Read Don't Forget Me! for Free Online Page B

dream.”
    I hugged myself hard, staring at the gray light washing in through the bedroom window.
    All a dream …
    Of course. A dream.
    I stood up, still hugging myself. I’ll prove it, I decided. I can prove it was all a dream. I will go into Peter’s room, and he will be sleeping soundly, tucked in, sleeping peacefully in his own bed.
    Peter safe and sound, asleep in his bed. Not in the basement with those creatures from my nightmare.
    I hesitated, gripped with fear. What if Peter wasn’t asleep in his room?
    What if he was down in the basement with the slime-covered kids?
    What would I do then?
    What could I do?
    I took a deep breath and pressed my hand against my chest, as if trying to force my heart to stop racing.
    Then I took a shaky step toward the hall. My legs felt so rubbery and weak. I was dizzy with fear. The floor tilted and rocked beneath me as I made my way slowly down the long hall toward Peter’s room.
    I stopped outside his door.
    Said a silent prayer.
    â€œ Peter, please be in there. Please! ”
    I turned the knob and pushed open the door. I clicked on the ceiling light.
    And blinking in the sudden bright light, I stared at his bed.
    Empty.
    Peter wasn’t there.

 

    I stared in horror at the tangled sheets and blanket. The empty bed.
    I heard a sigh. And raised my eyes to the window.
    â€œWhat are you doing in here?” Peter asked. He was perched on his window seat. His red hair had fallen down over one eye. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. One pajama leg was rolled up nearly to his knee.
    â€œPeter, you’re here!” I cried happily. I dove across the room and tried to wrap him in a hug. But he dodged away from me.
    â€œWhy did you come in here?” he asked, brushing back his hair with one hand.
    â€œI—I—” How could I answer that? “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Why aren’t you in bed?”
    He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
    I studied his face. “So you’ve just been staring out the window?”
    He nodded.
    â€œAnd you weren’t down in the basement?” I asked.
    â€œThe basement?” He frowned, as if thinking hard about it.
    â€œWere you?” I demanded. “Were you in the basement, Peter?”
    â€œNo. Of course not,” he said sharply.
    And then he startled me. He reached out suddenly and grabbed my wrist.
    â€œDanielle,” he whispered through gritted teeth. He squeezed my wrist hard and brought his face close to mine. “Danielle, don’t forget me. Please— don’t forget me! ”
    The next morning, I dressed for school in a hurry. I gazed out the window as I pulled on a baggy gray sweater over a pair of black straight-legged jeans. It was a cloudy day. Cold, gray light poured into my bedroom, making long, dark shadows over the floor.
    Despite the gray, I felt cheerful, eager to get downstairs to breakfast. It was a new day. A new start. My frightening nightmare about the strange, glistening kids was just that—a nightmare.
    It’s normal to have strange dreams when you move into a new house, I told myself.
    And I assured myself that Peter would be okay today. I guessed that the effects of my dumb spell would be over by now. I guessed that Peter would be his cheerful, talkative, pesty self again.
    I guessed wrong.
    He stumbled into the kitchen still in his blue striped pajamas. His hair was unbrushed. It stood straight up in back. He squinted at me through his glasses, as if he didn’t recognize me.
    â€œHel-lo,” I said. “Aren’t you forgetting about a little something? Like school?”
    He frowned and rubbed his cheek. “What day is it?”
    â€œMonday,” I said. “Here. Pick a cereal. Have your breakfast, then go up and get dressed.”
    I had pulled three boxes of cereal from the cabinet. But I knew Peter would choose Golden Grahams. That’s the only cereal he ever eats.
    He walked over to