You May Now Kill the Bride (Return to Fear Street Book 1)

Two days later, Marissa and I went to see Aiden. He was staying with his cousin Shawn at an apartment in the Old Village. I had to drive because Marissa was still sobbing, mopping at tears running down her cheeks.

It was a gray April day, low clouds threatening rain. Gloomy and depressing, which fit our mood perfectly. I had to concentrate hard on my driving. I still felt shaky from the horror that night in my basement.

“You spoke to Aiden this morning after he left the hospital? What did he say?” I asked.

Marissa hadn’t been talking to me. But in the car, with just the two of us, I hoped she would forget her anger and start again.

I knew she’d probably never forgive me. But if only she would talk to me . . .

“His hand . . . ,” she started in a trembling voice. “The tendons were all torn. They tried to reattach them. But . . . but they don’t know if he’ll be able to move his fingers again.”

More tears. She dabbed at them with her wadded-up Kleenex.

“Oh my God,” I murmured. A fresh wave of guilt washed over me. I lost my concentration. The car slid to the right. I had to jerk the wheel hard to get back in the lane. “Marissa—I’m so sorry . . .”

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Marissa snapped, her jaw clenched.

“But—”

“You ruined Aiden’s life,” she said, her eyes burning into mine. “He’ll never be a surgeon if he can’t use his fingers.”

“I know, but maybe—”

“You’re trying to ruin my life—aren’t you?” Now she was screaming. Her voice shrill in the small car. “Aren’t you?”

“No. Of course not!” I protested. “You’ve got to believe me. It was a total accident. I tripped. It’s the truth.”

She didn’t reply. She crossed her arms in front of her and glared out the window, her face twisted in anger.

I made the turn onto Division Street, a little too fast, but I kept control even though my hands were cold and shaking. “You’re never going to believe me—are you?” I said in a tiny voice. “You’re never going to forgive me?”

She didn’t move and didn’t answer. Kept her arms wrapped tightly around her and stared out the windshield, her expression stone hard, her mouth set in a furious scowl.

And suddenly, my sorrow, my guilt, my shame . . . it all faded away. I could feel it wash away, as if I was getting lighter, floating, rising above it.

And then I felt a deep surge of red anger raging up from the pit of my stomach. Anger so powerful that I had an urge to crush the gas pedal and slam the car into a wall.

We are sisters, I thought. Why can’t we ever stick together as a family? Why does Marissa resent me so much? Why does she hate me? Why can’t she forgive me?

And as I pulled the car into a narrow parking space in front of the apartment building, my anger led me to darker thoughts:

You should be nicer to me, Marissa. You don’t know the things I can do.

I don’t know anything about the visit with Aiden. Even though I was desperate to see him and tell him how sorry I was, Marissa made me wait in the car.

When she returned after about twenty minutes, she was pale and shaken. She refused to say a word to me.

That night, a bunch of Marissa’s friends came over to console her. Her best friend, Taylor, squeezed next to her on the big armchair in the den and kept her arm draped around Marissa’s shoulders. Olivia and Dani were there, too.

They all spoke in near whispers, and there was a lot of head shaking and sorrowful frowns, and muttering. I could hear Taylor talking about the screams they heard that night from the basement. “It sounded like a wild animal. Seriously. I was so terrified. I thought a wolf or something had crawled into your basement. I had no idea it was Aiden.”

She wasn’t doing a very good job of cheering Marissa up. None of them were.

Of course, I wasn’t allowed in the room. Marissa had made that very clear to me. That afternoon, I eavesdropped on a conversation she had with Mom.

Marissa told Mom that Aiden was out of his mind with anger. He couldn’t stop screaming and waving his hand with the huge cast on it, threatening her with it. Marissa said he blamed our whole family. He kept saying he was going to sue us.

Mom isn’t good in situations like this. She gets so defensive, she doesn’t think straight. “I thought there was something wrong with that boy from the moment you brought him in,” I heard her say.

Marissa went ballistic. “Something wrong with him? Mom, you can’t blame Aiden. How can you blame Aiden? Harmony destroyed his hand. Harmony ruined his life!”

“Don’t say that,” Mom replied. “Don’t say that about your sister. Did you see how devastated she was?”

“Ha!” Marissa cried. “Devastated? Mom, Harmony—”

“You’re always trying to blame people. You know it was an accident.”

“I don’t know it,” Marissa insisted.

Listening in the hall, her words gave me a deep shudder. How could Marissa think I did it deliberately?

She really hates me, that’s how.

Now it was after dinner—our silent dinner. Dad was away on a business trip. Mom tried to start a conversation a few times. But Marissa and I muttered replies to our dinner plates. And Robby remained silent. Mom gave up and we ate in total silence. The clink of our forks on the plates never sounded so loud.

It was as if someone had died. Like a funeral in our house. And when Marissa’s friends showed up, it didn’t get any cheerier.

Since Marissa made it clear I wasn’t allowed in the room, I listened outside the den door. I didn’t have anything else to do. For a moment, I considered going downstairs and working on my cabinet.

I had cleaned up all the blood, although the floor was still stained. But it didn’t matter. I think I realized somewhere in the back of my mind that I’d never work down there again.

“Hey—!” I cried out as something bumped me in the back.

I turned and saw Mom. She held an oval tray of blondies in both hands. “A snack for them,” she said, whispering for some reason. “Bring it in to them.”

Mom makes the best blondies in America. Believe me, I wanted to eat the whole tray. But I obediently pushed open the den door and carried in the tray.

I saw Marissa’s expression change immediately. Her eyes flashed with anger.

“From Mom,” I said.

“Set it down on the coffee table, and leave,” Marissa snapped.

I could see the surprise on Taylor’s face.

But I didn’t want to argue or anything. I set the tray down, wheeled around, and strode from the room. As I pulled the den door nearly closed, I saw all of them reaching for the blondies.

I shut my eyes and whispered a spell, a few words I had memorized from one of the old books. I knew I shouldn’t be doing what I was doing. But Marissa’s anger had rubbed off on me.

Then I leaned against the wall, just out of sight, and listened. Marissa’s three friends all talked about how sorry they felt for her. And I heard Marissa tell them that she would never forgive me. A chill ran down my back, and something snapped inside me. I mean, why would a sister say that to her friends?

I should have gone up to my room or out of the house. Standing there, listening to Marissa’s hatred, only made me feel weak and sad. But I couldn’t leave the doorway. I was waiting for Doug to arrive.

I knew Doug would spark a little life into the evening. That’s why I called him that afternoon and invited him over.

When I spoke to him, he was totally surprised to learn that Marissa was in town. That meant she hadn’t found the courage to break up with him yet. So . . . both Doug and my sister were in for a big surprise.

And when Doug came bursting into the den, so big and broad, like a bull as always . . . When Doug came bursting in, the girls all gasped and cried out, and did a terrible job of hiding their surprise.

Doug left the den door wide open, so I could see the whole thing. Doug stood in the middle of the room, looking like the Hulk, staring hard at Marissa, who still shared the armchair with Taylor.

“Marissa.” Doug was breathing hard, as if he’d run all the way to our house. “You didn’t tell me you were in town.” He managed to sound hurt and angry at the same time.

Marissa squeezed past Taylor and struggled to her feet. “I . . . well . . . I’m sorry. It was a short visit and—”

Marissa is not a good liar. You have to be quick to lie well. That just isn’t how her mind works.

Taylor jumped up and scrambled beside Dani on the couch. Olivia sat cross-legged on the carpet beside the couch. All three of them looked as if they’d love to be somewhere else.

“I’ve been texting you,” Doug said. He shoved back the hood of his gray hoodie.

“I know,” Marissa said. Her cheeks were bright pink.

Doug squinted at her. “Is something wrong?”

Marissa shook her head. From the doorway, I saw tears bubble in her eyes. “No. Well . . . yes. I mean—”

Was Marissa going to tell Doug about Aiden? Was she going to break up with him right in front of her friends?

Doug curled his big hands into fists, then uncurled them. He shifted his weight from right to left. “I don’t get it.”

Marissa started toward him. “We need to talk. But not now.”

He backed away from her. “You mean—?”

“It just happened, Doug,” Marissa blurted out. “I didn’t mean for it to. But . . .”

From the doorway, I saw Doug’s face darken, almost to purple. “What are you saying? I don’t understand.”

Marissa’s three friends shifted uncomfortably. Could this be more embarrassing? Marissa was breaking Doug’s heart, and they were, like, in the audience watching.

Marissa avoided Doug’s stare. “I . . . met someone else,” she said in a whisper.

Doug nodded. His eyes went blank. Even from a distance, I could see he was trying to process her words.

He rubbed his hand back through his hair. He shifted his weight again. “You . . . you promised. Didn’t you promise?”

“It just happened, Doug,” Marissa said, her eyes still on the floor.

“Happened.” Doug muttered the word. His face was still purple, his expression a blank. “Happened.”

Then he swung his big body around and stomped out of the room without another word. He brushed past me, bumping me out of the doorway. A few seconds later, the front door slammed hard.

Marissa stood in the center of the den, her back to her friends, her silent friends. She hugged herself and made a shivering sound. “I see you there, Harmony,” she said in a cold voice I barely recognized. “Come . . . in . . . here.”

I took a deep breath and stepped into the doorway, but I didn’t enter the room.

Marissa pointed a shaky finger at me. “You called Doug, didn’t you? Don’t even answer. I know you did. I know you called him.”

I didn’t move and I didn’t reply.

“Stay out of my life,” Marissa said through clenched teeth. “I mean it. You are ruining everything for me. What is your problem?”

“Marissa—?” Taylor tried to interrupt. I think she’d had enough drama for one night. Or maybe she just wanted a chance to calm Marissa down.

Marissa ignored her and kept her furious expression on me. “Look at you, Harmony. Messing with my boyfriends. Messing with my life. Look at you. What are you wearing? Those are my old clothes, the clothes I left behind when I left for Wisconsin.”

I was breathing hard, feeling dizzy from the anger pouring off my sister.

“Do you want to be me—is that it, Harmony?” Marissa screamed. “You really want to be me?”

“Marissa, stop—” Taylor tried again.

But a hoarse groan made everyone turn around.

Another throaty groan, and Olivia bent her head and vomited loudly onto the carpet.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Dani cried, jumping to her feet. And then Dani’s eyes rolled up, and she grabbed her stomach. She took two staggering steps forward. Then she threw up all over the couch.

I stepped back from the doorway. All four of them were vomiting now, holding their stomachs, bent in two, and loudly spitting up big puddles of yellow and brown.

I spun away so they wouldn’t see me smile.

I’m so bad. But that incantation was just so, so good.