The Second Evil by R.L. Stine Page A

were red and swollen. And then, suddenly, her tears were gone, as if she’d used up her lifetime’s supply. She was hollow now, drained of all emotion.
    Except for the sadness.
    The sadness remained. And behind it lurked the terror. The frightening memories. The terrifying scenes that she knew would remain forever in her mind.
    The thoughts followed her everywhere she went, kept her wide awake at night. Something was wrong in the world. Something was there. In her life. Something evil, something inhuman. Something out of control.
    After the funeral she walked by herself from thesmall chapel, out into a gray, blustery day. A circle of swirling brown leaves danced over her shoes as she stepped onto the sidewalk.
    Dead leaves.
    Death. Everywhere.
    Corky turned up the collar of her coat, more to hide her face than to protect herself from the gusting winds. She jammed her frozen hands deep into her coat pockets and started to walk.
    â€œHey, Corky!” Kimmy came jogging up to her, her black crimped hair bobbing, her cheeks bright red, her dark eyes watery and red rimmed. Without saying a word, Kimmy threw her arms around Corky’s shoulders and hugged her, pressing her warm cheek against Corky’s cold face.
    After a few seconds Kimmy stepped back awkwardly, shaking her head. “It’s so awful,” she whispered. She squeezed the arm of Corky’s coat. “And you found him. You were the one who—” Her voice caught in her throat. “I’m so sorry, Corky.”
    Corky lowered her eyes to the pavement. More brown leaves scrabbled over her shoes, tossed by the wind.
    Ronnie and Heather appeared, their faces pale, their expressions grim. Kimmy hugged them both. They offered low-voiced greetings to Corky. Then the three girls headed off toward Kimmy’s blue Camry, parked across the street.
    â€œCall me,” Kimmy called to Corky. “Okay?” She didn’t wait for a reply.
    Corky watched them climb into Kimmy’s car. She saw all three of them talking at once inside the car. As they talked, they kept stealing glances at Corky.
    Corky turned away and started to walk. She hadgone several steps before she realized she wasn’t alone.
    â€œHi, Corky,” Debra said.
    Her cold blue eyes peered out at Corky from under the hood of the black cape she had taken to wearing. Debra always was pale and fragile, but today she appeared almost ghostlike.
    â€œCome talk to me,” she said, her voice barely rising over the rush of the wind.
    Corky shook her head. “I really don’t feel like talking.” She started to walk again.
    Debra hurried to keep up with her. The wind blew back her hood, revealing her short blond hair. “We
have
to talk, Corky. We have to,” she insisted.
    â€œBut, Debra—”
    â€œOver there.” Debra grabbed Corky’s arm and pointed toward a small diner across the street. “Just for a few minutes. We’ll grab a hamburger or something to drink. I’ll buy. Okay?”
    Debra was pleading so hard that Corky felt she had no choice. “Okay,” she said, sighing. “Actually I haven’t eaten today.”
    A pleased smile crossed Debra’s face as she grabbed Corky’s arm and pulled her across the street.
    A few minutes later they were seated in a tiny booth, their coats folded beside them. Debra was eating a bacon cheeseburger and french fries. Corky, realizing she wasn’t as hungry as she thought, took a few spoonfuls from a bowl of vegetable soup.
    â€œPeople say such dumb things at funerals,” Debra said, wiping ketchup off her chin with a napkin. “I heard someone tell Chip’s mom that it was a really good funeral.” She shook her head. “Now what’s
that
supposed to mean?”
    Corky stared down at the soup. “I don’t know. I think people feel so uncomfortable at funerals, they don’t know what they’re saying,” she told