Welcome to the Dark House by Laurie Faria Stolarz Read Free Book Online

apartment is “out-of-this-world fabu-licious.”
    My gaze travels to a girl in the corner, talking on the phone. She reminds the person
     on the other end to take their medicine and brush their teeth.
    “That’s Ivy,” Parker says, standing at my side now. “I’m not sure if you noticed it
     yet, but we don’t get cell phone reception here, so if you want to make a call, you
     have to use the landline.”
    “No calls for me,” I say with a smile. The last thing I want is to listen to my dad
     whine about how I deserted him with two engine rebuilds and three front axle replacements.
     “It’s nice to have a couple of days off.”
    “Especially when those days involve a major movie legend, right?”
    “ Totally.” I love that he gets it too.
    “Shayla? Frankie?” Midge is standing at the kitchen island, mixing up some sort of
     green punch drink. “Would you like to see your rooms?”
    “Hold on,” Shayla says, looking around. “Is everybody here? Are we all the winners?”
    “Everybody’s arrived,” Midge says, dropping a handful of fake black spiders into the
     punch. “But not everybody’s in this room. Taylor, Ivy’s roommate, went for a walk
     and should be returning shortly. And, Shayla, your roommate is already upstairs.”
    “And I haven’t even met her yet?” Shayla springs up from the couch—this is obviously a national emergency. If she were
     only half as cute, her eternally perky demeanor might be annoying.
    We follow Midge upstairs, but the door to Shayla’s room is locked. “Natalie?” Midge
     raps lightly on the door.
    Meanwhile, Shayla continues to chatter on, saying how pumped she is to meet her roommate,
     like this is the most exciting thing on earth. And I suppose it is. I mean, I’m pretty
     stoked too. And it’s sort of cool to be with people who share that same vibe, rather
     than at the garage where everything is always a downer, where doom and gloom are as
     encouraged as cash payments.
    “Do you need some help?” I ask, watching as Midge struggles with the key.
    “The lock already turned,” Midge says, “so I’m pretty sure the key works.”
    “In other words, the door is stuck?” Shayla asks.
    “Natalie?” Midge calls again. “Can you open up? Your roommate is here and she’d really
     like to meet you.”
    “Maybe she’s sleeping,” Shayla says.
    Midge frowns, like someone just stole from her collection of severed fingers.
    “Let me try,” I say.
    Midge steps to the side, and I grab the knob, forcing my weight against the door.
     It doesn’t budge. “There must be something propped up beneath the knob, on the inside.”
     I take a step back to gain momentum and then lunge at the door. At the same moment,
     the door opens and I go flying inside, barely catching myself from falling on my ass.
    A girl stands there. Black hair, dark clothing. Way too Goth for my taste, but you
     can tell that she’d be totally hot with her full lips and slanted blue eyes—that is
     if she’d stop shopping at Freaks “R” Us.
    “Sorry,” Natalie says. She tries to smile, even though it looks like she’s been crying.
     Her skin is blotchy and her eyes are red.
    This is way too much drama for me, so I ask Midge to point me in the direction of
     my room. She nods to an open door, across the hall—room number nine.
    There are two beds inside. I’m assuming mine’s the one without all the crap—the heap
     of clothes and art supplies, not to mention the bloody skeleton poster hanging above
     the headboard. I recognize the skeleton. It’s from the album cover of a heavy metal
     band from the ’80s. The lead guitarist plays a Gibson Explorer.
    I move to my half of the room, noticing six guitars set up on the far wall. There’s
     a signature Eric Clapton Fender Stratocaster, signed by the man himself. There’s also
     a Telecaster signed by Jim Root from Slipknot. “Holy shit,” I say, under my breath.
     These must be worth a fortune.
    Still keeping my eye on