly.

They were still sitting at the intersection. "Well," Mrs. Travers said, sighing, "we should try something." She turned left.

"Of course you listen to Maggie," Andrea griped.

Gus barked twice.

"That's right, Gus," Mrs. Travers said, "you tell them." To her daughters, she added, "Gus wants you two to stop bickering."

Despite the tension between them, Maggie and Andrea shared a quick grin. Their mother's belief in the knowledge and wisdom of animals was legendary in the Travers family.

The Traverses' mailbox was always stuffed with mailings from all the animal rights groups Mrs. Travers had once given money to. She was always telling them what Gus was thinking.

"I hope we're not getting close to our new house," Andrea murmured, staring out the window. "Please tell me this isn't where we're going to be living."

Andrea was right, Maggie thought. The house had looked pretty bad the day Mom drove them over to see it. But that day it had been pouring, and they figured it was the rain that made the house and the neighborhood so gloomy.

Somehow today's bright sunshine just made the neighborhood seem even drearier. All the houses needed to be painted. They were all so shabby, so run-down.

"Welcome to burglar city," Andrea joked, pretending to do a tour-guide voice. "Our neighborhood is proud to announce we have one of the highest crime rates in the country."

Maggie laughed, but she could feel her heart fluttering. The thought of burglars had always terrified her, even when they were living in North Hills, where break-ins were almost unheard of.

Mrs. Travers frowned. "I know this part of town isn't the greatest, girls," she said, "but it's all we can afford now." She forced a smile. "Anyway, we've got old Gus to protect us."

Right, thought Maggie. If a robber broke in, Gus would be all over him. But the only danger for the robber would be that Gus might lick him on the lips and gross him out!

"Look!" Maggie cried suddenly, pointing to the green sign tilted into the intersection. " Fear Street ! We found it! We're not lost after all!"

Mrs. Travers cheered. Maggie felt a surge of relief. Her good mood lasted until she saw the house.

Twenty-three Fear Street seemed even more ramshackle and neglected than it had the last time. Two of the green shutters were now hanging by single rusty hinges. The lawn had huge brown patches and looked dead. As did the whole place.

Maggie shivered.

The big white moving van was parked out front, and men were carrying furniture up the front walk. Maggie watched two burly men in green uniforms disappear through the front door, struggling with her dresser. She wanted to tell them to turn around, to bring everything back to North Hills. But this was home now.

Mrs. Travers turned in her seat to face her daughters. She was smiling, but under the smile Maggie saw worry. "Girls," she said, "I know it doesn't look like much, but when we have more money, we can paint it and fix it up and plant some flowers and it really will look quite nice. You wait and see. Besides, fixing it up will be fun."

Maggie forced a smile. The move was hard on her mom too, she knew. "Well," Maggie said, clapping her hands together, "let's get started."

She climbed out of the car and stretched. Gus was thumping his tail against the backseat, watching her every move. "Just a second, Gus," she told him.

Mrs. Travers waved to the moving men. "We got a little lost," she called.

The workers didn't even nod back. "Mom," Maggie said, tugging on her arm, "I need the trunk key."

They had brought their valuables and clothes in the car. Maggie inserted the key into the lock, popped open the trunk, and started unloading suitcases. She pulled out her green bag and carefully set it down on the sidewalk.

Gus was barking like crazy. Andrea leaned against the car, staring into space. "Andrea, you going to give us a hand here?" Mrs. Travers asked sharply.

Making a face, Andrea walked over and selected the smallest--and lightest--bag. She instantly thumped it back down on the sidewalk. "Oh, poor Gus," she said, opening the car door. "You must be dying of the heat in there."

"Wait, Andrea, not yet," Maggie warned.

Too late.

Gus burst out of the car. He started running in circles around Andrea's legs. Then he raced over to Mrs. Travers, jumping up on her, then over to Maggie.

"Easy, Gus," Maggie told him. The next thing she knew, Gus was running off down the block. Maggie had her hands full of suitcases. "Gus!" she yelled.

The dumb dog didn't stop.

"Quick, Andrea. Go get him!" cried Mrs. Travers.

"It's Maggie's dog," replied Andrea peevishly. "Let Maggie get him."

Maggie started to point out that Andrea was the one who had let Gus out. But she saw the annoyance on her mother's face. "I'll get him," she said, sighing.

She dropped the suitcases and started to run after Gus. He was down at the end of the block, "decorating" somebody's hedge. "Gus!" she yelled again.

He didn't even pick his head up to listen. He trotted on.

She ran faster.

She was running flat out, her sneakers smacking the pavement hard.

Gus had turned the corner, out of sight. "Gus!" she yelled again.

Then she reached the corner. And slid to a halt.

Gus was ambling across a lawn on the other side of the street. But when he saw Maggie, he started running straight toward her.

He took the shortest route.

Right through the middle of the street.

Right into the path of a speeding delivery truck.

"Gus--stop!" Maggie shrieked.

She shut her eyes and heard the dog's shrill yelp of pain.

Chapter 2

Tires squealed. A horn blared. The truck skidded.

With the dog's pitiful yelp still in her ears, Maggie screamed.

Without realizing it, she had clamped her hands over her eyes. Trembling all over, she slowly removed them--and stared at Gus, standing shaken but unhurt, on the sidewalk.

The poor dog, she realized, must have yelped in fear--not pain.

The truck had stopped several yards ahead. The driver leaned out, his round face red with fury. "Get that stupid mutt on a leash!" he bellowed.

"Sorry," Maggie called. But when the truck took off, she let out a whoop of joy.

"Oh, Gus! You're okay! You're okay!" She fell to her knees, her arms thrown open wide. "Gus! Come here, boy!"

Gus came trotting over obediently. She threw her long arms around the dog's graying head and hugged him tightly. "Sure," she murmured, "now you're obedient."

Gus waited patiently until Maggie finally let him go. This time she kept a firm grip on his collar.

Panting with his mouth open, the dog looked as if he were smiling. Maggie kissed the top of Gus's head.

I couldn't bear another death in the family, she thought grimly. I just couldn't bear it.

Maggie led Gus back to the house and in through the front door. She bumped into a moving man coming the other way.

"Watch it!" he muttered rudely.

As soon as Maggie let Gus go free, the old dog took off, sniffing everywhere, exploring the new house. He ran into the living room, where Andrea was relaxing on the Travers's white-and-gray-striped sofa. The sofa looked lost in the empty room.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Travers was scrubbing away at the soot and dust and grime on the stovetop. Mrs. Travers could be spacey about a lot of things, but when it came to dirt, she was focused--a cleaning machine.

She waved a yellow-rubber-gloved hand at Maggie and Andrea. "Well," she said, "I think I've made some important archaeological discoveries in the kitchen. We've got about ten layers of dirt in here!"

Maggie gazed at her sister, whose features were tight with unhappiness. "Andrea," she said gently, "why don't we start setting up our rooms? We'll probably feel better when we've got our own stuff in them."

"I doubt it," Andrea grumbled. But she trudged upstairs after Maggie.

"Now, don't get discouraged about how it looks," their mom called after them. "It just needs a little dusting. I'll be up there as soon as I finish in the kitchen."

It was going to take more than dusting to make this place livable, Maggie thought. The wallpaper in the hall was supposed to be white with a rose pattern. But the paper had yellowed and was peeling, and the roses looked as if they had died.

She turned right at the top of the stairs. Their bedrooms were at the end of the hall. She led the way and turned right into the room she had chosen while Andrea turned left into hers.

"Whoa!" Maggie uttered a low cry and stopped in the doorway.

There it stood.

A beautiful, old-fashioned four-poster canopy bed.

Dark, polished wood. And with a pink canopy on top.

"Oh, my goodness!" Maggie whispered. She blinked. As if to make sure the bed was real, she crossed the room and sat down on it.

"Unbelievable," she said softly. The previous owners had left the bed behind!

But why? Why did they leave the bed and nothing else?

What a mystery.

"You've got to be kidding!" Andrea exclaimed from the doorway. She had heard Maggie's delighted cries.

Maggie stood up and gestured to the bed, grinning. "Can you believe it?"

Andrea was circling the bed now, her mouth open. She ran her hands down the old wooden posts. "How could they leave this?"

Maggie shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe they didn't like it anymore."

Even as she said it, the explanation seemed silly. How could anyone not like this bed?

"It's so gorgeous!" Andrea gasped. "Look at the carving on the posts."

She was right. The woodwork was stunning, with intricate carved pinecones poking over the top of the canopy. "Do you think they're going to come back for it?" Andrea asked.

Maggie frowned. That hadn't occurred to her. Maybe she wouldn't get to keep the bed after all. "Beats me," she said thoughtfully. "Why would they take everything else and leave this for later? It doesnt make sense."

"You're right," Andrea said. "I think they deliberately left it behind."

Andrea gave Maggie a friendly smile. I know that smile, Maggie thought. In fact, Maggie could predict everything that was about to happen.

Andrea was trying to act calm, but Maggie could tell how tense she was. And she knew why Andrea was tense. Andrea wanted the bed. Desperately.

"Say, Mags," Andrea began. "Mags, you know how I've always wanted an old-fashioned bed like this one, right?" Andrea bit her lip.

Here came the question Maggie had silently predicted.

Sure enough, Andrea demanded, "Can I have it?"

Can I have it?--Andrea's four favorite words.

Andrea stared at Maggie, pleading with her eyes. Maggie lowered hers to the bed.

What should I tell her? Maggie asked herself. What should I do?

Should I avoid a fight and give it to her?

What should I say?

If Maggie had known the horrors that awaited her in the old canopy bed, her answer might have been different.

But she had no way of knowing why the bed had been left behind.

Chapter 3

"Finders keepers," Maggie told her sister.

Andrea flinched as if Maggie had punched her. "Finders keepers? Oh, give me a break!" Andrea cried heatedly. "You're not going to be that childish, are you?"

Maggie's smile faded fast. "It's not childish. We chose the rooms last time we were here. You wanted the bigger room, the one in the back of the house, the quiet room, off the street. Remember? The one with the great window seat."

"But that was before we knew they were going to leave the bed behind," Andrea whined. "It's not fair."

"Andrea," Maggie said. "I'm sorry. It was just luck. Look, sometimes I get lucky, sometimes you--"

"That's such bull, Maggie, and you know it!" Andrea snapped. "You always get your way!"

"No, that's not true, that's--"

"It is true! I don't believe you! You never give me a break! Never! You are a totally selfish pig!"

As far as Maggie was concerned, it was always Andrea who started the name-calling and yelling first. It was certainly true now. Andrea was shrieking at the top of her lungs.

The louder Andrea yelled, the quieter Maggie became. "Andrea, what if the bed had been in your room? Would you give it up?"

Andrea had been pacing around the bed. Now she slapped her forehead in disbelief. "I would if all your life you had dreamed of having a canopy bed!" she screamed.

"All your life, since when, Andrea?" Maggie replied. She was trying to remain calm, but her voice was shaking. "Since five minutes ago?"

She could hear footsteps hurrying up the stairs.

"Mom!" Andrea pleaded as Mrs. Travers hurried into the bedroom. "You tell her! Haven't I always wanted a canopy bed? Haven't I?"

"Hold it, hold it, hold it," Mrs. Travers said wearily. "Please, whatever you do, don't shout." Then her eyes fell on the bed, and her jaw dropped.

"Oh, my goodness," Mrs. Travers cried. Her eyes lit up. "They left that beautiful antique behind?"

"Yes!" cried Andrea. "And Maggie says--"

Mrs. Travers wasn't listening. She walked across the room slowly and stared at the bed as if it were a mirage. "This must be worth over a thousand dollars," she said softly. "Why would they leave it behind? I hope there's nothing wrong with it. It's not rotted or infested or something . . ."

"It's perfect," Andrea insisted. "And Maggie claims that it's hers because it's in her room, which is so childish, I--"

She didn't get any further. Mrs. Travers held up a hand like a traffic cop. "Wait a second, Andrea. I don't want an argument about this. I mean, this is something to celebrate."

"I'm supposed to celebrate because Maggie got a great bed?" Andrea made a disgusted face.

"You're supposed to celebrate because we all got a great bed," Mrs. Travers told her. "But since Maggie picked this room, Maggie gets to sleep in it. What's the big deal?"

"But that's soooo unfair!" Andrea wailed.

Mrs. Travers rarely spoke sharply. Instead, her expression became pained, as if she was going to cry.

They had all done plenty of that in the seven months since Mr. Travers had died. But Mrs. Travers had cried more than any of them. Maggie and Andrea had both been awakened many nights by their mother's sobs. They would try to comfort her, but never could.

So when she got that about-to-cry tightness on her face, as she had now, it shut them both up. Andrea gritted her teeth, but didn't say another word.

"I can't believe you two," Mrs. Travers said, crossing her slender arms over the front of her sweatshirt. "The way you are always at each other's throats, people would think you hate each other."

But we do, Maggie thought bitterly. Even Daddy's death hasn't brought us closer together.

We do hate each other.

That night they planned on making dinner at home, but Mrs. Travers couldn't find the box with the kitchen stuff. So even though they were on a tight budget, she took her daughters out to a restaurant.

Maggie managed to make it through the meal without fighting with Andrea. That was the good news. The bad news was nobody said much of anything. Well, that wasn't too surprising, Maggie told herself. They were all exhausted.

"I just wish we could go back to our old house," Andrea grumbled as they were finishing dinner. "Even without any of our stuff there, it would still be better."

Mrs. Travers didn't answer. Neither did Maggie. What was there to say?

Maggie slung an arm around her sister's shoulders as they walked out of the restaurant. I'm going to keep this family close, she told herself. If it's the last thing I do.

When they returned to the house on Fear Street , Maggie got her first peek at the place in the dark. The house was run-down and ugly in bright sunshine. No surprise that it loomed dark and creepy at night.

The phone rang as they ran inside. "Our first call!" Andrea cried excitedly, racing for the phone.

Her face fell when she answered. "Just a sec," she said, sighing. She dropped the receiver so that it dangled down from the phone. "For you," she told Maggie as she walked away dejectedly. "Always for you," Maggie heard her mutter under her breath.

When Maggie picked up the phone, a familiar voice said brightly, "Hey, how's the new house?"

"Justin!" Maggie exclaimed. She had been going out with Justin Stiles for only a few weeks and still couldn't quite believe it. Justin had to be the most popular guy at Shadyside High.

One of Maggie's best friends on the swim team, Dawn Rodgers, had dated him the past year. When Justin first asked Maggie out, Dawn had warned Maggie that Justin had a "wandering eye."

But right then Maggie didn't care. She was just glad his eye had wandered in her direction!

Justin had sexy wavy brown hair and gorgeous ice-blue eyes that made Maggie melt.

"So what's up with the new house?" he asked.

"It's like something out of The Addams Family," Maggie told him dryly.

"It is not!" Maggie's mother called from the living room.

"It is," Maggie whispered. "It looks like one of those houses you see in horror movies, where green gunk starts to pour out of the walls."

Justin snickered. "Sounds like my kind of place!"

Maggie groaned.

They were both silent. She tried to think of something to say.

"So when can I see it?" Justin asked.

"Never," Maggie told him. "Seriously. I'm way too embarrassed. You can't come over here--ever."

Justin laughed, but this time it sounded a little tense. "So what are you trying to tell me?"

Maggie grinned. It delighted her to think that Justin might be feeling a little insecure about their relationship--even for a single second. Justin Stiles? Insecure? From everything she had heard about Justin, that would be a major switch.

"Let's see. How about coming over--uh, tomorrow afternoon?" she asked. So much for playing it cool.

"Awesome," he replied. "Later, Mags."

The moment she hung up, the phone rang again.

Andrea hurried in from the living room. It was for Maggie again.

"We missed you this afternoon," said a cheerful voice. "You ready to lose the hundred-meter tomorrow?"

"Hi, Dawn," Maggie said, leaning against the wall and shifting the phone to her other ear. Dawn Rodgers was the best swimmer on the team--after Maggie, of course. "As a matter of fact, I just could lose," said Maggie. "I haven't been in the pool all week!"

"Good," said Dawn. "Maybe I have a chance." Then she laughed.

So far this season Maggie had managed to edge Dawn out in every race. Dawn was the most competitive person Maggie had ever met, but she was a pretty good sport about coming in second.

"Anyway," Dawn said, "that's not why I called. You know why I called, don't you?"

Maggie smiled. "I just talked to Justin a second ago," she replied.

"You're a mind reader," Dawn said, giggling.

Maggie started telling Dawn about Justin's call. She leaned back against the wall, smiling dreamily. Being with Justin was the best. But talking about it with her friends afterward was a close second!

As she talked to Dawn, Maggie could see Andrea staring at her from the other room.

Why is she glaring at me like that? Maggie wondered.

Why does she have to stare at me and listen to my conversations?

Give me a break, Andrea. Get a life!

They went to bed at ten. They were all worn out from unpacking.

Maggie and Andrea shared a bathroom at the end of the hall. Saying she would be only a minute, Andrea insisted on going in first.

"Hey--get out!" Maggie finally complained twenty minutes later. She rapped hard on the bathroom door.

The door flew open, and a burst of steam hit Maggie in the face. Andrea's red hair was plastered to her skull, and she was glowering. "The water pressure stinks!" Andrea cried. "And I had to let the shower run for a year before the brown water stopped coming out! I don't think anyone's used these pipes since the Civil War!"

Maggie wanted to complain about Andrea hogging the bathroom, but she held back. She forced a smile. "Well, sleep well," she said.

"In this disgusting haunted house?" Andrea exclaimed. "Fat chance." She stomped into her room and closed the door.

The canopy bed was even prettier since Maggie had covered it with her pink sheets and the thin white afghan her grandmother had knit for her. She stopped to admire it for the hundredth time. It was awesome!

Maggie moved to the window. In the pale light from the moon, she could see tiny buds opening on the old maple tree that grew right up to her window. That seemed like a good sign. And Justin's call had made her happy. He was coming by tomorrow!

She yawned. She really was exhausted. She changed into a nightshirt, dropping her clothes on the one chair the movers had brought upstairs.

Maggie loved getting into a well-made bed. She felt so protected when she was tucked in tight.

She lay on her back and gazed up at the canopy overhead. More protection.

Maggie closed her eyes. She settled in, feeling her muscles start to relax.

Usually she had trouble falling asleep in a new bed. This time, she drifted to sleep before she knew it.

And then came the first dream.

In the beginning it was a pretty dream. She was floating. No. Falling. Falling slowly through a swirling pink haze.

Then the mist grew heavier, darker. The pink disappeared, replaced by ugly harsh grays.

Through the ugly mist, she saw a girl.

What was cold? What felt suddenly cold?

Had the dark mist turned cold? Or was it the girl?

She saw the girl's head, her long ash-blond hair. . . .

But she couldn't see the girl's face.

I want to see her face, Maggie dreamed.

Why can't I see her face? Is something wrong with it?

She knew she was dreaming. And she knew she was scared.

The dream wasn't pretty anymore.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong with the girl.

Why doesn't she move? Maggie wondered. Why can't I see her face?

The girl is in trouble, Maggie knew all at once.

The girl is in terrible trouble.

She tried to move closer, but the heavy mist pushed her back.

She tried to see the girl's face, but the mist deepened, the mist swirled over and around her like a heavy curtain, blanketing the girl from view.

And then Maggie heard a hideous scream.

Chapter 4

The scream rose shrilly, like someone's dying shout.

Maggie sat up, her heart pounding, her eyes wide open.

Who screamed? And why?

Breathing hard, she stared into the dark room. Was she alone?

Yes. But where was she?

This isn't my room, she thought.

This isn't my house.

Then she remembered. This was her new house, her new room.

She gasped as Andrea and her mom came running in. Sitting straight up in bed, gripping the white afghan to her chest, Maggie stared at them, dazed and frightened.

"Wh-what was that scream?" her mother demanded fearfully.

Maggie realized that it was she who had let out the long, bloodcurdling scream. "Bad dream," she murmured, more than a little embarrassed.

"Oh, thank goodness," her mom said, sitting down heavily on the bed. "The way you screamed, I thought . . ."

"A real nightmare, huh?" Andrea asked quietly, sitting at the foot of the bed and wrapping her hand around the carved bedpost.

Maggie's breathing slowly returned to normal. She forced a smile. It felt good to have them there.

"It--it seemed so real," she stammered.

"Well, dreams do quite often," Mrs. Travers said. She patted her daughter's shoulder. Maggie was starting to feel a little foolish, as if she were three years old.

"Tell it to us," Andrea suggested, "before you forget it."

"I don't think I'll ever forget it," Maggie told her. "It was just a girl sleeping. The way she was sleeping--at first I thought she was dead. Then she started twisting and turning. She looked--I don't know--tortured. I could feel she was in trouble."

"Weird," said Andrea. "What did she look likeT'

"I couldn't see her face, but she had long blond hair."

"Dawn Rodgers," Andrea guessed. "You talked to Dawn tonight."

It was true. Dawn did have long blond hair. But the girl in the dream was an ash blond, with paler hair than Maggie had ever remembered seeing outside a magazine. "Maybe it was Dawn," she told Andrea. "I don't know."

Mrs. Travers brushed a lock of hair from Maggie's forehead. "It's just the stress of moving to a strange new place." She smiled at Maggie, but her face remained worried, her eyes puffy.

Maggie felt bad about waking her. Her mother had had a hard day.

"Think you can sleep now?" Mrs. Travers asked.

Maggie nodded. "Thanks," she murmured as her mother and sister left the room. "Uh, leave the door open," she added. She felt foolish saying that, but she hadn't gotten over the dream yet.

She couldn't shake her fear. It seemed to hover over her, hover over the canopy bed like a heavy cloud.

Maggie had set her alarm for seven. She wanted to get to the pool at the high school and swim for an hour before breakfast. Swimming was so relaxing. She could just get in the water, shut her mind off, and tell her body, "Swim!"

But when she opened her eyes, the clock radio said ten. She picked it up and examined it. It had stopped. The outlet she had plugged it into must be controlled by the light switch at the door. Ten was when she had turned out the light to go to bed.

She found her watch. It was nearly eleven.

"Oh, great," Maggie muttered unhappily. Another morning swim missed. And the next day was the first tryout for the All-State swim team.

Sighing, Maggie pulled on faded denim shorts and an oversize T-shirt, and hurried down for a late Sunday morning breakfast. Then she and Andrea spent the rest of the morning helping their mom dust and mop.

Maggie wasn't in the greatest of moods. She decided it would help if she set up her room the way she had in their old house. But that only made her sadder.

When she put up her old swimming posters, it made her notice how badly the off-white walls of her room needed a fresh coat of paint.

Then she lined up her crystal collection on the dresser. Her old room had been so sunny, the crystals changed colors constantly. Here, the prisms and glass animals barely shone.

As she worked in her room, Maggie found one other thing the previous owners had left behind. On the wide ledge outside her window sat a tiny potted geranium. Dead. The shriveled and gnarled plant seemed to sum up her mood.

Justin will cheer me up, she told herself.

Around two, she started to get nervous butterflies about seeing him. She told her mom to be sure to keep an ear out for the doorbell. She even went outside and pressed the doorbell, just to make sure it worked.

Then she took a quick shower and put on clean clothes--a fresh pair of faded denim jeans, a white T-shirt, and a green-checked vest she had found at a flea market. It brought out the green in her eyes.

She knocked on Andrea's door. "Come in," Andrea said lifelessly.

Maggie found her sprawled on her back in bed. "What's up?" Maggie asked her.

Andrea ignored the question. "We'll get used to this place, right?" she asked gloomily.

Maggie shrugged. She caught a glimpse of a fashion magazine tucked under Andrea's pillow. Andrea always claimed she didn't care about looks or fashion or anything superficial like that.

But once when Maggie was looking for a CD Andrea had borrowed, she came across a whole shoebox full of articles Andrea had clipped from women's magazines. Articles such as "10 Ways to Look Slimmer and Trimmer" and "Want to Look Tall? Stand Tall!" That kind of thing.

"I haven't found my hairbrush yet," Maggie moaned. "Can I borrow yours?"

"Go ahead."

Maggie found the silver hairbrush on Andrea's dresser and started brushing her wavy red hair in long strokes. "Justin will be here any minute," she told her sister.

In the mirror she caught the jealous expression that briefly flashed across Andrea's face.

What am I supposed to do? Maggie thought bitterly. Break up with Justin just so Andrea won't be jealous?

Maggie studied her sister's face, trying to think of some way to cheer her up. "You still feeling down about moving here?" she asked.

"I guess," Andrea murmured. "It's just weird. The house, the neighborhood," She swallowed hard, then added, "No Dad."

"I know," Maggie said softly. The silence was heavy between them. There wasn't anything else to say, and they both knew it.

"I've just been having such strange thoughts," Andrea confessed, avoiding her sister's eyes. "Strange, strange thoughts." She paused, then flashed Maggie a tense smile. "Have a good time with Justin," she said coldly.

"Where is he?" Maggie asked out loud, staring out the front window. It was four o'clock and no sign of Justin.

By five o'clock she swore to herself she was going to break up with him. How could he do this to her?

At ten after five, the doorbell finally rang. Maggie eagerly scrambled down the stairs. By the time she reached the bottom step, she wasn't angry anymore.

She opened the door to Justin standing there, one hand behind his back.

"Something for me?" Maggie asked delightedly.

Justin pulled his hand out. He was holding a big bag of kitchen sponges.

"How romantic!" Maggie said,

He caught her puzzled expression. "You said you had all this cleaning up to do," he explained, grinning.

"Oh, right."

Maggie stepped forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, touching his arm softly. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it, which she liked.

Maggie was almost five feet eight. That meant she was usually as tall if not taller than her boyfriends. Justin was six feet, easy. And so great-looking, she felt like pinching herself.

"Look, Mom," Maggie said as she led Justin into the house. "New sponges."

Mrs. Travers melted as if Justin had brought her a bouquet of roses. "Just what I needed!" she gushed.

"Mom's a cheap date," Maggie said dryly.

"Hey, Mags," Justin said, glancing around, "this place isn't as bad as you said."

"You see?" Mrs. Travers beamed. Justin was really turning on the charm.

"You want something to drink?" Maggie asked as she led him to the kitchen. "We've got two cans of Sprite and"--she yanked open the fridge and peered inside--"and two cans of Sprite."

"We've got a little shopping to do," Mom explained guiltily.

"Uh, I think I'll have a Sprite," Justin said. His blue eyes twinkled. Maggie found herself staring at them. She couldn't help it. Justin's eyes were the color of the water in those ads for vacation islands in the Caribbean .

"Come on," she told him, handing him the can, "let me give you the grand tour."

It was a small house, so the tour didn't last long. They ended up in Maggie's room. Justin sat on the only chair. Maggie draped herself across the bed, hoping he would come sit next to her and kiss her.

He didn't.

They had already made out a couple of times, but their relationship was so new, it was as if they had to start from scratch each time they saw each other.

Just then, Gus bounded into the room and ran straight to Justin. If only I could be that direct! Maggie thought.

Gus collapsed on the floor, begging Justin to scratch his belly. Maggie laughed. On second thought, she told herself, I don't think I do want to be like Gus!

Justin scratched Gus with his sneaker. Gus whimpered with delight. Then he got up and trotted out of the room again, and the silent tension between Maggie and Justin returned.

"Are you all set for the tryouts tomorrow?" Justin asked finally.

Maggie groaned. "Thanks for reminding me."

"Why? You're not nervous, are you?"

"Not me." She jumped to her feet and began pacing.

"You'll do great," Justin promised.

"I hope so," Maggie replied. She didn't want to be superstitious, but compliments like that always made her feel that she was going to mess up.

Coach Randall was holding tryouts to decide who would swim the 200IM in the All-State meet. The 200IM was the Individual Medley, the most taxing event. The swimmer had to be good in every stroke.

Shadyside could enter only two swimmers in the event. Coach Randall had narrowed the field to four.

"My biggest competition is your old sweetheart, Dawn," Maggie said, making a face at him.

Justin grinned. "Sweetheart? Come on, Mags. Give me a break! I keep telling you, we went out once. One date!"

Maggie tried not to show how pleased she was by his answer. "Well, anyway, I think Dawn is going to beat me."

"Dawn's tough," Justin agreed.

"Oh, thanks for the support!" Maggie cried, laughing. "That was the wrong answer. You're supposed to tell me I can beat her easily. You're supposed to say I could lap her twice in a two-lap race!"

Justin's expression turned serious. "I think you can beat her," he said.

"You think?"

"I know."

"I feel so much better," she said, rolling her eyes. Actually, it did mean a lot to her that Justin had confidence in her abilities. When it came to sports, Justin knew a lot. He was captain of the Shadyside High baseball team and a track star.

"You know, Tiffany also has a shot," Justin added.

Tiffany Hollings was a soft-spoken girl with dark frizzy hair and large almond-shaped eyes. Maggie had learned not to take her for granted. Tiffany worked out for hours every day, including weekends. She had a fantastic dolphin kick and a gorgeous backstroke.

"And then there's Andrea," Maggie said.

Justin replied, "You can take Andrea, no prob."

Maggie turned quickly toward her bedroom door. "Shh!"

When she saw the coast was clear, she lowered her voice to a whisper. "That's not true. Don't write Andrea off. She's really getting good. And besides, beating me is her life's goal."

"That's because she's never done it," Justin replied.

Maggie sighed. "I'm so pumped, Justin. So totally pumped. I want to swim the Individual Medley so much that if I don't get it, I'll kill myself!"

"I'm glad you're not putting any extra pressure on yourself," Justin teased.

"There's something else," Maggie said. Justin waited, studying her with his perfect blue eyes. "I had a dream last night."

"Let me guess. You dreamed that when you walked into the pool, your bathing suit fell off and everyone was laughing at you. I have those dreams all the time before a big game."

"Wrong," she said, shaking her head. "There was a girl in my dream. I couldn't see her face, but I could tell she was in trouble."

"Weird," Justin replied. "But what does that have to do with swimming?"

"Nothing," she admitted. "But I keep thinking that maybe it's a bad omen."

"Nope," Justin said with a reassuring grin. "Just a bad dream."

To Maggie's surprise, Justin jumped up from his chair. He put his strong hands on her shoulders. Then he kissed her on the lips.

A long, deep kiss. She felt his arms sweep around her and move down her back. She didn't know until that instant how much she had wanted to be held.

When the kiss ended, they were both breathless.

Maggie's heart was thudding in her chest. She gave Justin several quick kisses on the cheek.

Then she glanced past him to the bedroom doorway.

And saw that they were not alone.

Someone stood in the shadows, staring at them.

The girl from the dream!

Chapter 5

Maggie gasped so loudly that Justin spun around in alarm.

"Andrea--hi!" he called.

Andrea?

Maggie squinted hard. Yes. It was Andrea.

Is she spying on Justin and me? Maggie thought angrily.

"Where's your camera? Do you want to take a picture?" Maggie demanded sarcastically.

"Huh?" Andrea pretended not to understand.

"How long were you standing there?" Maggie snapped.

Ignoring her sister's anger, Andrea stepped into the room. "I just wanted to see if you had unpacked any socks," she said. "I can't find mine. See?" She held up one bare foot, wiggling her toes.

She had painted her nails cherry red. She lifted her foot so high, she almost lost her balance.

Maggie continued to glare at her. That was a lie, and Andrea knew it. Socks! But she stalked to her dresser.

"I saw the home run you hit against Waynesbridge," Andrea told Justin, coyly lowering her head, too shy to look at him.

"What did you say?" Justin asked, distracted. "Oh, yeah, thanks."

Andrea was obviously stung. Maggie knew that being ignored by a guy like Justin was a million times more insulting than anything she could have said. "Here, catch," Maggie said. She tossed Andrea a rolled-up pair of white socks.

As soon as her sister left, Maggie closed the door.

"What's with her?" Justin asked.

"She hates me," Maggie answered.

"She's just jealous," Justin said. He slipped his hands around Maggie's waist, pulling her toward him.

She stepped back. "You know, when I saw her standing there in the doorway, it reminded me of my dream again."

"Yeah?" Justin reached for her again, but she moved away.

She sat down in the chair, where he couldn't get to her. Andrea had shaken her up and totally destroyed her romantic mood. She needed to talk.

"Justin," she said thoughtfully. "I know this sounds dumb. But I've never had a bad dream that scared me before. I can't help thinking, what if the dream is a warning?"

"What kind of warning?"

She shrugged, feeling the same fright she had the night before. "I don't know. Just a warning. A warning that something bad is going to happen."

"Forget about it. Nothing bad is going to happen," Justin assured her. "You're just tense, Mags, because of moving and because--"

He stopped in mid-sentence, his breath caught in his throat.

His eyes went wide in sudden fright, his mouth hanging open. He grabbed his chest.

"Justin?" Maggie cried shrilly.

His hands went up to his throat. He uttered a hoarse choking sound and staggered toward her.

Another choking sound. "Can't--breathe--"

Before Maggie could get to him, Justin had crumpled lifelessly to the floor.

Chapter 6

Maggie stood over him. "Justin? Justin?"

Then she gave him a little kick when she noticed his stomach moving up and down.

"You jerk!" she cried. "You scared me to death!"

He grabbed her ankle and let out a high-pitched hyena laugh.

"I didn't believe you for a second!" Maggie exclaimed.

"Liar!" he cried. "You fell for it! You nearly had a cow!"

"You're not funny!" She nudged him again.

A few seconds later they were laughing and wrestling playfully on the carpet. "Thanks for cheering me up!" Maggie cried.

She pinned both his shoulders to the floor, then jumped to her feet, cheering victoriously.

"Give me a break! How about two out of three?" Justin demanded.

Dawn Rodgers slipped her long, tanned arms through the straps of her black Speedo racing suit and flicked the material into position. "Okay, everybody, ready to take a lesson?" she called.

Dawn whooped out a war cry. The cry echoed off the walls of the half-empty locker room.

"Please spare us, Dawn," Tiffany Hollings moaned, clutching her ears. "We won't be able to hear the starting whistle."

Dawn laughed. "You'll hear it all right. And here's the next thing you'll hear." She cupped her hand into a microphone. "Now swimming the two-hundred IM for Shadyside, in lane number one--Dawwwwwnnn Rodgers!"

Maggie was sitting on the bench next to Dawn, braiding her hair and smiling broadly. Imitating an announcer's voice, she added, "But what's this? Dawn's wearing her tennis whites! Oh, no--those are definitely going to slow her down."

Dawn, Maggie, and Tiffany laughed at that. Only Andrea, who had been scrabbling through her locker in the corner, didn't seem to hear.

Coach Randall had asked the four girls to come to practice fifteen minutes early, so they could race while they were still fresh. The locker door opened just then, and Carly Pedersen, Claudia Walker, and Renee Larson, all members of the swim team, strolled in. "Hey, you guys, good luck today!" Carly called.

Maggie grinned and waved, but her heart did a flip turn. That's what it felt like, anyway.

In competitive swimming, the racer somersaulted at the end of each lap, pushing off the wall with her feet. It was called a flip turn. About five minutes before every race, Maggie's heart and stomach started doing flip turns.

"Okay, okay," Andrea suddenly said, and slammed her locker shut, "Let's have it, Maggie."

Maggie turned to her sister in surprise. "Have what?"

"My bathing cap. Where did you hide it?"

Unbelievable! Maggie thought. Andrea was always accusing her of things. "Did you lose it?" Maggie asked.

"Did I lose it?" Andrea mimicked nastily. "Very funny. Hand it over."

Everyone in the locker room was staring at them. "Andrea," Maggie said as patiently as she could, "I didn't take it." She bent into her locker. "Here, maybe I have an extra one."

"I don't want an extra one. I want mine," Andrea insisted.

Andrea had dumped most of her stuff on the floor. Tiffany pointed to something white sticking out from under Andrea's backpack. "Is that it?"

Andrea yanked the backpack away, revealing her bathing cap. "Oh--yeah," she mumbled, red-faced.

Some of the other girls in the locker room started giggling, which only made Andrea blush harder. Maggie turned away. Even when Andrea was acting like a spoiled brat, she didn't want to see her get teased.

Tiffany finished dressing and started some warm-up stretches. "I think I'm going to hurl!" she declared as she bent her head toward the floor.

"You're that stressed out?" Dawn asked, "Relax. You have nothing to worry about. You always swim great. Besides, we're all on the same team, right?"

"That's right," agreed Maggie, glancing at Andrea.

The locker room door swung open, and Coach Randall walked in, carrying her clipboard.

Martha Randall was tall and stick-thin, even thinner than Maggie. As a teenage swimmer, she had once made it all the way to the Olympic trials. Now she was in her forties, and she still had the intensity of a champion. It was a quality Maggie really admired.

Coach Randall rarely said much. Today was no exception. "Okay, the four girls for the two-hundred IM," she said, studying her clipboard. "Let's go."

This was the one part of swimming that Maggie hated, the time just before she got in the water. She knew she'd be all right once the race started. But now she was starting to feel dizzy as they padded barefoot through the long hallway that led to the pool.

The familiar smell of steam and chlorine swept over her. The pool gurgled softly, the water slapping gently against the sides.

"Good luck," Maggie murmured to Andrea.

Maggie glanced at the bleachers. A few of her teammates had pulled on their suits and come out to watch. They waved and Maggie waved back.

Dawn was right, Maggie told herself. Why should I feel so nervous? I've raced against these three girls in practice all year.

"Let's get started," Coach Randall said curtly. She checked her clipboard. "Tiffany, lane one; Andrea, two; Maggie, three; Dawn, four."

The four girls bent over and scooped up water to splash on their bodies. Then they took their places on the starting blocks.

Before Maggie pulled her goggles on, she spat into them to moisten the rubber edge. She always did this, to make sure the seal was watertight. But this time she had trouble spitting. Her mouth was dry.

Nervous, nervous, she scolded herself.

She glanced at Andrea. Her sister was staring straight ahead with an expression of cold determination.

On Maggie's right, Dawn was nervously flexing her hands. She had known Dawn Rodgers long enough to know that her confident manner was mostly an act. Dawn was as worried about the race as Maggie was.

"Okay, this is the two-hundred IM," Coach Randall reminded them. "Butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, freestyle--in that order, two lengths each. Any questions?"

No one had any, except for the one question they were all silently asking: Who will win?

Coach Randall moved into a crouch to watch the race and judge the finish.

Maggie shook her head, trying to clear it. She had so many stray thoughts flying around--Andrea, the new house, Justin. . . .

She knew if she wanted a shot at winning this race, she was going to have to concentrate. Focus! she told herself. Focus!

Below her, the water stretched, blue, still, and cold. The four girls lowered themselves into a diving crouch.

Coach Randall called out, "On your mark, get set--" Then the whistle blew shrilly.

Maggie dove.

She hit the water, glided up to the surface, kicking hard.

The key to the butterfly was the rhythm of the dolphin kick. Maggie tried to picture the grace and strength of a dolphin diving in and out of the water.

Before she knew it, the first length had ended. Maggie tucked and somersaulted.

A perfect flip turn.

She could tell she was in first place.

Concentrate! Concentrate!

Maybe she had started too fast. It was only the second length, and she was feeling tired, slowing down.

Concentrate!

Halfway through the first length of the backstroke, Maggie saw Dawn pass her on the right. Then Andrea started edging by on her left. There was no way to know where Tiffany was, since she was two lanes away.

So much for her early lead! The coach was screaming instructions, and her teammates were screaming encouragement.

But their voices were only a jumbled echo. "Dig! Dig!" was the only thing Maggie picked up.

Breaststroke next.

Maggie was breathing hard now, and every muscle ached.

But the thought of losing hurt a lot more.

She silently commanded herself: Faster! Faster!

She pushed harder, harder--as she came to the end of the breaststroke. But then she made a poor turn at the wall.

I've blown it! she thought.

She had never lost a really big race before.

Could she still win? It was now or never.

Freestyle was her strongest stroke. But she had only two laps to catch up.

She felt as if she were skimming over the water. The shrill cheers and screams in the gym reached an even higher pitch. Nearing the far wall, Maggie passed Andrea--then Tiffany.

Maggie kept charging. She was swimming very close to the lane marker, but there was no time to straighten out now. She just had to hope that her hand didn't smack into the little lane markers, or she'd lose for sure.

Faster! Faster!

She pulled herself forward, churning through the water with all her might. She was only inches behind Dawn now.

Only a few strokes left.

She pulled with all her might and stretched for the wall.

Her wet palm slapped the tiles--

And a split second later--

Dawn hit the wall.

Maggie was first.

Tiffany arrived a full second later.

And a stroke behind her--Andrea, who finished fourth.

Holding on to the wall with both hands and gasping for breath, Maggie gazed up at Coach Randall with a happy grin. The coach was studying her stopwatch and making notes on the clipboard.

"First place, Maggie Travers," she called. Maggie didn't bother to listen to the rest, she just pushed off the wall into a lazy backstroke as she started to unwind.

Then she swam back and dragged herself out of the pool. After swimming so hard, her arms ached and her body felt like dead weight.

"Nice finish, Maggie," Coach Randall told her, and smiled.

Maggie beamed. Compliments from Coach Randall were like gold.

"Next time I want to see you pick up the pace on your butterfly and backstroke," the coach added.

She never let you have a pure compliment. There was always a catch.

"Whoa! Time out!" Dawn cried. She was out of the pool now and charging over to Maggie and the coach. "There was interference! Didn't you see it? Maggie shoved the line right into me."

"She didn't shove the line," Coach Randall replied firmly. "Her wake pushed the line over."

"Well, so what?" Dawn continued. "You're not going to allow that, are you?"

"Save it, Dawn," Coach Randall replied sharply. "You came in second."

Andrea picked up a towel and wrapped it around her broad shoulders. Maggie gave her a sympathetic glance. Andrea turned away.

Some congratulations!

Tiffany sat on the edge of the pool, kicking her feet in the water, shaking her head unhappily.

"Okay, girls," Coach Randall said with a smile. "Let's not get down. That was just one race. We've got three more."

Maggie glanced up to see Dawn glaring at her, breathing hard. "Dawn," Maggie said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Of course not," Dawn replied, rolling her eyes.

Maggie glimpsed Andrea watching them, obviously enjoyin

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 891