Mischief Night (Volume 3) (Saranormal, Band 3) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Phoebe Rivers had a brush with the paranormal when she was thirteen years old, and ever since then she has been fascinated by people who see spirits and can communicate with them. In addition to her intrigue with all things paranormal, Phoebe also loves cats, French cuisine, and wiling her afternoons away in coffee shops writing stories. She has written dozens of books for children of all ages and is thrilled to now be exploring Sara’s paranormal world.

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Mischief Night

Chapter 1

Everything changes so fast.

Yesterday the rides and game stands were all open. The thump of repeating bass lines from the concert on the pier could be heard as far away as the lighthouse. Thousands of people milled about. Laughing. Shouting.

Today the boardwalk stood eerily quiet.

No music. No giggling toddlers. No guys haggling you to throw a softball at a milk bottle. Only a few screaming seagulls broke through the Sunday afternoon silence.

Summer in Stellamar was now officially over. Not officially in the calendar sense. That happened last month. Over, according to the boardwalk—and here in Stellamar, the boardwalk is everything. Last night was the annual October Boardwalk Bash, a town-wide good-bye party to the tourists, the lazy days in the sun, the ever-present carnival.

I lingered inside the doorway of the arcade and peered out at the now-shuttered stands and frozen Ferris wheel. Only the arcade, the pizza place, the ice-cream place, and a hot dog stand or two braved the change of season. Heavy steel-colored clouds crept down to meet the dark waters of the Atlantic. The sand below the boardwalk’s graying wood looked bleak—the colorful kaleidoscope of towels and umbrellas already a memory. The humidity had lifted, blown away along with the scents of cotton candy, popcorn, and grilled sausage and peppers.

Change was in the air.

Not a big deal for me. For the past three months, change was all I’d done. New town. New house. New school. New friends.

Lots of new.

Without the boardwalk, what would this New Jersey town be like? I wondered. I pulled my hands up into my sweatshirt sleeves. When summer came around again, would I be one of the group? A local? Would that ever happen? Or would I still be the quiet blond girl from California?

“Hey, Sara. Come play this!” Lily Randazzo called from inside the arcade.

My new friend.

Some new was good, I decided as I walked into the warm, yellow glow of the arcade. Lily’s smile rivaled the bright video game lights. Maybe I can really fit in here, I thought. Lily waited by the skee-ball lanes with Miranda Rich and Avery Apolito.

“Let’s see who can get the highest score,” Miranda challenged us. Miranda liked to turn everything into a competition.

“I want to take home that pink bear.” Avery pointed to an enormous fuzzy animal that resembled a fat dog more than a bear. Avery was one of the shortest girls in the seventh grade. The bear-dog, dangling on a hook from the wood-beamed ceiling, looked larger than her.

“There’s no way.” Lily twirled a strand of her long, dark hair around her finger, contemplating the prize. “It’s too many tickets. You’d have to get every ball in the fifty slot for three games in a row. Try for that stuffed baseball with a face. It’s only fifty tickets.”

Avery scrunched her freckle-covered nose. “I have five of those already. My dog won’t even play with them.” She glanced around the arcade. There were maybe ten of us in the whole place. All summer it had been packed, but now it was just us. “Come on, Lily. Can’t you do something?” Avery asked.

“Not here, Ave. Mr. Chopra isn’t family.” Lily lowered her voice. “In fact, I think he secretly hates my family. Thinks there’s too many of us.”

“There are a lot of you,” Miranda quipped.

“The more the merrier, my mom says,” Lily shot back with a grin.

“Two’s company, three’s a crowd, my mom says,” Miranda countered.

“But four’s a party—and so is forty!” They both laughed. Even though I’d just moved here a few months ago, I’d heard this back-and-forth routine many times. Lily had more relatives living and working in Stellamar than the ocean had shells. They seemed to run everything, except, it turned out, the arcade.

“We could try to win it together,” Lily suggested. “The four of us all play and do amazing and then pool our tickets together.”

“I’m in.” Miranda dropped her token into the slot. Ten wooden baseball-size balls rolled down the chute, knocking one another as they came to a stop in a line.

Lily, Avery, and I each claimed a lane and pushed in a token.

“I got it! Fifty points!” Miranda whooped.

“Seriously? Seriously? What is wrong with me?” Lily stamped her foot next to me. She’d already bowled two balls up the ramp. Zero points flashed on her scoreboard. “Ugh. I was so close to that hundred-point hole.”

“That’s only there to distract you. Just aim up the middle,” Miranda called.

I let the weight of the smooth ball rest in my palm. How many other twelve-year-olds have thrown this ball over the years? I thought. Hundreds, probably. I swung my arm back, then followed through, twisting my wrist slightly the way my dad had taught me. The ball glided into the fifty-point slot.

I rolled the next ball in line. Another fifty.

This got Miranda’s attention. “You’re good,” she said, her surprise obvious.

I shrugged as if it were a natural talent. But it wasn’t. Dad and I had spent many nights in the arcade when we had first moved here and didn’t know anyone. He showed me how to put the right amount of spin on the little wooden ball.

“Go again!” Avery urged. “Maybe we can win the bear.”

I rolled the next ball. Not enough spin. Twenty points.

Lily finished her game and turned to watch. Avery edged closer. I tried to concentrate. Think only about the ball. Empty my mind.

“You are so lame!”

“No, you are. Can’t even walk.”

“Get your foot out of my way.”

I glanced toward the door. A group of boys from our school tumbled in, punching each other in the arms. I saw Jack L. and Luke. But there were others behind them. Was he with them?

I wanted to look. To find his warm brown eyes. His crooked smile. But then what? Nothing, I knew. It’d been a week since he’d even said hi to me in class.

So I focused on the skee-ball lane instead. Visualized the ball’s path. In one swift motion, I rolled the wooden ball, watching it hop, then drop into the fifty slot.

“The Harvest Queen is lucky,” a familiar voice said behind me.

“Not luck. Skill,” I replied, not turning. Not looking at him.

He was here. Next to me.

I reached for another ball. Studied the scuffed ramp while inhaling the faint scent of almonds. I loved that smell. Hosten’s soap. I knew that because I’d smelled all the soaps at the drugstore last week until I found the right one. Hosten’s comes in a three-pack. It was Jayden’s soap, I was sure.

Avery giggled. Jack said something to her I couldn’t hear.

I tossed the ball. It veered far to the right. Zero points.

“Luck,” he said again.

“You messed me up.” I turned, pretending to be angry.

“I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness.”

I cringed. “Don’t call me that,” I said. “That’s over.” Two weeks ago, I was crowned Harvest Queen for the school dance....