Dead Flip

by Sara Farizan

Genres: YA Horror; YA LGBT & Pride

Synopsis

Edge-of-your-seat YA horror perfect for fans of Stranger Things
 
Growing up, Cori, Maz, and Sam were inseparable best friends, sharing their love for Halloween, arcade games, and one another. Now it’s 1993, Sam has been missing for six years, and Cori and Maz aren’t speaking anymore. How could they be, when Cori is sure Sam is dead and Maz thinks he may have been kidnapped by a supernatural pinball machine?
 
These days, all Maz wants to do is party, buy CDs at Sam Goody, and run away from his past. Meanwhile, Cori is a homecoming queen, hiding her abiding love of horror movies and her queer self under the bubblegum veneer of a high school queen bee. But when Sam returns—still twelve years old while his best friends are now eighteen—Maz and Cori are thrown back together to solve the mystery of what really happened to Sam the night he went missing. Beneath the surface of that mystery lurk secrets the friends never told one another, then and now. And Sam’s is the darkest of all . . .
 
Award-winning author of If You Could Be Mine and Here to Stay Sara Farizan delivers edge-of-your-seat terror as well as her trademark referential humor, witty narration, and insightful characters.

Publisher: Workman Publishing Company

Print pages: 272

Sample

“They have to leave sometime,” Derek said as we looked at the group of twelve-year-old boys surrounding Street Fighter II in the arcade near the mall’s food court. They were cheering on a guy my age. Dude was taking his time trying to get his K.O. but I was fine with that. Derek didn’t know that I preferred video games on home consoles or that arcades made me uneasy. He was my best friend, but there was a lot we didn’t talk about.

“I think they’re in it to win it,” I said, mimicking Coach Gillis and punching at the air with my fist.

“Want to kill some time on original Street Fighter?” Derek asked.

I looked over toward the game, but I could only focus on the two pinball machines behind it, both neglected in the darkness. I took a deep breath and turned around. I had to get out. “Let’s go to Sam Goody instead.”

“Sure,” Derek said. “I can’t wait for Insecticide to come out.” We turned into the bright light of the food court.

“Eh.” I shrugged. “You can’t party to Nirvana. Except for ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit.’ Then it’s like you read the lyrics and it’s such a bummer. Wreckx-n-Effect, now that’s the future of music.”

“That’s what you said about Kris Kross.”

“Yeah, because ‘Jump’ was genius!” I bounced up and down in front of Derek until I bumped into someone. “Sorry!” I turned around to find I’d gotten in the way of two young women.

One of them, an East Asian girl with streaks of pink in her black hair, combat boots, and a flannel tied around her waist, kept walking. The other stood dead in her tracks, staring at us. She looked a lot like my childhood crush, Tiffany. I blinked a few times before I realized who she was. “Cori. Um . . . hi.” It was all I could manage.

“Hey, Maz,” she said quietly. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.” It had been five years. We hadn’t even really said goodbye. We just stopped talking. Her brown hair, which she’d worn in pigtails when we were kids, was down around her shoulders. She was an inch or two taller than me, wearing a yellow summer dress and a denim jacket, and looked like a white girl right out of Beverly Hills, 90210.

The pink-haired girl doubled back and joined her.

“Looks like our friends have entered a staring contest,” Derek joked to her. “I’m Derek.”

“Janet,” she replied.

I knew I had to say something to keep things breezy, but I couldn’t do that with Cori. She’d see right through it.

“I’m Cori,” she said, extending her hand out to Derek. “It’s nice to meet a friend of Maziyar’s.” It was?

“Cori and I grew up together,” I explained. “We used to be best friends.” I don’t know why I said that. It was as stupid as being freaked out by the arcade.

“Used to be?” Janet asked. I guess Cori had never mentioned me. To be fair, I’d never talked about her, either.

“People change.” Cori’s voice was cool and her friendly smile was a practiced fake. Cori may have transformed into a model, but I could still read all of her facial expressions. “How’s the family?”

“Good, thanks,” I said. “How about yours? How’s Tiffany?”

She grinned—this one for real—and rolled her eyes. “Now how did I know you were going to ask about her?” I chuckled a little. I suppose my thing for her older sister hadn’t been the well-kept secret I thought it was. “Everyone’s fine,” she continued. “Tiffany is still Tiffany. I’ll tell her you said hello.”

I saw her eyes dart around my face. Maybe she was doing the same thing I was. Noticing how much I’d changed and how much I’d stayed the same.

“How about we continue this reunion over an Orange Julius?” Derek suggested. Going to an all-boys school like Carter Prep made meeting girls an unmissable opportunity.

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Janet said, folding her arms across her chest. “And Cori promised me a guy-free evening. Didn’t you, Cori?”

I saw Cori blush a little. It was slight but totally there.

“No sweat. We’ve got stuff to do, too,” I said. We hadn’t hung out in five years. What was another five?

“It was good to see you, Maz,” Cori said before Janet dragged her away.

I didn’t call after her to tell her it’d been good to see her, too. There wasn’t any point.

“Who doesn’t like an Orange Julius?” Derek asked. He turned to me. “All good?”

“Yeah,” I lied as I watched Cori walk away. She didn’t look back.

“‘Wolfman’s got nards!’ That was the best line of any movie ever!” Sam shouted in the empty theater. There had been a couple in the back, but they’d left before the movie ended. More people should have appreciated The Monster Squad when it was in theaters. I guess they had cooler stuff to do, like drive their girlfriends to the mall. Tiffany’s boyfriend, Brooks, was so lucky. He dressed like a preppie fool, but maybe that was what she liked. That and his car.

Next to me, Cori had her notebook out. She always liked to watch the credits with horror stuff and take notes on who did what.

“No way, the best line was when the little sister said, ‘Come on, you guys, don’t be chickenshit,’ ” I said.

Sam held up his hand for a high five. I slapped his hand, and we both grunted, “Buds.” We thought we were so cool. What a couple of dorks. Sam’s dad hadn’t bothered to make him get a haircut all summer, and his shaggy brown bangs flopped in front of his giant green eyes.

“Are they explaining the whole plot of the movie in a rap?” Sam asked, as the credits rolled.

“Yup,” I said, getting up. I lifted my shoes from the sticky floor.

“It’s catchy.” Sam bopped back and forth. Of course, Sam liked that dumb song. I hoped he wouldn’t randomly rap it at school. I had already talked to him about the Melody Pops. He played the Indiana Jones theme song about five hundred times on the lollipop before I told him to cut it out. We couldn’t do that baby stuff in seventh grade.

“There was a rap like this for Fright Night, too,” Cori said as she continued to scribble down the names she saw on the screen. “It’s patronizing.”

“Oooh, big word, Cori,” Sam said, pretending to be impressed. Cori and I had watched Fright Night on TV, but we didn’t tell Sam because he didn’t like scary movies. Even during The Monster Squad, he’d covered his eyes a couple of times and jumped up in his seat. I’d pretended I hadn’t noticed.

Once the soundtrack credits came on, Cori closed her notebook. “Okay. We can go now,” she said.

The monster movie master had spoken.



When we entered Rob’s Newsstand, the smells of sugar, yellowing newspaper, and pickles from Rob’s sandwich hit my nostrils.

“Well, if it isn’t Moe, Larry, and Curly,” Rob said from behind the glass counter full of expensive pipe tobacco, fancy Zippo lighters, and political campaign memorabilia from the Roosevelt and Eisenhower years. Rob was a short, stocky white guy in his early sixties. His thinning hair was always messy, like he had just woken up from a nap. He wore huge eyeglasses that never drooped down his pug nose.

“Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk,” Sam said, channeling Curly from the Three Stooges. “Man, Rob, it’s so hot in here!”

“Hey, if you’d like to pay for AC along with all the comics you read but never buy, be my guest.”

“How’s it going?” I asked Rob.

“So long as Bill’s buying scratchers, I’ll keep afloat,” Rob said, nodding at a scruffy, heavy-set man who was hunched over a small plastic lottery stand. Bill was there so much he felt like a part of the place, but that was my first time hearing his name.

We picked our candies. Pink lemonade Juice Bar gum for Cori, Melody Pop for Sam, and strawberry Bonkers for me. When we put them on the counter, Rob set his hand on the Melody Pop.

“No dice, kid. You can buy any other candy if you’re going to be hanging around,” Rob said. “Or I’ll sell it to you on your way out.”

“No one appreciates great art anymore,” Sam grumbled.

“Aw, don’t be sore, Curly,” Rob said. “I’ve got a surprise for you kids.”

“New comics?” Sam asked.

“I got something better than a comic book. Go take a look by the sodas.”

The three of us walked to the back of the store, past the cereal boxes and cans of soup. There, beside the clear fridge full of sodas, in all its electronic glory, was a pinball machine.

“All right!” Sam exclaimed, rushing toward it.

I sidled up to the machine next to Sam. The game was called Sorcerer. There were two dragons that mirrored each other with their mouths open, about to gobble the flippers up. The Sorcerer, with his long white beard, reached his hand up in the center; his hat—with yellow stars on it—cut between the point circles. Another sorcerer, with the same white beard but with horns, shot lightning out of his fingers. There were red lights shaped like eyes in the back of the playfield that weren’t lit up. Yet.

It was a little old, kind of dinged up. There were pinball machines that were newer at the arcade, but the longer I looked at it, the more I wanted to play. I could see myself spending hours on it, waiting for the multicolored lights to shine and having my initials on the scoreboard for years to come, my legendary skills on display for all time.

“Pretty cool, huh, Cori?” Sam said.

“I guess,” Cori said, unimpressed. She opened the fridge and took out a Tab for herself and a Mello Yello for Sam.

“I’m not thirsty,” Sam said. I knew that probably wasn’t true. Sam didn’t have a steady allowance like Cori and I did. Cori opened the fridge to put the Mello Yello back.

“I’ll get it for us to split later,” I said. “It’s hot out.”

Sam smiled a little and turned his attention back to the machine.

“You like it?” Rob asked as he crept up from behind us, taking his place next to the scoreboard.

“It’s boss!” Sam’s fingers were already on the flipper buttons, ready to play.

“Would you believe I found this at an estate sale?”

“What’s an estate sale?” I asked.

“Yard sale for dead people,” Cori explained as she closed the fridge door.

“It had some broken glass, but it wasn’t too hard to spruce up. It’s practically as good as new.” Rob sucked in his stomach and pushed his glasses up, even though he didn’t need to. “Want to know something else?”

“What?” Sam asked, his eyes full of wonder.

Rob reached behind Sam’s ear and produced a quarter. I saw Cori roll her eyes. Dumb magic tricks weren’t her thing—she only liked them in movies.

“It used to belong to Mr. Davenport,” Rob said, waiting for Sam to take the quarter from his fingers.

“Whoa,” Sam said, still looking in awe at the coin. “Wait, who’s Mr. Davenport?”

“The guy who lived in that mansion near Brooks’s family,” Cori cut in, her eyebrows raised. Cori liked anything spooky and the Davenport mansion fit the bill. “His family made a lot of money in textiles.”

“What are textiles? Also, what would an old guy want with a pinball machine?” I asked. “No offense, Rob.”

Rob laughed at this and flipped the coin in the air. I caught it. A strange rush of warmth came over me. I felt like I’d been picked first for basketball at recess. I handed the quarter to Sam. He was always picked last in everything.

“I’m not that old. Davenport was in his nineties when he finally passed. Most of us in town never thought he would.” From the front of the store, Bill cleared his throat real loudly to get Rob’s attention. He wasn’t much of a talker. “Better sell Bill his smokes. Have fun, kids. You’re the first to play it!”

“Yes!” Sam said. He shoved the quarter in the slot.

I could have sworn the start button lit up before the coin dropped. Sam pulled on the plunger and sent the silver ball up the lock ramp. When he did, the two fiery red eyes from the back of the board lit up and flashed. The Sorcerer said “Feel my power!” before the eyes flickered and the ball released. I tried to play it cool and not show my excitement, but Sam cheered.

“Vickie Greenfield called me,” Cori said, handing me her soda. “She invited me to her house for a party Thursday afternoon.”

“Really?” I asked. Cori got along okay with the girls in our grade, but she never really hung out with any of them outside of school.

“You’re not going to go, are you?” Sam asked, his eyes still on the game.

“I told her I’d let her know if I could make it. She said you guys could come, too.”

The ball slipped through Sam’s clutches and rolled past the Shoot Again circle.

“Could be cool.” I shrugged. Sam looked at me like I had said Schwarzenegger was better than Stallone. These days it might be all about Arnold, but back then, everyone with a clue knew Stallone was king. “I bet they’ll have fancy snacks like shrimp cocktail.”

“Is Nick the Dick going to be there?” Sam asked.

“Probably,” Cori muttered. Sam and Nick didn’t get along at all. I didn’t remember how it had started back in fourth grade, but they were always butting heads, especially since Nick had started calling him Sam the Squirt. I played sports with Nick, but maybe I should have done a better job of being peacemaker. “She said she has a Nintendo.”

“We’re going, then,” I said. My parents wouldn’t get me one because they thought video games would rot my brain.

“Fine,” Sam muttered. “She better have Duck Hunt.”

I turned my attention back to the Sorcerer. Not as much attention as it was paying us. Before Sam pulled on the plunger for his second turn, I felt I was being watched. I looked at the machine. The painted red eyes in the back, the ones that would light up, moved. It was quick, but they flicked from me to Sam before they shifted back into place.

“Maz?” Cori put a hand on my shoulder. “What’s up?”

I should have told her what I saw. Maybe it would have kept all of us together.

“Nothing,” I said. I thought I was probably dehydrated. I took a sip of soda and watched Sam play until it was time to go home.

Janet lay on my bed, studying her textbook. She couldn’t see me studying her as I sat cross-legged in front of the headboard. I wasn’t sure what to make of us. We were friends, but not at school. Janet’s friends were what Vickie would call alternative. Janet called my social circle pristine and mean, which I didn’t think was fair, but I understood the sentiment. Janet was the most incredible person I’d ever met. I hated that my stomach felt like a Chestburster would pop out of it whenever she was around.

“What did you get for question seven?”

“What?” I asked, sitting up too quickly.

Janet turned her head in my direction. “You seem preoccupied.” She shifted on the bed to face me, brushing a pink strand of hair behind her ear. “Is it your friend we saw at the mall?”

I let out a deep breath. For now, I could avoid romantic land mines. Besides, it was better not to fantasize about a life that was impossible for someone as chicken as me to have.

“Right. Maz,” I said, my body deflating into the pillows.

“You didn’t say much after we bumped into him. Old boyfriend?” For someone who understood me so well, she hadn’t picked up on the one major thing. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But if you do, I’m here.”

Dammit, Janet. I really like you.

There was a scratching at the door. With a slight prod, my Yorkshire terrier, Potato Chip, let himself in. I got PC from a shelter when he was four. Tiffany said he looked like a poor man’s Popple, so we named him after one of them. These days, he wasn’t able to jump up onto the bed like he used to. Janet scooped PC up and plopped him between the two of us, his slobbering tongue and heavy panting breaking the tension.

“Hi, buddy,” I said, giving his head a pat.

“Potato Chip, how’d you get so handsome?” Janet asked as she wrapped her arms around him and held him to her chest. I had never been jealous of my dog before, but, well, this was a low that a homecoming queen nominee should never experience. “I hope I didn’t overstep. Asking about your friend.”

“No, it’s . . . I’ve spent a lot of time not talking about Maz,” I said, staring down at the comforter. “We were best friends since kindergarten. Until our other best friend, um—well, he went missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yeah, um, our friend Sam Bennett—”

“Ghost Boy?” she blurted out, then immediately covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” I lied again. “He built up quite the reputation.” The local media circus had been relentless for about a month after Sam went missing. And because it happened while he was trick-or-treating, all the headlines played into parents’ worst fears. It was a better ratings grab than a kid finding a razor blade in an apple. “Maz and I were obviously both really upset.”

“No kidding. That’s so horrible,” Janet said. Her hand found its way to my knee. My breath hitched, and I closed my eyes, trying to contain myself. I hoped it looked like the memories were painful. They were, but if she knew how I felt about her, I wasn’t sure she’d want to stay friends. I’d lost enough friends for a lifetime already.

“We were kids and didn’t know how to cope. And I guess we both felt guilty because we were the last two people to see Sam.” I opened my eyes but looked a little past her, to the Edward Scissorhands poster on my wall.

“It must have been so rough for both of you,” she said. I nodded, because it was, but only . . .