Poltergeist Read Free Page A

little too broadly. It gave Robbie the creeps to look at it now. He backed off.
    This didn’t make sense. Was this his prize? Couldn’t be. Besides, the clown had been up in the bedroom just before the party; Robbie had seen it there; he was certain. Sitting right up in the rocking chair. Now it grinned at him from a funny angle, caught between two bricks.
    For a brief moment, Robbie’s teeth chattered.
    Then he heard his mother call him from the house, so he turned and ran back in.
    The party continued. Prizes were passed out, even to those who hadn’t discovered their own. The Opening of Presents took place on the living room floor, with only one serious squabble developing over first use of the Malibu Speed Raceway Set. E. Buzz came in from his Frisbee marathon and barked a lot.
    Finally the main event: the cake, the candles, the singing, the blowing-out, the paper plates, the plastic forks. The traditional food fight. It was during the earliest tactical maneuvers of saturation cake-bombing that they all heard the screams. Coming from upstairs.
    Diane was up the steps first, Steve out the den and right behind her. Others followed, electric with vicarious fear: these were the screams of a child. Coming from the master bedroom.
    When they entered they found the television on, tuned to static snow. Carol Anne stood in front of it, inches from it, staring into it, her eyes wild with alarm. The little red plastic stethoscope was still around her neck. She was screaming uncontrollably.
    The party quickly ended.
    They put Carol Anne to bed. She slept soundly for an hour, then woke up refreshed and unconcerned, in time for dinner. She had no memory of the event.
    “Pass the peas,” Robbie shouted across the table. He was feeling imperious on this significant occasion. This was his day.
    “Pass the peas, please ,” grumbled his father. Steve was still pissed off about Tuthill, still upset about Carol Anne, still fed up with the Rams.
    “Peas please, peas please, peas please . . .”
    “Robert . . .”
    “Would you please pass the peas please?” Robbie intoned sweetly. One could afford to be magnanimous on one’s birthday, as well.
    “Dad, can I sleep over at Heather’s tonight?” asked Dana.
    “Not unless you can show me you’ve finished your geometry . . .”
    “Come on, that’s not fair, I . . .”
    “Life is not fair. That’s a good lesson to learn. In fact, you can’t go to Heather’s even if you do finish your homework. How’s that?”
    “Mom!” Dana whined.
    “Do your math, and we’ll see,” Diane mediated. “Now, can we please have a little peace around here for a change?” There was a thin edge to her voice.
    “Pass the peace, pleace,” piped up Robbie. There was a pause, and then, quite unexpectedly, everybody laughed. Tension broken. You could be magic on your birthday.
    “From the mouths of babes.” Diane shook her head.
    “I’m no babe. I’m eight.”
    They were all feeling better still by the time they actually got some food down—nothing but cake and soda pop all day for the young kids, and beer and Doritos for the big kids, hadn’t helped anyone’s temperament. E. Buzz sensed it was time to shuffle under the table for handouts.
    By second helping, Dana was talking about school, Diane was raving about the latest book she was reading on textural design elements, and Steve was even joking about Tuthill.
    “That guy has to be the biggest jerk ever born—I think he uses the remote just to annoy me.”
    “How’s that work, Dad? Making the channels change from way over there, I mean. Seems kinda magic.”
    “Well . . . it’s like radio waves, sort of, Robbie. People send out these electrical signals from far away, and they get picked up by the radio and turned into music. Same with this. The remote box just sends an electrical signal, and it jiggles up the electrical signals inside the set, makes ’em switch over to another channel. It’s all electronics.”
    “But