YOUR SECRET ADMIRER Read online

  Table of Contents

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  YOUR SECRET ADMIRER

  Richard Laymon

  To My Wife, Ann

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dear Janice,

  You don’t know me, but I know you. I know lots about you. Your name is Janice O’Neill. You’re fifteen years old, and a tenth grader at Webster High School. As you can see from the envelope, I know your address.

  You are five feet, two inches tall and weigh about a hundred and five pounds. That’s a nice size for a girl. Also, you have an appealing figure. I don’t like it when girls are either too big or too little. I like girls to be the way you are—in the middle.

  Your eyes are like the sky. Your hair is golden. The freckles on your nose are brown like sand.

  Your best friend is Susan Anzio, who lives on Elm Street. She has a brother named Mike. You don’t have a brother. You’re an only child, which must make you feel very lonely sometimes.

  I’m often lonely, too. I was lonely, anyhow, until last week when I saw you at the park.

  You were there with Susan. You wore white tennis shoes, faded jeans, and a blue sweatshirt that said Thomas Jefferson Junior High School. Do you remember? The day was sunny, but a strong wind blew leaves along the grass. It also blew your frisbee every which way.

  Speaking of which, how did you get to be so good with a frisbee? Your accuracy, considering the wind, was astonishing. Also, I was impressed by your catching ability. You are superb with a frisbee, and should consider competing in the sport.

  But I am wandering from the point. The point is this, Janice. From the moment I saw you in the park, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. Thoughts of you fill my days and haunt my nights. I long to be near you, to speak with you, to look into the depths of your eyes. How wonderful it would be!

  And yet, I dare not. I must keep my identity a secret from you. For now. Perhaps forever.

  Let me simply adore you from afar, and write to you sometimes of my love.

  With all my heart,

  Your Secret Admirer

  “What do you think?” Janice asked.

  “I think he’s loony,” Susan told her. “And dangerous, maybe. I mean, what kind of nut goes around sending anonymous letters? Not only that, but he must’ve followed you around, or how’d he know all this stuff?”

  “Maybe it’s someone we know,” Janice suggested.

  “Yeah, but who?”

  Janice shrugged. “Somebody from school, maybe.”

  Susan took off the wire-rimmed glasses that made her look like a red-haired Benjamin Franklin, and tapped one of the earpieces against her front teeth. “Freddy Miller?” she asked.

  “Freddy?”

  “Sure. Haven’t you seen how he looks at you?”

  “No, how?”

  “Like he’s madly in love.”

  “He does not,” Janice said. She thought about Freddy. He sat next to her in English, and sometimes took a seat beside her on the school bus. He hardly ever talked, though. If he loved her so madly, he’d certainly talk, wouldn’t he? “Freddy’s too shy to send a letter like this,” she said.

  “Are you kidding? It’s perfect for a shy person. What could be more perfect than an anonymous letter? You can say whatever you want, and they’ll never know it’s you.”

  Susan put on her glasses again and picked up the letter. “Seems to me this guy gives us plenty of clues,” she said. “Why don’t we make a list?” She opened her binder, and pulled out two fresh sheets of notebook paper. She gave one to Janice. “Before we start, do you want a Pepsi?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Susan got up from the kitchen table where she’d been doing homework when Janice arrived with the letter. She took a can from the refrigerator. “All we’ve got is the diet stuff,” she explained. “Mom says I’ve gotta drop a little weight. Like about a ton.”

  “You’re not that heavy.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m a porker.”

  She poured the cola into ice-filled glasses, and brought them to the table. “Now,” she said, “let’s list the clues.”

  “He types.”

  “Right.”

  They both wrote it down, making separate lists. Then they began reading the letter aloud, discussing each clue as it came up. Ten minutes later, they were done. Their lists looked like this:

  Secret Admirer

  1. types

  2. mailed letter here in town

  3. says Janice doesn’t know him (maybe a lie to throw us off the track)

  4. knows Janice’s height and weight

  5. was at park when we were

  6. uses big words like astonishing

  7. has good grammar

  “Awfully good grammar,” Susan said, after going over the list. “Like a grown-up.”

  “Oh, it isn’t that good.”

  “I tell you, Janice, he’s a grown-up. Look how he says stuff like ‘And yet, I dare not.’ No kid is going to write that.”

  “Maybe he’s a kid trying to sound like an adult.”

  “I think it’s a real one. You’d better tell your mom and dad. The guy might be some kind of pervert.”

  “Who’s a pervert?” asked Mike, entering the kitchen.

  “You are, creepo,” Susan said.

  “Not me,” he said, and opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a carton of milk. “Yours truly is normal in every way.”

  “Except your mind, which is ossified.”

  “Ossified,” Mike said to Janice. “Bet she doesn’t even know what it means.” He grinned at her, and she felt the warmth of a blush. She really liked Mike, but he never paid much attention to her. Probably because she was Susan’s friend. It couldn’t be her age, because Mike had taken Brita Kramer—also a sophomore—to a movie last week.

  She plucked the letter from Susan’s hand. “Do you want to see this?” she asked.

  “Don’t let him,” Susan warned.

  “Why not?”

  “What is it?” Mike asked, approaching.

  “A weird letter I got.”

  “He’ll tell everyone,” said Susan.

  “No he won’t.” Janice handed the letter to Mike. “It’s just between the three of us, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Janice believed him. She’d known Mike for nearly three months. Though he spent most of the time ignoring her, she’d had plenty of chances to observe him. She knew he could be trusted.

  She watched him read the letter. When he finished he looked at her oddly, as if he had never really seen her before. She suddenly thought how personal the letter was. Phrases from it flashed through her mind: appealing figure… I long to be near you… adore you… my love. She felt a blush burn her skin. The letter was too personal. She shouldn’t have let him read it. Shrugging, she smiled with embarrassment.

  “The guy’s really flipped for you,” Mike said. “Do you know who wrote it?”

  “No.�
�

  “Far out. How does it feel, having a secret admirer?”

  “I’m not sure. I kind of like it, but it makes me nervous.”

  “It should,” Susan said. “I mean, the guy’s probably one of those sex maniacs who…”

  Mike interrupted her with a laugh. “He isn’t a sex maniac.”

  “I see. You know him personally. I should have guessed. Who is it, Brains Callahan?”

  “Don’t be a twerp.”

  “Maybe you wrote it yourself.”

  He shook his head, smirking as if the idea were too ridiculous to bother denying. But Janice saw his face go red.

  “Explains everything!” Susan blurted. “How he knows so much about you—about us! Come on, creepo, fess up!”

  He didn’t answer Susan. Instead, he looked straight at Janice. His intense blue eyes locked on hers. She couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to. She wished the moment would last forever.

  “I didn’t write this letter,” he told her. “But if you want, I’ll help you find out who did.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dinner that night was spaghetti. Janice really liked how her mother made the sauce, with chunks of sausage instead of meatballs. She carefully spooned it onto her tangled pile of spaghetti, giving herself plenty of sausage, and being sure to miss the big slices of mushroom.

  Mushrooms, in her opinion, were disgusting. Also dangerous. If somebody goofed and they turned out to be toadstools, she’d be the only healthy one. She planned to call the paramedics in time to save Mom and Dad.

  She watched closely as her father forked a mushroom into his mouth. Suddenly, he grimaced and clutched his throat. Janice dropped her fork.

  “Hal!” her mother said, “that’s not amusing.”

  He grinned, and winked at Janice.

  Janice laughed. “You’re weird,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you guys going out tonight?” she asked.

  “Want to get rid of us, huh?”

  Mom said, “We’ll be going to the Dawsons’ for bridge.”

  “Is it okay if I go to the movies with Susan?” She began to cut her spaghetti. She hated long strands slopping against her chin and throat.

  “What’s playing?” Dad asked.

  “The Vampire’s Curse and The Dead Walk at Midnight.”

  “Lovely,” Mom said.

  “They sound good,” said Dad. “Nothing compares to The Night of the Living Dead, of course. Maybe this Halloween I’ll take you to see it. The Palace always has a midnight showing…”

  “It’s horrid,” Mom put in.

  “You saw it?”

  “Your father dragged me to it several years ago. ‘It’s a classic,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to see it.’ Well, I saw it, all right. And I wish I hadn’t. I had nightmares for a month.”

  “Wow!” She finished cutting her spaghetti, and raised a forkful to her mouth. It was hot and tangy.

  Mom lifted an eyebrow at her. “These movies you want to see, what are they rated?”

  “P.G.”

  “Sounds all right by me,” Dad said. “Wish I could come along. You’ll probably have a better time than us.”

  “Speak for yourself, Hal.”

  “How will you get there?”

  “We thought we’d walk.”

  Dad shrugged. “We can give you a lift over. Wouldn’t be able to pick you up, though.”

  “Oh, we can walk home.”

  “What time does the show let out?” Mom asked.

  “About eleven.”

  “That’s too late to be out on the streets.”

  “We don’t mind.”

  “Well, we do,” Mom said.

  Dad swallowed a mouthful of spaghetti and used his napkin to wipe the red sauce off his lips. “Maybe Susan’s parents will pick you up.”

  “It’s not that far,” Janice objected, seeing her plans begin to fall apart. “It’s not even a mile.”

  “We’re not much concerned about the distance,” Dad explained. “We’re sure you can walk that far without doing your feet any permanent damage. What concerns us is your safety.”

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “Not worth the risk,” Dad said. “You’d have to walk past the park, and that isn’t the most savory place in town, especially at night.”

  “A woman was beaten and robbed in the park last month,” Mom added. “She wound up in the hospital. No, we won’t have you walking home at that hour. If Susan’s parents can’t bring you home, you’ll just have to make other plans for tonight.”

  “Aw, Mom!” The spaghetti suddenly lost its flavor. She had a hard time swallowing.

  “When you’re done eating,” Dad suggested, “try giving Susan a call.”

  “They won’t. They never do anything Susan wants.”

  “No harm trying.”

  When Janice finished dinner, she phoned Susan and explained the situation.

  “Hang on,” Susan said. “I’ll ask.” She went away from the phone. When she came back, her voice was cheerful. “Wonder of wonders, Jan. They’ll pick us up.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. They’re trying to turn over a new leaf.”

  “Great!”

  When Janice and Susan were seated in the movie theater, Susan looked over her shoulder at the people wandering down the aisles and taking seats. “Do you think he’s here?”

  “Who?” Janice asked.

  “Your secret admirer.”

  Janice, too, looked around at the audience. “I guess he might be,” she said in a hushed voice.

  “Maybe him in the T-shirt.”

  The muscular man had tattoos on both arms, and cruel eyes that made Janice shiver. “I sure hope not,” she muttered.

  “Could be anybody, I guess,” Susan continued. “Maybe that guy there. The one with the popcorn.”

  That guy, looking decent and intelligent in his sport shirt and glasses, was no older than ten. “You’re asking for it,” Janice said.

  “Who, me?” Susan smiled sweetly. “You wouldn’t hit a girl with glasses.”

  Janice twisted her arm, and Susan started giggling out of control. As the theater darkened, Janice let go. Susan elbowed her. Then they both settled down to watch the film.

  The Dracula movie came first. It was so bad that everyone laughed in the wrong places. At intermission, Susan saved the seats while Janice went to the snack counter. She bought a giant tub of buttered popcorn, and two Pepsis. As she started to pick them up, a voice from behind said, “Would you like me to help?”

  Turning, she faced Freddy Miller. She remembered what Susan had said about him that afternoon: “Haven’t you seen how he looks at you?… Like he’s madly in love.”

  “Hi, Freddy.”

  Freddy smiled nervously. His ears were red, as if he’d been out in cold weather. Janice suspected, though, that the redness came from embarrassment. “I can handle the drinks,” he said.

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  Together, they began walking through the crowded lobby. “How’d you like the movie?” Janice asked.

  “It was dumb.”

  “Yeah, I thought so too.”

  “You don’t kill vampires with silver bullets. That’s werewolves.”

  They entered the auditorium. “We’re down here,” Janice told him.

  “I know. I saw you. You’re with Susan.”

  “Who’d you come with?”

  “Just me.”

  “You mean you came to the movies all by yourself?”

  He looked as if he’d been caught at something awful. “I don’t mind,” he said.

  “Do you want to sit with us?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “There’s plenty of room. Come on.” They reached the seats.

  “What’s up, Freddy?” Susan greeted him.

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Freddy’s here alone, so I asked him to sit with us.”

  “Good idea.” Susan moved ov
er, and patted the seat beside her. “Here you go, Freddy. I warmed it up for you.”

  He sat down beside Susan. Janice took the seat on his other side.

  “So,” said Susan, “how’s your typing.”

  Janice scowled at her.

  “It’s okay. I got a B last year.”

  “And an A in English, I bet.”

  He nodded.

  “Written any letters lately?”

  “Susan!”

  “Some guy wrote Janice this really neat letter, see, and we’re just checking around to find out who.”

  “What kind of letter?” he asked.

  “What kind did you write?” Susan wanted to know.

  “I didn’t write any.”

  “Can you prove it?”

  “Susan! Leave him alone!”

  Susan ignored her. “Did you follow us here tonight?”

  “No! What is this?”

  “Are you in love with Janice?”

  He turned crimson. Janice covered her face in despair.

  “You are! Admit it! You love her and you wrote the letter!”

  “You’re crackers!” he said. Jumping to his feet, he lurched past Janice and ran up the aisle.

  “He did it,” Susan said. “Did you see him? Guilt written all over his face.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “He’s right,” Janice said. “You are crackers.”

  “I solve the mystery for you, and this is the thanks I get.”

  “What’d you solve? All you did was upset Freddy. He really wanted to sit with us, and… that just wasn’t very nice.”

  Susan frowned with deep concentration, and suddenly smiled. “No problem,” she said. “I’ll go get him.” She squeezed past Janice’s knees, and hurried up the aisle.

  As Janice watched her, the lights dimmed. She saw Susan’s chubby figure moving along a row in the darkness. Then she turned her eyes to the screen in time to watch a bloody hand push upward through the dirt over a grave.

  The whole body was out, white and ugly and staggering among the tombstones, when Susan appeared with Freddy in tow. Freddy sat down beside Janice, and Susan took the seat on his other side.

  “Welcome back,” Janice said. She gave him a smile, and the tub of popcorn. “Help yourself, Freddy.”