Title Page…………………1

Step Closer……………….4
Dance with Me…………...64
Coming Home……………113
About the Authors………..190
Teaser……………………..192
Copyright…………………..199
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Los ojos amarillos de Foxy brillaron en la oscuridad de la

habitación. Su mandíbula colgaba abierta, mostrando dientes
afilados. Foxy levantó su anzuelo y cortó con su punta afilada
frente a la cara de Pete, con el anzuelo zumbando junto a su
nariz. Pete rodó fuera de la cama, su cuerpo temblaba. Su
estómago dio un vuelco mientras yacía indefenso en el suelo
y Foxy giró, cerniéndose sobre él. El cambio de engranajes
llenó la habitación cuando Foxy se balanceó hacia arriba con
su gancho.
—Puedes ser un pirata, pero primero tendrás que perder un
ojo y un brazo.
—No —suspiró Pete.
Cuando Foxy golpeó con su gancho en el ojo de Pete, sonó
un estallido audible. La sangre brotó de la cuenca del ojo
cuando Pete gritó…
Freddy Fazbear's Pizza estaba llena de niños pequeños
locos y sus acosados padres idiotas. La música bramaba a
través de los parlantes de la pared y los juegos de árcade
vibraban. El aroma de pepperoni quemado flotaba en el aire,
mezclado con el aroma del algodón de azúcar. Pete estaba
encorvado contra una pared, con los tobillos cruzados y la
gorra de béisbol hacia atrás, bebiendo una cola con sabor a
cereza mientras mascaba chicle de sandía. Su hermano
pequeño y sus amigos estaban apiñados alrededor de un juego
de árcade.
Pete no quería estar allí, pero su madre tenía que trabajar y
Chuck tenía que volver a estar con sus amigos después de la
escuela. Así que eso dejó a Pete para jugar a la niñera. Por
 STEP CLOSER

centésima vez, se preguntó, ¿por qué siempre era su trabajo?

¿Y, el mocosito estaba agradecido?
No.
Chuck siempre se quejaba de su inhalador. Siempre
lloriqueaba que tenía hambre. Siempre hacía un montón de
preguntas. Siempre algo. Desde que su padre se había ido,
Pete estaba a cargo de Chuck.
Las palabras de su madre se quedaron grabadas en su
cabeza. «Ahora eres el hombre de la casa, Pete. Cuida a tu
hermano pequeño».
¿Cómo se suponía que Pete iba a ser el hombre cuando
sólo tenía dieciséis años? ¿Alguien le preguntó qué pensaba
de sus nuevas responsabilidades?
No.
Pete vio a un niño caminar hacia un par de empleados que
limpiaban las mesas de cumpleaños. Tiró de la manga del
tipo. El hombre miró al niño y sonrió.
—¿Te puedo ayudar en algo? —preguntó.
—Me preguntaba, ¿dónde está Foxy el pirata? —dijo el
niño.
La voz del hombre era dulce como un almíbar.
—Oh, Foxy está de vacaciones en este momento.
Esperamos tenerlo de regreso pronto.
El niño asomó el labio, pero asintió mientras se alejaba.
El otro empleado se rio entre dientes.
—Muy buena —le dijo al hombre.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—Sí, de vacaciones en la sala de mantenimiento. No sé

cuándo volverán a sacarlo.
Pete estaba pensando en eso cuando se dio cuenta de que
alguien estaba diciendo su nombre.
—¿Pete?
Apartó su atención de la conversación y dirigió su mirada
hacia María Rodríguez, que estaba parada a su lado. Su
cabello negro le rozaba los hombros y sus labios eran de un
rojo brillante. Tenía estos ojos verdes brillantes con pestañas
largas y algunas pecas en la nariz. Ella era una animadora en
su escuela secundaria y él la conocía desde sexto grado.
Entonces, ¿por qué de repente se sintió tan nervioso con ella?
—Hola, María.
—Atrapado aquí con el pequeño Chuckie, ¿eh?
Pete frunció el ceño.
—Sí.
—Yo También. Es el cumpleaños de mi hermana pequeña.
—María señaló una mesa de cumpleaños frente al escenario,
con niños pequeños con sombreros de cono y comiendo
pastel.
—No puedo creer que solíamos ser como ellos.
Él sonrió de oreja a oreja.
—No sé tú, pero yo nunca fui así.
María sonrió.
 STEP CLOSER

—Seguro. Y dime, ¿dónde has estado? No te he visto en la

práctica últimamente.
Había sido expulsado del fútbol por rudeza innecesaria y
mala actitud en múltiples ocasiones. ¿Hola? ¡Esto era fútbol!
Así que simplemente lo dejó por completo. La verdad era que
Pete nunca solía renunciar a nada. Solía terminar todo lo que
empezaba. Pero después de ver que sus padres se
abandonaban, terminar las cosas ya no importaba tanto.
Además, no necesitaba más dolor por parte del entrenador, ya
tenía suficiente de sus maestros y su madre. Un único chico
no podía soportar tantas quejas.
Se encogió de hombros.
—Me cansé de todo, ¿sabes?
—Entiendo. Entonces, ¿qué vas a hacer con todo tu
tiempo libre ahora?
—Bueno…
Alguien saludó a María desde la mesa de la fiesta y su
rostro se iluminó.
—¡Sí! Finalmente es hora de irse. —Antes de irse, agregó
—: Oye, un grupo de nosotros nos reuniremos bajo el viejo
puente Beacon, por si quieres venir a pasar el rato más tarde.
Pete sonrió.
—¿Sí?
Ella asintió.
—Será divertido.
Luego negó con la cabeza.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—No puedo. Tengo que estar con Chuck el tonto.

—Ah, está bien. Quizás la próxima vez. Nos vemos en la
escuela.
La irritación se apoderó de Pete mientras veía a María
alejarse. Todo esto era culpa de Chuck. «Mocoso». Todo era
siempre sobre su hermano pequeño. No importaba lo que
Pete quisiera porque nada importaba cuando se trataba de
Pete. Papá se había ido. Mamá estaba en su propio pequeño
mundo. Pensaron que simplemente pondrían a Pete a cargo
de Chuck porque no tenían tiempo para ocuparse de él por sí
mismos. Pero Pete nunca se había inscrito para hacerse cargo
de sus responsabilidades. Él era un niño y los niños deberían
ser libres, sin preocuparse por las cosas. Deberían poder
hacer lo que quisieran, como pasar el rato con otros niños en
lugar de mirar a los hermanitos. Pero a sus padres no les
importaba nada de eso, obviamente. Después de todo, nunca
le preguntaron a Pete si quería que se separaran en primer
lugar. Se acaban de divorciar y eso fue todo. Nada de eso fue
justo.
Pete tenía tantas emociones dentro de él que a veces
simplemente no sabía qué hacer con ellas. A veces se sentía
como una bomba de relojería a punto de explotar, como si la
tensión en su cuerpo estuviera justo debajo de su piel,
pidiendo alivio. Durante un tiempo, el fútbol ayudó. Había
sido una bestia en el campo, derribando jugadores, echando a
la gente fuera del camino. Al final de la práctica, estaba
exhausto y vacío. Se sentía bien.
Pero como estaba fuera del equipo, se quedó sin salida.
Odiaba estos sentimientos. Odiaba todo a veces. Vio a su
hermano separarse de sus amigos para dirigirse al baño y
 STEP CLOSER

entrecerró los ojos ante la nueva oportunidad. Pete arrojó su

refresco a una mesa vacía y caminó rápidamente hacia el lado
de su hermano, agarrándose a su brazo con fuerza.
La cara de Chuck se arrugó.
—¡Ay, Pete!
—Cállate y camina —murmuró, luego sopló una burbuja
hasta que estalló.
—¿Por qué? ¿A dónde vamos?
—Ya verás. —Con una rápida mirada por encima del
hombro, Pete empujó a su hermano pequeño por un pasillo
largo y oscuro. El suelo estaba descolorido y viejo, y carteles
de animatrónicos descascarados se alineaban en las paredes.
El lugar necesitaba una mejora seria. Pete había vagado por
aquí antes y había descubierto la gran sala de mantenimiento.
Ahora que sabía lo que era tomarse unas vacaciones adentro,
no podía esperar para llevar a Chuck a una pequeña aventura,
considerando que su hermano siempre había tenido miedo de
cierto animatrónico.
Chuck empezó a protestar.
—¿A dónde vamos?
—¿Qué te pasa, estás asustado?
—¡No! ¡Sólo quiero quedarme con mis amigos!
—Vamos a comprobar algo.
Chuck hipeó y se lamió los labios secos alrededor de los
aparatos ortopédicos. Sonaba como un sapo cuando estaba
nervioso.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—Déjame en paz o se lo diré a mamá.

—Eres un soplón. Ahora realmente vas a entrar.
Pete arrastró a su hermanito sorprendentemente fuerte a
través de la entrada de la sala de mantenimiento para
encontrarse con Foxy el pirata.

☆☆☆
La pesada puerta se cerró de golpe detrás de ellos y los
envolvió en la oscuridad.
—¡Pete, déjame ir!
—Tranquilo. Alguien podría escuchar y no quiero
escucharte lloriquear como un bebé. ¿Sabes lo molesto que es
eso? —Pete no soltaba el agarre que tenía sobre su hermano.
No, era hora de darle una lección a Chuck. Había llegado el
momento de que Pete hiciera lo que quisiera y ahora mismo
eso significaba darle un buen susto a su hermano.
El pequeño Chuck el tonto incluso podría orinarse en los
pantalones.
Pete se rio entre dientes ante la idea.
Con una mano todavía firmemente en el brazo de su
hermano, sacó su teléfono del bolsillo y encendió la luz para
guiarlos lentamente a través de la oscuridad. El área estaba
extrañamente tranquila, como si no estuviera conectada a un
barco lleno de gente al final de un pasillo. El olor aquí estaba
estancado y mohoso, y el aire parecía… sin vida. Como si
nadie hubiera puesto un pie en el lugar recientemente. Lo
cual era extraño cuando el resto del edificio estaba lleno de
actividad.
 STEP CLOSER

Hipo.
El pie de Pete tiró una botella al suelo. Golpeó algo y se
hizo añicos. Pete y Chuck se quedaron paralizados,
preguntándose si alguien los escucharía, pero no parecía
haber nadie cerca.
Hipo.
Pete examinó el suelo con la luz, revelando baldosas a
cuadros en blanco y negro desgastadas. Mesas polvorientas y
algunas sillas rotas estaban esparcidas por la gran sala. Había
cajas de cartón en las mesas, medio vacías con sombreros de
fiesta y platos esparcidos a su alrededor. Su luz brilló en una
gran araña negra sentada en el borde de una caja.
—Aw, mira eso, tonto. ¡Es enorme! —dijo Pete.
La araña saltó y los chicos retrocedieron.
—Odio las arañas. Vámonos de aquí —se quejó Chuck de
nuevo.
—Aún no. Hay mucho más por explorar. Piensa en esto
como uno de esos juegos de aventuras que te gusta jugar.
Tenemos que encontrar el tesoro secreto. —Dijo Pete, riendo
entre dientes. Tenía que asustar un poco más a su hermano.
Hizo brillar la luz de vuelta al suelo. Se detuvo en lo que
parecían velas oscuras derretidas y extrañas marcas negras.
—¿Qué es eso? ¿Esos son símbolos? —quería Chuck
saber.
—A quién le importa. —Pete continuó moviendo la luz
alrededor. Luego vio el pequeño escenario con la cortina
púrpura cerrada, y una sonrisa se abrió en su boca.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Fijado a la cortina, había un cartel torcido con las palabras

FUERA DE
SERVICIO.
—Grandioso. Con suerte, todavía funciona.
Hipo.
—Pete… no deberíamos estar aquí. Podríamos meternos
en problemas. Un gran problema. Como invadir, ¿sabes? Eso
es contra la ley.
—Eso es contra la ley —Pete lo imitó con una vocecita—.
Eres un nerd, ¿lo sabías? ¿Qué vas a ser de mayor, Chuck?
¿Un policía? Me aseguraré de comprarte una dona de camino
a casa.
Pete iluminó la luz junto al escenario, revelando una caja
de control oxidada en una mesa auxiliar. Se rompió la tapa de
la caja.
—Esto va a ser tan bueno. —Arrastró a su hermanito al
pie del escenario—. Disfruta el espectáculo.
—¡Basta, Pete!
Agarró a Chuck por la camisa y los pantalones, dándole un
buen calzón chino mientras lo lanzaba al pequeño escenario.
Chuck se estrelló contra la plataforma con un “ugh” y Pete
corrió hacia la caja de control.
Golpeó con la palma de la mano un botón que decía
INICIO. Una y otra vez. Sonó un zumbido bajo, seguido de
un clic amortiguado y un ruido metálico.
—¡Oh, vamos! —gritó Pete cuando no pasó nada.
 STEP CLOSER

Finalmente, la pequeña cortina comenzó a abrirse.

Hipo—hipo—hipo.
Con un movimiento rápido, Chuck rodó hacia un lado.
—Chuck, ¡cobarde! —Pete corrió al escenario, agarrando
a Chuck por sus zapatillas para mantenerlo allí. En los
movimientos rápidos que sólo el miedo puede provocar,
Chuck logró evadir a su hermano. Se puso de pie, saltó de la
plataforma y corrió.
Fue lo más rápido que Pete había visto correr a su
hermano. Si no hubiera estado huyendo de Pete, incluso
podría estar impresionado. Pete se movió para recuperarlo,
luego se detuvo frente al escenario cuando su camisa se
enganchó en algo.
—Maldición —murmuró. Tiró de su camisa, pero estaba
atrapada en un estúpido clavo.
Música entrecortada sonó en el aire cuando las cortinas se
abrieron por completo. Pete se quedó congelado frente a un
animatrónico Foxy fracturado que lo estaba mirando. Los
ojos amarillos brillaron bajo las cejas rojas y un parche en el
ojo se colocó sobre su ojo derecho. Una mandíbula con
dientes afilados y puntiagudos colgaba flojamente mientras el
gran zorro comenzaba a cantar una canción inconexa sobre
convertirse en pirata. Un brazo tenía un gancho por mano y la
otra mano estaba despojada de piel, mostrando su esqueleto
robótico. Extraños sonidos de engranajes girando chirriaron y
parecieron resonar en el silencio de la habitación. El pecho
del robot apareció desgarrado, exponiendo más de su cuerpo
mecánico. Foxy se movió despacio, inquietantemente.
Aunque Pete sabía que era un robot, su cuerpo deteriorado
parecía medio devorado por quién sabía qué.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Un escalofrío recorrió la espalda de Pete.

Se tragó el chicle.
No podía apartar la mirada de los ojos amarillos de Foxy
mientras cantaba.
No sabía por qué… sólo era un viejo y tonto robot…
—¡Puedes ser un pirata, pero primero tendrás que perder
un ojo y un brazo! ¡Yarg!
—¡Primero tendrás que perder un ojo y un brazo! ¡Yarg!
—¡Primero tendrás que perder un ojo y un brazo! ¡Yarg! —
¡Primero tendrás que perder un ojo y un brazo! ¡Yarg!
El antiguo animatrónico estaba atascado en la misma
letra…
—¡Primero tendrás que perder un ojo y un brazo! ¡Yarg!
Pete parpadeó cuando una extraña sensación se apoderó de
él, como si una manta invisible, fría y pesada cubriera cada
centímetro de su cuerpo, luego se hundiera a través de su piel
y sus huesos.
—¡Primero tendrás que perder un ojo y un brazo! ¡Yarg!
La habitación se quedó en silencio repentinamente, pero
Pete permaneció allí de pie en la oscuridad. Inmóvil.
Parpadeó y miró a su alrededor, tratando de recordar
dónde estaba. Estaba en la oscuridad. Solo. Su pulso se
aceleró cuando dio un paso atrás. Luego vio que su camisa
estaba atrapada en un clavo, y todo volvió a él. Se frotó los
ojos, quitó la camisa del clavo y salió del escenario para
buscar a su hermano.
 STEP CLOSER

—¡Maldita sea, Chuck!

☆☆☆
Pete vio a Chuck chupar una bocanada de su inhalador
antes de sentarse a la mesa. Se dio cuenta de que los nervios
de su hermano pequeño aún estaban disparados desde que
Pete lo llevó a ver a Foxy el pirata. Chuck miró a Pete al otro
lado de la mesa y se retorció. Pete no sabía por qué estaba tan
molesto. El pequeño mocoso ni siquiera pudo ver la mejor
parte del espectáculo. Se había escapado y se había pegado a
sus amigos hasta que llegó el momento de volver a casa.
—¿Cómo estuvo Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, chicos? —
preguntó su mamá mientras colocaba platos de jamón y papas
frente a ellos.
—Bien —dijo Chuck, sin levantar la vista de su plato.
—Sí, simplemente genial —murmuró Pete, tragando puré
de papas.
—¿Qué? ¿Paso algo?
—No, nada —dijeron los hermanos juntos.
Pete le dirigió a Chuck una mirada de advertencia. «Mejor
no lo digas…» Mamá arqueó las cejas mientras se sentaba.
—Okey. Bueno, yo tengo algo emocionante para
compartir con los dos. Pensé que era hora de que hiciéramos
algo como familia. Y algo que fuera bueno para el mundo.
Pete se mordió las palabras que probablemente herirían los
sentimientos de su madre. «¿Qué familia?» Habían pasado
casi seis meses desde que papá se había ido y rompió a su
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

familia. ¿Y cuándo su madre se había convertido en una

benefactora?
—Algo nuevo. Algo que representa un nuevo comienzo
para los tres como unidad familiar. Algo que también podría
darle a otra persona un nuevo comienzo. —Sacó un papel de
una carpeta y lo dirigió hacia ellos.
Pete leyó las letras en negrita con incredulidad.
—¿Donantes de órganos?
Mamá asintió emocionada.
—Sí, seremos donantes familiares. ¿No suena genial?
La mirada de Chuck se encontró con la de Pete con
asombro.
—¿Estas son tus emocionantes noticias? ¿De verdad
quieres que renunciemos a partes de nuestro cuerpo? —Le
preguntó Pete.
Hizo un gesto con la mano a Pete.
—¡Sólo si nos pasa algo, tonto!
Lo que obviamente no queremos. Pero si fuera así,
podríamos ayudar a otras personas que están enfermas y
necesitan un nuevo corazón o un riñón. Podríamos salvar la
vida de alguien. Seríamos héroes.
—Seríamos héroes muertos —dijo Chuck.
Ella rio.
—¡Oh, Chuckles, me haces reír!
 STEP CLOSER

—Sí, Chuckles, eres un revoltoso —dijo Pete, inexpresivo.

Chuck arrugó la cara.
—Oye, mamá, ¿sabes lo que hizo Pete en la pizzería?
Pete miró a Chuck con los ojos entrecerrados. Sabía que el
mocoso no podía mantener la boca cerrada.
—¿Qué hizo?
—Bebió demasiados refrescos. —Chuck sonrió,
mostrando los dientes.
Mamá suspiró.
—Pete, vamos. Te dije lo que todo ese refresco le hace a
tus dientes.
Pete se limitó a mirar a su madre. ¿Qué le pasaba
últimamente? El mes pasado había comenzado a ver a alguien
que se llamaba a sí misma una “entrenadora de vida”. Luego,
su madre comenzó a practicar yoga, se cortó el pelo largo y
se sometió a una extraña limpieza con jugo. También había
reunido un montón de sus cosas y las había regalado a
organizaciones benéficas. Ahora… ¿ella quería donar partes
de su cuerpo?
—Aquí, lee el volante, Pete —dijo mamá—. Te
convencerá, seguro.
Pete agarró el papel que su madre le puso debajo de la
nariz. La lista de donaciones de órganos era bastante larga:
huesos, corazón, riñón, hígado, páncreas, piel, intestino,
globos oculares…
Globos oculares.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Puedes ser un pirata, ¡pero primero tendrás que perder un

ojo y un brazo! ¡Yarg!
Pete volvió a mirar a Foxy. Se imaginó a Foxy saliendo
repentinamente del escenario y acechando hacia él con su
gran y afilado gancho. Sus pies mecánicos raspando el suelo.
El puré de papas de Pete hizo un lento giro en su
estómago, y de repente se sintió mareado. Parpadeó la
imagen.
—Qué idea más tonta, mamá.
—Pete, no es tonto. Y me duele que pienses eso.
Sí, a mamá también le gustaba expresar sus sentimientos
últimamente. Empujó su silla lejos de la mesa y se puso de
pie mientras su rostro brillaba frío, luego caliente.
—No lo voy a hacer, mamá.
—Pete.
—No quiero hablar de eso. Me voy a la cama. —Pete salió
del comedor.
—¿Qué pasó? —escuchó a su mamá preguntar.
Chuck suspiró.
—Pubertad.

☆☆☆
—¡Date prisa, Pete!
A la mañana siguiente, Chuck golpeó la puerta del baño.
Si Pete no salía pronto, Chuck llegaría tarde al autobús a la
 STEP CLOSER

escuela secundaria W. H. Jameson. Si perdía el autobús,

entonces tendría que andar en bicicleta cinco millas hasta la
escuela y su madre se asustaría de que fuera solo. Era
paranoica, algo le pasaría si Pete no estaba con él, lo cual no
entendía, ¡ya que tenía casi doce años! (Bueno, once y
medio.) Muchos de sus amigos se quedaban solos todo el
tiempo, pero Chuck no. Pete siempre decía que era porque
Chuck era el bebé y su mamá no podía dejar de pensar en él
de esa manera.
Escuchó a Pete tirar el inodoro y Chuck dio un paso atrás
y se encogió.
«Pete está enfermo». El labio de Chuck se curvó un poco.
«Eso es lo que se merece por intentar asustarme ayer». Luego
dejó ir ese pensamiento mientras Pete jadeaba de nuevo,
retrocediendo y apoyándose contra la pared para esperar.
Chuck sabía que la partida de papá había cambiado a
todos. Pete estaba enojado todo el tiempo. Mamá siguió
buscando cosas nuevas para hacerla feliz. ¿En cuanto a él…?
Sólo trató de mantenerse ocupado. Le gustaba pasar el rato
con sus amigos, le gustaba jugar videojuegos en línea y
estaba muy interesado en los rompecabezas.
Sí, la escuela secundaria apestaba, pero ir a la escuela era
sólo una parte de la vida que tenías que atravesar. De vez en
cuando, se sentía desafiado por un proyecto, luego lo
completaba y se aburría de nuevo hasta que algo más llamaba
su interés. Comprendió por qué Pete lo odiaba la mitad del
tiempo, porque mamá hacía que Pete lo cuidara tanto. Trató
de no ser molesto. Pero todo lo que salía de su boca parecía
molestar a Pete. ¿Quizás era así con todos los hermanos?
Chuck no lo sabía porque no tenía otro hermano con quien
comparar.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

El inodoro se descargó. Un minuto después, Pete abrió la

puerta. Una oleada de mal olor se apoderó de Chuck y agitó
una mano frente a su nariz. Pete no se veía tan bien. Su rostro
estaba tan pálido que sus pecas se destacaban como pequeños
insectos en sus mejillas. Su cabello oscuro se levantaba en
diferentes direcciones como si se atascara el dedo en un
enchufe y se sorprendiera, y había círculos debajo de sus
ojos.
—Vaya, Pete, ¿qué te pasa?
—Nada —escupió Pete—. Algo no me sentó bien.
Probablemente algo de esa estúpida pizzería.
Chuck no lo creía.
—¿Quieres que llame a mamá?
Pete lo empujó a un lado.
—No, no soy un bebé como tú, Chuck el tonto.
Chuck sintió que se le ponían rígidos los hombros. Odiaba
ese estúpido apodo.
—Lo que sea —murmuró. Cerró de golpe la puerta del
baño detrás de él.

☆☆☆
Pete tomó una bebida energética con triple cafeína
mientras corría hacia su clase de biología, pero aún se sentía
agotado. Anoche había tenido algunos sueños bastante locos.
No recordaba mucho, sólo que había mucha sangre. Estaba
por todas partes, cayendo sobre él, bajando por su rostro y
sobre su pecho y brazos. Cuando se despertó de un tirón, sus
 STEP CLOSER

mantas estaban enredadas alrededor de su cuerpo. Se había

caído al suelo tratando de desenrollar las mantas sólo para
poder correr al baño.
Se estremeció de sólo pensar en eso, pero rodó los
hombros y empujó ese no tan divertido recuerdo.
Probablemente debería haberse quedado en casa, pero llamar
a su madre al trabajo la habría asustado y le estaría haciendo
un millón de preguntas. Había decidido pasar el día de alguna
manera.
Entró en su salón de clases cinco minutos después de la
campana.
—Señor. Dinglewood, llega tarde —dijo el señor Watson
con voz aburrida.
—¿Lo siento?
Pete se quitó el gorro y negó con la cabeza. Se sentó en un
taburete vacío en la estación de trabajo en el fondo, junto a un
chico con una chaqueta de cuero negra y cabello morado.
Pete se metió la cremallera del sombrero en la mochila y la
dejó en el suelo, luego se secó un poco de sudor de la frente.
Se movió torpemente en el taburete. ¿Por qué parece que no
puede quedarse quieto?
—Como estaba diciendo, clase, hoy diseccionaremos una
rana —dijo el Sr. Watson—. Todos ustedes han sido
interrogados sobre las reglas de seguridad para las
herramientas y el procedimiento. Trabajarán en equipo con
un compañero para completar la hoja de laboratorio. Espero
que todos sean jóvenes maduros. Sé que será difícil para
algunos de ustedes, pero aquí no hay nada gracioso o
fracasarán. No quieren fallar. Tienen treinta minutos a partir
de ahora.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Cuando ambos se dirigieron hacia la rana muerta tendida

frente a ellos, el tipo de la chaqueta de cuero se inclinó hacia
adelante.
—Amigo… ¿qué te pasa? Pete negó con la cabeza.
—Nada.
El tipo de la chaqueta de cuero le dio una mirada de está
bien y tomó un pequeño bisturí.
Diez minutos después, Pete bostezó. Tenía la boca seca y
su mano estaba empezando a temblar por el corte preciso.
El tipo de la chaqueta de cuero sonrió.
—Oye, mira esto —dijo, y le dio un golpe a la rana en el
ojo con el bisturí. Un líquido extraño brotó—. Enfermo,
¿verdad? —Luego empujó la hoja en el brazo de la rana y la
cortó. Cogió la pequeña mano y la agitó hacia Pete.
Pete negó con la cabeza.
—Necesito un descanso.
—Mira, lo siento. Te juro que dejaré de jugar. —Extendió
la manita de rana—. Aquí, vamos a sacudirlo.
El chico se rio entre dientes cuando Pete se levantó del
taburete y se dirigió a la fuente de agua del aula. Tomó un par
de tragos largos. Maldita sea, tenía sed. ¡Y estaba
hambriento! Su estómago decidió gruñir entonces, ya que se
había saltado el desayuno tratando de llegar a la escuela a
tiempo.
Se dirigía de regreso a su estación de trabajo cuando el Sr.
Watson lo detuvo.
 STEP CLOSER

—¿Todo bien, Sr. Dinglewood? —preguntó.

El Sr. Watson era más bajo que él, con cabello blanco y
bigote blanco.
Anteojos colgaban de la punta de su nariz roja, como si de
alguna manera estuviera mirando a Pete, a pesar de que eso
era físicamente imposible.
—Sí, las cosas están bien —espetó Pete.
El Sr. Watson frunció el ceño.
—Me alegra oírlo. Ahora, regrese a su laboratorio de
disección. Tú de todas las personas no puedes permitirte el
lujo de fracasar.
—Lo sé —murmuró Pete, dándose la vuelta.
Todo fue cuesta abajo desde allí.
Pete dio un paso rápido y largo y su pie aterrizó en la
correa de su mochila en lugar de aterrizar de forma segura en
el suelo. Fue entonces cuando resbaló, perdió el equilibrio y
cayó de espaldas. Sintió que su dedo del pie se conectaba con
el chico de la chaqueta de cuero de una manera brutal. El
chico gritó y el Sr. Watson gritó algo en respuesta.
Pete aterrizó de espaldas y se quedó sin aliento. Parpadeó
y cuando abrió los ojos vio el bisturí del chico en el aire. El
cuchillo pequeño debe haber salido volando al impactar. Pero
entonces, incrédulo, Pete vio que el bisturí perdía gravedad y
caía hacia su rostro, la punta de la pequeña hoja se dirigía
directamente a su ojo.
La adrenalina le recorrió el cuerpo. Con los rápidos
reflejos que venían de años de jugar al fútbol, Pete golpeó la
herramienta como un insecto mortal justo cuando la hoja
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

estaba a punto de cegarlo. El bisturí golpeó el soporte de la

estación de trabajo y cayó al suelo.
—Santo… —siseó el tipo de la chaqueta de cuero.
—Querido Señor, Peter, ¿está bien? —dijo el señor
Watson, cerniéndose sobre él como un padre asustado—. No
te muevas, llamaré a la enfermera. ¡Clase, quédense sentados!
¡Nadie se mueva! ¡Procedimiento de emergencia, por favor!
¡Fuera del camino!
La clase ignoró al Sr. Watson y se apiñó alrededor de Pete
mientras su pecho subía y bajaba con respiraciones
profundas. No creía que se hubiera golpeado la cabeza, pero
se sentía mareado y un poco fuera de sí. Por no hablar de lo
mortificado que estaba.
Alguien susurró—: Así se hace, Dingleberry.
Un par de chicos se rieron.
—Sí, qué perdedor. Ahora sabemos por qué fue expulsado
del equipo de fútbol.
Pete se sentó lentamente mientras su rostro se sonrojaba.
Maldita sea, no había duda de que debería haberse quedado
en casa.
De alguna manera, Pete logró pasar el resto del día
escolar. La enfermera lo había revisado, le había dado una
bolsa de hielo y lo había dejado seguir su camino. Fue un
alivio cuando sonó la campana final, caminó rápidamente
alrededor de los niños que se movían lentamente, atravesó las
puertas y bajó los escalones del frente de la escuela.
 STEP CLOSER

Cuando revisó su teléfono, vio que tenía un nuevo mensaje

de texto de su madre. Se pasó una mano en la cara.
¿Ahora qué? ¿No podría pasar un día sin que ella le
pidiera que hiciera algo? Sí, amaba a su mamá, pero ahora
que ella no tenía a su papá para ayudarla, Pete siempre estaba
de guardia. Será mejor que no le pida que vuelva a salir con
Chuck. No lo haría. Él diría: No, lo siento, estoy enfermo. —
Hizo clic en el texto:
Hola Pete, después de la escuela, ¿podrías pasar por el
carnicero y recoger mi pedido de chuletas de cerdo?
Él respondió rotundamente: Bien.
Ella respondió: ¡Gracias! (Emoji de corazón).
Pete se metió un chicle de sandía en la boca y se dirigió a
la carnicería, que estaba a un par de manzanas de su camino.
Quería obtener su licencia, y ese era el plan hace seis
meses, antes del divorcio, pero ahora todos parecían haberlo
olvidado.
Finalmente llegó a la tienda Barney's Butcher. No había
coches aparcados delante, lo que era perfecto, porque podía
conseguir la orden y salir rápido. Pete empujó la puerta de
cristal y ni siquiera había nadie detrás del mostrador. Los
precios de oferta estaban publicados en el cristal y en la parte
de atrás se escuchaba algo de música rock antigua.
Caminó hasta la vitrina de carnes crudas, escudriñando a
la izquierda, luego a la derecha.
—¿Hola? —gritó—. Tengo una orden para recoger.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

No había una campana para sonar, así que se quedó un

minuto esperando a que alguien lo ayudara. Golpeó el
mostrador de vidrio un par de veces.
—¡Holaaaaaaa!
Finalmente, tomó el asunto en sus propias manos,
caminando detrás de la alta vitrina.
—¿Hay alguien aquí o qué?
Al otro lado de la vitrina había una mesa larga de
carnicero con un líquido rojo y aguado. El abrumador olor a
carne y sangre hizo que sus tripas se agitaran de nuevo. La
goma de mascar en su boca se volvió amarga. Se llevó una
mano al estómago como para aliviarlo. «No vomitaré. No
vomitaré». Miró a su alrededor para distraerse, pero todo lo
que vio fueron fotografías de animales masacrados. Cuando
giró la cabeza en otra dirección, estaba rodeado de hileras de
cuchillos y cuchillas de aspecto letal que colgaban sobre su
cabeza. Una nueva oleada de mareos se apoderó de él.
Extendió la mano para mantener el equilibrio sobre la mesa
de carnicero, sintió el líquido acuoso en las yemas de los
dedos y empezó a sudar frío.
Un enorme cuchillo de carnicero se estrelló contra la
madera y apenas le faltó la muñeca. Pete salió disparado
hacia atrás, protegiendo su mano contra su pecho, golpeando
la vitrina con su mochila. Contempló el cuchillo de carnicero
incrustado en la madera. El mango vibró en el aire como si la
fuerza hubiera sido increíblemente fuerte. Su mirada se
dirigió rápidamente hacia las herramientas colgantes.
Un gancho vacío se balanceaba lentamente. El cuchillo de
carnicero se había caído del gancho. ¿Caído? No creía que
 STEP CLOSER

algo pudiera caer con tanta fuerza por sí solo, pero ¿qué más
podría haber pasado?
—Oye, ¿qué estás haciendo aquí atrás? —Un hombre
mayor y rechoncho que vestía un delantal ensangrentado
entró contoneándose en el área, secándose las manos con una
toalla—. Sólo empleados. ¿No puedes leer las señales?
Pete señaló la cuchilla clavada en la mesa del carnicero.
—Yo, yo–
—Ah, no. No puedes jugar con mis cuchillos. ¿Estás
tratando de meterme en problemas, chico? El departamento
de salud se llevará mi licencia.
—Yo, yo…
—Escúpelo. ¿Qué pasa?
—No toqué nada. Simplemente se cayó.
El anciano entrecerró los ojos.
—De ninguna manera estos cuchillos se caen de esos
ganchos, chico. Si ese fuera el caso, me faltarían muchos más
dedos de los que ya corté. —El anciano levantó la mano
izquierda para mostrar un meñique que faltaba y un dedo
anular con la parte superior cortada. La piel se veía suave en
los dos muñones de dedos de formas extrañas.
Cuando Pete comenzó a temblar, el hombre se rio.
—¿Asustado? ¿Nunca has visto a alguien a quien le faltan
dedos? Bueno, mantén tus dedos y manos alejados de objetos
afilados y estarás bien. Quizás. —Se rio de nuevo.
Pete tragó saliva.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—Vine aquí… para recoger un pedido de… Dinglewood.

El carnicero hizo un gesto con la mano hacia la trastienda.
—Sí, lo tengo en la nevera. Chuletas, ¿verdad? Enseguida
regreso.

☆☆☆
Pete abrió la puerta principal de su casa y la cerró de golpe
tan pronto como entró. Arrojó su mochila al suelo y se dirigió
a la cocina, donde abrió la nevera, echó las chuletas y tomó
un refresco. Cerró la puerta con la cadera y tragó toda la lata.
La cola le calmó la garganta y la dulzura lo calmó un poco.
Qué día tan extraño.
Se quitó la gorra y se pasó la mano por la cabeza. Sólo
necesitaba comer, descansar y olvidarse de todo lo demás. No
más sueños locos, ni chicos raros con bisturí, y
definitivamente no más carnicerías. Su madre iba a tener que
recoger la carne ella misma de ahora en adelante. Miró por la
ventana de la cocina cuando escuchó que la puerta del patio
trasero se abría con un crujido. Chuck empujó su bicicleta y
la apoyó en el costado de la casa antes de entrar por la puerta
lateral.
Pete sintió que su irritación bullía.
—¿Estás loco? —le preguntó a Chuck—. Si mamá se
entera de que fuiste en bicicleta a la escuela…
—Alguien acaparó el baño esta mañana y llegué tarde al
autobús.
—Y no te recogí, estoy acabado.
 STEP CLOSER

—No lo diré.
—¡Sí claro! Siempre me delatas.
Chuck puso los ojos en blanco.
—No le dije que me obligaste a entrar en la sala de
mantenimiento, ¿verdad?
—Aún no. Pero vi cómo querías contárselo anoche en la
cena. Pensaste que eras muy gracioso.
Chuck levantó las manos exasperado.
—¡Bueno, no lo hice! Eso tiene que contar como algo.
Pete se encogió de hombros.
—Aun así, no se puede confiar en ti.
—¡¡Bien, debería decirle que te castigue!! ¿Qué tal eso?
—¿Ves? ¡Eres un soplón!
—¡Cállate, tú lo eres!
—¡Cállate, pequeño imbécil!
Chuck cedió.
—Lo que sea, idiota —murmuró. Agarró una barra de pan
de la caja de pan, luego la mantequilla de maní de la
despensa, luego la mermelada de la nevera. Sacó un cuchillo
de mantequilla del cajón y empezó a prepararse un sándwich.
Cuando vio a Pete mirando su sándwich, arqueó las cejas.
—¿Qué? ¿Quieres uno?
Pete vaciló.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—No lo sé.
—Bueno, haz el tuyo.
Pete se llevó una mano al estómago, debatiendo si podría
manejarlo.
—¿Sigues enfermo o algo así? —quería saber Chuck.
Él se encogió de hombros.
—Sólo ha sido un mal día.
—¿Por qué, qué pasó?
Pete espetó—: No te preocupes por eso. No es asunto
tuyo. —De ninguna maldita manera le diría a nadie más sobre
el vergonzoso incidente en la clase biológica y las cuchillas
voladoras. Especialmente no a su hermano idiota que correría
y le diría a mamá y la asustaría.
—Bien. —Chuck terminó de hacer el sándwich y lo
deslizó sobre el mostrador hacia Pete. ¿Una ofrenda de paz?
Pete arqueó las cejas con sorpresa cuando Chuck comenzó
a hacer otro.
—¿Sabes que mamá llenó el papeleo de donación de
órganos por nosotros? —dijo Chuck, como si fuera una
conversación casual.
Pete se quedó boquiabierto.
—¿Qué? ¿Por qué?
Chuck asintió, mostrando sus aparatos ortopédicos,
luciendo casi complacido.
 STEP CLOSER

—Ella dijo que eventualmente entenderías la idea.

—¡Pero le dije que no lo hiciera!
—¿Desde cuándo mamá escucha lo que queremos? —
Chuck le dio un mordisco a su sándwich y siguió hablando
con la boca llena—. No es gran cosa, de todos modos. Estás
muerto cuando te quitan los órganos. Tu vida o alma o lo que
sea se ha ido. ¿Y a mí que me importa? ¿Por qué te preocupas
tanto?
Pete ni siquiera sabía por dónde empezar. ¡Aquí estaba él,
tratando de salvar partes de su cuerpo todo el día, y su mamá
estaba tratando de regalarlas!
—¡Es… es una idea estúpida!
Chuck lo miró con curiosidad.
—Espera. Estás asustado, ¿no es así?
—¡No, cállate!
—Lo busqué. ¿Quieres saber cómo te cortan y te quitan
los órganos? ¡Es tan bueno! Te abren, como en una incisión
en “Y”, luego tus tripas están colgando. Después lo quitan
todo pieza por pieza. —Hizo una mueca, con los ojos en
blanco y la lengua fuera—. Los intestinos son muy largos, así
que simplemente los sacan como una cuerda larga de
salchicha. — Chuck hizo un movimiento con las manos como
si estuviera sacando un largo trozo de cuerda de su estómago.
—¡Dije que te callaras! —Pete agarró el sándwich y huyó
a su habitación.

☆☆☆
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

A la mañana siguiente, Pete tomó un sorbo de su bebida

energética con triple cafeína mientras caminaba hacia la
escuela. Salió el sol, lo que mejoró mucho la caminata. Hoy
tenía que ser mejor que ayer, pensó. Anoche volvió a tener
sueños extraños, pero afortunadamente los detalles se
esfumaron tan pronto como se despertó. Y no había vomitado
nada en el inodoro, así que eso era bueno.
Apenas había hablado con su madre anoche o esta
mañana. ¿Por qué lo había inscrito como donante cuando él le
había dicho que no lo hiciera? Ni siquiera quería comerse las
chuletas de cerdo que había recogido anoche; todo lo que
hicieron fue recordarle que casi había perdido la mano.
Cuando pasó por un sitio en construcción, se detuvo un
momento. Miró al otro lado de la calle y decidió no cruzar
con todo el tráfico; en cambio, pasaría justo debajo del
andamio. Pete examinó las tablas sobre él, asegurándose de
que no hubiera ninguna herramienta extraña que pudiera caer
sobre su cabeza.
Escuchó sierras motorizadas y taladros sonando desde el
interior del sitio, pero nada proveniente del andamio. Cuando
pensó que estaba a salvo, se relajó un poco.
Por si acaso, caminó con cautela debajo de las tablas, con
miradas rápidas por encima de él. Una cosa que había
aprendido recientemente era que no podía ser demasiado
cuidadoso. Mientras se acercaba al final del andamio, respiró
aliviado.
«Es un juego de niños».
 STEP CLOSER

Desde el interior del sitio, escuchó un zumbido divertido y

luego un sonido metálico. Los pelos de los brazos de Pete se
erizaron.
—¡Qué diablos, cuidado! —gritó alguien.
Pete vio algo que se movía rápido en su visión periférica.
Giró la cabeza a tiempo para ver una hoja de sierra circular
volando en su dirección, recordándole un Frisbee volador con
dientes afilados.
Su mandíbula se aflojó. Su adrenalina se disparó. Se
zambulló hacia atrás mientras la hoja redonda volaba por el
aire hacia él. Levantó la mano en defensa, como si pudiera
atraparla, luego se dio cuenta de que era lo peor que podía
hacer y trató de apartar la mano del camino de la hoja
voladora. Pensó que estaba a salvo cuando sintió que le
cortaba la carne justo por encima de la muñeca, seguido de
un agudo ardor.
Se estrelló contra el suelo, su bebida se derramó sobre él.
El aire brotó de sus pulmones. Sus ojos estaban muy abiertos
cuando levantó el brazo, mirando en estado de shock como la
sangre se derramaba por su piel.
—¡Oh hombre, chico! ¡Alguien llame al 911! —Un
trabajador de la construcción corrió a su lado, agarrándose el
casco como si no estuviera seguro de qué hacer con las
manos—. Déjame conseguir un trapo limpio. ¡No te muevas!
—El trabajador salió corriendo y otras personas comenzaron
a reunirse alrededor.
—Niño, ¿estás bien? —Un hombre de traje se paró encima
de Pete y se inclinó.
Tenía un teléfono pegado a la oreja.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—Hola, sí. Ha habido un accidente. Hay un adolescente,

está sangrando. En el brazo. En un sitio de construcción en
Willington y Salisbury. Dense prisa, por favor… no te
preocupes, chico, la ayuda está en camino. Sí, está
consciente…
Aturdido, Pete miró la herida abierta en su brazo. No era
muy profunda.
Pero…
Podría haber muerto.

☆☆☆
—¡Pete! —gritó Mamá tan pronto como entró a la casa—.
¡Pete!
—En mi habitación —gritó. Estaba acostado en su cama,
mirando al techo. Después de que el paramédico lo vendó en
el sitio de construcción, llamó a su madre y regresó a casa
caminando. Ni siquiera quería esperar a que lo llevaran,
quería alejarse lo más posible del sitio de construcción.
Ahora su energía se había gastado. Se había dado cuenta
de que le dolía la espalda, así que fue al baño y se levantó la
camisa frente al espejo. Como si su brazo cortado no fuera lo
suficientemente malo, también tenía un montón de rasguños
frescos en la espalda por caer en la acera.
Ayer, había tenido un par de situaciones difíciles, pero
este último accidente fue más peligroso. Esta vez había
sangre real.
Mamá entró en su dormitorio con una oleada de nervios.
 STEP CLOSER

—¡Oh Dios mío! ¡Oh mi bebe!

Pete suspiró.
—Mamá, estoy bien. Es una pequeña herida. No
necesitaba puntos de sutura. Todo está bien.
Ella agarró su mano, escaneando el vendaje en su brazo.
—¿Cómo pasó esto? —le tocó la mejilla, le pasó una
mano por la cabeza y le dio un beso en la frente.
Pete miró su brazo y respondió con sinceridad.
—No lo sé, de verdad.
Sus ojos se agrandaron.
—¿Qué quieres decir con que no lo sabes? ¿No estabas
prestando atención? ¿El trabajador de la construcción estaba
siendo negligente? ¿Necesitamos llamar a un abogado?
Quizás deberíamos ir al hospital.
—No. ¿De acuerdo mamá? Relájate. —Si bien fue
agradable tener toda su atención por una vez, su ansiedad lo
puso nervioso.
—No, no puedo relajarme. Realmente podrías haberte
lastimado. —Ella se enderezó y se cruzó de brazos con una
mirada decidida en su rostro.
—Ya no iras caminando a la escuela. Puedes tomar un
autobús o pedir que te lleven. Quizás pueda cambiar mi
horario. Los llevaré a ti y a tu hermano a la escuela. Creo que
puedo hacer que todo funcione. —Luego puso sus manos en
sus caderas como si de repente fuera la Mujer Maravilla y no
hubiera nada que pudiera detenerla—. Haré que funcione.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—Mamá, detente. Fue sólo un… extraño accidente. —Lo

que había estado teniendo mucho últimamente.
Hubo un golpe en la puerta principal antes de que se
abriera.
Pete se disparó en su cama, sobresaltado.
—¿Quién diablos es?
—Pete, tu lenguaje.
—Hola, ¿hay alguien en casa? —gritó una voz familiar.
Pete miró a su madre acusadoramente.
—¿Llamaste a papá?
Ella respondió—: Por supuesto que llamé a tu padre. Por
aquí, Bill. En la habitación de Pete.
Rápidamente, comenzó a recoger la ropa sucia que había
tirado al suelo.
—Tengo que llamarlo cuando hay una emergencia. Dios,
Pete, esta habitación es un desastre.
Como si eso fuera algo nuevo.
Papá llenó la puerta, vestido con pantalones cargo y una
camiseta, con su chaleco de bolsillo y un sombrero de lona
flexible. Había una sonrisa forzada enterrada bajo su barba
desaliñada.
—Ahí está mi chico.
—¿Estabas pescando? —le preguntó mamá, sorprendida.
 STEP CLOSER

—No, aún no. Me tomé el resto del día libre. Haciéndolo

un fin de semana temprano.
—Estoy aquí para llevar a mi primogénito al lago. ¿Cómo
estás ahí, Pete? Veamos ese brazo. —Su padre se acercó a la
cama, pateando botellas de agua mientras se alejaba. Su
mandíbula se endureció, pero no dijo nada sobre el desastre.
Pete levantó el brazo para que su padre lo inspeccionara,
sin saber qué pensar de su visita. No había visto a su padre en
un par de meses. Sólo habló con él por teléfono unas cuantas
veces. De repente estaba en casa, como realmente en casa. No
había estado dentro de la casa en casi seis meses. Solía ser tan
normal tener a mamá y papá juntos en casa y ahora… se
sentía muy incómodo.
Papá hizo un sonido de humph.
—No se ve tan mal. Estarás como nuevo antes de que te
des cuenta.
—Um, sí, bueno. No creo que pueda pescar hoy, papá. —
De hecho, sabía que no estaba a la altura. Estaba adolorido y
quería acostarse e irse a dormir. Pete le dio a su mamá una
mirada suplicante. «Ayúdame».
Ella vaciló.
—Está cansado, Bill. Tal vez en otro momento. Está
mañana ha sido una locura.
Papá hizo un gesto con la mano.
—Disparates. Él está bien. La pesca calma los nervios y
relaja la mente. Vamos, prepárate para partir, Pete. Ya tengo
los bocadillos empacados. Va a ser un gran momento, ya
verás.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

☆☆☆
El sol era brutal incluso a través de una bruma de nubes.
Pete se reclinó en una silla plegable junto a su padre en un
viejo muelle. Había una hielera entre ellos y una vieja caja de
aparejos abierta a los pies de su padre. A Pete le dolía el
brazo, por lo que no lanzó mucho el hilo de pescar. En
cambio, se fijó en la escena.
Un puñado de botes pequeños estaban en el lago con
gente, en su mayoría ancianos. Cada pocos minutos, el agua
se agitaba con la fuerte brisa y traía consigo el aroma de
peces y plantas en descomposición. Pete no recordaba a su
padre pescando en el lago local. Se preguntó si alguien había
atrapado algo aquí, alguna vez.
Parecía extraño pescar solo con su papá. Probablemente
habían pasado un par de años desde que habían estado en el
lago, y Chuck solía acompañarlos, llenando el silencio con un
montón de preguntas para papá.
Chuck siempre tenía que saber cosas. Por qué algo
funcionó o cómo funcionó o dónde se hicieron las cosas. Pete
no estaba seguro de si Chuck realmente quería las respuestas
o la atención, pero de cualquier forma estaba acostumbrado.
A Chuck le gustaba hacer preguntas y a Pete no le importaba
mucho hablar.
—Entonces, Pete, quiero saber cómo estás —dijo papá.
Pete se levantó el sombrero, se rascó la cabeza y volvió a
ponerse la gorra.
—Estoy bien, papá.
 STEP CLOSER

—Tu madre dice que dejaste de jugar al fútbol y que no te

llevas bien con tu hermano. —Su padre no usó un tono
acusador, pero Pete podía sentir su desaprobación, al igual
que lo había hecho con su habitación desordenada. Su padre
siempre actuaba como si fuera culpa de Pete cuando las cosas
iban mal.
Los eventos externos, como, por ejemplo, las acciones de
los padres, no entrabann en la ecuación.
«Debe ser genial ser un adulto y tener razón todo el
tiempo».
Pete se encogió de hombros a pesar de que su padre no lo
estaba mirando.
—He terminado con el fútbol. Ya no es para mí. —Sopló
la brisa y el hilo de pescar de alguien pasó volando junto a la
cara de Pete. Se estremeció y miró a un tipo que flotaba en su
bote a un par de metros de distancia, sin prestar atención a
dónde estaba lanzando su línea.
—Está bien. Esa es tu elección. Pero eres el hermano
mayor de Chuck, y no hay otra opción en eso.
Pete no necesitaba exactamente que se lo recordaran, pero
su padre prosiguió.
—Y como hermano mayor, tienes cierta responsabilidad.
Yo era un hermano mayor, de tu tía Lucy. Todavía lo soy
cuando ella me necesita. Ahora tiene marido, así que ya no
depende mucho de mí… —En el tema del marido, pareció
sentirse un poco incómodo.
Pete apretó los dientes. Lástima que se olvidó de su chicle.
Las conferencias siempre eran aburridas y una pérdida de
espacio aéreo, pero al menos el chicle habría sido una
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

distracción. Miró al otro lado del lago, esperando que algo

pudiera romper este momento incómodo.
—Pero de todos modos… a veces la responsabilidad
puede ser mucha para un niño —dijo su padre, aclarándose la
garganta—. Ya sabes, con la escuela, las calificaciones y las
chicas haciéndote sentir tonto. —Su padre lo miró de reojo—.
¿Tienes alguna pregunta sobre las chicas?
Las mejillas de Pete ardieron y sacudió la cabeza
rotundamente en negativo.
—Está bien, bueno, mi punto es que si necesitas hablar
con alguien, estoy aquí para ti, hijo. —Su padre se volvió
hacia él completamente entonces, mirándolo como si
estuviera esperando que Pete dijera algo grande.
Pete frunció el ceño.
—Uh, está bien.
Su padre se pasó una mano por la barba.
—O si es más fácil hablar con un extraño, puedo buscarte
un consejero.
—¿Qué? No, no necesito un consejero.
—Bueno, con tu muñeca… —Sus ojos se posaron en el
vendaje de Pete.
—¿Qué pasa con esto? Fue un accidente.
La mirada de su padre se volvió más intensa.
—¿De verdad, Pete?
Pete se echó hacia atrás.
 STEP CLOSER

—¿Crees que me hice esto a mí mismo?

—Escuché que el divorcio puede afectar a las familias de
diferentes maneras.
—No me lastimé, papá. Demonios. —Pete se pasó una
mano por la cara con frustración. Un hilo de pescar pasó por
su cara de nuevo y se giró hacia la izquierda para evitarlo. ¡Si
tan solo los viejos vieran lo que están haciendo!
—No es un juicio, hijo, por si lo hiciste. Sólo quiero que
recuerdes que siempre estaré aquí para ti y tu hermano.
Pete se rio de repente y con dureza.
—Sigues diciendo eso pero apenas te he visto desde el
divorcio. No estás aquí por mí ni por Chuck. Tú y mamá
esperan que yo ocupe tu lugar con él. —Pete pensó que se
sentiría mejor después de decir la verdad, pero se sintió mal.
Había una sensación extraña en su pecho, como si alguien
pusiera una mano allí y empujara con fuerza.
Los hombros de papá se hundieron.
—Eso no es cierto, Pete. Vivo al otro lado de la ciudad y
sabes que trabajo en horas extrañas. Estoy haciendo lo mejor
que puedo. Tú y Chuck necesitan saber eso. Quiero decir…
me esforzaré más. Los amo a ambos.
Sí, Pete escuchó mucho eso de sus padres, pero las
palabras ya no eran suficientes. Si Pete quisiera, realmente
podría llorar ahora mismo. Pero llorar dolía aún más que
enojarse, así que se decidió por el enojo.
—Esto —Pete levantó su brazo vendado a la cara de su
padre —fue un extraño accidente. Hubo testigos, ¿de
acuerdo? A no ser que usara mi mente para hacer que una
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

hoja de sierra volara hacia mí y tratara de arrancarme la

mano… Sí, claro. No es posible. Sólo llévame a casa, papá.
¡Se acabó!
—Por favor, cálmate, Pete.
—Por favor, llévame a casa. —Pete se puso de pie tan
rápido que su silla plegable se deslizó hacia atrás. Una ráfaga
de viento sopló contra él, casi llevándose el sombrero. Lo
agarró antes de que pudiera flotar. Luego escuchó un sonido
muy débil antes de que algo afilado le atravesara la mejilla
justo debajo del ojo.
Algo tiró de su rostro hacia adelante.
—¡Ahhhhh!
—¡Pete!
Dejó caer su caña mientras sus manos volaban a su rostro
para encontrar un anzuelo clavado en su piel. El anzuelo
estaba sujeto a un hilo de pescar, tratando de arrancarle la
piel. Se inclinó hacia adelante, gritando. La conmoción y el
dolor lo inundaron. Su corazón latía tan rápido que pensó que
podría explotar fuera de su pecho.
La línea estaba tan apretada que Pete dio un paso adelante
de nuevo para tratar de aliviar la presión. Sólo había agua
oscura debajo de él y no podía detenerse.
«Primero voy a ir de cabeza al lago».
Sintió que el brazo de su padre lo rodeaba para evitar que
se cayera.
 STEP CLOSER

—¡Quédate quieto! —Su padre sacó un pequeño cuchillo

de caza y cortó la línea. La presión se liberó
instantáneamente.
Pete se encorvó con un dolor intenso. La sangre goteó en
el agua.
Su papá lo abrazó.
—Está bien, amigo, te tengo. —Lo apartó del borde del
muelle.
—¡Lo siento! —llamó alguien—. ¿Él está bien? El
maldito viento sopló mi caña hacia ustedes. ¡No puedo
creerlo!
—Pete, mírame. Vamos, veamos el daño.
Su padre lo inclinó hacia atrás. Pete apenas podía ver el
gancho que le sobresalía de la cara. Se le humedecieron los
ojos, le corrían mocos por la nariz y las lágrimas se
mezclaban con la sangre que le caía por las mejillas.
Papá dejó escapar un suspiro.
—Oh sí. Te hirió bastante, pero estarás bien. Tenemos
suerte de que no te haya sacado el ojo.

☆☆☆
—Así que supongo que Pete tuvo un mal día.
Pete y papá llegaron a casa y mamá corrió hacia Pete. Su
cara estaba toda vendada.
Los ojos de Chuck se agrandaron. ¡Vaya, casi se parecía a
Frankenstein! Pero tendría que guardar ese apodo para otro
día.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—¿Cómo pasó esto? —Mamá prácticamente chilló—. Oh,

Pete, tu pobre cara.
—¡Hola, Chuck, muchacho!
—Hola, papá —le dijo Chuck, y saludó con la mano.
Recordó cuando era pequeño y solía trepar por las piernas de
su papá hasta que lo cargaba. Chuck se preguntó cuándo dejó
de hacer eso.
Papá alzó las manos al aire.
—Ahora, Audrey, mantengamos la calma. Fue un
accidente raro. Un gancho lo alcanzó en la mejilla. No estuvo
tan mal, así que pude arreglarlo yo mismo.
Sus ojos se agrandaron.
—¿Otro extraño accidente, el mismo día? ¿Cómo es eso
posible?
Papá se pasó una mano por la barba.
—No estoy seguro. Creo que necesita quedarse en la
cama, descansar un poco. Estoy seguro de que estos
accidentes pasarán.
—Descansar era lo que se suponía que debía hacer —
espetó mamá—. Fue tu brillante idea llevarlo al lago para que
pudiera engancharse como un pez. ¿Por qué no lo estabas
cuidando?
Papá se quitó el sombrero de lona y dejó al descubierto su
cabeza calva.
—Audrey, esto no es justo. Estaba sentado a mi lado. Fue
un día tormentoso. Una cosa rara…
 STEP CLOSER

Pete se derrumbó en el sofá. Parecía aturdido mientras

veía a mamá y papá ir y venir, hablando de él. Chuck no
estaba acostumbrado a ver a su hermano tan… vulnerable.
Era más grande que él, bocón y siempre molesto. Ahora,
sentado en el sofá, parecía pequeño y casi frágil.
Chuck fue y se sentó junto a Pete, mirando el rostro de su
hermano.
—Te ves «como Frankenstein» mal, Pete. ¿Te duele?

¿Qué crees? —murmuró.

Chuck asintió con la cabeza como si entendiera.
—Bastante mal día, ¿eh? Entonces… ¿qué crees que te
está pasando? ¿Caminaste debajo de una escalera? ¿Rompiste
un espejo? ¿Se te cruzó un gato negro?
Pete frunció el ceño.
—¿De qué estás hablando?
—¿Qué hiciste para ganarte una racha de mala suerte?
Pete se limitó a negar con la cabeza.
—No es mala suerte y no soy propenso a los accidentes —
insistió—. No sé qué es.
Chuck se humedeció los labios secos y se inclinó más
hacia su hermano.
—Sin embargo, es algo extraño, ¿verdad? Primero, estabas
enfermo y mamá me contó sobre el extraño accidente en el
sitio de construcción y ahora la pesca. —Chuck había estado
pensando en las cosas raras que se habían acumulado en la
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

vida de su hermano; tenía todas las características de un

rompecabezas realmente bueno—. Todo esto comenzó
cuando trataste de asustarme en Freddy Fazbear's Pizza —
señaló.
Pete intentó fruncir el ceño, pero hizo una mueca cuando
el gesto le hirió la cara.
—¿Qué? ¿Ahora estás tratando de decir que esto es algo
así como karma? De ninguna manera. No creo en esas cosas.
Chuck se encogió de hombros.
—No puedes negar que es extraño.
Pete guardó silencio un momento y luego dijo en voz baja
—: No han sido sólo estas cosas.
Chuck arqueó las cejas, intrigado.
—¿Qué quieres decir?
Pete negó con la cabeza.
No puedo hablar de eso ahora. Te diré después. —Señaló a
sus padres con la cabeza como si no quisiera que lo
escucharan.
Chuck fue a su habitación, se sentó en el suelo frente a su
televisor y comenzó a jugar videojuegos. Realmente no creía
que Pete le dijera nada más, pero un par de horas después,
Pete entró en su habitación y se sentó en su cama. Tenía la
mejilla hinchada debajo del ojo y los ojos inyectados en
sangre.
Chuck detuvo su juego y sólo lo miró, esperando.
 STEP CLOSER

—Ayer en la escuela, resbalé y caí en la clase de biología.

Pateé a un chico y su bisturí salió volando. Cuando golpeé el
suelo, el bisturí iba a por mí ojo.
La boca de Chuck se abrió.
—De ninguna manera.
—Lo golpeé antes de que pudiera golpearme.
Chuck quedó impresionado.
—Pensamiento rápido.
Pete pareció complacido por un segundo.
—Sí, cuando tienes las habilidades…
—¿Qué más?
Pete se encogió de hombros.
—Fui a recoger las chuletas a la carnicería para mamá y
no había nadie detrás del mostrador. Así que caminé por la
parte de atrás tratando de encontrar a alguien. De la nada, una
cuchilla cae de un gancho y se estrella contra el bloque del
carnicero con mi mano.
—¡Santo cielo! ¡Eso estuvo cerca!
—Sí, muy cerca. Quiero decir, si creyera en cosas raras,
pensaría que algo estaba pasando. Pero no creo en nada
como…
—¿Maldiciones?
Pete frunció el ceño.
Sé realista, Chuck.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Chuck suspiró. ¿Por qué tenía un hermano tan terco?

—¿Qué más puede explicar esto? ¿Cuatro veces? Tiene
que ser algo. Vamos, Pete.
—Sea lo que sea, ya ha terminado. —Pete se aclaró la
garganta—. Por si acaso, es por, ya sabes, arrastrarte para ver
a Foxy. —Le tendió la mano a Chuck.
Los ojos de Chuck se agrandaron mientras lo miraba.
Más vale que así sea, pensó Chuck. Vacilante, tomó la
mano de su hermano y la estrechó.
Pete retiró la mano e incluso se disculpó.
—Lamento intentar asustarte. Fue tonto. Hagamos una
tregua entre nosotros, ¿de acuerdo?
Chuck sonrió.
—Está bien, tregua. Gracias, Pete.
Pete se puso de pie, vacilante.
—Volveré a la cama. Hasta luego.
—Hasta luego —murmuró Chuck, mientras su hermano
salía de su habitación. Luego comenzó a pensar, rebuscando
en su escritorio en busca de un cuaderno para escribir.
Es posible que su hermano quiera ignorar todas sus ideas,
pero tenía que haber una explicación. Tenía que haberla.

☆☆☆
—¿Qué juego estás jugando? —le preguntó Pete a Chuck
desde la puerta de su dormitorio. Había pasado la mayor parte
 STEP CLOSER

del sábado en la cama y ahora sentía la necesidad de

levantarse y caminar por la casa. Estar acostado en su cama le
dio demasiado tiempo para pensar. Siguió repitiendo cada
extraño accidente en su cabeza y no estaba bien.
—Sólo es un juego indie de aventuras. ¿Quieres echarle un
vistazo?

Pete se encogió de hombros y se sentó con las piernas

cruzadas con su hermano en el suelo. La habitación de Chuck
era muy diferente a la de Pete. En primer lugar, Chuck usaba
su cesto en lugar de dejar caer la ropa por el suelo. Su cama
estaba hecha. Su escritorio estaba libre de papel extra. Tenía
una estantería con libros sobre extraterrestres y teorías
conspirativas. Un par de carteles de jugadores estaban
pegados cuidadosamente en la pared.
Chuck explicó el juego.
—Verás, soy el mago, y tengo que buscar todos los
ingredientes ocultos para hacer una poción para detener a un
mago malvado. Él tiene mi aldea bajo un hechizo y necesito
ayudar a romper la maldición con la poción y liberar la aldea
antes de que sea demasiado tarde.
—¿Qué pasa si llegas demasiado tarde?
—Entonces los pierdo para siempre. Permanecen bajo el
control del mago malvado. Y eso no está sucediendo.
Pete sonrió.
—Te gusta ser el héroe, ¿no?
—Es la única forma de ganar. ¿Quieres jugar conmigo?
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—Seguro.
Los ojos de Chuck se iluminaron cuando agarró el otro
controlador.
—Puedes ser mi aprendiz.
—¿Por qué soy el aprendiz? ¿Por qué no puedo ser el
mago y tú el compañero?
Chuck negó con la cabeza.
—Tienes mucho que aprender.
Pete dirigió su mirada hacia su mamá, que estaba apoyada
en la puerta. Estaba sonriendo.
—Hola, mamá —le dijo Pete.
—¿Necesitan algo? ¿Qué tal unas palomitas de maíz?
—Me vendrían bien, gracias.
—Y una caja de jugo para mí —dijo Chuck.
Pete jugó el juego durante un par de horas y luego volvió a
la cama.
Tenía que admitir que era agradable volver a llevarse bien
con su hermano pequeño. Después de estrechar la mano y
pedir una tregua, fue casi como solía ser cuando eran
pequeños. Cuando no les importaba nada en el mundo. Antes
de los resentimientos, los insultos, el divorcio. Tenía que
admitir que extrañaba esos días.
Antes de que Pete se diera cuenta, llegó la noche del
domingo y empezó a prepararse para volver a la escuela. Para
su alivio, la hinchazón de su rostro había disminuido. Se
 STEP CLOSER

había quitado el vendaje del brazo, dejando al descubierto

una costra reciente en la herida justo encima de su muñeca.
Le hizo pensar en su padre acusándolo de hacerse daño.
Claro, pensamientos de escapar de sus padres cruzaban por su
mente a veces, pero no de la forma en que pensaba su padre.
Pete había pasado la mayor parte del día viendo televisión
en exceso. No se había atrevido a salir de casa por miedo a
tener otro extraño accidente. De todos modos, no es que su
madre lo hubiera dejado salir. Ella lo había vigilado de cerca
todo el fin de semana, realmente lo había apoyado. Tal vez le
daría un respiro cuando empezara a acumular un montón de
cosas para que él las hiciera de nuevo.
Si todos estos extraños accidentes hubieran sido algo
extraño de karma, se había disculpado con Chuck, ¿no es así?
Así que eso significaba que debería estar libre de lo que
fuera. Pero todavía tenía una sensación que permanecía en
sus entrañas como una enfermedad. Le preocupaba que no
hubiera terminado todo.
Que tal vez nunca lo haría.
Entonces alguien llamó a su puerta.
—Adelante —gritó, y Chuck asomó la cabeza.
Normalmente, le gritaba que saliera de su habitación, pero las
cosas eran diferentes con la tregua. Molestar a su hermano
pequeño ya no parecía tan divertido.
No es que él le fuera a decir eso.
—¿Sí? —dijo Pete.
Su hermano entró con un cuaderno en una mano y cerró la
puerta detrás de él. Sacó su inhalador del bolsillo de sus
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

pantalones cortos, dio una bocanada y luego se lo volvió a

meter.
—¿Cómo estás? —le preguntó a Pete.
—Estoy bien, supongo.
—¿Estás listo para volver a la escuela mañana?
—Sí, claro.
Chuck mostró sus aparatos ortopédicos y se pasó una
mano por el pelo.
—Sólo estoy comprobando.
—¿Qué pasa con el cuaderno?
—Es algo en lo que he estado trabajando este fin de
semana desde que me hablaste de los accidentes. —Chuck se
acercó a Pete, abrió su cuaderno y le mostró una especie de
gráfico escrito a mano. Había cinco cajas dispuestas en
círculo, con flechas apuntando entre ellas. En la parte
superior de la tabla había un recuadro etiquetado: FOXY EL
PIRATA. Los siguientes recuadros decían: CLASE DE
BIOLOGÍA, CARNICERÍA, LUGAR DE
CONSTRUCCIÓN y LAGO. La última flecha apuntaba a
FOXY EL PIRATA.
—¿Qué significa esto? —quiso saber Pete.
—Creo que el punto de origen, donde comenzó todo esto,
fue en la sala de mantenimiento con Foxy.
—Sí, ya hablamos de eso.
 STEP CLOSER

—A partir de ahí, cada extraño accidente llevó al siguiente

y ahora, para que todo esto termine, debes regresar y arreglar
lo que hiciste en primer lugar.
—Lo hice. Me disculpé por la estúpida broma, ¿de
acuerdo? Todo debería estar bien ahora. Me perdonas,
¿verdad?
—Sí, somos hermanos. Por supuesto que te perdono. Pero
en todos los juegos que juego tienes que enfrentarte al villano
definitivo. El villano. Al igual que con el juego que jugamos
anoche. El mago tuvo que luchar contra el mago malvado al
final para liberar a la aldea con la poción.
Pete se obligó a reír mientras su estómago se encogía de
miedo.
—¿Villano? ¿Quién? Foxy, ¿el animatrónico?
—Tal vez… pero… ¿qué pasó exactamente después de
que salí corriendo de allí ese día?
Pete volvió a mirar su televisor, vislumbrando una película
de acción.
—Nada, Foxy cantó una canción y luego me fui. No es
gran cosa.
Puedes ser un pirata, ¡pero primero tendrás que perder un
ojo y un brazo! ¡Yarg!
El pulso de Pete se aceleró cuando escuchó las palabras en
su cabeza.
—¿Cuál era la canción, Pete?
Sacudió la cabeza.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—Sólo una canción estúpida sobre ser un pirata.

—¿Cuáles fueron las palabras exactamente?
—¿A quién le importa cuáles fueron las palabras?
—Por favor, Pete, es importante.
—Bien. Algo sobre cómo si quieres ser pirata… tendrás
que perder un ojo y un brazo. ¿Ves? ¡Estúpido!
Chuck se humedeció los labios secos. Luego tomó un lápiz
del desordenado escritorio de Pete y comenzó a escribir.
—¿Qué estás haciendo?
—Espera un segundo.
Después de un minuto, puso el cuaderno en las manos de
Pete. Chuck había escrito notas adicionales debajo de las
casillas:
FOXY EL PIRATA: Canción pirata. Pierde el ojo. Pierde
el brazo.
CLASE BIO: Ojo casi perdido.
CARNICERÍA: Casi se pierde el brazo.
LUGAR DE CONSTRUCCIÓN: Brazo casi perdido.
LAGO: Ojo casi perdido.
Pete negó con la cabeza.
—No —murmuró mientras comenzaba a temblar—. Te
equivocas.
 STEP CLOSER

—No puedes ignorar los hechos, Pete. Foxy quiere que te

conviertas en pirata y los accidentes son cada vez más
peligrosos.
—¡No! —gritó en respuesta— ¡Foxy es un maldito robot!
Está hecho de metal y engranajes.
Arrancó la página del cuaderno y empezó a triturarlo.
—Todo esto está inventado en tu desordenado cerebro de
jugador. ¡Es fantasía! ¡Es irreal!
—¡Pete, detente!
—¡Cállate! ¡Sólo sal de mi habitación! —Empujó a su
hermano y le arrojó su cuaderno.
Chuck se tambaleó hacia atrás en estado de shock, su
rostro se puso rojo.
—¡Estoy tratando de ayudarte!
Pete clavó un dedo en el aire hacia Chuck.
—No, ¡estás tratando de asustarme por todas las veces que
te he asustado! Siempre está ganando, ¿verdad? Bueno, ¡este
no es un juego para que lo ganes!
—Yo sé eso. No intento ganar. ¡Estoy tratando de resolver
esto!
Mamá apareció en la puerta.
—Chicos, ¿qué son todos los gritos? ¿Qué está pasando?
—¡Dile a Chuck el tonto que salga de mi habitación!
—¡No me llames así, cara de Frankenstein!
La cara de Pete se arrugó.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—Oh, has estado esperando para usar eso, ¿no es así? ¡Vas
a pagar por eso! ¡Oficialmente la tregua ha terminado!
—¡Bien por mí! ¡Puedes tomar tu estúpida tregua y
metértela en la nariz!
—¡Chicos, cálmense! —gritó mamá.
—Dije, ¡SAL DE MI HABITACIÓN!
—¡LO ESTOY HACIENDO! —Chuck recogió su
cuaderno y salió corriendo.
Pete le dio la espalda a su mamá. Al cabo de un momento,
con un suspiro exagerado, cerró la puerta.
Pete estaba tan malditamente enojado que comenzó a
llorar.

☆☆☆
Pete dio vueltas y vueltas en la cama, ya que su mente
estaba completamente despierta. Su pijama se sentía
demasiado abrigado, sus mantas demasiado pesadas. Su
dormitorio estaba oscuro excepto por la luz de la luna que se
filtraba a través de la cortina de su ventana. Mientras miraba
la cortina, creyó ver algo oscuro destellar detrás de la tela.
Pete se puso de pie y se acercó a la ventana, apartando la
cortina.
El patio delantero estaba en silencio. Había un coche
aparcado junto a la acera. Una hilera de árboles bordeaba la
calle. Nada fuera de lo común. Giró los hombros para liberar
la tensión y luego volvió a la cama. Golpeó su almohada un
 STEP CLOSER

par de veces para ponerse cómodo. Luego miró al techo y

miró un poco más. Todavía no podía conciliar el sueño.
Pasó un momento cuando vio que sus ojos volvían a la
ventana.
«No te levantes. No mires».
Pero no pudo evitarlo, algo se sintió extraño. Estaba solo
en su habitación, pero sentía que lo estaban observando. Lo
cual era completamente estúpido. Suspirando, se puso de pie
y caminó hacia la ventana, nuevamente empujando la cortina
a un lado. Estaba a punto de alejarse cuando captó un
movimiento detrás de los árboles. ¿Había alguien ahí?
El pulso de Pete se aceleró.
Se frotó los ojos, parpadeó y buscó más movimiento, pero
no había nada allí. Su mente estaba jugando con él. ¡Estaba
malditamente paranoico! Respiró hondo y lo soltó.
Probablemente era sólo el viento que soplaba las ramas. Se
restregó las manos por la cara y se recostó en la cama. El
viento aullaba y de alguna manera eso lo calmó un poco.
Entonces la puerta del patio trasero crujió.
La puerta debe haberse abierto con el viento… ¿verdad?
Para estar seguro, Pete escuchó con atención. Un búho ululó.
Una puerta crujió. Un segundo después, se enderezó de un
tirón, su corazón latía con fuerza. ¿Era eso un crujido dentro
de la casa? Se arrastró hasta la puerta de su dormitorio y la
abrió lentamente. Buscó en el pasillo vacío. No había nadie.
Estaba empezando a asustarse. Mamá y Chuck estaban
dormidos.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Nadie más estaba en la casa. «¡Sólo vete a dormir!» se dijo

a sí mismo. Se acercó a la cama, se tiró al suelo y cerró los
ojos con fuerza.
Creyó oír unos pasos.
«Sólo duerme».
El suelo crujió fuera de su puerta y un escalofrío le
recorrió la espalda. «No hay nadie más aquí».
Se dijo a sí mismo que era sólo su imaginación, pero el
aire pareció cambiar a su alrededor. Se le erizaron los vellos
de los brazos y ya no podía negar su malestar.
Cuando abrió los ojos, ¡Foxy estaba encima de él!
El terror absorbió el aire de los pulmones de Pete. No
podía moverse. No podía hablar.
Los ojos amarillos de Foxy brillaron en la oscuridad de la
habitación. Su mandíbula colgaba abierta, mostrando dientes
afilados. Foxy levantó su anzuelo y cortó la punta afilada
frente a la cara de Pete, con el metal zumbando junto a su
nariz. Pete se levantó de la cama, su cuerpo temblaba, pero
no podía levantarse del suelo. Foxy se giró y se cernió sobre
él. El cambio de engranajes llenó la habitación cuando Foxy
se balanceó hacia arriba con su gancho.
Puedes ser un pirata, pero primero tendrás que perder un
ojo y un brazo.
—No —suspiró Pete.
Foxy golpeó con el gancho en el ojo de Pete y se escuchó
un chasquido audible.
 STEP CLOSER

La sangre brotó de la cuenca del ojo mientras Pete gritaba.

El pie mecánico de Foxy se estrelló contra su brazo derecho,
aplastando el músculo y aplastando contra el hueso.
Pete se convulsionó de dolor. Trató de apartar a Foxy de
él. Pero era muy pesado. Muy fuerte.
El corazón de Pete latió con fuerza. Lágrimas y sangre
corrían por su rostro.
Foxy atacó, su gancho se desgarró en la mano de Pete,
astilló el hueso y desgarró el músculo hasta que fue arrancado
por completo. Foxy levantó su anzuelo y vio la mano de Pete
colgando, la sangre derramándose.
Pete gritó.

☆☆☆
Se despertó gritando en su almohada. Como le costaba
respirar, se levantó de un salto, jadeando en busca de aire. El
sudor le pegaba la camisa a la piel. La luz del sol se filtraba a
través de su ventana. Estaba en casa. En su habitación.
Extendió las manos, con los dedos abiertos, y vio que estaban
unidas. Se llevó la mano a los ojos y ambos seguían allí.
Estaba vivo y podía ver. Todas las partes del cuerpo estaban
intactas.
Respiró hondo de alivio.
Sólo fue pesadilla.
«¿Por qué tenía que parecer tan real?»
Pete tragó saliva cuando su estómago se revolvió y
empezó a temblar.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Se sintió como si hubiera tenido una versión del mismo

sueño antes, pero esta vez recordaba cada detalle.

☆☆☆
Con una capucha puesta sobre su cabeza, Pete entró en
North Hillside High School el lunes por la mañana y miró
boquiabierto el enorme letrero que colgaba en el pasillo:
ENCUENTRA TU TESORO EN ALTA MAR:
CARNAVAL DE BIENVENIDA HOY EN EL
ALMUERZO. Se dibujó una cabeza de pirata bajo el lema
que decía: “¡Aye, Matey!” mientras mostraba un gancho por
mano. Pete casi se dio la vuelta y caminó a casa. Pero sabía lo
nerviosa que estaba su madre cuando lo dejó en la escuela.
—Todo va a estar bien, Pete —había dicho, como si
estuviera tratando de convencerse a sí misma.
—Sí, mamá, todo estará bien —la tranquilizó—. ¿Mamá?
—¿Sí, cariño?
—Eres una buena mamá.
Parpadeó rápidamente y sonrió.
—Gracias, hijo, me haces muy feliz.
La verdad era que esperaba que todo estuviera bien. Se dio
cuenta de que todo lo que quería era que todo volviera a la
normalidad, con clases aburridas y pruebas innecesarias e
incluso cuidando a su hermano pequeño. Estaba listo para
que todo terminara, y ahora podía ver que tenía una vida
buena incluso si sus padres no estaban juntos. Sus padres lo
amaban a él y a Chuck, a pesar de que a menudo estaban
envueltos en sus propias preocupaciones y obligaciones.
 STEP CLOSER

Tenía una casa agradable y cómoda. Unos pocos amigos. No

era uno de esos chicos que sacaban lo mejor de la escuela
secundaria, pero lo superaría como todos los demás. Caminó
por el pasillo, mirando los carteles en las paredes.
Había barcos piratas, loros, calaveras y tibias cruzadas, y
cabezas de piratas por todos lados. El consejo estudiantil
siempre hacia todo lo posible por la semana de bienvenida.
Podía sentir a la gente boquiabierta ante el lío en su rostro,
pero trató de no prestar atención mientras susurraban y
señalaban. Caminó hacia su casillero y giró el combo,
teniendo cuidado de evitar a un niño con un disfraz de pirata
y un parche en el ojo. Sacó algunas tareas atrasadas de su
mochila y luego sacó su libro de biología para su primera
clase.
—Amigo, ¿qué te pasó en la cara? —le preguntó Duncan
Thompson.
Duncan era el vecino del casillero de Pete, un tipo bajo y
rechoncho con la cabeza zumbada; solían jugar al fútbol
juntos. Para su versión del espíritu escolar, tenía calaveras y
tibias cruzadas pintadas en ambas mejillas.
Pete se encogió de hombros mientras cerraba su casillero.
—Accidente de pesca. No es la gran cosa.
—¿Cómo sucedió? ¿Te cortaron con un cuchillo o algo
así?
Pete no quiso entrar en detalles.
—Algo así. Sin embargo, te hace lucir intimidante. Como
si nadie debería meterse contigo. ¿Sabes a lo que me refiero?
—Pete esbozó una sonrisa.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—Eso es genial.
—Te extrañaré en el juego de bienvenida esta semana,
amigo. Te habrías visto bastante intimidante en el campo,
luciendo una cicatriz fresca en tu rostro.
—Sí, gracias —dijo Pete.
Duncan sonrió y levantó el puño. Pete lo golpeó.
Se alejó de su casillero sintiéndose un poco mejor.
Mantuvo la cabeza en alto mientras la gente lo miraba,
ignorando las estúpidas decoraciones y disfraces piratas.
Definitivamente, tenía la vibra de “no te metas conmigo” y le
gustó.

☆☆☆
Las clases de la mañana de Pete transcurrieron sin
problemas. No se atrevió a levantarse de su asiento durante la
clase y se mantuvo alejado de cualquier objeto afilado.
Cuando sonó la campana del almuerzo, se sintió
sorprendentemente bien, como si realmente hubiera
terminado con su racha de accidentes. Ahora sólo necesitaba
hacer las paces con su hermano menor…
La peor parte era que había arreglado todo antes de
echarlo a perder gritándole a Chuck y echándolo de su
habitación. Simplemente no quería creer lo que Chuck creía,
que todo no había terminado todavía. Que tenía que volver a
enfrentarse a Foxy.
Pete se estremeció. Se disculparía con Chuck y
restablecería su tregua. Y Chuck lo entendería, estaba
bastante seguro. Su hermano pequeño pareció perdonarlo
 STEP CLOSER

fácilmente. Pete estaba realmente listo para empezar de

nuevo, como solía decir su madre a veces. Sería como un
nuevo comienzo. Él nunca entendió realmente lo que ella
quería decir con eso hasta ahora.
Había salido el sol cuando salió al patio de la escuela
donde se estaba celebrando el carnaval. Se instalaron y
distribuyeron puestos de comida y juegos. Los niños
deambulaban comiendo algodón de azúcar y comida chatarra.
Había un tanque de agua con su subdirector y el Sr. Sánchez,
esperando ser sumergido. Se organizó un concurso de comer
pasteles, junto con una mesa de lucha libre, carreras de
pistolas de agua y más. Un DJ tocaba música y regalaba
camisetas. Pete se quitó la capucha y caminó esperando
encontrar algo bueno para comer. No mucho después de que
comenzara a caminar, se encontró con María.
Ella estaba trabajando en una cabina.
—¡Oh, hola, Pete! —le dijo ella. Llevaba un pañuelo rojo
alrededor de la cabeza y pendientes grandes y redondos—.
Whoa, ¿qué te pasó? — señaló su propia mejilla.
—Hola, María. —Pete se encogió de hombros—. Fue un
tonto accidente de pesca.
—Ay, eso apesta. Parece que no has estado mucho por
aquí.
Pete arqueó las cejas. ¿Ella lo había notado?
—Uh, sí, están sucediendo algunas cosas. Sin embargo,
todo está bien.
Ella asintió con la cabeza como si entendiera.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Entonces, ¿quieres ganar algo? Todo lo que tienes que

hacer es meter la mano en esta caja y ver qué obtienes. —Ella
asintió con la cabeza hacia una mesa grande con un agujero
en el centro.
Pete metió las manos en los bolsillos de los vaqueros.
—No, es genial, pero estoy bien.
Ella sonrió.
—Vamos, es sólo por diversión. ¿No quieres un premio?
El estómago de Pete se estremeció cuando sacó su mano
derecha, cerrando su agarre en un puño. Todas las cosas raras
habían terminado, se aseguró a sí mismo. Ahora estaba a
salvo.
—Está bien, supongo. —Vacilante, metió la mano en el
agujero, y después de unos segundos estaba rodeada de algo.
—¿Qué demonios?
María soltó una pequeña risa.
—¿Qué obtuviste?
Tiró de su mano hacia atrás pero estaba atascada. Tiró más
fuerte y el agarre de su mano se apretó. La inquietud lo
invadió. El sudor brotó de su frente. Pete plantó los pies y tiró
con tanta fuerza que la mesa comenzó a levantarse.
—¡Pete, detente! ¡Vas a romper la mesa!
—¡Mi mano está atascada!
—Lo sé, Pete, cálmate. —María golpeó la mesa con
mucha fuerza—. ¡Está bien, detente! ¡Dije que pararas!
 STEP CLOSER

De repente, Pete sacó la mano y la sujetó a algo que

parecía una trampa para dedos china, excepto que era lo
suficientemente grande como para cubrir toda su mano. Pete
la miró con incredulidad. Cuanto más fuerte había tirado, más
se apretaba la trampa que había agarrado su mano.
María parecía culpable.
Lo siento, Pete, es sólo una broma que les hemos estado
jugando a los estudiantes. Ya sabes, sólo un poco de
diversión. Todos los demás pensaron que era divertido.
—No soy todos los demás —espetó.
Un chico asomó la cabeza por el agujero de la mesa. Su
cabello era puntiagudo y tenía un pendiente en la nariz
—Amigo, relájate. Es una broma, ¿por qué te alteras?
Pete ni siquiera sabía qué decir, estaba muy asustado.
—¡No es genial! —tartamudeó, tratando de quitarse la
trampa de la mano. De alguna manera simplemente se apretó
más fuerte, exprimiendo su circulación. Tragó saliva. Se
sentía como pequeños cuchillos clavándose bajo su piel—.
¡Quítame esto de encima!
—Espera, te ayudaré. Sé cómo hacerlo. —María salió
corriendo de la cabina hacia Pete y acercó la trampa a su
mano para que finalmente se soltara—. Lamento que estés
tan molesto.
—¡Sí claro! Sólo quítatelo ya —dijo, apenas
conteniéndose.
—Lo estoy intentando, ¿de acuerdo? Está atascado por
alguna razón. Espera. —Corrió alrededor de la cabina para
agarrar algo.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

No sólo estaba atascado, se apretaba cada vez más. Su

mano comenzó a palpitar de dolor. «No de nuevo», fue todo
lo que pudo pensar.
—Oye —se quejó el chico de la caja—. No lo cortes.
Entonces no podremos usarlo más.
María regresó con unas tijeras.
—Tengo que hacerlo, no se va a soltar. —Cortó desde el
extremo abierto de la trampa hasta que finalmente liberó su
mano.
Para cuando se lo quitó, la piel de Pete se veía
completamente morada y se sentía completamente
entumecida. Abrió y cerró su agarre para que la circulación
volviera a funcionar.
Los ojos de María se agrandaron.
¡Oh, Dios mío, Pete! ¡Lo siento mucho! No puedo creer
que esto haya pasado. Te ves como un…
—No lo digas —la interrumpió—. No deberías haber
hecho eso. No deberías haber intentado engañarme. Pensé
que nos llevábamos bien.
—Estamos… —Cuando sus mejillas se enrojecieron e
inclinó la cabeza, a Pete se le hizo un nudo en la garganta—.
Dije que lo siento, Pete.
—Mira, lo que sea. No es gran cosa. Me tengo que ir. —
Luego, antes de que ella pudiera decir algo más, se marchó
furioso, tratando de calmar sus nervios mientras se frotaba la
mano. Qué broma más estúpida. ¿Cómo se suponía que eso
fuera incluso divertido? Y era otra cosa extraña. Tragó saliva
 STEP CLOSER

mientras su garganta se apretó aún más. No podía soportar

más accidentes. Simplemente no podía o perdería la cabeza.
Una avalancha de niños de repente lo rodeó como una
manada de ganado, empujándolo a través de la puerta de un
laberinto de espejos mientras corrían hacia adentro.
—Oigan, tengan cuidado —gritó. Trató de salir de la
manada pero había demasiados. Simplemente se apretó
contra la pared cuando finalmente pasaron, riendo y gritando.
—Amigo, mira, ¡somos como veinte en los espejos! —
gritó alguien mientras desaparecían.
Pete intentó volver a salir por la entrada, pero de alguna
manera se encontró perdido en el maldito laberinto de
espejos. Caminó en la dirección opuesta para llegar
directamente a la salida. Sin embargo, llegó a un callejón sin
salida, y un pirata apareció en el espejo, con un sombrero
inclinado para cubrir su rostro y un gancho letal en su brazo.
Cuando finalmente movió el sombrero, Pete pudo ver que el
pirata tenía la cara de un zorro. Pete se estremeció. Miró
detrás de él, pensando que el zorro pirata estaría parado allí,
pero sólo había otro espejo.
Los latidos de su corazón se aceleraron y su cerebro se
vació de todos los pensamientos menos uno: «tengo que salir
de aquí». Dio media vuelta y recorrió pasillos estrechos,
huyendo hacia la salida. Imágenes del pirata zorro y de él
mismo se reflejaban en todos los espejos. Cuando corría, el
zorro corría. El sudor goteaba por la cara de Pete. Todo lo
que sabía era que no podía dejar que el zorro pirata lo
atrapara.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Respiraba con dificultad cuando finalmente vio una luz al

final de un pequeño pasillo con espejos. Pero antes de que
pudiera llegar allí, el zorro pirata saltó frente a él, levantando
su anzuelo.
Como por instinto, Pete retrocedió y golpeó al zorro pirata
en la nariz. Entonces el pirata se tambaleó hacia atrás, con
una mano en su máscara, mientras Pete salía corriendo.
Pete estaba prácticamente hiperventilando cuando regresó
al carnaval. Estaba inestable y desequilibrado, como si
acabara de salir de un carrusel. Los niños se rieron y miraron
mientras las preguntas daban vueltas y vueltas en su mente.
«¿A dónde voy? ¿Qué debo hacer?» Dio un paso atrás y
chocó con alguien. Se dio la vuelta para ver a un payaso con
un sombrero de pirata. El payaso saludó con la mano, pero
Pete lo empujó y corrió hacia una tienda, empujando a través
de las solapas de la pesada lona. Necesitaba salir del
carnaval, pero estaba tan confundido que no sabía a dónde
iba. Se encontró corriendo a una cabina con varios globos
clavados en la pared.
Un dardo se acercó a él y le raspó la mejilla. Golpeó al
siguiente con la mano.
Alguien gritó
—¡Oye, hay alguien ahí!
El propio Pete se adelantó para decirles que se detuvieran,
pero ya era demasiado tarde. Fue entonces cuando el último
dardo dio en el blanco, clavándose en la piel al lado de su ojo
interior.
Gritó de dolor.
 STEP CLOSER

Los chicos jadearon. Alguien gritó.

Pete se estiró lentamente y sacó el dardo. Un hilo de
sangre le resbaló por la cara. Lanzó el dardo y salió corriendo
por el otro extremo de la tienda, preso del pánico. Corrió a
otra tienda. Las aves exóticas estaban enjauladas dentro,
tuiteando y graznando.
Un loro chilló—: ¡Pierde un ojo! ¡Pierde un brazo!
Pete se detuvo y dirigió su mirada hacia el pájaro. Su
cuerpo estaba temblando.
—¿Qué dijiste?
—¡Squawk! ¡Squawk! —El pájaro era de un verde
brillante con un pico negro. Agitó sus alas hacia Pete—.
¡Squawk!
Pete agarró la jaula y la agitó. Plumas se esparcieron.
Todos los pájaros de la tienda empezaron a volverse locos.
—¿Qué dijiste, pájaro estúpido? Foxy, ¿estás ahí? —No,
no tenía ningún sentido que Foxy estuviera dentro del pájaro,
pero a Pete no le importaba. ¿Desde cuándo algo de esto tenía
sentido? Lo que sea que le estaba pasando todavía le estaba
pasando y ya había tenido suficiente—. ¡No vas a ganar! ¿Me
escuchas? No. Vas. A. Ganar.
—¡Oye, chico, cálmate! —Alguien agarró a Pete por el
hombro y le dio la vuelta—. ¿Qué te pasa?
Pete se apartó del hombre, un maestro de la escuela. Sr.
Berk o algo así.
—No pasa nada. —Pete se secó el sudor de la frente y la
sangre de la mejilla—. Nada.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Nada, excepto una cadena de accidentes extraños que

implicó la pérdida de un ojo o un brazo. Nada excepto un
zorro robótico que quería que se convirtiera en pirata, o se
muriera, lo que ocurriera primero. Chuck tenía que tener
razón. Tenía que volver a enfrentarse a Foxy para terminar
esto de una vez por todas.
El Sr. Berk extendió una mano.
—No te ves muy bien. Estás sangrando por el ojo.
Vayamos con la enfermera para que lo revise.
Pete se apartó.
—¡No! ¡Estoy bien! —insistió.
—Está bien, cálmate. ¿Qué le pasó a tu mejilla?
—Me han pasado demasiadas cosas. —Pete se limitó a
negar con la cabeza—. Demasiadas.
¿Cómo podía empezar a explicar?
—Sólo quiero ayudar —dijo Berk—. ¿Cuál es tu nombre?
—No, no puede ayudarme. Nadie puede. Él está detrás de
mí y nunca se detendrá. Ahora le creo, pensé que podría
arreglarlo todo disculpándome. —Pete se rio amargamente—.
Sí, es gracioso, ¿eh? Como si “lo siento” alguna vez arregla
algo. Pero tenía que intentarlo, ¿verdad?
—¿Quién está detrás de ti, chico? ¿Cuál es su nombre?
Podemos sentarnos con el director. Resolvamos todo esto.
Sólo tienes que calmarte, respirar hondo…
—¡No lo entiende! ¡No hay que sentarse ni hablar! ¡Es un
maldito robot! Los ojos del señor Berk se agrandaron.
 STEP CLOSER

—¿Un robot? Ayúdame a entender. Sentémonos un

momento. Puedes hablar conmigo, ¿de acuerdo? A veces
pensamos que las cosas son peores de lo que realmente son.
Pero una vez que nos detenemos y miramos el panorama
completo, no es tan malo en absoluto. Créeme. Pasa todo el
tiempo.
—No, está mal. Muy mal. Pero sé lo que tengo que hacer
ahora. Todo terminará pronto. Tengo que volver al punto de
origen, donde empezó todo. Tengo que enfrentarme al
villano. —Antes de que el maestro pudiera detenerlo, Pete se
escabulló.

☆☆☆
Lo reservó en el pasillo de la escuela, empapado en sudor.
Un monitor del pasillo le llamó a gritos, pero Pete ignoró lo
que estaba diciendo. Tenía que salir. Tenía que acabar con
esto. Cuando abrió las puertas de un empujón, mirando hacia
atrás por encima del hombro, el monitor del pasillo estaba
hablando por su radio. Pete falló un paso y se cayó,
tropezando por los escalones de la entrada de la escuela. Sus
rodillas y palmas estaban raspadas, y su cuerpo se sentía
magullado, pero se puso de pie para seguir corriendo.
Mientras corría por el césped de la escuela, sacó su
teléfono y marcó el número de Chuck. Fue directamente al
buzón de voz porque Chuck todavía estaba en clase.
Pete golpeó el teléfono, sin aliento.
—¡Tenías razón! Ha sido Foxy todo el tiempo. ¡Tengo que
regresar para enfrentarlo! Todavía están sucediendo cosas
extrañas, pero de ninguna manera va a ganar Foxy, Chuck.
¡De ninguna manera! ¡Siento no haberte creído, hermanito!
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

¡Reúnete conmigo allí tan pronto como puedas! ¡Podemos

terminar esto juntos!
Presa del pánico ciego, Pete salió corriendo de la acera y
salió a la calle. Sintió que algo se aceleraba hacia él y se
volteó; fue entonces cuando un camión se estrelló contra él
con extrema fuerza. Su cuerpo salió volando, sus
extremidades se retorcieron, y un momento se sintió como
una eternidad. Luego se estrelló, con su cuerpo golpeando el
duro suelo. Sintió un crujido, luego un estallido. La fuerza le
quemó la piel contra la carretera mientras rodaba y rodaba,
dejando un rastro de sangre detrás de él. El dolor estaba en
todas partes, luego todo se oscureció.

☆☆☆
¡Tenías razón! Ha sido Foxy todo el tiempo. ¡Tengo que
regresar para enfrentarlo! Todavía están sucediendo cosas
extrañas, pero de ninguna manera va a ganar Foxy, Chuck.
¡De ninguna manera! ¡Siento no haberte creído, hermanito!
¡Reúnete conmigo allí tan pronto como puedas! ¡Podemos
terminar esto juntos!
Chuck colgó el teléfono, miró por encima del hombro y
saltó ágilmente la valla de su escuela secundaria. Luego
corrió. Tenía que llegar a Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. ¡Tenía que
ayudar a Pete!
Movió los brazos con fuerza y rapidez para perderse de
vista de la escuela. Cuando se sintió a salvo fuera su vista,
sacó su inhalador, dio dos inhalaciones y caminó hasta
recuperar el aliento. Aún le quedaban algunos kilómetros por
recorrer. Deseaba tener su bicicleta, pero no la tenía y no
defraudaría a Pete. No lo dejaría enfrentarse a Foxy solo.
 STEP CLOSER

Empezó a correr de nuevo, pero no duró mucho. No era un

gran atleta. Chuck podía correr, pero por lo general eran
distancias cortas; siempre lo hacía mal en la milla
cronometrada en la clase de gimnasia. Miró a su alrededor y
se puso rígido cuando vio un coche de policía. ¡Oh, no! Se
metió en una tienda de donas y esperó a que se fuera. No
estaba acostumbrado a romper las reglas y abandonar la
escuela. Esta era la primera vez que hacía algo como esto.
¿Qué pasaría si mamá se enterara? ¿Lo castigaría? Pete
probablemente se reiría de él por estar tan asustado.
Pero eso estaba bien, Pete podía reírse de él todo lo que
quisiera una vez que todo esto terminara.
Estaba sin aliento cuando llegó a Freddy Fazbear's Pizza y
tenía la camisa pegada a la espalda por el sudor. Empujó las
puertas delanteras y sintió alivio cuando el aire fresco y
acondicionado golpeó su rostro. Los niños pequeños corrían
de un lado a otro mientras se dirigía al pasillo que conducía a
la sala de mantenimiento. Había una especie de gerente
parado frente a la pasarela. «Maldita sea». Chuck saltó sobre
sus pies, esperando que el tipo se alejara. Fingió jugar a un
juego de árcade hasta que el chico finalmente siguió adelante.
Chuck caminó lentamente hacia la puerta, se deslizó y
corrió por el pasillo hasta llegar a la puerta. Se abrió para
revelar la oscuridad absoluta. Tragó saliva cuando entró y la
puerta se cerró de golpe detrás de él. El miedo casi se lo traga
por completo, pero sacó su teléfono del bolsillo para
encender una luz.
Hipo.
Se llevó una mano a la boca para tratar de detener el hipo.
Encendió la luz del teléfono hacia la izquierda y hacia la
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

derecha. Sin fantasmas extraños, sin robots. Sacó su

inhalador y dio una rápida bocanada mientras seguía mirando
a su alrededor. Todavía las mismas mesas polvorientas con
viejas cajas de suministros y sillas rotas, como la primera vez
que lo habían visitado. Por alguna razón, eso se sintió como
hace semanas.
—Pete —susurró—. ¿Dónde estás?
Hipo.
Cuando no hubo respuesta, se preguntó si Pete estaba
tratando de asustarlo de nuevo. Luego apartó ese
pensamiento. Pete había sonado realmente molesto en el
buzón de voz. Había sido herido físicamente y finalmente
creyó en la teoría de Chuck de que todo comenzó con Foxy.
Finalmente estaban de acuerdo en algo.
Ahora Pete lo estaba tratando como a un verdadero
hermano en lugar de ser un problema con el que tenía que
lidiar todos los días.
—Pete. ¿Estás aquí?
Cuando le respondió el silencio, Chuck marcó el número
de su hermano.
Sonó y sonó, finalmente fue al buzón de voz.
—Pete, ¿dónde estás? Hipo. Estoy aquí con Foxy,
esperándote. Llámame. O simplemente date prisa y ven aquí.
Sabes que este lugar me da escalofríos.
Hipo. Hipo.
 STEP CLOSER

Chuck terminó la llamada y dio un paso adelante,

apuntando la luz del teléfono al pequeño escenario. Un
escalofrío lo recorrió y se estremeció. El instinto le dijo que
se alejara mucho, muy lejos del escenario. «Sal». Sin
embargo, no pudo. No se trataba de sus miedos. Se trataba de
su hermano. Tragando saliva, se acercó a la caja de control.
Averiguaría qué le pasó a Pete ese día. Realmente necesitaba
saber si Foxy de alguna manera perseguía a su hermano. Su
mano estaba sobre el botón de INICIO cuando su teléfono
sonó y saltó en el aire.
Hipo, hipo, hipo.
Respondió rápidamente.
—¿Pete?
—No hijo, es papá. ¿Dónde estás? Fui a la escuela a
buscarte, pero no estabas allí.
De repente, Chuck tuvo miedo de meterse en problemas
por escapar de la escuela. Su garganta se apretó.
—Um, lo siento, papá, hipo, Pete me necesitaba. Me tuve
que ir. Hipo. No lo volveré a hacer nunca. Lo prometo.
—¿Pete? ¿Qué quieres decir? ¿Hablaste con él?
—Um, no exactamente. Me dejó un mensaje para
encontrarnos. Pero aún no ha llegado. No sé dónde está. No
contesta su teléfono. Hipo.
—Oh, hijo… —se le quebró la voz.
—¿Qué? ¿Qué pasa, papá? —Una oleada de pavor lo
invadió—. ¿Por qué fuiste a recogerme a la escuela? Hipo.
—Chuck… ha habido un accidente.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

☆☆☆
Papá recogió a Chuck en Freddy Fazbear's Pizza y
condujo más rápido de lo normal hasta la escuela secundaria
de Pete. No hizo ninguna pregunta sobre por qué se suponía
que Chuck se encontraría con Pete allí. Dijo que mamá había
ido directamente a la escuela cuando recibió la llamada de
que Pete había sido atropellado por un camión.
—Por el momento, mantengamos la fuga de la escuela
lejos de tu madre. Ella no necesita más en su plato en este
momento.
Chuck sintió la culpa como un puñetazo en el estómago.
—Está bien, papá. Tienes que entender que fue por Pete.
De lo contrario, nunca lo haría.
—Lo sé, hijo. No te preocupe demasiado por eso. Los
hermanos se cuidan unos a otros.
Chuck asintió. Mientras se acercaban a la escuela
secundaria, Chuck vio luces intermitentes. Los coches de la
policía bloqueaban la calle y las barricadas retenían a los
niños lejos de la acera.
Chuck tragó saliva.
—Pete va a estar bien, ¿verdad, papá?
Papá se detuvo a un lado de la carretera, a una cuadra de
los vehículos de emergencia, y apagó el motor.
—Va a estar bien. —Pero su voz sonaba extraña, como si
tuviera la garganta apretada. Sus ojos parecían asustados e
inseguros, como si no creyera en sus propias palabras.
 STEP CLOSER

Chuck salió corriendo del coche con su padre. Se

dirigieron hacia las luces intermitentes.
Un oficial de policía levantó los brazos.
—Lo siento, no puedo dejarlo pasar.
—Ese es mi hijo. Necesito verlo. Mi esposa está aquí.
—¿Apellido?
—Dinglewood. El nombre de mi hijo es Pete Dinglewood.
Él es el que fue golpeado.
El policía asintió con la cabeza y los dejó entrar. Pasaron
junto a más trabajadores de emergencia de los que Chuck
podía contar, y un camión que fue detenido a un lado, con
una gran abolladura en la parte delantera del parachoques.
Chuck jadeó y esperaba que la abolladura no viniera de
golpear a Pete. Había un hombre sentado en la acera,
hablando con un oficial de policía. Tenía el sombrero en las
manos y estaba llorando.
Chuck miró hacia el medio de la calle y se quedó
paralizado cuando vio el zapato de Pete tirado allí. Era una
simple zapatilla de deporte blanca, lo que hacía que la sangre
salpicada sobre ella fuera horriblemente perceptible. Todo lo
que podía pensar era que Pete necesitaba su zapato. Pequeños
números negros en tarjetas de plástico dobladas estaban
esparcidos por la carretera, como para una investigación.
Chuck tragó saliva y siguió a su papá hasta que finalmente
vieron a su mamá parada junto a una camilla. Estaba de
espaldas a ellos y sus hombros temblaban.
—Ahí está mamá —dijo Chuck, aunque estaba bastante
seguro de que papá ya la había visto. Papá corrió a su lado y
la rodeó con el brazo.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Chuck se contuvo, temeroso de ver a Pete en esa camilla.

Sacó su inhalador y dio una bocanada antes de acercarse.
Detrás de las barricadas, había otros estudiantes de
secundaria. Algunos rostros estaban en shock, algunos niños
lloraban y otros vestían disfraces de piratas. A Pete
probablemente le encantó eso. La idea hizo que los labios de
Chuck se torcieran, pero no pudo obligarse a sonreír.
—Chuck —dijo papá, extendiendo una mano—. Ven aquí,
hijo. —Él estaba llorando. Nunca antes había visto llorar a su
padre.
Chuck no quería moverse. No quería caminar hasta la
camilla. Si hubiera podido, habría ido en la dirección opuesta.
Pero forzó un paso adelante y luego otro. Se sentía aturdido y
en cámara lenta, como si estuviera caminando entre un
almíbar espeso. Cuando finalmente alcanzó a su papá y
mamá, se movió entre ellos en busca de apoyo.
Pete estaba acostado en la camilla. Tenía los ojos cerrados
y se veía increíblemente pálido. Los rasguños del accidente
de pesca se destacaban como líneas rojas de enojo en su
rostro, y tenía raspaduras recientes grabadas en su frente.
Chuck esperó a que abriera los ojos. Esperaba a que se
moviera, parpadeara, lo que fuera.
—Se ha ido, Chuck —dijo papá entre lágrimas. Sus
palabras hicieron llorar a mamá aún más fuerte.
Un hombre con una camisa de uniforme blanca se acercó a
ellos.
—Siento su pérdida. Podemos reunirnos con usted en el
hospital cuando esté listo.
 STEP CLOSER

Papá respondió—: Sí, gracias.

El hombre llevaba guantes azules. Agarró la gran
cremallera del pecho de Pete y la subió, sellando a Pete en
una gran bolsa de lona. Así, Pete se había ido.

☆☆☆
Pete se sintió congelado, como si no pudiera mover
ninguna parte de su cuerpo. Curiosamente, no sintió frío ni
calor ni dolor. Estaba rodeado de oscuridad. Hubo voces
distantes… sonidos de movimiento…
¿Hola? ¿Dónde estoy? él se preguntó.
Extrañamente, no podía mover los labios.
¿Qué diablos? Parecía que había pasado mucho tiempo.
Finalmente, escuchó algo como un sonido de cremallera,
luego apareció una luz brillante a su alrededor. Había un
hombre encima de él con gafas transparentes, una gorra de
tela azul y una mascarilla que le cubría la nariz y la boca.
¿Era un médico?
Oye, amigo, tienes que ayudarme. Me siento raro.
Pete supuso que debía estar en el hospital. Lo había herido
el camión. Recordó. Estaba tratando de llegar a la pizzería,
pero se había olvidado de la regla que su madre le había
inculcado desde que era pequeño. Mirar a ambos lados antes
de cruzar la maldita calle. Bueno, ahora lo arreglarían con
una cirugía. El alivio lo inundó. Lo arreglarían y luego él y
Chuck se enfrentarían a Foxy juntos y luego todo terminaría.
Finalmente.
Otro hombre apareció por encima de Pete, mirando hacia
abajo con ojos tristes.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

—Pobre niño. Tan joven.

—Sí, odio cuando son jóvenes así.
—Realmente es una lástima. A veces me da escalofríos.
—Por tus propios hijos, ¿verdad?
—Sí, me aseguraré de darles un abrazo extra cuando los
vea.
—Yo también.
Los dos hombres levantaron el cuerpo de Pete y lo
colocaron sobre una mesa dura.
Por alguna razón no puedo moverme. ¿Qué pasa conmigo?
¿Me dieron algo para adormecerme? Esto me está asustando
un poco y he tenido una semana muy mala, ¿saben? Así que,
por favor, díganme que todo está bien.
A Pete se le ocurrió una idea terrible. Oh no, ¿el camión
me lastimó las piernas? ¿Podré volver a caminar? ¿Es por eso
que no puedo sentirlas? ¿Por qué no me hablan? ¡Necesito
respuestas! ¡Necesito ayuda!
Un hombre puso sus dedos enguantados sobre los ojos de
Pete.
—Qué extraño.
—¿Qué?
—No puedo cerrar sus párpados. Es como si estuvieran
congelados abiertos.
—Ha sucedido antes.
 STEP CLOSER

—Sí, pero no me gusta. Los quiero cerrados.

El otro hombre se rio.
—Qué más da. Tenemos trabajo que hacer. —Cogió una
pantalla de mano—. Una cosa buena, aquí dice que el niño es
un donante de órganos.
Espera. ¿Qué?
—Sí, partes de él irán a algunos destinatarios afortunados.
Es joven, sus órganos están sanos. Sin embargo, tenemos que
trabajar rápido.
¡No! ¡Hay un error! ¡Estoy bien! No estoy listo para
renunciar a mis órganos. ¡Mamá! ¡Papá! ¿Dónde están? ¡No
dejen que me hagan esto!
Los hombres agarraron unas tijeras grandes y comenzaron
a cortarle la ropa. Unos minutos después, la música llenó la
habitación.
Espera un minuto… ¿es esta otra pesadilla? ¿Estoy
soñando? Por favor, que esto sea un mal sueño. Que esto no
sea real. ¡Despierta ahora, Pete! ¡Despierta maldición!
—¿Tienes planes para esta noche?
—Sí, llevar a los niños a Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Les
encanta ese lugar.
—A mis hijos también les encanta ese lugar. Esas cosas
animatrónicas me asustan un poco, pero a los niños les
encantan. Lo que sea que los haga felices.
¡Deténganse! ¡Estoy vivo! ¡No puedes tomar mis órganos
antes de que muera! ¡Alguien ayúdeme! ¡Por favor!
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

El primer hombre agarró un bisturí y colocó su punta en el

pecho de Pete.
—Oh, espera un minuto —dijo el otro hombre, leyendo de
nuevo en la pantalla.
—¿Qué pasa?
Oh, gracias a Dios. Dile que todo esto es un error. Dile
que sigo vivo. ¡Dile que no me corte!
—Tenemos un caso urgente, que necesita los ojos y una
mano. Aquí dice que el niño es una pareja exacta. La mano
no tiene mucho daño. Funcionará, pero tenemos que poner
todo en hielo rápidamente. El transporte estará aquí antes de
que nos demos cuenta. Hagámoslo primero.
¡Noooooooo!
El hombre del bisturí miró a Pete.
—Buen trabajo, chico. Vas a ayudar a mucha gente. —
Cogió unas pinzas pequeñas con la otra mano. El segundo
hombre encendió una pequeña sierra circular y la hoja se
convirtió en un borrón circular.
—Pongámonos a trabajar.
Pete comenzó a escuchar la música de Foxy en su
cabeza…
Puedes ser un pirata, ¡pero primero tendrás que perder un
ojo y un brazo! ¡Yarg!
Pete observó con impotente horror cómo el primer hombre
se inclinaba para mirarlo a los ojos.
 STEP CLOSER

Cuatro semanas después…

Chuck fue en bicicleta a Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Las
nubes eran pesadas y oscuras, y había una ráfaga de frío en el
aire. Cuando llegó a casa de la escuela, no había nadie.
Aunque Chuck sabía que la casa estaba vacía, gritó—:
¿Hola? ¿Pete?
El refrigerador respondió con un leve zumbido.
La casa no era muy grande, pero a Chuck le parecía
enorme y vacía. Solía querer tener la edad suficiente para
quedarse solo en casa. Ahora que había cumplido su deseo,
deseaba compañía.
Mamá finalmente pudo volver al trabajo después de
semanas de llanto.
Papá también estaba trabajando. De alguna manera, el
dolor de perder a Pete había reunido a sus padres, y papá se
había mudado a casa después del funeral. Un día, Chuck los
vio a ambos limpiar la habitación de Pete. Recogieron la ropa
sucia, tiraron un poco de basura, le hicieron la cama y
cerraron la puerta. No se había abierto desde entonces.
Chuck no se había reunido con sus amigos en un tiempo.
Se suponía que debía estar en casa haciendo su tarea. Pero
algo lo había estado impulsando a regresar… De vuelta a
Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Volver a ver a Foxy.
Nunca le había dicho a nadie lo que él y Pete realmente
habían pensado sobre los extraños accidentes de Pete. Cómo
creían que había comenzado el problema, o por qué habían
planeado encontrarse en Freddy Fazbear's Pizza para
enfrentarse a Foxy de una vez por todas.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Durante semanas, Chuck había sentido esta pesadez en el

pecho, como si se suponía que debía hacer algo que nunca
pudo hacer, como si tuviera un rompecabezas incompleto.
Había repetido el último mensaje de Pete una y otra vez
desde el funeral.
¡Tenías razón! Ha sido Foxy todo el tiempo. ¡Tengo que
regresar para enfrentarlo! Todavía están sucediendo cosas
extrañas, pero de ninguna manera va a ganar Foxy, Chuck.
¡De ninguna manera! ¡Siento no haberte creído, hermanito!
¡Reúnete conmigo allí tan pronto como puedas! ¡Podemos
terminar esto juntos!
La muerte de Pete fastidiaba a Chuck día y noche. A
veces, cuando estaba sentado en clase, sonaba la campana y
se daba cuenta de que el período había terminado antes de
darse cuenta de que había comenzado. Se estaba quedando
atrás en todos los temas.
Los profesores lo miraron, pero nadie dijo mucho. Todos
sabían que había perdido a su hermano. Todos sabían que
había cambiado. Chuck se sentaba solo durante el almuerzo,
escribiendo en su cuaderno, llenándolo con notas, ideas y
escenarios sobre lo que podría haberle sucedido a Pete y
cómo pudieron haberlo detenido antes de que Pete… se fuera.
Bueno, se acabaron los “y si”. Chuck había terminado de
preguntarse.
Dejó su bicicleta en el portabicicletas frente a Freddy
Fazbear's Pizza.
Cuando cruzó las puertas, el familiar aroma de pepperoni
lo inundó. Los pings y los sonidos del juego musical vibraron
 STEP CLOSER

a su alrededor. Caminó por la sala de juegos y vio a un grupo

de niños apiñados alrededor de un juego.
Ese solía ser él. Siempre le había encantado este lugar,
hasta ese fatídico día, cuando Pete lo arrastró por el pasillo
hasta la sala de mantenimiento y todo había cambiado.
Caminó por el área de juegos y se acercó a las mesas de
cumpleaños y observó a un par de familias sentadas frente al
escenario. Todos parecían tan felices. Los niños pequeños
estaban comiendo pizza, cautivados por el espectáculo de
animatrónicos. Algunos cantaban con la boca llena. Los niños
aplaudieron y vitorearon después de que terminó la canción.
Chuck caminó hacia el pasillo que conducía a la sala de
mantenimiento. Miró por encima del hombro para ver si
alguien estaba mirando, luego se deslizó. Caminó lentamente
por el pasillo oscuro, más allá de los viejos carteles, hasta que
llegó a la puerta. Extendió la mano hacia el mango y le
tembló la mano.
Respiró hondo y abrió la pesada puerta, entrando en la
oscuridad.
La puerta se cerró de golpe en su espalda, el sonido resonó
en sus oídos.
Sacó su inhalador mientras su respiración se debilitaba y
tomó una bocanada. Luego se metió el inhalador en el
bolsillo y apagó la luz del teléfono. Fue directamente al
pequeño escenario y directamente a la caja de control abierta.
No más pérdidas de tiempo.
Un escalofrío le recorrió la espalda, pero lo ignoró. Si
dudaba, sabía que no lo haría y había estado repitiendo este
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

momento una y otra vez en su cabeza. Tenía que hacerlo.

Tenía que averiguar qué le pasó a Pete.
—Esto es por Pete —dijo en el cuarto oscuro—. Me
enfrentaré al villano y ganaré el juego.
Se preparó y apretó el botón de INICIO.
Esperó a que la cortina se abriera… a que Foxy comenzara
a cantar…
Pero nada pasó.
Todo lo que Chuck escuchó fue un completo silencio.
STEP CLOSER
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

The stars looked like tiny pinpricks of light shining

through a sheet of black velvet. Kasey lay on her back on
a low stone wall, staring up at the sky, feeling wonder at
being even a small part of such a beautiful universe. She
remembered a nursery rhyme from when she was little,
there had been a coloring sheet in kindergarten with the
nursery rhyme’s words and a picture of smiling stars.
Twinkle, twinkle little star, she thought. How I wonder …
what I am.
“Kasey!” Jack’s voice startled her out of her trance.
“Look over there!”
Kasey sat up and looked at the brightly lit kiddie
restaurant across the street, Circus Baby’s Pizza World. A
woman and two young children were standing outside its
red door. The woman was fumbling with her purse.
“Let’s go,” Jack whispered.
Kasey stood up and casually crossed the street with
Jack, ducking into the alley next to Circus Baby’s, close
enough that she could hear the little girl chattering to her
mother.
“I think Circus Baby is pretty!” the little brown-haired
girl said. She was wearing a T-shirt decorated with Circus
Baby’s Pizza World’s creepylooking mascots.
“She is pretty,” the mother said, looking a little dazed,
probably because she had spent too much time surrounded
by the bright lights and loud noises of the kiddie pizza
emporium.
“Can I wear pigtails like Circus Baby?” the little girl
asked, pulling two handfuls of her hair up into bunches.
 DANCE WITH ME

She couldn’t be much older than three, Kasey thought.

Four, at the oldest.
“Sure you can,” the mother said. “Hold your brother’s
hand while I find my car keys.”
“Her hands are all sticky from candy,” the boy
complained. He was early elementary school age. Maybe
seven.
“Mommy, I’m so sleepy,” the little girl said. “Can you
carry my goody bag?” She held up a little plastic bag with
the name of the restaurant printed on it.
The mother had found her keys. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll
just put it here in my purse.”
“Can you carry me? I’m too sleepy to walk.”
The mother smiled. “Okay, come here, big girl.” Her
purse dangled from her left forearm while she leaned over
to pick up her daughter.
“Now!” Jack barked into Kasey’s ear.
Kasey pulled the ski mask over her face and dashed
out from her hiding place in the alley. She ran past the
mother and grabbed her purse with a swift, sure motion.
She kept running as the woman yelled “Hey!” and the
little girl screamed.
As Kasey ran, she heard the little boy say, “I’ll catch the
bad guy, Mommy!”
“No,” the mother said firmly. “You stay here.”
If they said anything else, Kasey didn’t stick around to
hear it. Kasey knew she was fast, and she knew there was
no way the mother could catch her on foot, not with two
little kids on her hands.
After Kasey had put some distance between herself
and the crime scene, she took off the ski mask and stuck it
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

in her jacket pocket. She slowed to a walk and carried the

purse casually, as if it belonged to her. And now, she
supposed, it did.
She met the guys back at home, or at what passed for
home. Kasey and Jack and AJ stayed in an abandoned
warehouse. There was no electricity— they had to make
do with flashlights and camping lanterns. But there was a
good roof, and the building was well insulated, which
made it warmer than being outside. They slept in sleeping
bags and heated food on a little twoburner cook stove, the
kind people used on camping trips. Actually, living in the
warehouse was a kind of indoor camping. That was one
way to see it, Kasey thought.
She sat on one of the wooden crates they used as
chairs, holding the stolen purse in her lap.
“How much did we get?” Jack asked, leaning over her
shoulder. He was sharp-nosed and twitchy, like a rat.
“I like how you say ‘we’ even though it was me who
took all the risks,” Kasey said, unzipping the purse.
“That’s the code of the Thieves’ Den,” AJ said, sitting
on the crate next to her. He was big and bulky, the muscle
of the group. “We share everything.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “It’s like how coaches say there’s
no ‘I’ in ‘team.’ Except it’s there’s no ‘I’ in ‘thief.’ ”
“Yeah, but actually there is an ‘I’ in ‘thief,’ ” Kasey
said, laughing. She pushed her long braids out of her face
and peeked inside the purse. The first thing she pulled out
was the little girl’s goody bag. No wonder the kid had
screamed. She didn’t want to lose all the candy and plastic
junk she had “won” at the pizza place. Kasey stuffed the
 DANCE WITH ME

goody bag in her jacket pocket and then found what they
were all waiting for: the woman’s wallet.
“How much?” Jack said. He was trembling with
anticipation.
“Hold your horses,” Kasey said, unfolding the wallet
and taking out all the bills. She counted. “It looks like …
eighty-seven dollars.” It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t
terrible. People hardly ever carried cash anymore.
“What about cards?” AJ asked.
“I’m looking.” She glanced briefly at the woman’s
driver’s license, then looked away. She always felt bad
when she thought of the victim as having a face and a
name, of them having to wait in line at the DMV for a
new license. She pulled out the plastic cards. “One gas
credit card, one general credit card.”
The gas card was of limited use since they didn’t have
a car. Still, they could use it in gas station food marts. And
they could definitely get some use out of the credit card
before they had to ditch it. Kasey badly needed some
socks and a new pair of boots. The ones she was wearing
were battered and held together with duct tape, so her feet
hurt all the time.
“We’ll try out the cards tomorrow,” Jack said. “In the
meantime, eightyseven dollars split three ways is”—he
made a big show of doing the math, “writing” in the air
like he was solving a problem on the board at school
—“Twenty-nine dollars each. I’ll take twenty of that now,
Miss Kasey. I’m gonna go out and see how much a person
can party on twenty bucks. You two coming with me?”
“I will,” AJ said. “Gimme a twenty, too, Kasey.” He
held out his hand.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

“I think I’ll stay here,” Kasey said. She wasn’t a

partier like Jack and AJ. Her mother had partied a lot, and
Kasey had grown up knowing that her mom’s tendency to
blow through all her money in one carefree night meant
they had to have to live with the consequences until her
next paycheck.
“Why?” Jack asked. “That’s no fun.”
“I’m tired.” Kasey put the wallet back into the stolen
purse. “I was the one who did all the running, remember?”
After the guys had gone out, Kasey lay on top of her
sleeping bag and dug through the plastic sack from Circus
Baby’s Pizza World. She pulled out a pair of cardboard
glasses with flimsy plastic lenses. The cardboard was
decorated with a picture of some kind of weird robot
ballerina. Kasey put the glasses on briefly, but they made
her feel strangely dizzy. And if there was something she
was supposed to be seeing, it was too dark to see it. She
put them in her jacket pocket for later.
Everything else in the bag was candy. Kasey and her
fellow thieves ate to survive. They had cheap fast-food
burgers when they had a little money, canned beef stew or
ravioli shoplifted from convenience stores when they were
broke. It had been a long time since Kasey had eaten a
piece of candy. She found a red lollipop, unwrapped it,
and popped it into her mouth, enjoying the sweet
artificial-cherry flavor and feeling like a little kid again.
A little kid. She had robbed a little kid. A saying came
into Kasey’s head: like taking candy from a baby. That’s
literally what she had done today. She wasn’t proud of it,
but at the same time, the kid’s mom had nice shoes and a
nice purse and a car. If she had enough money to take her
 DANCE WITH ME

kids out for pizza and arcade games, she could afford to
buy her kids more candy.
Why had Kasey turned out the way she had, not like
the woman she robbed? Kasey hadn’t planned to be a thief
who slept in a warehouse. She doubted those were
anybody’s career goals.
Kasey’s mom hadn’t been crazy about being a mom.
She worked nights and slept days and often, when Kasey
came home from school, her mom looked at her with a
mixture of surprise and annoyance, as if she were
thinking, Oh, I forgot. I have a kid, don’t I? Dinner was
usually a bowl of cereal or a sandwich before her mom
went out to work at the club. While her mom was gone,
Kasey did her homework, took a shower, and watched TV
until bedtime. She had instructions to go to the apartment
of the old lady next door if there was ever an emergency,
but there never was. Kasey was good at taking care of
herself.
When Kasey was a teenager, her mom got a new
boyfriend who seemed like he was going to stick around
longer than her past string of boyfriends. He had a steady
job and could help her mom out with money. The only
drawback was he didn’t want a teenager around
“freeloading,” as he called it. He said he had moved out of
his parents’ house and gotten a job by the time he was
Kasey’s age, and that was why he was so successful.
When he asked her mom to choose between him and
Kasey, she didn’t think twice about the choice. Kasey was
out on the street before her seventeenth birthday.
Kasey’s teachers had begged her to not to drop out of
high school. Her grades were solid, and she was an
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

athlete, so there was the possibility of college

scholarships, they said. But she couldn’t stay in school
and still earn enough money to survive. She dropped out
and drifted from one dead-end job to another, working
long hours but never making enough to cover rent and
groceries. Sometimes she stayed in sad little rooms she
rented by the week; other times she camped out on
friends’ couches until their hospitality ran out.
The first time she stole was at Famous Fried Chicken,
the fast-food restaurant where she was working. It was a
terrible job. She stood sweating over the deep fryer for
hours, and every night she went home feeling like she’d
been dipped in a vat of grease. One day, when she was
sweeping the floor of the dining area, she noticed that
some guy had gone to the restroom and left his jacket
hanging on the back of his seat. The corner of a
twentydollar bill was peeking out of the pocket. It was too
tempting.
Sweeping the floor right next to the table, Kasey
pinched the bill and hid it in her sleeve. It was shockingly
easy and somehow exhilarating. She knew the guy would
never suspect theft. He’d just think that he should be more
careful.
Making minimum wage, standing over the hot fryers,
it would have taken Kasey more than two hours to earn
the money that it took her less than a minute to steal.
There was a thrill in that—to know you had gotten away
with something, beaten the system.
Soon she was stealing instead of working—snatching
purses, picking pockets, shoplifting food and other
necessities. One day she was at a street festival, lifting
 DANCE WITH ME

wallets and loose bills from people’s pockets, when two

men approached her. At first she was scared they might be
cops, but they didn’t look like cops. One was a scrawny,
fidgety white guy with lots of tattoos; the other was a
broad-shouldered black guy with the appearance of a
former high school football player.
“We’ve been watching you, and you’re good,” the
thin, nervous-seeming one said. “Have you ever thought
about working with a team instead of flying solo?”
“We look out for each other,” the big guy said. “And we
split our take.
More people working, more money.”
She fell in with Jack and AJ because they had been on
the streets longer than she had and were willing to share
their knowledge of how to survive. Sure, they were more
reckless than she was, and blew through the money they
stole, but there was safety in numbers. Even though the
guys got on her nerves sometimes, she would rather have
their companionship than try to make it on her own.
Kasey finished the red lollipop and snuggled into her
sleeping bag. She fell asleep with the sweet taste still on
her tongue.

She awoke to sunlight streaming through the warehouse’s

skylights. Jack and AJ were both still snoozing away in
their sleeping bags. Kasey had no idea what time they had
come in last night. She slithered out of her sleeping bag
and decided she’d use two dollars from yesterday’s take to
buy a cheap breakfast at the Burger Barn. A sausage
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

biscuit and a small coffee with free refills could last her
all day if it had to. Kasey grabbed her backpack and
walked into the bright morning sun.
The Burger Barn was just half a block from Circus
Baby’s Pizza World, the site of yesterday’s heist. Kasey
chuckled, thinking of it as something as dramatic as a
heist, since it involved stealing a bag of candy from a
child. She went inside the Burger Barn, placed her order,
then sat down at an orange vinyl booth beneath a mural of
cartoonish barnyard animals. She added cream and sugar
to her coffee, unwrapped her biscuit, and took her time
with breakfast.
As she nibbled her biscuit and sipped her coffee, she
watched the other customers. Most of them were grabbing
orders to go as they rushed off to their jobs at offices or
stores or construction sites. They all looked stressedout
and in a hurry.
That was one good thing about Kasey’s life. She could
take her time. The only time she had to hurry was when
she was running off with somebody’s purse or wallet.
Buying breakfast at the Burger Barn gave her the right
to use the ladies’ room without being kicked out. This was
a right she treasured. After she finished her meal, she
made her way to the restroom to do her grooming for the
day. She locked herself in a stall and took a sort of sponge
bath with baby wipes, then changed her socks, underwear,
and shirt. After she was done in the stall, she went to the
sink and washed her face and brushed her teeth.
A woman dressed in the button-down shirt and khakis
of an office job gave Kasey a dirty look, but Kasey
ignored her. She had as much right to be there as anyone
 DANCE WITH ME

else. Kasey filled her water bottle and put it in her

backpack. She was ready for her day.
Out in the sunshine, her belly full of food and coffee,
Kasey felt good. She thought she might take a walk in the
park before she went back to the warehouse to see what
the boys were up to. As she walked, she shoved her hands
in her jacket pockets and felt the cardboard glasses from
the little girl’s goody bag. She smiled to herself and took
them out.
She hadn’t noticed that a tiny slip of rolled-up paper
was taped to the glasses’ left earpiece. She peeled the tape
off carefully, unrolled the slip of paper, and read:
Put on the glasses, and Ballora will dance for you.
Kasey put on the glasses and felt the same dizziness as
the night before. She looked down the sidewalk toward
Circus Baby’s Pizza World. There, in the distance, she
saw the image of a ballerina, her hands above her head,
standing on tiptoe and spinning. It wasn’t a very sharp
image, blue and a little fuzzy. A hologram. That was what
these kinds of pictures were called, she suddenly
remembered. But even if distant and blurry, there was
something fascinating about the strange ballerina doll
twirling.
A pirouette. That was the word for that kind of
twirling. When she was little, Kasey had wanted to be a
ballerina, just like lots of other girls. But there had been
no money, and her mother had said that even if there had
been money, she wouldn’t waste it on something as
useless as dance classes.
Kasey stood on the sidewalk and watched the image as
though hypnotized. It was beautiful, and there was so little
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

beauty in Kasey’s dayto-day life. Kasey felt overcome

with sadness and longing and another feeling, too …
regret? Was she regretting the way she lived? A life
should have beauty in it, shouldn’t it? Life should be
about more than just survival.
After a while, Kasey started to feel dizzy, as if she
were the one doing the pirouetting herself. Afraid she
might be sick, she took off the glasses and leaned against
the side of a building to get her bearings.
She looked down at the pair of glasses in her hand.
Really, the ballerina was a pretty impressive visual effect
for what looked like such a cheap toy.
No wonder the little girl was upset when Kasey snatched
her goody bag. To a little kid, these glasses would seem
downright magical.
Kasey put the glasses in her pocket. She decided to
skip the park and go back to the warehouse. She had to
show the guys this crazy toy.

Jack and AJ were just waking up when she got back.

“What time did you guys get in last night?” Kasey
asked, sitting down on a crate.
“Dunno. Two? Three?” Jack yawned. He propped up
on one elbow in his sleeping bag. “It doesn’t matter. I
don’t have to punch anybody’s time card.”
AJ unzipped his sleeping bag and sat up cross-legged
on the floor. “Hey, we were just saying we might take that
gas card you pinched up to the Gas ’n Go and see if we
can use it to get some groceries.”
 DANCE WITH ME

“Sure,” Kasey said. It would be good to have some food

in the house.
“But first I want to show you something.”
Outside the warehouse, beside a dumpster, Kasey took
out the glasses. “These were in the goody bag from the
pizza place. Try them on.” She held the glasses out to
Jack.
Jack put them on, struck a “cool”
pose, then laughed. “Look in front
of you,” Kasey said. “Do you see
her?” “See who?” Jack said.
“The dancing ballerina.”
“I don’t see anybody,” Jack said. “They just make
everything look blue, that’s all.”
“Let me see ’em,” AJ said, taking the glasses from
Jack and putting them on. He looked around. “I don’t see
anything, either.”
“No ballerina?” Kasey said. It didn’t make sense. Why
could they not see her?
“Nope. Everything just looks blue, like Jack said.” AJ
handed the glasses back to Kasey.
Kasey was confused. Maybe the glasses only worked
in front of Circus Baby’s Pizza World? But that didn’t
make sense, either. Why would someone make a toy that
only worked in one place?
She put on the glasses and looked straight in front of
her, across the street. The ballerina—Ballora, according to
the instructions—was there, dancing in a garbage-strewn
alley between two warehouses. But soon the dizziness
overcame her, and again there was that uneasy feeling
she’d had before. “Well, I see her,” Kasey said, taking off
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

the glasses before she lost her balance or threw up.

“Maybe there’s something wrong with your eyes.”
“Maybe there’s something wrong with your brain,”
Jack said, laughing and elbowing AJ, who laughed, too.
Kasey ignored his ribbing and put the glasses back in
her jacket pocket. But she did wonder. Were they right?
Was there something wrong with her?
At the Gas ’n Go, they grabbed way more food than
most people would buy in a convenience store: a jumbo
loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, six bags of chips, cans
of ravioli and beef stew, and a twelve-pack of soda. Kasey
knew she would be the one to pay at the register because
Jack and AJ always said she had an honest face. Also,
people were less likely to suspect a woman of criminal
activity.
The cashier looked sleepy-eyed and bored as she rang
up and bagged all the items. Kasey scanned the stolen
card in the machine and held her breath. It took only a few
seconds, but it felt like ages until the word “Approved”
appeared on the screen.
Kasey, Jack, and AJ grabbed the bags and waited until
they were outside the store to laugh at their good fortune.
“Well, we won’t have to worry about food for a few
days,” Jack said. “Hang on to that card, Kasey.”
Kasey put the card in a small compartment in her
backpack. “I will, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to get
by with using it again,” she said. Usually credit card
companies were pretty quick to cancel cards they
suspected were stolen.
Back at the warehouse, they feasted on peanut butter
sandwiches and potato chips and soda that was still cold
 DANCE WITH ME

from the convenience store’s cooler. Jack and AJ were

still high from the adrenaline rush of successfully using
the stolen card. They laughed and joked around, but
something was bothering Kasey that she couldn’t put her
finger on. She smiled at Jack and AJ’s jokes, but
something that felt like worry was nagging at the back of
her brain. The weird thing was that while she felt it, she
didn’t really know what she was worried about.
There was always the thief’s worry of getting caught.
The worry of being arrested, tried, jailed. That worry
never went away, but this feeling was something else.
Somehow it had to do with the glasses, with the fact that
she could see the dancing ballerina while Jack and AJ
couldn’t, with the strange way looking at the twirling
ballerina made her feel.
After they were finished eating, Kasey grabbed one of
the plastic bags from the convenience store. “Put your
trash in here,” she said to Jack and AJ, “and I’ll take it out
to the dumpster.”
“Always cleaning up after everybody. Such the little
housewife,” Jack said, dropping his empty soda bottle in
the bag.
“Hey, I can’t help it if you guys are slobs,” Kasey
said. “I don’t want to get a bug problem in here.”
Kasey had grown up in a series of progressively
dumpier apartments. Her mom would get evicted for not
paying the rent, and then they’d move to another place
that was smaller and dirtier than the one before it. There
were always cockroaches, and in the summer, an endless
parade of ants. When Kasey got old enough, she washed
the dishes and took out the garbage that her mom let pile
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

up. Cleaning helped some, but bugs would still come over
from other people’s apartments like party crashers looking
for free food and drink. Kasey always thought that when
she grew up, she would have a neat little apartment of her
own that would be clean and bugfree. Unlike her mom,
she would pay the rent on time every month.
The warehouse wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind,
but at least she could do her part to keep the bugs away.
She took the trash bag outside and tossed it into the
dumpster.
Maybe she would take a walk. She felt a sudden need
to be alone. She knew that, inside the warehouse, Jack and
AJ would be making plans for the night. Since it was
Friday, they’d probably want to go downtown to where
the clubs were. If you waited late enough until people had
been partying for hours, it was easy pickings. Kasey could
walk past a cluster of guys and lift three of their wallets
without any of them noticing.
Purses were always trickier because you couldn’t grab
them without the owner noticing. But Kasey was fast. She
had been in track and field before she dropped out of high
school. There was no way a tipsy girl in heels could catch
her.
Usually Kasey liked to plan out the evening’s job with
the guys. She liked to strategize how to come up with the
biggest take possible, how to maximize their chances of
success. It was like solving a puzzle.
But right now she didn’t feel like putting puzzle pieces
together. She felt like walking, like clearing her head of
the confusing thoughts swirling around inside of it.
 DANCE WITH ME

Swirling. Swirling rhymed with twirling. Why

couldn’t she get that spinning ballerina doll out of her
head?
She walked to the park. Office workers on their lunch
breaks sat on benches and ate sandwiches. A dog walker
was somehow walking four dogs of different sizes without
getting their leashes tangled. Kasey smiled at the tiny
Yorkie that was leading the pack as if it were the biggest
dog of all.
On the playground, little kids climbed and slid and
swung, shouting and laughing. Their moms watched them,
making sure they were safe. Kasey envied those kids.
What must it be like, she wondered, to play to your heart’s
content and to know that whenever you got hungry or
thirsty, your mom would just pull some crackers and a
cold juice box out of her bag? To know that, when you
were tired, you could go home, and your mom would tuck
you into your nice, soft bed for a nap?
Even as a little kid, Kasey had never known that kind
of security.
She walked into the more wooded area of the park
because she liked the shade and the solitude. The fall
leaves—red, gold, and orange—were drifting down from
the branches of the trees. Leaves that had already fallen
crunched under her feet.
It was the strangest thing. She didn’t want to see
Ballora. She didn’t like the way seeing Ballora made her
feel. Yet she felt herself reaching for the cardboard
glasses, felt herself putting them on. She felt the familiar
dizziness, steadied herself against a tree, and stared into
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

the woods in front of her, where sunlight sparkled through

the gaps in the branches.
There was Ballora, pirouetting among the colorful fall
leaves. As she spun, the bright leaves were sucked into her
vortex. They flew around her, at first gently, then faster,
as though trapped in a whirlwind.
For a few seconds, Kasey admired the beauty, but then
she thought, Wait. If Ballora is just a picture, a hologram,
then how is she affecting the objects around her? It didn’t
make sense.
Also, wasn’t Ballora closer to Kasey than she was
yesterday? It seemed like she was. The image was clearer,
for one thing. Not so fuzzy—she could see the joints in
the doll-like figure’s arms and legs, could see the blue
eyes and red lips on the white face. The painted face
looked clown-like, but unlike most clowns, Ballora wasn’t
smiling. The empty blue eyes didn’t blink, but somehow
Kasey felt they were staring back at her. Ballora was
looking at Kasey and didn’t like what she saw.
Suddenly Kasey couldn’t catch her breath. She
doubled over, afraid she might pass out. Why was she
freaking out over a stupid toy? She yanked off the glasses
and shoved them back into her jacket pocket. She was
being ridiculous, and she had to stop it. If you wanted to
survive, you had to keep a cool head at all times.
She should go back to the warehouse and talk to the
guys. She needed to know about the plans for tonight.
 DANCE WITH ME

After midnight, Kasey, Jack, and AJ hit the clubs. They

didn’t go into them, but skulked in the darkness outside.
The guys had targeted a couple of different bars, and
Kasey was waiting in the alley outside a dance club that
was frequented by a lot of college kids, their pockets and
purses fat with their mommy and daddy’s money.
She spotted her target. The girl was wearing a short,
light-pink dress with impossibly high pink heels. Her
designer purse—the same shade of pink as the dress and
shoes—hung from a skinny strap draped over her
shoulder. Pink Dress Girl was talking loudly and giggling
with her boyfriend.
Kasey had a tool for jobs like these, a pair of strong
scissors that could cut through a leather purse strap like it
was only made of paper. She took out the scissors and
stepped into the crowd. She slipped in behind Pink Dress
Girl and positioned the scissors to cut the strap. As she
snipped, someone bumped into her from behind. She
slipped, and the point of the sharp scissors found flesh.
When Kasey grabbed the purse, she saw a shallow but
bloody gash on the girl’s arm.
“Ow! What happened?” the girl yelled.
“Hey, my purse—” Kasey ran.
She ran until she was sure she had put enough distance
between her and her victim, then slowed to a casual walk,
tucking the pink evening bag inside her jacket.
In her mind, Kasey kept seeing the girl’s arm slashed
by the scissors, the red blood vivid against the girl’s pale
skin.
Kasey hadn’t meant to hurt her. Sure, getting your
purse snatched might scare you a little—might
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

inconvenience you—but it didn’t cause any physical

harm.
Kasey had robbed dozens, maybe even hundreds, of
people, but she had never harmed anyone physically until
tonight. Spilling blood changed things.
It was an accident, Kasey thought. But was it really?
The girl wouldn’t have gotten cut if Kasey hadn’t been
lunging at her with the scissors. Kasey hadn’t meant to cut
her, but she couldn’t exactly claim to be innocent.
Kasey beat the other guys back to the warehouse. She
grabbed a flashlight and sat down on her sleeping bag to
see what she’d scored. She opened the pink purse and
dumped out its contents: a driver’s license, a lipstick, and
a single twenty-dollar bill which, according to Thieves’
Den rules, would have to be split three ways.
Kasey put the items back into the purse and sighed. It
hadn’t been worth the effort or the bloodshed. She settled
down in her sleeping bag, but it was a long time until she
fell asleep.

The next day, Kasey and Jack and AJ walked downtown,

casing possible places for a job. They walked past the
park where Kasey had seen Ballora. Kasey glanced into a
grove of trees and saw the leaves rise and swirl just like
they had around the dancing doll. She put on her glasses,
and there Ballora was, closer than before. She was getting
closer every day. If Kasey could just get the guys to see
the doll, she would feel a lot better. Kasey took off the
glasses and hurried to catch up to Jack and AJ.
 DANCE WITH ME

“Wait, you guys,” Kasey said. She held out the

glasses. “Put these on and look over there, right in the
middle of those trees.”
“Again?” AJ said. “Not me. I love you like a sister,
Kasey, but I’m done with this weirdness.”
Jack rolled his eyes but said, “All right. Give ’em
here.” He put them on and looked where Kasey was
pointing. “Nothing.” “Nothing?” Kasey’s heart sank.
“Zilch. Zip. Nada,” Jack said. “The way I see it, there
are two solutions to this problem. One is locking you up
in a soft room, and other is … this.” He dropped the
glasses in a nearby trash can. “There. Problem solved.
Okay?”
Kasey felt a wave of relief wash over her. Jack was
right. No glasses, no problem. “Okay.” She even felt
herself smiling a little. “Thanks, Jack.”
“You’re welcome,” Jack said. “Now you need to pull
it together. The Thieves’ Den needs your quick wits and
nimble fingers. No more freaking out over weird stuff.”
Kasey nodded. She couldn’t believe she’d let herself
fall apart because of a cheap toy. “Quick wits and nimble
fingers. You’ve got ’em,” Kasey said, waggling her
fingers. “Why don’t we take the bus to the All-Mart and
see if we can get that lady’s credit card to work?”
“Excellent idea,” Jack said. “See? You’re better
already.”
The guys headed on toward the bus stop, but Kasey
hesitated. The glasses were what made her see Ballora.
Being rid of them, she wouldn’t see Ballora. But that
didn’t mean Ballora wouldn’t be there. She could still be
following Kasey—getting closer to her every day—but
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Kasey would have no way of knowing where she was.

The thought of an invisible Ballora was scarier than the
thought of a visible one. Kasey reached into the trash can,
retrieved the glasses, and put them back in her pocket
before she ran to the bus stop.
At the big box store, Kasey picked out a new pair of
boots—heavy, comfortable, and practical. They all
grabbed packages of socks and underwear and T-shirts.
Buying too much stuff would arouse suspicion, so they
tried to limit themselves to the things they needed the
most.
As always, Kasey was the one to make the purchase
because of her honest face. Her face didn’t matter much,
though, because the cashier rang up the items without
looking at her, then asked robotically, “Debit, credit, or
cash?”
“Credit,” Kasey said, holding out the stolen card.
The woman scanned the card in the machine, frowned,
then tried it again. “I’m sorry, ma’am. This card has been
declined. Do you have another card you’d like to use
today?”
“No thank you.” Kasey grabbed the useless card,
abandoned her attempted purchases, and walked quickly
to the front door where Jack and AJ were waiting.
“Declined,” she said.
“Well, that sucks,” Jack said as they walked out the
door.
AJ shook his head. “The lady must’ve reported it
stolen. Too bad. I was kind of looking forward to my new
socks and undies.”
 DANCE WITH ME

“Only one thing to do,” Kasey said. She took out her
big scissors, cut the card into tiny pieces, and scattered the
confetti into the nearest trash can.
On the way back to the warehouse, they passed the
park. Kasey heard the rustling of leaves and glanced over
to see them swirling, but that didn’t mean Ballora was
there, she told herself. She clenched her hands into fists to
stop herself from getting the glasses out of her pocket.
The swirling leaves meant only that it was a windy fall
day. That was all.

Tonight’s job had to make up for their run of bad luck.

They sat huddled in the warehouse, eating canned ravioli
with their hands and trying to figure out their next move.
“We could try the pizza place again,” Jack said.
“People do take cash to those places.”
“No.” Kasey’s response was automatic and forceful.
“Why not?” Jack said. “Afraid you might end up with
some scary possessed toy?”
“It’s not that,” Kasey said. She probably deserved the
mockery. She had let the thing with the glasses get out of
control. “I just don’t like to get kids involved, okay?”
“We’ve not done the train station in a while,” AJ said.
“It’s real easy to mix in with the crowd there and pick
some pockets. It might be a good way to get your
confidence back, Kasey.”
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Kasey said. That was what she
needed. An easy job.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

They didn’t even have to go inside the station, just wait

until rush hour when a bunch of people came spilling out
of the station’s exit, then slip into the crowd unseen.
Kasey eased her way into the mass of people, scoping for
prosperous-looking businessmen with wallet-shaped
bulges in their back pockets. She had just found one and
was reaching for it when someone grabbed her arm. She
startled, then saw it was Jack. He mouthed the words Let’s
go.
When she saw the flashing blue lights, she
understood.
A police car had pulled up to the curb. Kasey and AJ
and Jack walked with the crowd, nice and casual, like they
had just gotten off the train themselves. Kasey didn’t
breathe easy until the blue light was way behind them.
“Could this day have been any worse?” Jack said once
they were back in the warehouse.
“Bad luck always comes in threes,” AJ said, holding
up three fingers. “So we’ve got two down and one to go.”
“I don’t believe in superstition,” Jack said. “Not black
cats, not broken mirrors. None of it.”
It was chilly in the warehouse, warmer than outside,
but still not warm. Kasey decided to keep her jacket on. It
was getting nippier at night, and her hands were cold.
Soon she’d have to buy or steal some gloves. She shoved
her hands in her jacket pockets for warmth. There were
the glasses. Where was Ballora? Was Ballora about to
catch her? Was that the third piece of bad luck? Her heart
 DANCE WITH ME

pounded in panic, and she ran past Jack and AJ, out of the
warehouse. Now the cold was the least of her worries.
Outside, she put her head in her hands and paced back
and forth. Finally, with a shaking hand, she reached into
her pocket and took out the glasses.
Because she couldn’t help herself, she put them on.
There, under a beam from a streetlight only a few yards
away, Ballora twirled. She was closer than she’d ever
been before. Kasey could see every joint in her body, each
detail of her face, torso, and tutu. She was beautiful and
horrible at the same time, and she was definitely getting
closer.
Kasey tore the glasses off and shoved them back into
her pocket. She sat on the cold, damp curb and tried to
think. Each time she had seen Ballora, she had been a
little closer. What was going to happen when Ballora got
close enough to touch her? Could Ballora catch her?
Kasey felt like she was waiting for a punishment. She
didn’t know if it would be swift and sure or long and
torturous. She didn’t want to know.
There had to be a way to escape, Kasey thought.
Ballora had appeared the first time outside Circus Baby’s
Pizza World, the scene where Kasey had stolen the
glasses. Since then Ballora had stalked her throughout the
city. Maybe, Kasey thought, Ballora could only follow her
in the city where the crime had occurred. Maybe if Kasey
could leave, go somewhere else, she could leave Ballora
behind.
It was worth a shot.
Kasey waited until Jack and AJ were asleep, then
sneaked into the warehouse and quietly rolled up her
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

sleeping bag, grabbing her backpack of belongings. She

took her portion of the money from the Thieves’ Den
hiding place and left Jack and AJ the rest. She wouldn’t
steal from them. They had been like brothers to her—
annoying sometimes, but good to her in their own way.
It was a long walk to the bus station. She looked at the
list of departures. The next bus leaving was headed for
Memphis at 6 a.m. She guessed she was going to
Memphis. She bought a ticket, which cost half of all her
money, then settled on a bench to try to sleep a couple of
hours. She woke at 4:30, aware of someone near her. She
clutched her backpack to protect her belongings from
people like herself.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” The voice
belonged to an elderly lady with gray hair and skin a
couple of shades darker than Kasey’s. She had on a butter-
yellow flowered dress and a matching hat. She looked like
she was going to church.
“It’s okay,” Kasey said. “I needed to wake up anyway.
My bus leaves in an hour and a half.”
“Where you headed?” The lady settled herself down
next to Kasey.
For a second Kasey wondered if she should tell her,
but the old woman’s tone was so kind she didn’t see the
harm in it. “Memphis,” she said.
“Oh, that won’t be too long a trip,” the lady said. “I’m
going to Chicago to see my son and daughter-in-law and
my grandbabies. It’ll be a nice visit once I get there, but
it’s going to be one long bus ride. You got family in
Memphis?”
 DANCE WITH ME

“No, ma’am,” Kasey said. “I’m just looking for a fresh

start.” It wasn’t like she could tell the old lady she was
running from a ballerina doll that possibly meant her
harm. That would make the old lady move off the bench
real fast.
“You got a job lined up?” the old lady asked.
“No, but I’ll find something,” Kasey said. “I always
do.”
“Good for you,” the lady said, patting Kasey’s arm. “I
like to see a young person with some gumption.” She
picked up a big straw tote bag and started rummaging
through it. “You hungry, baby? I packed enough
breakfast, lunch, and dinner for an army. There’s no way
I’m paying for bus station food. It’s expensive, it tastes
bad, and it’s bad for you.”
Kasey was hungry. She hadn’t realized it until the lady
mentioned food. “I am a little, yeah. But you don’t have to
share if you don’t—”
“I’ve got plenty, baby.” From the bag she produced a
small bottle of orange juice, cold and wet with
condensation. Then she handed Kasey something wrapped
in aluminum foil. “Ham biscuit,” she said. “You’re not
one of those young people who won’t eat pork, are you?”
“No, ma’am,” Kasey said. “I’ll eat anything that’s put
in front of me. Thank you.” The biscuit was homemade
and fluffy, and the ham was just the right amount of sweet
and savory. It was the best food Kasey had eaten in a long
time. “Delicious,” she said.
“I’m glad you like it.” The old woman patted Kasey’s
arm one more time, and then rose stiffly from the bench.
“I’d better go to the ladies’ room before I get on the bus.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Those bathrooms on the bus are no fun. I like a bathroom

that stays put.”
Kasey laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” It was the nicest
conversation she could remember having in a long time.
The old lady looked at Kasey for a long moment.
“Listen, I know it’s not my place, but since I’m never
going to see you again, I might as well say my piece. You
seem like a young lady who’s running away from
something. In my experience, sometimes if you try to run
away from your problems, those problems just end up
following you. Does that make sense?” Kasey nodded.
She couldn’t look into the lady’s eyes.
“It’s better to build bridges than to burn ’em, honey.
You remember that.”
The old lady tottered away, and Kasey felt a chill at
the prospect of her problems following her. Of Ballora
following her. She hoped with all her heart that the old
lady was wrong.
Kasey slept through most of the long bus ride, waking
occasionally to look out the window at the passing
landscape. This was the longest trip she had ever taken, so
she might as well enjoy the scenery.
The farther she traveled, the more hopeful she felt. A
fresh start. That’s what she told the old lady she was
headed for, and maybe she really was. No more stealing,
no more living in fear, no more being stalked by a creepy,
twirling ballerina doll.
 DANCE WITH ME

Kasey walked out of the bus station and into the Memphis
sunshine. The sign at a run-down, aqua-colored motel
called the Best Choice Inn advertised rooms for $29.99
per night. Kasey seriously doubted it was truly the best
choice, but it was better than sleeping on the street, and
she had forty bucks in her pocket.
She walked into the motel’s dark office and handed a
ten and a twenty to a haggard woman in a housecoat and
bedroom slippers.
The room had decades-old cheap paneling and once-
tan carpet stained by many years’ worth of careless guests.
But there was a double bed and cable TV and a bathroom
that Kasey could have all to herself.
The first step in her fresh start was a shower.
Kasey let the hot water pound her neck and shoulders.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d washed her
hair, and she used the whole little bottle of motel-issued
shampoo to lather up her braids and scalp. She soaped
herself from head to toe and let the jets of hot water rinse
her clean. It was heaven. Kasey always tried to keep up
her hygiene, living on the streets, but there was no way
baby wipes and a fast-food restroom sink could compare
to a real hot shower.
After she dried off, Kasey brushed her teeth and put on
the cleanest clothes she had. It was time to find her fresh
start.
Walking the streets of Memphis, she came across an
old diner called the Royal Café which had a hand-lettered
sign in the window reading HELP WANTED. The café
wasn’t royal any more than the motel where she was
staying was the best choice, but she had to be realistic.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

How long had it been since she had worked a real job?
Not since her time at Famous Fried Chicken, where
she’d stolen that twenty and started her life of crime.
Inside the Royal Café, a bleached-blonde waitress who
could have been anywhere from thirty-five to sixty-five
said, “Sit anywhere you want.” “I’m here about the job,”
Kasey said.
The waitress turned her head and yelled, “Jimmy!”
An olive-skinned man with tired eyes came out of the
kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. His apron was
stained with grease of various ages. “Yeah?” he said.
“She’s here about the job,” the waitress said. Her tone
implied she didn’t think Kasey was a very good candidate.
“You ever bus tables and wash dishes before?” the
man, presumably Jimmy, asked.
“Sure,” Kasey said. She hadn’t, but how hard could it
be?
“Them bus pans and dish trays can be pretty heavy.
You think you can handle ’em? You’re an itty-bitty
thing.”
“I’m small, but I’m strong.”
He smiled a little. “You got a name?”
“Kasey.”
“When can you start, Kasey?”
It wasn’t a very demanding interview. She hadn’t even
told him her last name. “When do you need me?”
“How about now?”
It wasn’t like she had anything else to do. She might
as well start earning money right away. “Sure. But don’t I
need training or something?”
 DANCE WITH ME

Jimmy looked at her like she had just asked a stupid

question. “You get a bus pan. You clear the dishes from
the tables and you put them in the bus pan. You carry the
dishes to the kitchen, rinse them in hot water in the sink,
then load them in the dishwasher and turn it on. When the
dishes are clean, you unload the dishwasher and stack the
dishes on the shelves. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. That was your training. It’s minimum wage,
paid in cash at the end of the week. Seven till two Monday
through Friday, with one free meal per shift. That okay
with you?”
“Yes, sir.” The pay was low, but she’d be off work by
two, and a free hot meal every day would help her out a
lot. “Good,” he said. “Get to work.”

The job wasn’t so bad. Jimmy yelled a lot, but it was

never anything personal. Kasey was able to rent her room
in the Best Choice Inn by the week. She got to take
advantage of the laundry room, the shower, and the cable
TV, and the one big meal a day at the diner went a long
way toward keeping her fed. Plus, Jimmy was a good
cook. He said she was too skinny, and his blue plate
specials of meatloaf and turkey and dressing were starting
to put a little meat on her bones. The work was physically
hard but mindless enough that she could daydream about
whatever she wanted.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Her only problem at work was that Brenda, the

waitress she’d met the first time she walked into the place,
seemed to have taken a dislike to her.
“Is that your real name—Kasey?” Brenda asked her
one day while Kasey was bussing a table.
“Sure is.” She didn’t look up, just kept on loading
dishes into the pan.
“I was just wondering because you didn’t even give
Jimmy your last name. He may not have good sense, but I
do.”
“Is that a fact?” Kasey said, dumping silverware into
the bus pan with a clatter.
“You seem shifty to me,” Brenda said, looking at her
with narrowed eyes. “Like you’re hiding something.”
“Everybody’s hiding something,” Kasey said lightly,
picking up the heavy tray. “Even if it’s just their holey old
underwear under their clothes.”
She carried the full bus pan back to the kitchen. There
was no way Brenda could find out about Kasey’s past as a
thief. Fortunately, there were no arrest records since she
had never been caught. Still, Brenda made Kasey feel like
she was being watched, and it was a feeling Kasey didn’t
like.
One afternoon, when Kasey was bussing tables, she
spotted two fivedollar bills lying under the salt and pepper
shakers.
The two fives reminded her of that twenty-dollar bill
she lifted so easily at Famous Fried Chicken.
Her fingers felt itchy.
Brenda had gone out back for a five-minute break, and
Kasey was sure she hadn’t seen the money.
 DANCE WITH ME

In one swift motion, she palmed one five-dollar bill

and left the other where it was.
It wasn’t really stealing, Kasey decided. It was just
splitting the tip fiftyfifty between the person who served
the customer and the person who cleaned up after the
customer. Cleaning up was harder, too. Customers were
messy. Splitting the tip was perfectly fair.
Kasey promised herself she wouldn’t make a habit of
taking tip money. And she didn’t—not really. She only
stole when Brenda was on break or looking away, and she
never took the whole tip. If a customer left three dollars,
Kasey took one. If a customer left seven, Kasey took two.
It wasn’t much, but it helped with the little things—doing
a load of laundry at the motel, buying snacks and soda to
have when she watched TV.
And besides, Brenda was always mean to her. Taking
a bit from her tip was like getting paid extra for hazardous
duty.

Today Kasey felt unusually hungry when she walked to

work. She ignored the fall leaves that swirled near her and
left her glasses in her jacket pocket. She willed herself not
to think about Ballora but to think about food instead.
Usually she took her one free meal per shift at lunch, but
today she thought she might order breakfast instead. The
Royal Breakfast Special, she decided. Three buttermilk
pancakes, two eggs to order, bacon, and home fries. She
was running early this morning, so she would have time to
eat before the first customers trickled in.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

When she walked into the restaurant, Jimmy and

Brenda were sitting together in a booth, like they were
waiting for her. They did not look happy.
“Kasey, I’m glad you got here early this morning,”
Jimmy said, gesturing for her to sit down across from
them. “We need to talk.”
In Kasey’s experience, when somebody said we need
to talk, the words that came after weren’t going to be
good. Nobody ever said, “We need to
talk. So how about a raise and this plate of
warm cookies?” With a sinking feeling,
Kasey sat down in the booth.
Jimmy folded his hands in front of him. “Brenda has
told me that, since you started working here, she’s been
getting a lot less money in tips. Do you know anything
about that?”
The hunger in Kasey’s stomach was replaced by fear.
“How am I supposed to know what Brenda makes in
tips?” she asked.
“Well,” Jimmy said, “customers leave their tips on the
table, and sometimes the money’s still on the table when
you bus it, so—”
“I know you’ve been stealing my tips off the table!”
Brenda interrupted. Her face was red with rage. “Not all
the money, but enough so you think I won’t notice. But I
do notice! I know my regular customers. I know what they
order, and I know how much they tip.”
Kasey remembered the first rule of the Thieves’ Den:
If suspected or caught, deny, deny, deny. “Look, Brenda, I
know you didn’t like me from the moment I walked in the
door. And it’s okay. You don’t have to like me.
 DANCE WITH ME

But that doesn’t mean you have the right to accuse me of

things I don’t know anything about.”
“See?” Brenda elbowed Jimmy. “Shifty, like I said.
Aren’t you gonna fire her?”
Jimmy closed his eyes and massaged his temples like
he had the world’s worst headache.
He was quiet so long that Kasey finally broke the
silence and said, “Am I being fired, Jimmy?”
Jimmy opened his eyes. “You’re not being fired.
You’re being watched. If there’s anything to what Brenda
says, cut it out, or you will be fired. Now get back to
work.”
“Yessir.”
“ ‘Cut it out?’ ” Brenda said. “That’s it?”
“Like I said, I’m watching her,” Jimmy said, then
looked at the door. “Here comes the early-morning crowd.
You’d better get to work, too.”

On the way home, Kasey walked past a grassy area where

the autumn leaves rose and swirled in a circle. Fine, she
said to herself, and put on the glasses. There was Ballora,
spinning nearer than ever. Clearly, there was no getting
away from her.
Dizziness overcame Kasey. “Why?” she yelled. “Why
do you keep following me?” Several people turned to look
at her like she was crazy. Was she crazy? She didn’t even
know anymore.
That night, Kasey dreamed she was sitting in a red
velvet seat in a beautiful theater with a golden domed
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

ceiling. The theater was empty except for Kasey. The

lights went down, sending the room into blackness, and
orchestral music swelled.
The lights came up on the stage, and Ballora danced
out on tiptoe. She danced to the left side of the stage, and
a huge purple-and-gold satin banner unrolled from the
ceiling. It was printed in fancy letters with the word
“LIAR.” Ballora put her hands to her cheeks as if startled,
then lifted her arms for a long pirouette. She danced over
to the right side of the stage, where another large purple-
and-gold banner unrolled. This one was printed with the
word “THIEF.” Ballora put her hands to her cheeks again,
then danced to the center of the stage, spun, and looked
directly at Kasey. She pointed at her, and one more banner
unfurled itself center stage. This one said, “YOU.”
Kasey woke up gasping, in a cold sweat. She got up,
threw on some clothes, yanked open the dresser drawers,
and stuck the rest of her clothes in her backpack along
with the coffee can of cash she’d saved up from working
at the Royal Café. She couldn’t go back there. They were
onto her. She threw a couple of bills on the nightstand to
cover the rest of the rent, then walked toward the bus
station.
The fresh air calmed her a little. She shoved her hands
in her pockets. There were the glasses. She decided to take
one last look. This time, she was really leaving Ballora
behind. With a shaking hand, she took them out and put
them on.
Ballora was dancing just a few feet away from her.
Kasey could see every hinge, every tiny flaw in the paint
job. If she walked twenty steps, the two of them would be
 DANCE WITH ME

close enough to touch. Kasey shuddered and took off the

glasses.
Okay, I get it, she thought. I didn’t really make a fresh
start. I stole, and I lied about it. But if I can just get away
—away from her—I really will start over. I’ll be a model
citizen.
The next bus out of town was going to Nashville.
Nashville, Kasey thought. Why not? A new town, a new
job, a new start. For real this time. Once she was settled
on the bus, Kasey sank into a dreamless sleep.

The Music City Motel, where Kasey rented a room, had

the same cheap paneling and stained carpet as the motel in
Memphis, but cost five dollars more a night. Lying on the
lumpy mattress, looking at the want ads in the newspaper,
Kasey told herself she needed to make a real life. She
needed to live instead of just surviving. She needed a job
that could give her some kind of future. She needed to
make some friends, save up some money, and get that
little apartment she’d dreamed of as a kid. Maybe she
could go back to school at night and get her diploma. And
she could get a dog. She still wanted a dog.
Scanning through the want ads, one caught her eye:
NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY
OPPORTUNITIES FOR ADVANCEMENT
Answer incoming calls for a major retail company
Must be able to communicate well
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Must be able to work in busy, fast-

paced environment Start at $12 per
hour with raises based on merit.
Open interviews Mon. thru Fri., 9:00 a.m.—2:00
p.m.
It sounded better than washing dishes. But Kasey had
nothing to wear to an interview for an office job. She
remembered a business communications class she’d taken
in high school. The textbook had a whole chapter on how
to dress and present yourself for a job interview. Ripped,
faded jeans and old boots repaired with duct tape
definitely weren’t on the list of acceptable apparel.
Kasey got the coffee can from where she’d hidden it in
the dresser drawer. She dumped all her money out on the
bed and counted it. $229.76. When she set aside what
she’d need to pay for the room and the few groceries she
bought, that left her with $44.76. Surely she could buy
something to wear with that.
She set out on foot in search of a store. She figured the
nice clothing stores wouldn’t be on this side of town, with
its cheap motels and pawn shops and bail bondsman
offices. She didn’t want to spend any of her meager
money on a bus ride to the mall. Besides, she wouldn’t be
able to afford anything in one of the nice stores anyway.
After an hour of walking, her feet aching in her
battered boots, she found a store called Unique Fashions.
In the window, bald, white, faceless mannequins modeled
colorful dresses. Surely a store in this neighborhood
wouldn’t be too expensive.
 DANCE WITH ME

Kasey opened the door and started a little when a bell

chimed. She passed a floor-length mirror and saw herself
as she must look to other people: her clothes old, baggy,
and ill-fitting, her face tired beyond her years. She didn’t
look like she belonged in this store with its bright lights
and neat racks of dresses, tops, and skirts. Maybe she
should just go.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with,
honey,” the woman behind the counter said. She was
around the age of Kasey’s mom, wearing a canary-yellow
dress with a bright scarf and perfectly applied makeup.
Kasey wondered if she would ever look so put
together. “Thank you,” she said.
Kasey browsed through the racks of clothing, not sure
what would be best for a job interview, not even sure of
what size she wore. Finally, she found a crimson dress
splashed with cream-colored flowers. She remembered
that once a cute boy in high school had told her red was
her color. She knew it would look good on her.
The saleslady who had been at the cash register
appeared beside her as if by magic. “Do you want to try
that on, honey?”
Kasey nodded. “Trouble is, I’ve not worn a dress in so
long I don’t even know what size I wear.”
The lady looked her up and down. “Well, you’re no
bigger than a minute. I’d try a six.” She smiled. “It’s been
a long time since I was a six— about three kids ago! I bet
you don’t have any of those yet, do you?”
“No, ma’am, not yet.” Kasey held on to the dress and
tried to imagine a future with a steady job, a comfortable
place to live, maybe even a husband and kids. Could that
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

kind of life ever be in the cards for someone like her? It

was hard to even picture what it would be like.
“The fitting rooms are over there,” the saleslady said.
“Just holler if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” Kasey locked herself in one of the tiny
rooms and slipped off her boots, jacket, jeans, and T-shirt.
She pulled the dress over her head and looked at herself in
the mirror. The saleslady had been right. Kasey was a size
six. The dress fit perfectly—not too loose and not too tight
—and the crimson-and-cream print complemented her
skin tone. She looked respectable. Like a regular person
going to a regular job interview.
Except that she had forgotten one thing.
Standing in front of the mirror, Kasey looked at her
bare feet, which certainly weren’t acceptable in an office
job. But neither was wearing battered, taped-up boots with
her nice new dress. She had forgotten she’d need shoes,
and shoes were expensive.
Feeling discouraged, she took off the dress and put on
her ratty old clothes. She carried the dress with her out of
the fitting room.
There was a small shoe section in the back of the
store. She figured she might as well see how much a pair
would cost. There were some decentlooking tan flats in
her size on sale for $21.97, but she couldn’t afford the
shoes and the dress, too, even with the discounted price.
Desperate, panicked, Kasey looked around the store.
There were no visible security cameras, and the saleslady
was busy helping another customer, an elderly lady trying
on a pink suit jacket.
 DANCE WITH ME

This would be the last time, Kasey promised herself.

She was only doing it so she could go to the job interview.
She rolled up the dress as small as she could and stuffed it
in her backpack. She took a deep breath, grabbed the
shoebox with the flats in it, and headed to the cash
register. When the saleslady came to check her out, she
said, “Decided not to get the dress?”
“Just these today,” Kasey said, handing the saleslady a
twenty and a ten. At least she was paying for the shoes
and not stealing them, too, Kasey thought. Plus, they
would’ve been difficult to fit in her bag.
The saleslady gave Kasey her change, bagged up the
shoebox, and handed it to her. “Thank you, honey. I hope
you come back and see us soon.”
When Kasey approached the front door, a horrible
buzzing sound filled the store. Kasey’s stomach knotted in
fear. The dress must have some type of anti-theft device
on it that activated the alarm. Caught. She’d never been
caught before.
“Wait just a second there, honey,” the saleslady called.
“I must not have scanned those shoes right.”
Kasey was about to make a run for it, but outside the
front door of the store, hundreds of fall leaves swirled up
furiously like a mini tornado. Kasey didn’t have to put on
the glasses to know that Ballora was right in the center of
the tempest. Her heart pounded in her chest.
Kasey knew that if she bolted out the door, she’d run
right into Ballora.
She was trapped. One way or the other, she was
caught. At least if she stayed in the store, she had some
idea of what the consequences would be.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

If she surrendered herself to Ballora, she had no idea what

would happen.
She just kept imagining Ballora’s long, sharp nails. Her
teeth.
The buzzing alarm hurt her ears, making it impossible
to think straight.
“Is there a problem, Helen?” Another well-dressed
woman, probably the manager, had emerged from the
back of the store.
In seconds, the manager and the saleslady were beside
Kasey.
“Let me see your bag for just a second,” the saleslady
said.
Kasey handed it over, hoping they didn’t notice how
hard she was shaking.
The saleslady showed the manager the receipt. “See,
she paid for her purchase.”
The manager was looking at Kasey as if she could see
every misdeed Kasey had ever committed. “I think we’d
better check her backpack, too.” She turned to Kasey.
“Miss, we need you to open your backpack and let us look
inside. If everything checks out, you’ll be free to go with
our apologies for the inconvenience.”
Kasey glanced outside. The leaves were swirling
closer and harder, smacking against the glass of the door.
She swallowed hard. There was no choice.
Kasey opened her backpack. The crimson of the dress
tucked inside it was as bright as blood.
“That’s the dress she tried on!” the saleslady said. She
sounded like Kasey’s theft was a personal betrayal.
 DANCE WITH ME

The manager grabbed Kasey’s arm. “Well, that’s

that,” she said. “I don’t have any choice but to call the
police.”
Kasey looked outside at the swirling leaves, then back
at the stern faces of the two women. Her eyes filled with
tears, which was strange because Kasey couldn’t
remember the last time she had cried. But now she cried
for all the things she’d lost, for all the bad things she’d
done, and all the good things she’d never gotten to
experience.
“Please,” Kasey said, sobbing. “Don’t call the police. I
… I need the dress and shoes for a job interview, but I
didn’t have enough money for both of them.”
“So you thought stealing the dress was a good solution
to that problem?” The manager was still holding Kasey’s
arm.
“I knew it wasn’t a good solution,” Kasey said through
her tears. “It was just the only solution I could think of.
I’m so sorry.” Where were all these tears coming from? It
was like she was a human waterfall.
“I have a solution.” A voice came from behind them.
It was the elderly woman the saleslady had been helping
earlier. Her hair was perfectly groomed, and she was
dressed elegantly in a cream-colored pants suit. “I’ll buy
the young lady the dress.”
“Mrs. Templeton, we couldn’t let you do that,” the
manager said.
“Of course you can,” Mrs. Templeton said. “I spend a
lot of money at this store. I’m a good customer, and the
customer is always right.” She smiled at the manager and
saleslady. “Right?”
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

“Right,” the manager said, but she sounded reluctant.

“Good.” Mrs. Templeton opened her purse and took
out her wallet. “Now there’s no need to call the police,
and this young lady can get to her job interview.”
“What if there isn’t a job interview?” the manager
said. “What if she’s lying?”
Mrs. Templeton looked Kasey up and down. “Well,
that’s a risk I’m willing to take. But I think she is telling
the truth. She has an honest face.
She was just in a desperate situation and didn’t use her
best judgment.”
“Thank you,” Kasey said, tears still flowing. “I’ll pay
you back when I can.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Templeton waved off Kasey’s offer.
“You just help out somebody else when they need it.”
Kasey walked out of the store through the swirling
leaves.
As she made her way down the street, she was still
crying and drawing concerned looks from passersby. She
couldn’t explain it, but she felt like she was changing, like
something hard inside her was softening and breaking up.
She stopped at a park to rest a few minutes. She was
tired from all the walking, from all the stress and fear. She
sat on a bench, and her hand reached into her pocket for
the glasses before she even knew what she was doing.
Had she lost Ballora after the woman at the store had
made things right?
No. She was right there.
Ballora stood before her and twirled, just a little more
than arm’s length away. She seemed to stare at Kasey
with her blank blue eyes, and then she spun and spun,
 DANCE WITH ME

creating a breeze Kasey could feel on her face. She was

close enough to touch.
“Why?” Kasey yelled. “Why can I not get rid of you?”
She shoved the glasses in her pocket and ran. She ran
away from Ballora even though in her heart she knew
Ballora was right there with her. She ran to the Music City
Motel and locked the door behind her, panting.
The words of the old woman at the bus station came
back to her suddenly: “Sometimes when you try to run
away from your problems, those problems end up
following you.”
Scratch, scratch. The sound was coming from the
window. Kasey pulled back the curtain and saw nothing.
Then she put on the glasses.
Ballora was pressed against the window. Her face,
pretty at a distance, was terrifying up close, split down the
middle, with a gaping red mouth and glowing eyes, eyes
which Kasey thought saw right into her soul. Ballora’s
long, blue-painted fingernails scraped against the glass
with a horrible metallic screech. Kasey backed away from
the window.
“Okay, Ballora,” Kasey said. “Please. Just let me go
to this job interview first. Then I know what I have to do.”
Ballora said nothing, just watched with her glowing
blue eyes.
Kasey sat down on the bed and dug around in her
backpack until she found what she was looking for: the
driver’s license of the woman whose purse she had stolen
outside of Circus Baby’s Pizza World.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Sarah Avery. That was the name on the driver’s license.

And here, where
Kasey was standing in her new crimson dress and tan
flats, was Sarah Avery’s address. It was a split-level
suburban home, not too fancy, but much nicer than
anywhere Kasey had ever lived.
It hadn’t been easy getting here with no bus fare, but
finally Kasey had met a long-haul truck driver who was
headed this way and willing to let her ride along. Kasey
had slipped on the glasses once during the trip and had
seen Ballora’s face pressed against the passenger side
window, still watching her.
As Kasey stood on the walkway in front of the house,
working up the courage to go and ring the doorbell, the
fall leaves swirled around her. She didn’t put on the
glasses, but she felt Ballora behind her, sharing the space
in the eye of the tiny tornado. Ballora was close enough to
touch, waiting for Kasey to lose her nerve.
Kasey took a deep breath, walked up to the door, and
rang the bell. The leaves blew past her with a giant
whoosh, and Kasey felt a sudden, unfamiliar sense of calm
and peace.
A small woman with brown hair opened the door. She
was wearing track pants and a T-shirt from a 5K run for
charity. “Hello?” she said, sounding a little puzzled.
“Hi.” Kasey’s voice quavered. “You don’t know me,
and this is really awkward. Uh … do you remember that
time a couple of months ago when your purse got stolen
outside of Circus Baby’s Pizza World?”
 DANCE WITH ME

“Sure. It was terrible. Nobody forgets something like

that.” She knitted her brow and looked at Kasey. “Are you
… the police?”
She was so far off track that Kasey couldn’t help but
smile. “No, actually, I’m the thief who stole your purse.
Ex-thief, that is.”
The woman’s jaw dropped. “You? But you look so
nice.… Why did you come here?”
“I came because I wanted to give you this.” She pulled
Sarah’s wallet from her backpack. “I’m sure you’ve
replaced your license by now, but your old one is in there.
There’s twenty dollars in there, too—my first installment
of paying back what I took from you. I have a job now. I
start on Monday. I’ll send you more money after I get my
first paycheck.”
Sarah took the wallet. “This is amazing. What made
you decide to do this?”
Kasey thought of Ballora spinning wildly. “I guess
somebody finally scared me into doing the right thing.
I’ve changed. I mean, I’m still changing. And I wanted to
say I’m sorry and ask if you can ever forgive me.”
“Of course I can,” Sarah said. “So few people admit
they’ve done wrong. It’s refreshing to get a real apology.
Consider yourself forgiven. As a matter of fact, I was just
making some tea. Would you like to come in and have a
cup with me?”
“Me?” Kasey said, as though there were somebody
else Sarah could be talking to. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll rob
your house or something?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m not. Come in.”
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Sarah held the door open, and Kasey walked into the
bright, sunny house. A big brown dog greeted her,
wagging its tail.
In the kitchen, the little girl Kasey remembered from
that night was sitting at the table coloring a picture with
crayons. She looked first at Kasey, then at her mom.
“Mommy, do we know this lady?” she asked.
“No, sweetie, but we’re getting to know her,” Sarah
said, pouring hot water in mugs for tea.
Kasey smiled. In some ways, she felt like she was just
getting to know herself. “I’m Kasey,” she said to the little
girl.
“I’m Isabella,” the little girl said. Her eyes were big
and blue, but they were bright and lively, not blank like
Ballora’s.
“Isabella, I think I have something that belongs to
you,” Kasey said.
Isabella hopped down from her chair. “What is it?”
Kasey reached into her bag, pulled out the cardboard
glasses, and held them out to Isabella.
Isabella’s wide blue eyes grew even wider. “It’s my
Ballora glasses! It’s my Ballora glasses that got stoled,
Mommy!”
Sarah set two mugs of tea and one cup of juice on the
table. “Stolen, not stoled. But you’re right. Tell Kasey
thank you for returning them.”
“Thank you for returning my glasses, Kasey,” Isabella
said, smiling up at her.
Kasey smiled back. “You’re welcome.” Kasey knew
she didn’t need them anymore. And besides, they had
always really belonged to Isabella.
 DANCE WITH ME

Isabella put on the glasses and let out a little gasp of

surprise. “There she is!” Isabella said. The little girl stood
still for a moment, glasses on, her mouth agape in wonder.
And then she started to dance.
FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S
 COMING HOME

Susie listened to gravel crackling under the tires of her

family’s old minivan as her mom maneuvered it past
Oliver, the big oak tree in front of their house. Susie was
the one who named Oliver. Her sister, Samantha, thought
naming a tree was stupid. Her parents said it wasn’t
usually done, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it. So
she did.

Oliver was really, really big. Susie’s dad said Oliver was
older than their house, and that was really old. Susie’s
mom’s great-great-great-grandma had been born in this
house over 150 years ago, and Oliver was already there.

“As soon as we get the groceries put away,” Susie’s mom

said, “I’ll start dinner.” She spoke slowly, with weird
spaces between some of her words. Susie thought it
sounded like someone was trying to stop her mom from
talking and her mom was working really hard to talk
anyway.

Susie thought of voices as colors. Her mom’s used to

be bright orange. Now it was dull brown. It had been this
new color for a long time. Susie missed the old color.
“Does spaghetti sound okay?” Susie’s mom asked in
the same disturbing voice.
Susie didn’t respond to the question because she didn’t
care about dinner, and she knew Samantha would care.
Samantha cared about everything; she liked to be the boss.
“I think we should have those curlicue noodles instead,”
Samantha said.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Susie smirked. See?

Samantha’s voice had changed colors, too. It had
never been bright—her voice used to be kind of a pale
blue, but now it was gray.
Susie turned and pressed her nose against the
minivan’s side window so she could see Oliver more
clearly. She frowned. Oliver looked sad, even more than
he usually did this time of year. Scattered in a ragged
wreath around the base of his thick, knobby trunk, pale
yellow and dull red leaves flittered over his exposed roots
in the afternoon breeze. More than half of Oliver’s
branches were bare, including the thick branch that
suspended Susie’s tire swing. The rest of the branches
held leaves the same color as those lying on the ground.
Oliver always lost all his leaves in the fall. Three years
before, when Susie was four and Samantha was three,
Susie got very upset about the leaves falling from the oak
tree. She told her mom the tree was crying. And if the tree
was crying, it was feeling bad, and if it was feeling, it
needed a name. That’s when she named him Oliver.
Samantha, though a year younger, said naming a tree was
“frivolous.” Frivolous was a word she learned from
Jeanie, their godmother. Samantha liked learning words.
She liked learning, period. She didn’t like frivolous things
the way Susie did.
Susie’s mom explained that Oliver wasn’t crying when
he lost his leaves. He was preparing himself for the
winter. He had to let go of the leaves so he could keep his
trunk fed through the cold months. Then after the cold
months, he’d grow new leaves. “He has to let go before he
 COMING HOME

can regrow,” she said. “We all have to do that

sometimes.”
Susie sort of understood this, but she still thought
Oliver was sad. The only thing that made her feel okay
about the falling leaves was their beautiful colors.
Normally, Oliver’s falling leaves were golden yellow and
bright red.
As Susie’s mom pulled the minivan around the side of
the house, Susie turned to look back at Oliver. His leaves
looked different this year. Duller and dryer.
Susie wondered if it had something to do with the
elves that lived in his trunk. She grinned. She knew Oliver
didn’t have elves in his trunk; she was just being silly. But
she once told Samantha he did, just to bug her.
As soon as the minivan stopped at the stairs to the left
of the wraparound porch, Samantha unbuckled her seat
belt and threw open her door. Samantha was always in a
hurry.
Susie’s mom didn’t move, even after she turned off
the engine. She did this a lot, Susie had noticed. Her mom
would kind of get stuck, like she was a windup toy that
didn’t get wound up enough. She’d just stop in the middle
of doing something and stare off into the distance. It
scared Susie, because she wasn’t sure if her mom was still
there. It looked like she was, but it felt like she’d left her
body behind, a sort of bookmark to hold her place while
her thoughts took the rest of her someplace else.
The car engine ticked a few times before going silent.
Susie smelled the onions in one of the shopping bags in
the back of the minivan. She smelled something else, too.
No, not smelled. It wasn’t her nose that told her something
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

was in the air. It was … what? Her other senses? What

senses?
Jeanie once told Susie that she was special, that Susie
had an ability most others didn’t have. She was “plugged
in,” Jeanie said. Susie had no idea what that meant, but
she liked the sound of it. Jeanie said it was the reason why
Susie felt things other people didn’t feel. Right now Susie
felt like something was wrong. That something was like a
smell, like the smell of something … rotting? Going stale?
Susie wasn’t sure.
Susie wanted to say something to get her mom moving
again, but then she noticed Samantha was standing next to
the minivan, looking through Susie’s window. Samantha
had that look on her face, the look she often wore lately.
Susie didn’t understand the look. It was part angry, part
sad, and part scared.
Susie’s mom finally moved. Sighing, she shook her
head and pulled the keys from the ignition. She picked up
her purse and opened her door. “We need to get these
groceries inside. It could rain.”
Susie glanced through the windshield toward the low-
hanging gray clouds beyond the steep green roof of the
old house. The clouds were heavy and dark.

The big house had a lot of space, so Susie and Samantha

each had their own room. Susie, though, liked hanging out
in Samantha’s room. She thought Samantha would rather
she didn’t, but even though Samantha liked to boss people
around, she wasn’t mean. She and Susie both liked people
 COMING HOME

to be happy. So because Susie liked playing in Samantha’s

room, Samantha let her.
Samantha wasn’t as good at sharing other things,
though. Like toys. She insisted she and Susie play with
their own toys.
Susie always wished she and Samantha could do
things together, not just side by side. When Susie got her
cool baking set for Christmas a couple years back, the one
with all the fun plastic foods and the pots and pans and the
hot pink apron, she wanted to play restaurant with
Samantha. But Samantha wouldn’t do it. She insisted on
playing instead with her own construction kit. Even if they
were both playing with dolls, Samantha wanted to keep
her dolls apart.
Like right now.
Susie sat on the thick blue rug that lay on the floor
next to Samantha’s big bed. The rug matched the crisp
curtains on the window that looked out at Oliver. Susie
glanced at him. He looked like he’d dropped a few more
leaves. His remaining ones hung limply in the muted gray
evening light.
In front of her, Susie’s dolls were arranged on blocks
set up in a semicircle. It was a choir, and she was going to
direct them, but first she had to be sure they were all in
their right spots. She moved the dolls around, deciding
who would sing what part of the song, humming while she
did it. She didn’t normally hum—her mother did. But she
hadn’t heard her mother hum in a long time.
On the opposite side of the rug, Samantha had her own
dolls perched in front of boxes. The boxes were “working
stations,” Samantha said. Susie wasn’t sure if the dolls
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

were in school or at a job. Either way, it was pretty clear

Samantha’s dolls weren’t going to have as much fun as
Susie’s. Did Samantha see that, too? Maybe that was why
she kept looking over at Susie’s dolls and blocks.
Susie crossed her legs and looked around. Samantha’s
room was so organized, with light-blue canvas bins
stacked up neatly on white shelves, a big white desk with
a super-bright metal desk lamp, the big bed with its simple
metal frame and its perfectly made blue-and-white
checked bedspread, the two tidy white nightstands with
their small blue lamps, and the window seat covered with
its simple thin blue cushion. Susie’s room, which she
could just see through a connecting door, was filled with
color and chaos. She had a window seat, too, thick and
tufted and covered in purple velour. It was piled with
flowery pillows. Her purple shelves had no bins. Susie
hated bins. She liked to see her toys and books and plush
animals because they made her feel happy. They all hung
out in the open on the shelves, like they were having a big
party.
Samantha looked over at Susie’s dolls again. She
pressed her lips together so tightly it made the skin around
her mouth pucker. The expression made her look like an
angry Pekinese dog. One of those dogs used to live next
door, and the first time Susie saw it, she laughed because
it reminded her of Samantha.
Susie wondered if she ever looked like a dog. She
didn’t think so. Even though she and Samantha had
similar hair and basically the same eyes, they didn’t look
the same on the two girls. Susie’s light-brown hair flowed
around her face; Samantha’s was caught tight in a
 COMING HOME

ponytail. Susie looked wild and mischievous, and

Samantha looked like a good girl. Susie’s brown eyes
were usually wide open, while Samantha’s were often
squinting, so Susie looked eager and Samantha looked
cautious. Susie had a smaller nose and mouth and was
usually called cute. Samantha had their dad’s larger nose
and mouth, and Susie once heard her grandma say about
Samantha, “She’ll grow into her looks and turn into a
handsome woman.”
Samantha glanced again at Susie’s dolls before
rearranging her own dolls to stand at their “stations.” Poor
things. When Samantha was done with her dolls, they’d
have to go back in their bins.
“Do your dolls want to be in my choir?” Susie asked.
Samantha didn’t answer.
Susie sniffed. She wrinkled her nose. The air smelled
like spaghetti sauce and garlic bread. It also still had that
other smell, the one she didn’t understand.
Well, fine. She didn’t need Samantha’s dolls to have a
good choir. Making one final adjustment, Susie picked up
a ruler and tapped it on the block she had set up in front of
her dolls. Then she began waving the ruler back and forth
the way she’d seen directors do it.
Before Susie got through three waves, Samantha
suddenly stood up and kicked Susie’s dolls off their
blocks. Then she kicked the blocks, too. All the dolls and
blocks tumbled over the fluffy rug and clattered onto the
dark wood floor beyond. Susie winced. Now she’d have to
set up a hospital with the blocks and heal her dolls.
Samantha glared at Susie before running out of the
room. Susie thought about yelling after her, but fighting
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

with Samantha never accomplished anything. She’d

learned it was better to be quiet and let things blow over.
Even so …
Susie’s mom appeared in the doorway. Tall and skinny
with dark-brown hair, Susie’s mom used to look like she
could be a model. Susie remembered when her mom’s
hair was really shiny and bouncy, when her mom’s big
eyes were always made up with long fake lashes and her
wide mouth was always painted with sassy red lipstick.
Now, her mom wore no makeup, and she looked tired.
Dressed in faded jeans and a wrinkled blue T-shirt,
Susie’s mom gazed at the toys on the rug.
Susie got up and walked over to her.
“Mom?”
Her mom kept staring at the toys.
“Are you okay?”
Tears filled her mom’s eyes, and Susie felt like
someone was squeezing her heart. “I feel like something is
wrong,” she told her mom. “Something bad has happened,
but I don’t know what it is.”
Susie really wanted her mom to tell her everything
was okay, but her mom just covered her mouth with her
hand and let the tears spill from her eyes. Susie knew her
mom wouldn’t answer now. She never liked talking when
she cried. And weren’t the tears an answer anyway?
Normally, after dinner, her mom would go to the third
floor and work. She had a big studio up there because she
was a textiles artist, making big modern quilts and woven
blankets that people never used on their beds. Her mom’s
blankets were hung on walls, which Susie thought was
 COMING HOME

weird, but her mom liked making them, and according to

her mom, the pretty blankets “paid the bills.”
Which was a good thing, because Dad wasn’t here
anymore. Susie didn’t understand why he left. But he was
gone. Was that the bad thing?
Susie wrapped her arms around her knees. No. She
didn’t think so. She thought it was something else.
She wondered if she should try to hug her mom.
Probably not. Her mom didn’t like to be hugged when she
cried.
Susie just stood there, hoping her mom would stop so
they could talk. But her mom didn’t stop crying. She just
pushed away from the doorjamb and walked down the
silent hallway.

Samantha was outside, wandering around the front yard

and blowing bubbles. Anyone watching her would think
she was having fun, but Susie knew Samantha didn’t blow
bubbles for fun. She did it to study air currents. Susie
knew better than to ask if she could blow bubbles, too.
Samantha would say no; it would mess up her “research.”
But Susie wanted to be near her sister, so she
wandered to Oliver, patted him on his rough moist trunk,
and ducked inside the faded black tire swing. Pushing off
from the ground, she got the swing going, then she threw
her head back to look up at the gloomy sky as the swing
spun in a lazy circle.
The evening air was cold, but not too cold, and it had that
fall scent that
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Susie had heard others describe as crisp. She didn’t know

what “crisp” smelled like. She thought fall air was a two-
sided smell—tart and musky at the same time. And of
course the fall air around her house still had that other
smell that she didn’t like.
Susie closed her eyes and refreshed her spin. She
could hear Samantha trotting around the yard; Oliver’s dry
leaves crackled under her feet.
Then Susie heard voices. She opened her eyes and
turned so she could see the sidewalk.
Long ago, their house was a farmhouse that sat in the
middle of lots of land. But as the years went by and all
those great-grandmas grew from little girls to old women,
the family had to sell part of the land—so said Susie’s
mom. Eventually, Susie’s grandma had sold the last of the
land, to someone called a “developer,” and the developer
built a big subdivision that surrounded the house. The new
houses were built to look a little like the old farmhouse—
Susie’s mom said they were all Victorian. But the new
houses didn’t have the personality of the old house. The
new ones were all in serious colors like gray and tan and
cream. Susie’s house had lots of fun colors. Mainly it was
yellow, but the trim—and there was a lot of trim— was
purple, blue, pink, grey, orange, and white. Susie’s mom
called the trim “gingerbread,” which made no sense to
Susie because the trim wasn’t made of cookies …
although she wished it was. Susie always thought it
looked like her house was dressed up to go out, and the
other houses wore everyday work clothes all the time.
The sidewalk in front of the new houses was wide, and
it was closer to their house than Susie’s mom wanted it to
 COMING HOME

be. Susie didn’t mind that. She liked watching people go

by, especially from the tire swing. A big laurel hedge
along the front of their yard blocked the view of Oliver’s
lower trunk and the tire swing. Susie liked to stay there
and play “spy,” watching people through the hedge
without them knowing she was there.
The group going by now had five kids in it. She was
pretty sure they were in Samantha’s class. Three of the
kids, all girls, were walking bikes. A fourth kid, a tall boy,
was messing around on a skateboard, and the final one, a
smaller boy, was on a scooter. It didn’t look like he knew
exactly how to use it.
“Hurry up, Drew,” one of the girls snapped at the
small boy.
He was blond, and his hair stuck up all over on his
head.
“Yeah,” another of the girls said. Both girls had dark
hair, and they wore jeans and blue hoodies. “This place is
spooky.”
Susie slowed the tire swing and listened to the kids.
Spooky? Did they sense it, too, that thing that Susie didn’t
understand?
“Hey, Professor!” the third girl called out. This girl
had reddish hair, and her black leather jacket hung open to
show a light pink shirt underneath.
Susie knew “professor” was Samantha. Even if the
word hadn’t been said in a sarcastic tone, Susie knew it
was supposed to be an insult. Ever since Samantha started
grade school, her classmates had made fun of her for
being too serious. Susie hated that the kids did that, and
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

the first time it had happened, she’d tried to stick up for

Samantha.
“What’s wrong with being smart?” she’d yelled at the
kids taunting her sister. “You’re just jealous that she
knows more than you!”
Susie had thought Samantha would appreciate this
support, but Samantha got upset. “I don’t need you to take
care of me,” she told Susie. “I have to stand on my own
two feet.”
Susie knew Samantha had gotten this expression from
their grandma, but she didn’t argue. And she never again
tried to stop the kids from their teasing.
So she didn’t speak up now when one of the girls
called out, “Freak!”
“Come on, Drew,” the boy on the skateboard said to
the boy with the scooter.
“I hate passing this house,” the leather jacket girl said.
“Yeah,” one of the other girls agreed, shivering.
The third girl said, “I used to play with them when I
was in kindergarten. She was always serious,” she pointed
to Samantha, “but she at least would talk to you. Now it’s
like she’s …” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
The kids had passed the house, but Susie turned to
watch them, and she kept listening. “You can’t really
blame her,” the small boy said.
“Come on, Drew,” the leather jacket girl said. “Let’s
just get by, huh?”
 COMING HOME

When night came, it dropped on the house like someone

up in heaven abruptly threw a black blanket over
everything. The girls got ready for bed as usual, and as
usual Samantha didn’t protest when Susie got into her
bed. She knew Susie hated to sleep alone.
Even so, Samantha always slept with her back to
Susie, and she always slept as far from Susie as possible,
especially now. Susie faced the window.
Even though the window had a shade, it was never pulled.
Susie’s mom said the house should have as much light as
possible—sunlight or moonlight. Susie liked to lie awake
and look at the way the moonlight brought things to life in
the room. The eerie glow cast shadows over Samantha’s
bins, making them look like big mouths trying to gobble
the moon. She also liked to look at the stars and name
them.
Tonight, the stars were hiding, and only the faintest
gleam from the moon’s sliver managed to push through
the clouds. The only light coming into the room reached
dimly from the porch lights over the front and back doors.
The room was cold, and the cold bothered Samantha
more than it did Susie. So the girls lay under two thick,
soft blankets. Susie shoved the blankets away from her
mouth.
“Are you awake?” Susie asked her sister. She kept her
voice at a whisper.
Samantha didn’t answer. This wasn’t unusual. She
didn’t like talking at night.
But that didn’t stop Susie. “I keep having this bad
feeling, like something’s wrong,” Susie whispered. She
didn’t wait for a response.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

“The world smells funny,” she told her sister. She

twisted up her mouth, trying to describe the smell. “It
reminds me a little of when we leave leftovers in a
container too long and then Mom tells us to clean them
out and we have to hold our nose and talk like this.” She
held her nose and talked in the funny voice that resulted.
She giggled at herself.
Samantha remained silent. She never thought Susie’s
funny voices were all that funny. And maybe she was
actually asleep. Susie held still so Samantha’s smooth,
blue sheets wouldn’t make that shushing sound they made
when you shifted in the bed. She focused on Samantha’s
breathing. It was deep and even.
Susie pulled her legs up tighter and nestled her head
further into the pillow. “And Oliver’s leaves aren’t the
right color. They’re not bright enough.” Saantha breathed
… in and out “And o is acting strange. You know?”
Samantha did not respond. Susie sighed. She closed he
reyes and tried to go to sleep.

Thump.
Susie’s eyes shot open.
Had she fallen asleep? Did she dream that muffled
sound she just heard?
She lay perfectly still, listening.
Thump … thump … thump.
 COMING HOME

No, she didn’t dream it. Someone … or something …

was walking around on the porch. The sound was that of a
big foot hitting the wooden boards.
Susie sat up, clutching the smooth sheets and
Samantha’s soft white blankets.
She cocked her head to listen closely. That’s when she
heard the taps between the thumps.
Thump … tap … thump … tap … thump.
Susie didn’t move, but suddenly Samantha sat up. She
immediately swung her legs over the side of the bed, but
she didn’t stand. She just sat there, her back rigid.
“You heard it, too,” Susie whispered.
Samantha didn’t reply, so Susie decided she had to do
something on her own. She made herself let go of the
covers, then dropped her legs out of the bed. She ignored
the cold air that hit her ankles, and she padded out of the
room and down the stairs to the kitchen.
Susie paused by the island and looked at the pale
yellow glimmer creeping in through the kitchen window.
It radiated from the porch light above the back door.
The digital clock over the stove glowed red in the
darkened room: 11:50. The refrigerator hummed. The
faucet dripped. It had dripped for quite some time, Susie
knew—one drip every ten seconds.
She waited through two drips while she listened to the
continued thumptap sequence outside on the porch. When
the sounds faded enough to make her think that whatever
was making the sound was on the opposite side of the
house, she went to the back door, took a deep breath, and
opened it.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Just then, Samantha reached over Susie’s shoulder and

slammed the door.
Susie whirled toward her sister.
Samantha’s eyes were huge. Her lips were
compressed. And for the first time since she’d said
goodnight to their mom, Samantha spoke, “There’s
nothing out there. Back to bed.” She turned and marched
out of the kitchen, making it abundantly clear that Susie
was supposed to follow her.

Jeanie’s voice was so warm and strong that, even though

it came through the phone line, it sounded like she was in
the room. “You’re more than Susie’s mom, Patricia,” she
said.
Patricia held the phone to her ear with one hand while
she brushed her limp hair with the other. She sat on the
edge of the king-sized bed, the bed that was far too big for
her alone. But it had been far too small for her and her
husband. That’s why he had to leave … so they could stop
intruding into each other’s space. Although why they’d
needed all that space was never clear to her.
“And more than Samantha’s mom,” Jeanie continued.
“You’re you, and you’ll find yourself again. Eventually.”
Patricia sighed. “Samantha won’t talk to me, except to
order me around.” Jeanie laughed. “She’s her own
woman.”
Patricia wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at that.
The idea of her eightyear-old daughter acting like a
woman was amusing. But the idea that her daughter had
 COMING HOME

been forced to turn into a pint-sized woman was not

amusing at all.
“It will get better,” Jeanie said. “It always does.”
Patricia nodded even though Jeanie couldn’t see her.
Jeanie would know she’d nodded.
Patricia and Jeanie had been friends since they were
Samantha’s age. Together, they’d gone through school,
college, and grad school, both in art. When Patricia
married Hayden, Jeanie was her maid of honor, and when
Patricia had her girls, Jeanie became their godmother.
Jeanie was like the sister Patricia never had.
“I don’t know if I’m doing this right,” Patricia said.
“There is no right,” Jeanie said.
That made everything harder somehow.
“I wish …” She stopped and froze.
What did she just hear?
Did that come from outside or inside?
“You there?” Jeanie asked.
Patricia stayed silent, listening.
“Patricia?”
Patricia shook her head. She
was imagining things. She
blew out air. “I’m here.”

Susie had followed her sister back to bed, but now she
was creeping away. This time, she paused for a second
outside her mom’s room. She was probably on the phone
with Jeanie. They talked pretty much every day, either in
person or over the phone. If Jeanie was in town, she’d
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

come by, but she traveled a lot for her job. Her job was
buying art for people. Susie thought that sounded like a
very fun job.
Susie lurked in the hallway, hoping to hear her mom
laugh. But a laugh never came.
Instead the footsteps sounded again. Thud … tap …
thud … tap.
Susie put her shoulders back and turned toward the
top of the stairs.
Descending slowly, pausing on each step, Susie
looked over the top of the waxed oak banister to the paned
window at the front of the house. Sheer curtains blurred
the outline of the porch rails and beyond them, Oliver’s
solid presence; he stood like a tireless guard in the middle
of the front yard.
But the sheer curtains couldn’t block the shape that
Susie saw stalking past the windows on the front porch.
The shape was too big to hide. All the curtains could do
was distort it and disguise what it was.
The shape moved slowly, deliberately, lurching in
sync with the sound of its step: thud … tap … thud … tap.
As it moved, its head swiveled. Every few steps, Susie
could see the reflection of sharp eyes as they searched the
interior of the house. Every time those eyes looked her
way, Susie turned into stone, willing herself to disappear
into the background.
Even though she wanted to hide, Susie didn’t go back
to bed. She couldn’t. She knew that.
So she continued down the stairs, managing one step
for every six footsteps she heard on the front porch. By
the time she reached the first floor, the shape was passing
 COMING HOME

the last of the tall windows on the left side of the house.
Susie tiptoed ahead of it.
Ducking into what used to be her dad’s office, she
watched the shape outside pass the office window and
head toward the kitchen side of the house. Hesitating only
a moment in the empty room lined with dusty shelves,
Susie pushed off the doorjamb and went into the kitchen
for the second time that night.
She crouched behind the island as the shape passed
through the yellow light outside the kitchen window.
Once it had moved on, heading back toward the front of
the house, Susie stood. She clenched her fists then
released them. And she went to the front door.
The front door was as old as the house. Built of thick
wood and stained so many times the door always wanted
to stick when you tried to open it, the carved front door
reminded Susie that time couldn’t be stopped, no matter
how much you wanted it to be.
The footsteps paused.
Susie listened. She heard nothing at all.
She reached for the front doorknob, and she opened
the door.
She opened the door in increments. Two inches. Six
inches. A foot. She took a deep breath, stepped around the
door … and looked up.
She waited. Like she always did. Every night.
Frightening. Familiar. Persistent.
Susie didn’t cringe or tremble or jump back, even
though it would have been reasonable for her to do any or
all of those things. Instead, she said,
“Is it time to go back already?”
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Chica held out her yellow hand. Her mouth didn’t

move.
Susie knew Chica wouldn’t answer, because Chica
didn’t talk to her.
Susie turned away from the man-sized animatronic
chick standing in front of her. She looked back up the
stairs. Longing.
But longing didn’t do any good.
Susie looked back to the animatronic chick. Ignoring
the gaping metal mouth with all the teeth, Susie focused
on Chica’s bright yellow body and the big white bib
hanging around Chica’s neck, the one that said, “Let’s
Eat!” Then she looked at the cupcake Chica held. Susie
thought the cupcake was scarier than Chica. It had eyes
and two buck teeth, and one candle stood up straight from
the middle of it. Susie didn’t know what the candle was
for. One day? One year? One child?
Letting Chica take her hand, Susie walked away from
her house. Every step made her feel less like herself. By
the time she passed Oliver’s stillfalling leaves, she was
lost.

Patricia stared through the open front door at the oak tree
that was dropping its leaves all over the front lawn. She
had a feeling she’d just missed something important.
Several minutes before, she’d heard the sound again.
This time, she couldn’t talk herself out of it.
 COMING HOME

She’d left her bedroom and come out into the hallway.
When she’d looked down the stairs, the front door was
standing wide open.
Heart racing, she’d run to Samantha’s room and
peered in. One glance slowed her heart rate. Okay. Her
worst nightmare wasn’t playing out.
But why was the door open? Grabbing a pair of
knitting needles and holding them in front of her like a
knife, she crept through the house, checking for an
intruder. There was nothing.
Patricia closed the door, turned the deadbolt, and
pressed her hands against the door, pushing with all her
strength as if she could shove away reality, maybe press it
into some other form.
Pulling her hands back abruptly, sucked in her breath.
There was something she hadn’t considered. What if
someone had come through the still-open door while she
searched the house?
She turned and ran up the stairs to Samantha’s room.
She nearly collapsed in relief. Everything was okay.
Samantha was awake. She sat up in bed, the covers
pulled up to her neck, her fists clenched and her knuckles
stark white. Tears made her eyes sparkle in the faint light
from her bedside lamp.
Patricia sat down next to her daughter. She wanted to
pull Samantha into a tight hug, a never-let-you-go hug.
But Samantha wouldn’t like that. All she tolerated was the
slightest touch.
So Patricia briefly placed her hand on Samantha’s
shoulder before she said, “I know you miss her. I miss her,
too.”
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Samantha blinked and two tears escaped her eyes,

meandering down her lean cheeks. She didn’t bother to
wipe them away.
Patricia sat next to Samantha for a long time, but
neither mother nor daughter spoke again. Finally, Patricia
stood, kissed the top of her daughter’s head, and returned
to her huge bed.

Samantha waited for her mother to leave before she

moved. She lay on her back watching the light and
shadow play cat and mouse on her ceiling.
If Susie was here, she’d make up some story about the
shadows and light, about them fighting each other or
dancing or something. She was always making up things.
Susie got that from their dad. Even though their mom
was the artist, and their dad was the one who went to work
in a suit and tie and did stuff for “business” that neither
Samantha nor Susie understood, he was the one who loved
stories. In his free time, he was always either reading a
book or watching a movie. He could make up good
stories, too. When he was home, the girls had always had
an original story at bedtime. Their mom wouldn’t even try
to make up a story. “I’ll read you a story instead,” she
would say when their dad was out of town. Now she
didn’t say, “instead.” She just asked what book she was
reading tonight.
One of the stories their dad made up was about a little
boy who had a secret place in a hidden room in his house.
From that room, he was able to solve all his problems, no
 COMING HOME

matter what they were. He told hundreds of these stories,

making up a new problem for the boy to solve each time.
Susie was convinced these stories meant there was a
secret room in their house. She was always asking their
dad about it. His answer was always the same; he’d
pretend to zip his lips shut and throw away an invisible
key.
Susie said she thought the way to the secret room was
in their dad’s office at the back of the house. Samantha
thought it was just a story, and she was glad the office was
always locked so Susie couldn’t talk her into getting in
trouble looking for the secret room.
Now, the office wasn’t locked because her dad was
gone. But Susie no longer talked about looking for a
secret room.
Samantha pressed her lips together, disgusted with
herself for thinking about Susie and the stupid secret
room. Then she thought about the sounds she heard at
night. She tried to convince herself she imagined them.
That had to be true, because when she looked outside, she
never saw anything at all.
But lying here alone in the silence, in the strange
halfway land of the night, she couldn’t quite convince
herself that she’d made it all up.
She was pretty sure something had been outside.
But what?
And why?
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

In the brisk late-morning air, Patricia and Jeanie sat side

by side in the porch swing padded with yellow floral
cushions. Patricia was aware that, to any passersby, she
and Jeanie were part of an idyllic scene: both women,
wearing wide-brimmed straw hats to shade their faces
from the sun that slanted onto the porch, sipped tea to
ward off the fall chill. They probably looked as relaxed as
could be. They weren’t. Or at least Patricia wasn’t.
Patricia studied her friend. Jeanie was almost her
perfect opposite in size and coloring. Whereas Patricia
was tall and thin with dark hair, Jeanie was short and
plump with blonde hair. In spite of these differences, both
women used to have one quality in common—they both
smiled and laughed easily. Now, Patricia couldn’t do that
anymore.
Patricia took a shaky breath. “I’m wondering if I
should take Samantha to a different counselor.” She
cringed at the way her voice seemed to scar the air.
“Rhonda is nice, and Samantha likes her, I think—
honestly, it’s hard to tell.” She waved away a fly. “But I
talked to Rhonda last week, and she says Samantha’s
stuck. Samantha is clearly keeping something to herself,
but nothing Rhonda is doing will get her to talk.”
“Samantha has always done things in her own way,”
Jeanie pointed out.
She grinned. “That child has an opinion about
everything.” Patricia attempted a smile but
only got about halfway there.
“Remember how she harangued Susie relentlessly
about naming that tree?” Jeanie gestured at the ancient
oak. “What’s his name?” “Oliver.” Patricia started crying.
 COMING HOME

Jeanie set down her tea and took Patricia’s hand. “I’m
sorry. That was insensitive.”
Patricia wiped her eyes and shook her head. “It’s been
a year. I should
…”
“There aren’t any shoulds when it comes to losing a
child. Isn’t that what your counselor told you?”
Patricia nodded. “No rule book.”
They sipped tea in silence for several minutes. Patricia
watched Oliver drop another dozen leaves. The previous
night’s persistent breeze had taken hundreds of Oliver’s
remaining leaves. He didn’t have many left on his gnarled
branches. Pretty soon, he’d need his scarf.
Jeanie patted Patricia’s knee. “You’re thinking about
Oliver’s scarf.”
It made Patricia literally ache to think about how four-
year-old Susie had run inside after Oliver had dropped his
last leaf that first year she named him. When she’d
returned, she held one of the neck scarves Jeanie had
knitted for her.
Patricia gazed at Oliver and felt like she could see the
scene from three years before unfolding in front of her
now. The scene was a little fuzzy in places, but otherwise
it was almost real.
Her little arms crossed, her brow furrowed, Susie said,
“He’ll get cold ’cause he doesn’t have leaves.” She was
dressed in her bright-orange jacket.
When Susie found out the scarf wasn’t big enough for
Oliver, she was heartbroken … until Patricia suggested
Susie ask her godmother to knit a scarf specifically for
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Oliver. Now, Jeanie knitted a new scarf for Oliver every

year.
“I’ve already knitted it,” Jeanie whispered.
Tears spilled down Patricia’s cheeks. She was
surprised she still had tears to cry. “She was always
anthropomorphizing,” Patricia said. “I never saw a
problem with it.”
“There wasn’t a problem with it. She was an
empathetic child with a vivid imagination.”
“Which is why she was so easily lured …” Patricia
didn’t recognize her own voice. Normally soft, it was now
as hard and rough as Oliver’s bark. “I should have
discouraged her flights of fancy. I should have—”
“Stop it!” Jeanie shifted to face Patricia. “Not all the
murdered children were like Susie. You don’t know that it
would have been different if she’d been a different kind of
child. You can’t keep trying to find reasons to blame
yourself.”
Patricia looked down. “I hated that place,” she
whispered. “It always seemed creepy to me. But Susie
loved it.”
Jeanie frowned. “Are you sure you want to go over
this again?”
“I need to—”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. I can’t just forget.”
“Why not? How are you helping Susie by torturing
yourself with the details over and over?”
Patricia wanted to yell at Jeanie to shut up, but she
didn’t have the energy.
 COMING HOME

Jeanie took both of Patricia’s hands. “Your daughter

was murdered by a serial killer. She was lured to her death
in a place where she should have been safe. There. We’ve
dug it up again. Feel better?”
Patricia yanked her hands back and started to stand.
Jeanie grabbed her arm and held her in place, her grip
pinching Patricia’s skin.
“Don’t run away!” Jeanie shouted. Then she lowered
her voice but kept it firm, just shy of scolding. “You can’t
dredge up the past and then run from it. If you insist on
trotting it out to torture yourself regularly, at least you
should do it head-on. If you don’t, you’ll be running away
your whole life, and you’ll never be able to let Susie go.”
A car zipped by on the road, its engine revving. The
smell of exhaust wafted up to the porch. Something about
the odor erased Patricia’s anger. “She was wearing her
favorite sweater, the one you knitted for her.” “Magenta
with pink stripes,” Jeanie said.
“She wanted sequins,” Patricia said.
“And you wouldn’t let me put any on the sweater.”
“So you put rhinestones on her jeans instead.”
Jeanie laughed. “You were really
angry with me.” Patricia wiped her
eyes. “Stupid thing to be angry
about.” Jeanie gently squeezed
Patricia’s arm then let her go.
A breeze curled up onto the porch from the yard, and
Patricia shivered.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Susie watched Samantha lean on a rake and scowl at

Oliver.
“It’s not his fault,” Susie said. “He can’t help it that
his leaves land on the ground when he lets them go.”
Samantha sighed.
Susie tried not to be annoyed. “I said I’d do it,” she
reminded Samantha.
Right after they’d gotten home that afternoon, their
mom said, “Maybe you can do a little raking before
dinner.”
Susie had said, “I’ll do it.”
But before Susie could get to the rake, Samantha
grabbed it, and now she wouldn’t let go. She’d rather “do
it right” and not like doing it than let someone else do it
“wrong.”
Fine. Let Samantha rake. Susie would hang out with
Oliver.
Listening to the rasp and scuff of the rake, Susie went
around to the back side of his trunk, away from the road,
and hugged him. Oliver smelled smoky and moist. Laying
the side of her face against his trunk, she listened.
Sometimes when she listened really hard, she was sure she
could hear him breathing.
“Hi, Samantha!”
The greeting came from the sidewalk. Susie peered
around Oliver to see who was calling out to her sister. It
was Drew, the kid with the scooter and the blond spiky
hair. Today he was alone.
Holding on to his scooter, Drew looked across the
yard. Samantha stared back at him as if he was a bull
about to charge her.
 COMING HOME

Drew waved. “I see you at school a lot, and I just

thought I’d say hi. I’m Drew.”
Samantha glanced around like she suspected a trap.
Susie wanted to go to her side and encourage her to talk to
the kid, but Samantha would hate that. So Susie stayed
hidden and watched.
Drew scratched his nose, and his scooter fell over. He
bent to pick it up.
“Hi,” Samantha said.
Drew straightened and grinned.
Samantha held the rake like a weapon. Susie didn’t
think that looked very friendly.
“Go over to him,” Susie hissed at her sister.
Samantha ignored her. Susie knew listening to
someone else’s conversation was “rude,” according to her
mother. So she ran over to the side yard and started
talking to the bedraggled plants in the flower beds. Would
they tell her why her mom was ignoring them?

Samantha wished the boy would go away. She also hoped

he would stay. He was cute.
But was he being nice or just messing around with
her?
Drew stepped closer so he was right at the edge of the
sidewalk. “Um, I was really sorry about what happened to
your sister.”
Samantha looked down, but she managed to mumble,
“Thank you.” She took a tentative step toward the
sidewalk.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Drew looked at Samantha. Then he looked up at the

house. He lowered his voice. “Do you ever see her?”
Samantha went still. She felt the blood rush from her
face, and she gripped the rake so hard it hurt.
Drew dropped his scooter and took several steps into
the yard. Then he opened his mouth and words tumbled
out so fast they piled up on each other. “I’m not trying to
be mean, and I’m not making fun. Really. It’s just that I
believe in ghosts, and I think people who die can stay
around if they want. I had an uncle who died, and I saw
him the night he died, and then he came back for a couple
years after that. He was waiting for my dad to forgive him
for something. I think ghosts hang around if they want
something, you know? So I was just asking, and I didn’t
mean to upset you.”
“Dinner’s ready in five,” Samantha’s mom called from
the porch. She didn’t notice Drew.
Samantha had no idea what to say, so she just said,
“Okay,” then turned around to head inside.
“Bye,” Drew called.

Samantha couldn’t go to sleep because she kept thinking

about Drew. About what he’d said. Thinking about Drew
was kind of nice. Thinking about what he said was not.
His words bounced around in her head. “Ghosts hang
around if they want something.”
A faint snick and swish sound came from downstairs.
Samantha sat up. She knew exactly what that sound
was. Should she go down? Or wait?
 COMING HOME

The tremors that always started at that sound began at

her feet and scrabbled up her legs. Ignoring them, she
jumped out of bed and padded across her room and into
the hall. No sound came from her mom’s room. Nothing
from downstairs now, either. But was that a cold draft?
Samantha clenched her jaw and forced herself down
the stairs. At the bottom, she paused, then she tiptoed
through the dining room and peered into the kitchen.
As she knew it would be, the back door was standing
wide open. And now she could hear the other noise,
coming from the porch: thud … tap … thud … tap.
Moaning, she pushed through her terror. She ran
through the kitchen, and she slammed and locked the back
door. Then she sprinted as fast as she could back up to her
bed.
Once there, she tried to convince herself she was
making everything up.

In all the months she had been seeing her, Rhonda had
never put her back to Samantha before. Was this some
kind of test?
Samantha frowned and tried to figure out what was
going on. She looked around the room. It was plain and
neat, the kind of room Samantha liked. All it had in it was
a thick tan rug, Rhonda’s listening chair—a creamcolored
plush chair with a low back and fat arms—a tan-and-
cream striped sofa, and a child-sized wood table next to a
trunk filled with toys. The room was interesting to
Samantha because it extended out from the house, like a
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

box, hovering about two feet off the ground. Three of the
box’s sides were glass.
A long sigh from Rhonda made Samantha blink, and
Rhonda finally swiveled back to face her.
“I’m sorry,” Rhonda said. “I’ve been trying to figure
something out.”
The crinkle between her thick black brows was
unusual. Rhonda didn’t frown. Mostly, she smiled too
much, in Samantha’s opinion. It wasn’t normal, especially
for someone who listened to other people’s problems all
day.
“I like figuring things out,” Samantha said.
“I know you do.” Rhonda brushed back her long black
hair.
Samantha stared at Rhonda’s big brown eyes. “So
what are you trying to figure out?” she asked.
“I’m trying to figure out how to keep your mom from
sending you to someone else.”
Samantha jerked her head up. “Why does my mom
want to send me someplace else?”
“Because you’re not making progress with me.”
“What’s that mean?”
Rhonda leaned forward. “Samantha, I know something
is stuck in your head. A thought. A belief. Something you
keep thinking is trapped there, in your brain, and you’re
not letting it out.”
Rhonda was right, but Samantha didn’t tell her that.
Samantha stared at her neatly tied navy blue sneakers.
She liked things to be in their right places. She didn’t like
messy.
 COMING HOME

Change was messy. Therapy was messy, too. Before

she’d started seeing Rhonda, her mom had taken her to
two other people who were “there to help her.” Both had
wanted her to play with a messy pile of toys in a messy
room. She’d begged her mom not to make her go back.
Finally, her mom brought her here. She didn’t love it
here, but she didn’t hate it, either. Rhonda was different.
This room was different. Samantha was okay with them
both.
“We had a fight,” she said.
She had to tell Rhonda what was stuck so her mom
wouldn’t make her go someplace else. “You and Susie?”
Samantha nodded.
“Okay.” Rhonda scribbled on her notepad. That used
to bug Samantha— the scribbling—but she’d gotten used
to it.
“It was about Gretchen.”
“Who’s Gretchen?”
“The doll my mom said we had to share.”
“Whose doll was it?”
“Mom gave it to both of us, together.” Samantha
rolled her eyes. “I hated that. I want mine to be mine. I
don’t take Susie’s stuff, so I should have my own stuff.”
“Okay.”
“But om said we had to share.” Rhonda nodded
“So I tried to explain to Susie that we should each get
Gretchen for a certain time. When Gretchen was with me,
she’d study.” Rhonda smiled and nodded again.
“Susie got upset about that. She said Gretchen didn’t
like to study. Gretchen liked to go to the zoo. She wanted
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Gretchen to hang out with her stuffed animals all the time.
She said if Gretchen had to study, she’d be sad.”
Samantha stopped and remembered Susie standing in
her room, hands on her hips, her lower lip jutted out.
When Samantha insisted that Gretchen needed to study,
Susie threw a tantrum. She cried, “But she’ll hate that!”
“So what happened?” Rhonda asked.
Samantha swung her legs. “When I tried to put
Gretchen in front of a book, Susie grabbed her and ran off.
She …”
“She what?”
Samantha counted her breaths the way Rhonda taught
her. It was supposed to help with the feeling that bugs
were crawling up her legs.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
On the fourth exhale, Samantha said, “She ran away
and hid Gretchen. Then she came back and told me what
she’d done. I told her I’d find Gretchen, and Susie was
upset again. Before … that night … she told me she was
going to find a better hiding place for Gretchen, and I’d
never find her now.” Samantha fisted her hands and held
them in front of her face.
Then she said, “I think she was thinking about where
to hide Gretchen, and that’s why she got taken. She
thought whoever took her would help her hide the stupid
doll.”
Rhonda took a deep breath. “Thank you for telling
me.”
 COMING HOME

“Am I not stuck anymore?”

“I don’t think you are.”
Samantha nodded once. Good.
“Where is the doll now?” Rhonda asked.
“I haven’t found it.”

Susie thought Samantha was unusually talkative today.

She hadn’t shut up since their mom had picked her up
from the funny glass house Samantha visited three times a
week. Even though Samantha was talking about boring
stuff, about multiplying and dividing fives, their mom
seemed to be okay with listening. She kept nodding as she
drove through traffic. She didn’t smile, though. Neither
did Samantha. Samantha was so stiff she looked like a
robot. She sounded like a robot, too. It was weird. She
was talking as if she had to talk or something bad would
happen.
If she had to talk, couldn’t she talk about something
good?
“How about we talk about cute things?” Susie asked.
Samantha and her mom must not have heard her
because Samantha kept talking about numbers and math.
Susie sighed.
What was the point in hanging out with them if they
were going to ignore her?
Susie turned and looked at Samantha’s right ear.
Samantha’s ears weren’t pierced like Susie’s were. Susie
liked to wear pretty-colored earrings. Samantha refused to
have hers pierced because she didn’t want holes in her
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

ears. Susie wondered, if I blow hard enough, can I push

all the boring words out of her head?
Turning, Susie blew as hard as she could into
Samantha’s ear.
Samantha stopped talking.
Ha! Susie grinned.
“Were you done with your story?” Susie’s mom asked
Samantha.
Samantha didn’t answer. She sat perfectly still in her
seat.
Susie wasn’t sure the silence was any better than the
nonstop chatter. It wasn’t a soft, comfortable silence, like
a cushy plush bear. It was a sharp silence, like the pointy
ends of metal things poking at your skin. The silence hurt
her ears … and her heart.
Susie started singing to drown out the silence. No one
sang with her, but she didn’t care. She sang until Susie’s
mom turned onto their road. Then Susie stopped and
waited eagerly to spot her house and check on Oliver.
Susie’s mom paused to wait for a car to pass before
turning into their driveway. The car’s blinker did its click-
tick until Susie’s mom made the turn. Susie mimicked the
noise. No one told her to stop.
Oliver had lost a lot more leaves. He only had a few
left. Would they last long enough?

Susie sat on the end of Samantha’s bed and watched her

sister read a book. Samantha seemed tense. She held the
book stiffly, and she took a long time to turn the pages.
 COMING HOME

“I have a confession,” Susie said.

Samantha didn’t look up.
“I miss you guys when we’re apart. And I
know you miss me, too.” Samantha turned a
page. Her hand trembled. “And I miss
Gretchen. Do you miss her?” Samantha kept
reading.
Susie never liked it when Samantha ignored her, but
she didn’t let it shut her up. “I don’t know why, but I can’t
remember where I hid Gretchen.”
Susie chewed on a knuckle. “I don’t think …”
She stopped talking. This wasn’t working. Samantha
wasn’t going to help her.
Why couldn’t Susie remember where she hid
Gretchen?
She remembered how angry and upset she was that
Samantha was going to make Gretchen study. Gretchen
was a sensitive doll. Freckled and curlyblonde-haired,
Gretchen’s soft round face was painted with a shy smile,
the kind of smile that told Susie that she was easily scared.
When Susie hid Gretchen, she’d been wearing a pink-and-
purple polka-dot dress that Jeanie made. The dress was
supposed to be fun. It was supposed to help Gretchen be
happier.
But then Samantha was going to put pressure on
Gretchen to “learn stuff.” Not even polka dots could win
out over that.
Susie knew that Gretchen still needed to be with her.
Susie was the only person who understood her. She knew
what it was like to want to be happy and have fun in a
world that wanted you to learn and keep getting better at
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

things. She couldn’t leave Gretchen alone, lost in some

forgotten hiding spot. She wished Samantha would listen.
Susie reached over the book Samantha was holding. She
waved her hand around.
Samantha’s face got white, and she held very still.
What was she thinking? Susie wondered. She would’ve
asked, but she knew Samantha wouldn’t answer her.
Sometimes Samantha acted like this and sometimes
Samantha acted normal. Their grandma used to say, “That
Samantha—she’s a hard child to read. But Susie is an
open book.” If Susie was so open, why couldn’t Samantha
get what Susie was trying to tell her?
How could Susie make Samantha understand?
Samantha leaped out of bed and put her book neatly
on the corner of her desk. Sitting in her straight-backed
white desk chair, she opened a drawer and pulled out
construction paper and crayons.
That was it! Maybe Susie could draw a picture.
Samantha would see it and remember Gretchen.
Or maybe if Susie drew a picture, she’d remember
where she’d hidden Gretchen.
Susie stared at the paper and crayons. Would
Samantha share?
“Samantha, could you come here, please?” their
mother called.
Perfect. Susie waited for Samantha to leave the room,
and then she stole a pink piece of paper and a purple
crayon that had barely been used. She plunked herself
down on Samantha’s blue rug and stretched out on her
stomach. Tucking her tongue firmly between her lips,
 COMING HOME

Susie started drawing. It took all of her concentration to

make sure the drawing showed up on the page, but it did.
Drawing was all she could do. If she wrote a note,
Samantha wouldn’t read it.
“Don’t draw too long,” Susie’s mom said, out in the
hallway. “I’ll be in to tuck you in soon.”
Susie heard Samantha’s footsteps coming. She hurried
to finish her drawing. When she was done, she left it lying
on the floor and retreated to the window seat.
Tucking herself into a small ball, Susie looked out the
window. She couldn’t see Oliver because the window
reflected Samantha’s bright room. She could see, though,
a couple of leaves pushing against the window. Leaning
forward, she realized that they belonged to Ivy, the vine
that climbed up the trellis above the porch roof.
Susie smiled. She remembered when her dad had put
that trellis on the house. Her mom’s ivy, which Susie had
named Ivy, of course, had climbed up the porch posts at
the front of the house, and her mom had wanted to cut it.
Susie thought that would be sad. “Can’t you let Ivy climb
higher?” she’d asked.
Her mom said, “Well, if we had a trellis …”
Now it looked like Ivy had reached the top of the
trellis and was trying to climb into Samantha’s room.
Would Ivy have better luck getting Samantha to talk?

Samantha burst into her room and headed toward her

desk. If she wanted to finish her drawing tonight, she’d
have to hurry.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Before she reached her desk, though, Samantha

noticed something on the floor. Nothing besides the rug
was supposed to be on the floor. But a piece of pink paper
lay on it. The paper hadn’t been there when she left the
room. She was sure of it.
Her mom had been with her downstairs, the whole
time. No one else was in the house.
That meant …
Samantha didn’t want to look. If she looked …
No longer in a hurry to draw, Samantha stared at the
pink paper for a very long time.
Eventually, she convinced herself that picking it up
was better than letting it lie there. As long as it was on the
floor, Samantha could come up with all kinds of scary
reasons for it to be there. If she picked it up, she’d know
what it was for sure.
Susie always thought Samantha didn’t have much
imagination. That wasn’t true. The problem was Samantha
had way too much imagination. She had so much
imagination that she could scare herself silly with just a
thought or two.
Taking slow, quiet steps, Samantha walked toward the
rug. She didn’t take her eyes off the paper as she walked.
She couldn’t have said why. Did she think it was going to
leap off the floor and attack her? And do what? Give her
paper cuts?
Samantha had gotten one of those when she was little.
Susie had cried when she saw the blood. Samantha didn’t.
Yes, it stung a little, but she thought it was more
interesting than painful. How could something as flimsy
as paper cut you?
 COMING HOME

When Samantha picked up the paper, she saw some

squiggly purple lines. But as she gazed at the paper and
the squiggly lines, they began to form into shapes that
made some kind of sense.
The drawing had three parts, like the panels in
newspaper comics.
The first part, on the far left of the page, was a drawing of
two little girls.
One had a ponytail, and one had hair that was flying all
around her face. The flying-haired girl held what looked
like a mirror in one hand. She extended the mirror out
toward what seemed to be a baby floating in the air.
The other hand was held out to the pony-tailed girl.
Between the baby and the girl, a big chick with spiky teeth
held up its hands. Huh?
The second part of the drawing, which was separated
from the first part by a vertical line, showed the moon
over a house that looked a little like Samantha’s house.
The flying-haired girl was walking away from the house,
holding hands with that same big chick. To the right of
this second drawing, another vertical line separated the
second drawing from a third one. The third one also had a
moon, a house, and the flying-haired girl walking away
hand-in-hand with the chick. But after the third drawing
there was a heavy dark line. Samantha could see where
the crayon had been moved over and over until it created a
thick slashing shape that Samantha didn’t understand.
Frowning, she stared at the picture. Had she drawn it
and then forgotten? If only she could believe that.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

“I wish you would just talk to me,” Susie whispered. “I

miss when we used to talk. I know you thought I talked
too much, but you still listened. I’d really like someone to
listen.”
She was so frustrated. This reminded her of playing
charades. Once, she’d played charades at her friend
Chloe’s birthday party. Susie liked all games, but charades
wasn’t as fun as she wanted it to be. She’d thought she
was being so clear with her acted-out clues, but no one got
what she was trying to make them see. No one guessed
right. When she told her mom about it later, her mom said,
“You don’t think the same way other people do. That’s a
good thing. You’re super-creative.”
Not creative enough, Susie thought as she stared at the
drawing she’d left on the rug.
What else could she do?
Jumping up from the window seat, Susie ran to
Samantha’s desk. She noticed Samantha looked up from
the pink and purple drawing when she rushed past, but
Susie didn’t bother to say anything. When Samantha was
acting like this, there was no point. Besides, Susie wanted
to draw something else.
At Samantha’s desk, Susie grabbed a piece of pale
yellow paper and a black crayon. She plopped down in
Samantha’s desk chair, and started again.

Samantha had felt the air shift, but she didn’t want to
think about why it shifted. She also knew, somehow, that
she couldn’t turn around.
 COMING HOME

Samantha covered her mouth with her hand so she

wouldn’t giggle. Samantha wasn’t normally a giggler.
Well, sometimes, her dad could get her to giggle by
tickling her. But this wasn’t a tickle-giggle. This giggle
came from some terrified place inside of her, a place
where she was “hysterical.” That was a word her dad
often used for her mother before he left them all.
Samantha didn’t want to be hysterical.
She counted her breaths like she did in therapy.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
The air in Samantha’s room had become thick and
sticky, like molasses. Samantha didn’t know what would
make air feel like molasses, but it didn’t feel right to be
inside of air like that. She had to get out of here.
Leaving the drawing where she found it, she started to
run from the room. But at the doorway, she stopped.
Something was lying on her desk.
Another drawing.
Samantha winced and shrank away, but she couldn’t
remove her gaze.
Like the first drawing, this one had three boxes. In the
first, the same flying-haired girl was walking away from
the front door of the same house. The moon was a thin
sliver, kind of like the moon Samantha had seen the
previous night. In the second box, the same girl was
walking away from the same door, but the moon was a
bigger sliver. And then, in the third box, the girl wasn’t
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

even there. This box just showed the house’s door and an
even bigger moon.
“Are you ready for bed?” Samantha’s mom called.
Ignoring the weird air in the room, Samantha gathered
the drawings and shoved them under her covers. She’d
look at them later, by flashlight.

Susie usually waited until their mom left to crawl into bed
with her sister, but tonight was different. She didn’t want
to waste a second being apart.
Curling up on the window side of Samantha’s bed,
Susie watched Samantha go through her funny bedtime
ritual.
First, Samantha had to sit at her desk and write a
paragraph, at least a paragraph, in her diary. Then she had
to go across the hall to the bathroom and brush her teeth.
Then she had to pee, and then she had to drink half a glass
of water. “That will just make you have to pee again,”
Susie had told her sister one night. Samantha just stuck
out her tongue.
After the water, Samantha touched her toes four times,
and she brushed her hair fifty times. Then she went to her
doll bin and said goodnight to her dolls. Then she got in
bed.
None of these things were funny by themselves, but
the way Samantha did them all the same way every night,
in the same order, was funny. At least to Susie.
Tonight, the routine was a tiny bit different because
Samantha got her small flashlight from her nightstand
 COMING HOME

drawer. When Samantha slid under the covers, she pushed

the flashlight under the covers with the drawings she’d
stuffed under there, and the drawings crinkled. Susie
listened to them rustle as Samantha shoved them further
down and then arranged herself sort of like a sleeping
princess. Finally, she called out, “I’m ready, Mom.”
Susie studied Samantha’s profile while they waited for
their mom to come into the room. Samantha had a little
bump on her nose about halfway up from the rounded tip.
Susie liked that bump. Susie didn’t have a bump, and she
thought bumps made noses interesting. She also liked the
little check mark–shaped scar under Samantha’s right eye.
Susie did have a scar, but hers was hidden under the hair
at the top of her forehead.
Susie got her scar because she was doing something
she wasn’t supposed to do. Samantha got her scar because
Susie was doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.
Susie loved to climb on things when she was little.
One of her favorite things to do was get up on the porch
rail and try to walk all the way around the house on it. She
was good at balancing on the rail, but climbing around the
posts that held it up could be hard because her arms were
too short to wrap around them. She fell a lot, usually
landing in her mom’s flower beds and getting in trouble.
Their mom was super-serious about her flowers.
One day, while Susie was brushing off the dirt from
her latest fall, Samantha said, “There’s a better way to get
around the posts.”
“Who says?”
“I say.”
“How do you know?”
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

“I just do, and I know

how to do it, too.”
“Okay, then show
me,” Susie said.
“No. Mom said not to get up there.”
“Well, then why did you say that?”
“Because there’s a better way.”
“But if you’re not going to show it to me, who cares if
there’s a better way? You’re just being a know-it-all.”
“Am not.” “Are too.”
The girls faced off next to the yellow begonias at the
side of the house. Hands on hips, they glared at each
other, practically nose-to-nose. Even though Susie was a
year older, she wasn’t any taller than her sister.
“I think you’re lying about a better way,” Susie said.
“I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
By now, they were yelling.
“What are you girls fighting about?” their mom called.
She was inside the house doing laundry, and Susie
wanted her to stay there so they could keep playing. She
leaned toward Samantha until they touched noses, and she
whispered, “Yes, you are.”
Samantha made her Pekinese face and said, “Fine.”
Then she marched around Susie and climbed up onto the
railing next to one of the posts.
Susie’s mouth dropped open.
Samantha put her back to the post. “See, you have to
go around it facing out, not facing in. That way, the
weight of your butt doesn’t pull you off the railing.”
 COMING HOME

Samantha started to demonstrate, but her foot slipped.

She lost her grip and fell forward off the railing and into
the flower bed. Susie had fallen there before and just
gotten dirty, but somehow Samantha’s face struck the top
of one of the stakes holding up their mom’s clematis.
Samantha was mad at Susie for days after that, not
only because she had to have stitches but because she got
in just as much trouble for being on the railing. “It was her
idea!” Samantha had yelled, pointing at Susie.
“You know better than that,” their mother said to
Samantha. “You don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
She was right about that.
Like now.
“Not that story,” Samantha was saying to their mom.
“I want you to read the one about the happy ghost.”
Susie smiled. This had become Samantha’s favorite
story lately.
Susie’s mom looked like she was going to argue, but
then she sighed and picked up the top book from the neat
pile on Samantha’s nightstand. Susie’s mom sat on the
edge of the bed.
Susie wished she could do something for her mom.
She looked so pale … no, more than pale. She looked like
her skin was turning invisible. Susie could see her mom’s
veins crawling over her forehead and up her hands and
arms. They looked like blue worms.
The first time Susie had seen veins like that on an old
lady, she’d thought they were worms, and she’d screamed.
Her mom had explained what the blue jagged lines were.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

“In a tall, old house, on top of a tall, old mountain, the

tall, old ghost floated through the main hall,” Susie’s mom
began reading.
Susie plumped the pillow under her head, and scooted
closer to Samantha. Samantha’s breath caught, and she
turned into a Samantha log, as if an evil witch had
suddenly frozen her.
Susie sniffed and backed away. Why was Samantha so
mad at her?
“The tall, old ghost in the tall, old house wasn’t a
pretty ghost,” Susie’s mom read. “But he was a happy
ghost. He was a very, very happy ghost.”
Susie noticed her mom’s eyes were shiny and wet.
Susie also noticed her mom’s voice sounded choked and
crackly.
“Keep going,” Samantha said.
Their mother sighed again.
Susie’s mom returned to the familiar story about the
ghost who was happy because he got to spend forever
with his family … until he found out he wouldn’t spend
forever with them, since they were moving. That part
always made Susie as sad as it made the ghost in the story.
She couldn’t imagine moving out of this house. Who
would take care of Oliver?
Susie’s mom read quickly, until she got to the part
where the ghost found out that if he went away from the
house, to a special place of sparkly light where the truly
happy ghosts hung out, the ghost could never ever be
separated from his family no matter where they went. She
slowed down over that part, and she cleared her throat a
lot.
 COMING HOME

Susie thought it would be very nice to be in a place

where you’d never be separated from your family. She
loved being with her mom and Samantha. Samantha could
be a pain, but she was Susie’s sister.
When the story was done, Susie’s mom stood,
hesitated, and went to the door. “Sleep sweet,” she said.
Susie wished her mom would kiss and hug them
goodnight like she used to. But Samantha had decided
they were too old for that, and she wouldn’t let her mom
do that anymore. Apparently, her mom thought Susie
agreed with Samantha—but she didn’t.
As soon as her mom turned out the light, Samantha
curled onto her side.
“Goodnight, Samantha,” Susie said, but her sister
didn’t respond.
Susie shrugged and curled into a ball facing the
window. She looked at the skinny curved piece of the
moon that peeked into the room. Its light wasn’t bright
enough to see by, but it was bright enough to make a lot of
funny shadows. Two of the shadows looked like dancing
hippopotamuses, and three of them combined to look like
a clown riding a horse. One of them looked a little like …
Susie closed her eyes. She listened to Samantha
breathe, and she wondered if her sister had understood the
drawings. Samantha hadn’t said anything before she
stuffed them under the covers. Why did she even put them
there?
Outside, a dull thud sounded on the porch.
Already?
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Susie didn’t want to leave yet. She was hoping

Samantha would take another look at the drawings. She
just had to figure them out!
The thud was followed by a faint squeak—the sound
of the porch swing moving. Then the thud turned into the
footstep pattern Susie was so used to:
Thud … tap … thud … tap.
Why did that sound make her skin crawl?
Why did she feel like she should know what was out
there? Why did she feel like she had to know?
Susie pushed back the covers and got out of bed as if
something was pulling her from its safety. It was like one
of those tractor beams she’d seen in the space movies her
dad liked to watch. She had no control. She wanted to stay
in the nice warm bed. But instead, she walked out of the
room and down the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs she listened to the footsteps,
and she watched a large shadow pass the dining room
window. Once it passed, she trotted into the kitchen and
opened the back door.
She waited.
Sometimes, Samantha would come and slam the back
door, and they’d go back to bed. But not tonight.
Tonight, Susie could only stand there … listening to
the footsteps come closer and closer. At the last minute,
just before the steps came around the corner, she closed
the kitchen door.
She tried to go back upstairs, but she couldn’t. Instead,
her feet took her to the entryway.
The house had a really big entryway, a “formal”
entryway, her mom called it. She’d told Susie that, in the
 COMING HOME

old days, there used to be a round table in the middle of

the entryway. The table always held a vase full of flowers
from the garden, but Susie’s mom had put the table away
when Susie’s first walking had turned into wild running,
because Susie kept bumping into the table and knocking
off the vase.
“She broke seven vases before I gave up,” Susie’s
mom liked to tell people. She never said it like she was
mad. It seemed to make her happy for some reason.
Now the big entryway held only a maroon-and-navy-
blue braided rug. Susie went to the middle of the rug and
waited.
When the shadows shifted outside and the shape
circling the house approached the front door, Susie
stepped forward and opened it.
As Susie knew she would be, Chica stood tall and stiff
outside the front door. The porch light played with
Chica’s yellow body, making it look like the animatronic
was breathing. Susie looked up at Chica’s pinkish-
purplish eyes. Did Chica’s big black eyebrows just move?
Susie looked down quickly. Chica’s orange feet were
planted on the WELCOME mat, one foot over the W, and
one foot over the M. As always, Susie hesitated. But then
she did as she knew she must. She held out her hand and
let Chica enclose her stiff, cold fingers over her own.
Chica turned and walked toward the steps leading
down to the leafcovered front lawn. Susie had no choice
but to go along. Now the small taps of her own footsteps
joined with Chica’s. And leaves crunched under their feet
as they left Susie’s house behind them.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

In hushed stillness, Samantha listened to be sure her

mother was in her room. She had to listen hard because
the thick walls blocked little sounds. Eventually, though,
she heard a creak she recognized as her mother’s bed. She
waited a few more minutes before turning on the
flashlight under her covers and reaching for the drawings.
Samantha almost didn’t need to see them. They’d been
on her mind since the moment they appeared. In that time,
she’d let herself admit that she knew the first picture was
of her and Susie. But what did it mean?
Tenting her sheet and blanket, she aimed her flashlight
at the drawing of the little girls.
At first, Samantha thought the flying-haired girl,
Susie, held a mirror, but she quickly realized it was a
magnifying glass. It looked like the one her dad used to
have in his desk drawer in his office, the one he
sometimes let the girls use to look at things up close.
Samantha had never forgotten seeing Oliver’s wood bark
up close. It was like seeing a whole other world. Susie
could name things all she wanted, but Samantha would
rather study them. That’s what she used the magnifying
glass for—close-up study. Susie, though, used it to hunt.
After Susie used the glass to look at a caterpillar up
close, she decided to use it to find “teeny-tiny” insects in
the lawn. She was sure she was going to find something
no one had ever seen before. When Samantha used the
glass to look at Oliver’s bark, Susie grabbed it and aimed
 COMING HOME

it at a different part of his trunk. “Maybe we’ll find some

elves,” she said.
Okay, so if Susie was holding a magnifying glass, she
was looking for something.
But what? The floating baby?
Oh. No, not a baby. The floating thing was a doll.
Samantha frowned. If Susie was looking for a doll,
there was only one doll missing.
It had to be Gretchen. So Susie wanted her back.
But what about the chick? What was that? Samantha
didn’t understand the toothy chick.
And what did the other drawing mean?
Samantha aimed her flashlight at the second drawing.
It was just as she remembered: three panels with the
flying-haired girl walking away from a door in the first
two, just the door in the third, and moons that were a little
bigger in each panel. What did that mean?
What if the moons getting bigger meant that each
panel was a different day? Like tonight, tomorrow night,
and the next night.
Samantha thought about her sister, the doll, and the
moons.
She got it! Turning off the flashlight, she thought,
Susie’s only going to be here for two more nights.
She was pretty sure she had it right. But the chick …
“What’s the chick there for?” she whispered.
Susie, of course, didn’t answer, because she was gone.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Samantha’s alarm woke her before the sun came up.

Thankfully, she was a light sleeper, so it didn’t take much
volume for her to hear it, and she was sure it wouldn’t
disturb her mom. Her mom had trouble going to sleep, but
once she was asleep, she had just as much trouble waking
up. Samantha had overheard her mom telling Jeanie that
she could only sleep with the help of pills. The pills
seemed to make mornings really hard, and Samantha had
learned not to talk to her mom before school.
Once, Samantha had forgotten part of a school project.
She and her mom were rushing around already because
her mom had overslept. They had finally run out of the
house and to the car, and her mom had driven only as far
as the bottom of their driveway, when Samantha realized
what she’d left behind in her room.
“I have to go back,” she said.
Her mom hit the brakes so hard Samantha’s head shot
forward and back. She figured her mom would quickly
drive back up to the house. Instead, her mom bent over
and pounded her head several times on the steering wheel.
She whispered something over and over while she did it.
Samantha thought it sounded like, “I can’t do this.”
Now Samantha laid in the dark, holding her alarm
clock for several minutes. She didn’t like getting up early.
Susie had been the one who always wanted to hop out of
bed and start playing before the sun was up.
Susie was like their dad, who said the best part of the day
was just before dawn when everything was in a “state of
possibility.”
“Smell that air,” he’d say to Samantha on the few
mornings he was able to talk her into getting up early.
 COMING HOME

“Look at that pink light.” “It’s so pretty,” Susie would

squeal.
Not pretty enough to get up early for, Samantha
thought.
This morning, though, it wasn’t the smell or the color
that got Samantha out of bed. It was what she needed to
do.
She only had two more days to find Gretchen.
She didn’t know what would happen if she didn’t find
Gretchen. She didn’t understand why a missing doll could
mean so much to her dead sister. Susie was a ghost …
wasn’t she? Why would a ghost want something like a
doll?
But it didn’t matter. Susie wanted it, and after what
had happened to her, she deserved to get what she wanted.
Samantha threw back the covers.
Cold air hit her bare legs, and goose bumps prickled
her skin. She ignored her desire to dive back into bed.
Instead she stood, letting the thick, soft material of her
blue flannel nightgown block some of the cold air. She
stuffed her feet into the leather moccasin slippers Jeanie
had gotten for her (Samantha didn’t like fuzzy animal
slippers like Susie did), grabbed the clothes she’d laid out
during the night, and trotted into the bathroom on tiptoe.
Thankful for the little space heater that sat on a sturdy
footstool by the bathroom door, Samantha turned it on and
stood in front of it a couple minutes to warm up. Then she
did a short version of her morning routine before getting
dressed.
After she realized what Susie’s drawings meant,
Samantha had tried to stay awake long enough for her
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

mom’s pills to work so she could start looking for

Gretchen. But she kept hearing her mom’s bed creak,
which meant her mom was not deeply asleep. Samantha’s
eyes had started to close, so she’d set her alarm for the
morning.
When she finished in the bathroom, Samantha turned
off the heater and opened the door. Stepping into the
hallway, she stood on the dark-green braided runner and
thought about where Susie might have hidden Gretchen.
Samantha glanced at Susie’s closed door. She shook
her head. The doll wouldn’t be in there.
When Samantha and Susie had fought about Gretchen,
Susie was as upset as she could possibly get. She wouldn’t
have put the doll in her room, where Samantha could
easily find it. And even if it was in there, that was going to
be the last place Samantha looked. She hadn’t been in
Susie’s room since that horrible night when …
Samantha went down the hall toward the stairs. If she
was going to look for the doll, she would do it in an
organized way. It made sense to start at the bottom of the
house and work up. Besides, on the first floor, there was
less chance she’d wake her mom.
The porch light’s pale yellow glow stretched up the
stairs through the lead-glass window in the front door. The
light was mottled and eerie.
“How can glass be lead?” Susie had asked when their
dad told them what the glass in the door was called.
Samantha smiled now as she walked down the stairs.
Susie was always asking questions like that. Samantha
was never really sure if Susie was being funny or dumb.
 COMING HOME

At the bottom of the stairs, Samantha looked both

ways. She could go either into the dining room or the
living room. Besides the kitchen, the only other rooms on
the first floor were a small bathroom and her dad’s office.
She doubted the doll would be in either of those rooms,
because there weren’t any hiding places in there.
She started in the dining room.
This dining room was at least double the size of any
dining room Samantha had seen on TV. She couldn’t
really compare it with other people’s dining rooms
because she hadn’t seen any others. She didn’t have any
friends. When Susie was alive, Samantha was sometimes
invited to parties that Susie went to, but she stopped going
after attending a couple. They were stupid and boring, and
the kids were always mean to her.
Samantha wiped her forehead to brush away her
memories. She turned on the wall switch so the light
fixture over the table would come on low. The light was a
big metal wheel with fake candles along its rim. Jeanie
said the light fixture was “farmhouse style,” which made
sense.
“Why is it called a fixture?” Susie asked when they
were little. “It doesn’t fix anything.”
Samantha crossed to the tall, carved hutch that sat
behind one side of the long, dark dining table. She opened
the lower doors. The hutch was full of china and crystal—
dishes and glasses their family never used. She peered
behind the stacks of plates and bowls. No Gretchen.
Moving on to the long low cabinet at the back of the
room—the “sideboard,” Jeanie called it—Samantha
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

opened all the compartments and found lots of serving

platters and vases. No Gretchen.
She went to the front of the room and opened the lid of
the window seat. It was filled with tablecloths and
napkins. Just to be sure, she dug under and between the
stacks. No doll.
She went into the living room next. Outside, on the
street, she heard the roar of the garbage truck emptying
trash cans in front of all the houses. She chewed her lower
lip. Would the garbage truck wake up her mom?
She’d better hurry.
The living room was big and filled with puffy, comfy
furniture. It was too bad they hardly used it.
Samantha looked longingly at the long plaid sofa that
faced the stone fireplace at one end of the room. Two
solid burgundy loveseats joined the sofa to make a U
shape. Filled in at the corners with chunky oak end tables
and centering around a square green ottoman, this was the
place where the family used to play games by the fire.
At the other end of the living room was another big
sofa, and a couple of recliner chairs faced a flat-screen
TV. Sometimes, her mom would let Samantha watch that
TV, but most of the time, she was supposed to watch
shows on the computer in her room.
Around the edges of the room, built-in oak shelves and
cabinets were stuffed with books and pictures in frames.
Samantha remembered Susie’s feelings about those
shelves and some of the other furniture.
“Oak?!” Susie said one day when she was about six.
“Oak, like Oliver?”
 COMING HOME

“Furniture is made from wood,” their dad said, “and

wood comes from trees.”
“So they kill trees to make furniture?” Susie squealed.
Their parents had spent most of an hour trying to
convince her the trees didn’t feel pain when they were cut
down. They never succeeded. Susie was sure the trees
hurt.
Samantha started searching all the cabinets, beginning
at the front corner and working clockwise around. When
she didn’t find anything, she felt behind all the books on
the shelves. But she could only reach the bottom three
rows.
She trotted into the kitchen pantry and got the
stepladder that was kept in there. Defying her orderly
plan, she searched the pantry while she was there. She
found evidence that someone, other than her, had been
hiding sweets: an old hardened bag of marshmallows, two
half-eaten packages of chocolate chip cookies, an
unopened box of old-fashioned donuts with a sell-it-by
date that was a year ago, and a metal container of hard
butterscotch candies that were all stuck together. But she
didn’t find Gretchen.
Dragging the stepladder back to the living room, she
climbed up and down it fourteen times to look behind
books and pictures. She found nothing but a lot of dust,
which made her sad, because her mother used to want the
house to be “spic-and-span.” She remembered how the
house used to smell like lemons from the spray her mom
used when she dusted. Now, it just smelled like dust.
When she’d exhausted all the living room hiding
spots, Samantha looked at the big wooden grandfather
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

clock in the back hall. She had to get ready for school
soon, and she had to wake her mom.
Before dragging the stepladder back into the kitchen,
she peeked her head into the office. The only potential
hiding place here was her dad’s empty desk. She hurried
in and opened all the drawers and looked in the cubbyhole
where she’d once hung out by her dad’s knees when she
was really small. Nothing.
There was nothing to see in the entire room—just the
desk and the empty shelves. The only other thing
Samantha saw as she rushed from the room was a funny
little piece of carpet stuck under the front edge of one of
the shelves.
Risking a search of the kitchen before waking her
mom, Samantha opened one cabinet and drawer after
another, feeling behind dishes, pots and pans, plastic
containers, baskets, and utensils. Gretchen remained
hidden.

Samantha felt Susie’s presence as soon as she got into the

minivan after school that day. How did Susie do it?
Samantha was sure Susie hadn’t been around that
morning, and she knew Susie was never in school.
Samantha ignored her sister’s insistent presence and
stared at the back of her mom’s messy hair. Did her mom
know Susie was here?
Samantha wondered if she should ask.
Maybe not while her mom was driving.
 COMING HOME

When her mom pulled into the driveway, Samantha

turned to stare at Oliver, almost as if someone was making
her do it. Usually, she ignored Oliver. Was Susie making
her look? How?
Oliver only had a few leaves left. Maybe she’d come
out and count them before dinner. No. She had to keep
looking for Gretchen.
“Beans and franks for dinner?” her mom asked.
Something that felt like a wave flowed through
Samantha. The wave was dark and kind of oily. It wanted
to cling to Samantha the way sadness had clung to her
since Susie was gone.
She thought the wave was emotion. But was it hers or
Susie’s?
Susie loved beans and franks. Was she sad that she
couldn’t have any? Did they have food where she’d gone
when she died?
“Beans and franks are okay,” Samantha said. “Can we
have pineapple, too?”
In her mind, she saw Susie screw up her face in
disgust. Did Susie put that image there? Samantha had
always liked pineapple with beans, and Susie thought that
was gross.
Their mom gave Samantha a half smile. “Sure.”

Susie followed Samantha as she hurried from one room to

the next in search of Gretchen. Samantha had been
searching for Gretchen ever since they’d gotten home.
Susie’s drawings had worked!
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Unfortunately, Samantha wasn’t having any luck. This

was partly because she was looking in dumb places.
For instance, Samantha had tried to find Gretchen in
the hole in Oliver’s tree trunk. Shining her light into the
hole and muttering about elves, Samantha had held her
breath and stuck her hand deep down inside the tree. Susie
was laughing the whole time. Samantha had believed her
when she’d talked about elves!
Now they were inside going all through the house. The
sound of running water and clinking pans and silverware
made it clear their mom was still in the kitchen.
Obviously, Samantha was trying to search upstairs before
their mom finished fixing dinner.
She started with their mom’s studio.
“I would never have hidden Gretchen in here,” Susie
told Samantha when she opened the studio door.
Samantha paid no attention to Susie. This wasn’t a
surprise; Samantha was being stubborn.
Why couldn’t Susie remember where she put the doll?
She knew where she put it the first time she hid it. It
had been in her room, under her bed, which she knew was
a very unoriginal hiding place. A couple hours later, she’d
moved it. But to where?
Susie stood in the doorway of her mom’s studio while
Samantha scurried around, digging in piles of fabric
stacked on pale-yellow shelves, in mounds of yarn heaped
in huge wicker baskets under a row of windows, and in
canvas bins of wool sitting next to their mother’s loom.
Susie thought all of this was very brave because one of the
standing house rules was that the studio was off-limits.
Samantha even opened the door to the storage room on the
 COMING HOME

far end of the studio. When she went in to search, Susie

didn’t follow.
Susie loved to play and be silly, but she wasn’t crazy
brave. The storage room held their mom’s finished work,
the stuff she sold to make money. They were never
allowed to touch it. Once, when Susie was five, their mom
had left one of her “tapestries” on the dining room table
because someone was coming to pick it up. Curious, Susie
went in the dining room, climbed up onto the chair, and
looked at the tapestry. It was covered with fluffy tufts of
soft round fabric that delighted her. She had to touch
them. Forgetting she’d just eaten chocolate chip cookies,
Susie put her sticky fingers all over the light-peach-
colored tufts. When she saw the chocolatey smudges, she
tried to wipe them off, which spread them around even
more. This made her cry, and it scared her enough to try
and run from the room. In her hurry, she ended up
knocking over a chair and falling. Trying to catch herself,
she grabbed the tapestry, and she still hit her head on the
table, which made her shriek. When her mother ran into
the room, Susie was on the floor with the chocolate-
smeared tapestry in one hand, bleeding onto another part
of the tapestry from a gash on her forehead.
Her mom had been so angry. It had scared Susie. It
scared her so much she never went anywhere near her
mother’s work again.
Gretchen was not in her mother’s studio. But Susie
could only wait for Samantha to figure that out on her
own.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Once she did, Samantha moved on to their mom’s

bedroom. First, she paused in the hallway to listen. More
sounds from the kitchen encouraged Samantha to enter.
“Gretchen’s not in here,” Susie said as Samantha got
down to peek under her mom’s bed. The dark-blue bed
skirt draped over Samantha’s head like a scarf.
Samantha popped up off the floor, tilted her head to
listen for a second, and then went into her mother’s closet.
Samantha began sweeping aside hanging clothes, opening
and closing shoe boxes.
“Don’t you think she would have found it by now if it
was in here?” Susie said.
Samantha didn’t answer.
Samantha looked up at the shelves above the hanging
clothes. “You would just crawl up the racks,” Samantha
muttered.
Susie smiled. “Yes, I would.”
Samantha turned in a circle, frowning. Spotting the
bench that sat at the end of their mom’s bed, Samantha
dragged it into the closet.
Susie felt bad just standing there watching. But
Samantha was wasting her time.
Samantha stood on the bench. Even on tiptoes, she had
to strain to see the top shelves of her mom’s closet.
Finishing with the closet, she moved to their mom’s
dresser. Susie chewed on her thumb. She was sure
Samantha was going to get yelled at for what she was
doing. Samantha had to know that, too, but she wasn’t
letting that stop her. Samantha searched through all of her
mom’s underwear, stockings, socks, and scarves.
“Samantha!”
 COMING HOME

“What?!” Samantha squealed, slamming shut the last

dresser drawer.
“Dinner in five.”
“Okay!”
Samantha ran to her mom’s nightstand and searched it,
then did the same with her dad’s. His was empty. Her
mom’s was stuffed full of books, fabric samples, and pills.
Gretchen was not hiding among them.
“I told you so,” Susie said as she followed Samantha
from her mom’s room. She knew she was being a snarky
baby, but she couldn’t help it. She could almost hear a
ticking countdown in her head.

“Samantha has been snooping through my things,”

Patricia told Jeanie over the phone.
Discovering her materials had been rifled through,
Patricia had decided to call her friend instead of yelling at
her daughter.
“What things?”
“From what I can tell, all my things,” Patricia said.
She pressed three fingers to her temple. “Samantha knows
better than that.”
“Exactly. So she must have had a good reason,” Jeanie
said.
“What reason could she possibly have?”
“I don’t know, but I know she had to have one.
Nothing’s missing or damaged?”
“Not that I can tell.”
“Then let it go.”
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

“But …”
“Seriously, Patricia. It’s time to let it all go.”

Chica came at midnight. As usual, Susie felt pulled from

Samantha’s bed. As usual, she felt compelled to wander
around the house and watch Chica’s dark shape circle
outside. As usual, she opened the back door, then closed it
and went to the front.
As usual, she wondered why she had to do what she
had to do. Why did she have to leave her family?
Susie opened the front door, and the night breeze blew
a couple of Oliver’s leaves past Chica’s feet and into the
house. The night was brighter than the previous couple
nights because the moon was fuller. The clouds were
gone, too. Stars were so thick in the sky they reminded
Susie of the powdered sugar her mom used to put on the
chocolate crinkle cookies she made at Christmastime. In
some places, the stars blurred into an expanse of brilliant
white light.
Susie expected Chica to take her hand, as usual.
Instead, Chica lifted a hand and pushed Susie aside. Then
Chica walked into the house.

A nightmare woke up Samantha. Her eyes flew open, and

she clutched her blankets, listening to her heart pound.
It was just a dream, she told herself. She felt her heart
start to slow down.
 COMING HOME

Then it sped up again, and Samantha sat up.

It wasn’t just a dream!
“Chica,” she whispered.
Her dream had just told her more about the chick in
Susie’s drawing. The chick was Chica. Chica had been
chasing Samantha in the dream. Samantha had been trying
to move a shelf in her dad’s office, and Chica had been
stalking her.
Samantha gasped. Her dad’s office!
That’s where … Samantha froze when
she heard sounds.
Thud … tap … thud … tap.
Samantha started to shake.
Those were the sounds. They were the same sounds
Samantha had heard so many times over the last few
months, the sounds she’d tried to convince herself she’d
imagined.
She hadn’t imagined them.
Those were the sounds.
Except they weren’t exactly the same.
They were closer.
Much closer.
Samantha had always thought the sounds she’d heard
came from outside the house. Now she knew they were
inside, and coming closer.

When Chica started up the stairs, Susie tried to follow.

But she couldn’t. It was like she was glued to the
doorway, trapped there by invisible chains.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

“Chica, stop!” she yelled.

Chica didn’t stop. She climbed slowly but steadily up
the stairs.
She was going for Samantha; Susie was sure of it.
Susie struggled to free herself from whatever held her in
place. She tried and tried to move. Then she started to cry,
and she did the only thing she could do to help her sister.
“Samantha!” she shouted. “Run!”

Samantha vaulted out of her bed and ran to her bedroom

door. Could she get to her mom’s room before whatever
was coming up the stairs got to the top?
Opening her door a crack, she looked toward the
stairs. No. It was too late. A bright yellow man-sized
chick with horrible sharp teeth was one step from the top,
just a few feet from Samantha’s door.
She slammed her door and looked around her room.
As the footsteps came closer, she dove under her bed.
When the door started opening, Samantha went rigid
and held her breath as orange metal feet crossed the wood
floor.
This couldn’t be real.
But it was.
Trembling, Samantha watched the feet circle her bed.
She couldn’t hold her breath any longer, so she carefully
let in a little air.
The feet stopped.
They turned.
 COMING HOME

They began coming back around the bed. Then they

paused.
Samantha heard a terrifying whirring sound, and
suddenly, the bedspread hanging over the side of the bed
shifted. A yellow face with purplish eyes and deadly teeth
peered at Samantha.
Samantha writhed away from the face, squirming
toward the opposite side of the bed. Once out from under
the bed, she looked over her shoulder, wondering if she
could get past to flee her room before the chick
straightened …
No. It was already standing, staring.
Samantha ran to the window. She tried not to listen to
the thud … tap … thud … tap as she fumbled with the
window lock.
Tremors, like butterfly wings, fluttered between her
shoulder blades. She ignored them.
The steps muffled as they crossed her rug. She only
had seconds.
Crawling through the window, Samantha gripped the
interlocking diamonds of the trellis, and swung her legs
out. The sound of ripping fabric made her look back
through the window.
The chick was right there! It held a piece of her pale-
blue nightgown in its hand.
Samantha whimpered and scrambled down the trellis.
Keeping her gaze on the vine that clung to the trellis, she
went as fast as she could. She was in her stocking feet, so
the wood felt sharp against her soles, but she didn’t care.
She also didn’t look up. She didn’t want to know if
she was being chased.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

When her feet encountered a rough, solid surface, she

knew she’d reached the porch roof. Then she did look up.
Nothing was coming down the trellis after her. Good.
But not that good. If she wasn’t fast enough, Chica
could go back through the house and get her when she
reached the porch.
Chica.
Samantha’s mind had finally forced her to see what
she hadn’t wanted to see. The chick in the house was
Chica.
In her drawing, Susie had been trying to say that Chica
didn’t want Susie to have Gretchen.
Why?
Samantha didn’t know. But she knew she was right.
Chica was coming after her because she was looking
for Gretchen.
Samantha gritted her teeth as she leaned over the edge
of the porch roof to grab one of the porch posts. Could she
grip it well enough to drop her legs down to the railing?
She had to. For Susie.
Samantha was going to get down and get back inside
the house. Then she was going to find Gretchen …
because thanks to her dream, she knew where to look.
But could she get there before Chica?

Susie didn’t know how much time she was caught in the
doorway listening to the sounds of Chica’s footsteps
upstairs. She heard several other thumps, too, but she
 COMING HOME

never heard Samantha scream. She hoped that was a good

sign, but she wasn’t sure.
She thought she’d be in the doorway forever. Time
went on and on and on.
Then she saw Chica at the top of the stairs. She was
coming back down. And she didn’t have Samantha.
If she could have moved, Susie would have fallen to the
ground in relief.
Instead, all she could do was watch Chica come down the
steps.
Then, suddenly, Samantha appeared from outside!
Her face white and her eyes wide, her hair in a tangle,
Samantha rushed past Susie.
Samantha’s head was down, and her gaze was on her
feet. She didn’t look at Susie. She didn’t even look up the
stairs at Chica.
Susie watched Samantha dart into the dining room and
disappear toward the kitchen. Where was Samantha
going?

Samantha didn’t know why she didn’t think of it before.

Maybe it was because, even though she kept thinking
about him, she really wanted to forget her dad. It was bad
enough that Susie got taken from them. At least Susie
didn’t leave on purpose. She didn’t want to leave. She was
taken, and she was murdered. That, Samantha thought, is
a pretty good excuse for leaving the family.
Her dad, though, didn’t have to leave. He left because it
was “too hard.”
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

That was what he’d said. “It’s too hard.”

“But that’s why we need you, Daddy,” she’d said to
him.
He’d just pressed his lips together—something she’d
gotten from him— and said he had to go.
That’s why Samantha was on her own now. Her dad
was gone. Her mother was drugged asleep. Her sister was
dead. If Samantha was going to survive, she’d have to
save herself.
Even though Samantha didn’t look up the stairs, she
knew Chica was there. That’s why she ran toward the
kitchen.
She didn’t know how smart Chica was, but she figured
it was worth trying to fool her. She wanted Chica to
follow her into the kitchen and look for her there. If she’d
judged right, it would give her enough time.
When she reached the kitchen, Samantha turned on the
light. Then she tore through the back entrance of the
kitchen and raced down the connecting hall to her dad’s
office.
In his office, she left the light off. She knew where she
was going.
She ran to the shelf with the carpet piece. She grabbed
the edge of the shelf at chest height, and she tugged on it.
It didn’t move. She bent over and tugged on the one
below. No movement. The one above. Stuck. Stretching,
she reached for the one above that. Still nothing.
It has to be! In her frustration, she kicked the shelf
right next to the little carpet piece.
 COMING HOME

And the shelving unit popped free of the wall, opening

out into the room. Susie had been right. A hidden room
had been here all along.
Samantha didn’t wait for the shelf-door to open all the
way. She shouldered through the opening and groped for a
light switch. She found one just inside the opening.
Flipping the switch, she held still and listened.
She could hear Chica’s footsteps in the kitchen. Good.
It worked.
She looked around. The room was filled with all sorts
of bizarre things— dried leaves, rocks, broken glass, old
toys, stacks of papers and books. Samantha didn’t know if
she was looking at Susie’s stash of treasures or her dad’s.
It didn’t matter. It only mattered that Gretchen, her curly
hair thick with dust but her polka-dot dress as bright as it
was the day she disappeared, was sitting on top of one of
the leaning book towers.
Samantha grabbed the doll and darted back through
her dad’s office. When she reached the doorway, she
looked to her right. Chica was coming down the hall; she
was only a few feet away.
Samantha fled through the living room and out
through the front door. Panting, she looked out at the yard.
It was empty, of course. She knew where Susie was,
and she knew where Chica was. Only Oliver stood in the
yard—Oliver and his last pale-yellow leaf. Samantha ran
to him, and hid behind his huge, solid trunk.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Susie watched Samantha hide behind Oliver, then she

turned and waited for Chica to reach the entryway. What
would Chica do? How could Susie keep Chica away from
Samantha?
It turned out she didn’t have to. When Chica reached
Susie, Chica paused.
Chica held out a hand. Susie’s hand raised and reached
for Chica’s even though that was the last thing she wanted
it to do. She felt the animatronic metal touch her
fingertips.
“But I’m not ready!” Susie told Chica.
Chica looked down, and her teeth gleamed in the
moonlight. Susie shied back. Chica’s fingers gripped
Susie’s tightly, and Susie couldn’t pull them away. When
Chica turned, Susie felt herself being dragged from her
home.
She knew she had to stop resisting. She had to go along.
So she stopped struggling, and she began calmly
walking next to Chica.

Samantha watched Chica take her sister’s hand, and she

watched her sister and Chica cross the porch, come down
the steps, and walk toward Oliver.
Samantha tensed. What should she do? What could she
do?
Before she could decide, Chica and Susie disappeared.
Not thinking, Samantha screamed, “Wait!”
 COMING HOME

Susie heard her sister’s scream. Chica didn’t pause, but

Susie did. However much Chica was willing her to keep
walking, something equally strong was willing her to go
back. Caught in the middle, Susie, once again, couldn’t
move.
“Susie!” Samantha wailed her sister’s name.
“I have to go back,” Susie said. “I have to.”
She waited, holding her breath. Then she felt
something shift in the air around her.
Chica let go of her hand.

Samantha stepped out from behind Oliver and stood next

to him, Gretchen dangling from her right hand. Tears
filled her eyes.
She was too late.
No. What was that?
The leaves near Oliver’s trunk swirled up from the
ground and then out away from Oliver. The night was
breezy, but the wind wasn’t going in circles. It also was
blowing toward Oliver, not away from him.
Samantha looked up at his sole surviving leaf again.
And that’s when Susie suddenly appeared in front of
Oliver.
She looked the same way she’d looked the day she
was abducted. She even wore the same clothes—her
magenta-and-pink striped sweater and the jeans Jeanie had
studded with rhinestones.
Samantha stared at her sister. Then she held out
Gretchen.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Susie opened her mouth like she wanted to say

something. But then she just took the pudgy doll and
clutched it to her chest.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Samantha said.
Susie nodded. She reached out, and Samantha didn’t
even hesitate. She stepped into the offered hug.
Susie felt as solid as she had when she was alive.
Maybe even more so.
Samantha was never a hugger. She usually only half
hugged Susie when Susie insisted on a hug. Now she
hugged Susie with all of her strength. “I love you,” she
whispered.
She felt a wave of emotion flow over her, like the one
she’d felt in the car. But this one wasn’t dark and oily.
This one was light, and it was warm and fizzy. Samantha
was pretty sure this wave was a wave of love.
Susie let go, and Samantha brushed at the tears that
ran down her cheeks. Susie smiled and then turned to
Chica. Samantha watched Chica take her sister’s hand.
Then she watched Chica lead Susie, and Gretchen, away.
They disappeared just as Oliver dropped his last leaf.
“Goodbye,” Samantha whispered.
Samantha felt the letting go. And she felt the promise
of something new.
Susie was leaving, yes. But this wasn’t an end.
Samantha knew it was a beginning. Just like the happy
ghost in the story, Susie was going where she could be
with her family forever.
COMING HOME
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Scott Cawthon is the author of the bestselling video game

series Five Nights at Freddy’s, and while he is a game
designer by trade, he is first and foremost a storyteller at
heart. He is a graduate of the Art Institute of Houston and
lives in Texas with his wife and four sons.

Andrea Rains Waggener is an author, novelist,

ghostwriter, essayist, short story writer, screenwriter,
copywriter, editor, poet, and a proud member of Kevin
Anderson & Associates’ team of writers. In a past she
prefers not to remember much, she was a claims adjuster,
JCPenney’s catalog order-taker (before computers!),
appellate court clerk, legal writing instructor, and lawyer.
Writing in genres that vary from her chick-lit novel,
Alternate Beauty, to her dog how-to book, Dog Parenting,
to her self-help book, Healthy, Wealthy, & Wise, to
ghostwritten memoirs to ghostwritten YA, horror,
mystery, and mainstream fiction projects, Andrea still
manages to find time to watch the rain and obsess over her
dog and her knitting, art, and music projects. She lives
with her husband and said dog on the Washington Coast,
and if she isn’t at home creating something, she can be
found walking on the beach.
 COMING HOME

Elley Cooper writes fiction for young adults and adults.

She has always loved horror and is grateful to Scott
Cawthon for letting her spend time in his dark and twisted
universe. Elley lives in Tennessee with her family and
many spoiled pets and can often be found writing books
with Kevin Anderson & Associates.
Kelly Parra is the author of YA novels Graffiti Girl,
Invisible Touch, and other supernatural short stories. In
addition to her independent works, Kelly works with
Kevin Anderson & Associates on a variety of projects.
She resides in Central Coast, California, with her husband
and two children.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Jake looked down at himself and tried to get used to

the fact that “himself” wasn’t anything like the
himself he’d been used to being before. Last he could
remember, he’d been a little boy. He hadn’t been a
boy in a while … he didn’t know how long.

So it wasn’t totally weird that he wasn’t in a little

boy’s body anymore. But it was still pretty weird that he
was in a thing that wasn’t alive. It was also weird that he
couldn’t remember exactly who he’d been when he was a
little boy. He had vague bits of memories, but they didn’t
make sense. Like, he could remember thinking it would be
fun to come back to life as a puppy or a kitten. But why
would he think that?
Now here he was inside a metal thing. He didn’t know
enough about anything to understand what it was. But he
did know he wasn’t alone. He was sharing this strange
space.
It was like waking up in in another family’s house.
“Hello?” Jake said.
“Who’s talking?” a child’s voice asked. The child
sounded a little like a boy Jake used to know in school, a
boy who was always talking back to the teacher and
getting himself in trouble.
“Oh, hi,” Jake said. “I’m Jake. Who’re you?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Um, I was just being friendly.”
Jake remembered learning that the way to deal with
kids like this was to let them be as tough as they wanted to
be.
 COMING HOME

“Sorry. I’m Andrew.” The child’s voice was rough. He

didn’t sound like he was saying his name. It sounded like
he was throwing down a challenge.
“Hi, Andrew,” Jake said.
“Why can’t I see anything?” Andrew demanded.
“You can’t see the truck?” Jake asked.
“If I could see the truck, do you think I’d say I can’t
see anything?” Jake thought Andrew sounded angry.
Very angry.
“Sorry,” Jake said. “Um, so we’re in the back of what
I think might be a trash truck? We’re with a lot of junk.”
“Figures,” Andrew said.
“How come?” Jake asked.
“Story of my life.”
“What do you mean?”
Andrew ignored the question. “How come you can see
and I can’t?” He sounded like he was gearing up for a
tantrum.
“I’m really sorry. I’m not sure,” Jake said. “I mean, I
know we’re in some kind of metal thing, I don’t know,
some kind of entity or something? I can see what’s around
it, but I don’t know how I got here, and so I don’t know
how you got here. And I sure don’t know why I can see
and you can’t. But maybe I can help you see. Do you
know how you got here?” Andrew was silent for a minute.
Jake waited.
“Well, it might have had something to do with the
stuff I was in?” “What stuff?” Jake asked.
“How is it any of your business?” Andrew snarled.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

Jake sighed. “It’s not. I just thought it would be nice to

be friends, and friends get to know each other. So I just
wondered what you meant by being in stuff.”
The truck ground to a stop, and there was silence.
“I haven’t had a friend in a long time,” Andrew said.
His tone was defensive, as if he was daring Jake to make
fun of him.
“I’m so sorry,” Jake said. His memories were
disjointed and muddled, but he remembered he’d had
friends. “That’s awful.”
Jake wanted to know more, but he knew better than to
keep asking questions.
The back of the truck opened, and a guy in coveralls
started unloading all the junk. “I could be your friend,”
Jake said. “Why would you want to be my friend?” “I just
like making friends,” Jake said.
“So how do we do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make friends!” Andrew made an exasperated puffing
sound. “Geez, you’re dense.”
Jake felt like he was making first contact with a new
species, like in scifi movies he could remember watching.
“We talk to each other, tell each other things and find
out about each other, and then we become friends,” Jake
said. He figured that was close enough.
“Like what things?” Andrew asked.
“Whatever you want.” Jake wanted to ask again about
what Andrew meant by being in stuff, but he waited.
Andrew was silent for a few seconds. “Have you ever
been so angry you just wanted everyone to know it?”
 COMING HOME

Jake thought about it and remembered a time he was

really angry because he had to leave school. But why? It
didn’t matter.
“I’ve been really angry,” he said, “but I guess I didn’t
need everyone to know it. But I had someone to talk to.
Did you?” “No.”
Jake wasn’t sure what to say, so he stayed quiet.
“Did you want to get back at the person you were
angry with?” Andrew asked.
“I don’t think it was a person. I think it had to do with
being sick or something. My memories are kind of fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy. Yeah. So are mine,” Andrew said. “But I do
remembering wanting to get back at someone who hurt
me. I think I attached myself to him. I got into his soul,
made sure he couldn’t move on when he shoulda died. I
remember I wanted him to suffer, the way he made me
suffer. But I don’t remember what he did. I just know I
hung on, no matter what they did to him to try and save
him. I wanted him to hurt!”
At one point, Jake couldn’t hold back any longer. He
blurted, “That’s terrible that you felt so bad.”
“Shut up. Just shut up,” Andrew yelled. “I don’t need
your stupid sympathy!”
“Sorry.”
Several seconds passed.
Then Andrew had more to say. “I remember they tried
to kill him. But I wasn’t going to let him go until I was
ready. It’s weird. I remember being so angry and
determined, but I don’t know why.”
It hurt Jake to be so close to this much hate. But he
wouldn’t have left if he could have. Andrew needed him.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

“You still there?” Andrew asked Jake.

“Yes. I’m listening. You told me to shut up.”
Andrew laughed. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”
Jake was quiet. Then he said, “So where is the person
now, the one you’re angry with?”
“I’m not sure. I know I was in him when we got to this
big place with lots of cool stuff. All I can remember after
that is wanting to be everywhere. I can remember being
all over the place in all kinds of things. And I remember
this animatronic dog, Fetch. He broke down in a
thunderstorm. Sucky toy. Not made well.” Andrew made
a raspberry sound. Then he sighed. “So I think I was in
Fetch, sort of. I think that’s how I got here. I don’t know
why I think that. I just do.”
Jake stayed silent. He was still watching the man
unload the truck.
“You can talk now,” Andrew said.
“I don’t know what to say,” Jake said. “I feel bad that
you went through something that was really bad.”
The man reached for Jake and Andrew’s container.
Jake had been wondering what to do about the man. He
thought moving what they were in would startle the man.
But now he didn’t really have a choice. He didn’t want the
man to throw Andrew and him away.
So Jake moved, which meant the thing they were in
moved. Jake saw the man stare in alarm. Wanting to
comfort the man, Jake reached out to touch his face.
The man screamed and grabbed his head. Collapsing
on the gravel behind the truck, the man’s body began to
wither like he was a sponge being wrung out by an
invisible hand. As his body sucked in on itself, his eyes
 COMING HOME

fell inward, disappearing. And black streaks ran down the

man’s cheeks.
“What just happened?” Jake shouted. He jumped out
of the truck and stared at the bald man’s body.
“I can’t see, dummy,” Andrew snapped. “What are
you talking about?”
“I just thought about touching a guy’s face, and he
died! Why’d he die?!” Jake realized he was screaming,
but he couldn’t help himself.
“Why’re you asking me?” Andrew was sounding
defensive again.
“The other guy died, too. I just remembered,” Jake
said.
“It’s probably me,” Andrew said.
“Could it be Fetch, the dog?” Jake asked.
“Nah, it’s me, I bet.”
“You want to kill people?”
“No!”
“Then why … ?”
“I just want to scare people, okay? Like, you know,
give them a zap.”
“The zap is killing them!”
“Well, that wasn’t what I wanted.”
“Okay.” Jake thought a second. “So if what you’re
doing isn’t doing what you want, maybe it’s doing
something someone else wants. Maybe something else is
here with us.”
“In this thing, you mean?”
“Yeah. Like a hitchhiker or like
a flea on a dog.” “That’s stupid,”
Andrew said.
 FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY`S

“You were a hitchhiker on the man who killed you.

Why can’t someone else hitchhike with us?”
Andrew was silent for second, then he said, “It just
sounds dumb.”
“The thing is,” Jake said, “that if you did do it
somehow, whatever is causing you to do it could be in
everything you got into.”
“I infected them. I remember now.”
“What?”
“I infected everything I threw my anger at.”
“Okay. So everything you infected could hurt people.
Innocent people.”
“Hey, I’m not like that. I just wanted to hurt the bad
guy.”
“But you said you infected stuff with your anger. You
didn’t think that would hurt them?”
“Shut up.”
“Fine, I’ll shut up. But we’re going to go find all the
stuff you infected.”
“How’re you gonna do that?”
“You won’t help me?”
“Why should I?”
Jake thought for a second and then tried something.
He wasn’t sure he could do it. But …
Yes, he could! He could feel Andrew’s thoughts. He’d
be able to find the stuff Andrew infected, even without
Andrew’s help.
 COMING HOME

Copyright © 2020 by Scott Cawthon. All rights reserved.

Photo of TV static: © Klikk/Dreamstime

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First printing 2020

Cover desing by Betsy Peterschmidt

e-ISBN 978-1338-62699-5

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