A Midsummer Night's Scream by R. L. Stine Read Free Book Online

loose-fitting brown skirt over black tights. I guessed she was in her forties or maybe fifties.
    “Can I help you, young lady?” She had a very young voice, tiny and bright. “Are you in Please Don’t ?”
    I shook my head. “No. Hi. I’m Claire Woodlawn.”
    She fiddled with the big scarf. “Oh, my goodness gracious. Of course. Claire. I’m Betty Hecht. I was at your fifth birthday party. At your house. Your old house. The one in the Valley. I don’t think I’ve seen you since then. You’ve grown a bit.”
    I laughed. “I guess.”
    “I heard you’re in Mayhem Manor, ” she said. “And you’re Delia, right?”
    Delia nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
    “I have your clothes ready,” Betty said. “Simon Ferris ordered them yesterday. Now we have to get them fitted.” She turned and headed to a shelf against the wall. Then she turned back. “Are you two afraid to go in there? Afraid to go in that old house?”
    I shook my head. “This is my dream,” I said. “To be a film actor. It’s what I’ve always wanted. My parents finally said I could try. So … I’m not going to be afraid.”
    Delia squinted at Betty. “Do you think we should be afraid?”
    Betty didn’t answer. She pulled two wrapped packages off the shelf. “Which one of you plays Geena and which is Darlene?”
    “I’m Darlene,” I said. “The one who always acts tough.”
    “It’s typecasting,” Delia joked.
    Betty handed us each a package. She pointed. “You’ll find dressing rooms back there. Put them on and we’ll see what needs to be done to make them fit.”
    Delia and I walked to the back of the room and stepped into side-by-side dressing rooms. I pulled the curtain shut behind me. The room was just a closet with a wood bench on one side and a full-length mirror on the other.
    I opened the package and tugged out a long straight skirt, charcoal gray and pleated at the bottom, and a bright pink top, lacy around the collar.
    “Let me check them out when you’re dressed,” Betty called.
    I pulled on the skirt, then the top. The skirt was a little snug at the waist and came down just below my knees. Weird length. The top was loose-fitting and not sexy at all.
    I turned to gaze at myself in the mirror—but something was wrong.
    My eyes refused to focus. I gazed at myself through a thick mist. At first, I thought it was the mirror. I rubbed it with the sleeve of my top.
    But the fog didn’t clear. And I suddenly began to feel very weird, as if I were floating in the mist. Not really floating off the floor but hovering far away from the mirror … far away from my reflection.
    I heard a whisper of sound, like when you hold a seashell to your ear. Just a sudden rush of wind in my ears as I floated farther from the mirror.
    And then Betty’s voice broke through the dressing-room curtain at my back. “Hey, girls—you know those are costumes from the original movie?”
    It took a while for her words to come through the fog. I realized my brain was fogged like my vision.
    Did one of the murdered girls wear this skirt? This top?
    Am I dressed in a dead girl’s costume?
    “Betty?” I tried to call to her.
    But the rush of sound in my ears rose like a wave crashing against the shore. A constant roar I couldn’t shut out.
    And over the roar, I thought I heard a whispered voice. A girl’s voice, very distant and frightened. A tiny voice over the rush of wind. Coming from the clothing? No. That’s impossible.
    What was she saying? I could barely hear her …
    “Go away. Go awaaaaay…”

 
    10
    “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?”
    I MUST HAVE SCREAMED. I didn’t hear myself.
    Betty Hecht tore open the curtain. “Are you okay?”
    The rushing in my ears stopped. The fog vanished. I blinked at myself in the mirror. My whole body was shaking.
    “Yeah. I’m all right. I guess I freaked a little about wearing these clothes. You know. From a dead girl.”
    She snickered. “Well, she was alive when she wore them. Step out and let