Monster Blood is Back

by R. L. Stine

  Nicole nodded. She picked up the bowl of ingredients and carried it to the stove. Then she lifted the lid off the soup pot. I could hear the boiling water bubbling inside.

  I picked up a towel and turned to wipe off the counter.

  And that’s when I heard Nicole’s shriek.

  “Oh, HELP ME!” she screamed. “OWWWW! Help me! I’m BURNED! Ohhhh, it HURTS! HELP! I’m BURNED!”

  “CUT! CUT!” Hess’s scream rose over Nicole’s cries.

  She stood gripping her right arm. The soup pot lid had fallen to the floor.

  I stood frozen in place, staring straight ahead as crew members raced toward Nicole.

  Ashli’s eyes were wide with alarm. She dropped the potato peeler she had been using. She stepped around her counter and made her way into our kitchen. Nathan followed right behind her.

  And that meant it was my turn to go into action.

  Nicole had done an awesome job of pretending to be burned. Now I had to act quickly while everyone was huddling around her.

  I moved along the counter while no one was watching me. Then I lifted the flap on the tote bag on the floor. I dug my hand deep inside—and broke off a nice chunk of Monster Blood.

  It felt warm and wet and rubbery in my hand.

  Behind me, Nicole was putting on a good show, wailing in pain.

  “Can you move the fingers?” someone asked her. “Can you bend your wrist?”

  “It doesn’t look too red,” I heard Hess say. “Maybe you were mostly startled.”

  “Should we call an EMT?” an assistant demanded.

  I moved quickly. I slid into Ashli and Nathan’s kitchen and darted to their casserole dish. I lifted the lid on it—and dumped the chunk of Monster Blood inside.

  I set the lid back on the dish. Then I glanced all around, making sure no one saw me. I slipped back into our kitchen just as the group around Nicole was moving out.

  “I … I think I’m okay,” Nicole stammered. “I just got scared. But my hand is fine. Really.”

  Hess turned to his assistants. “Let’s reset. Start again with ten minutes to go.”

  The crew members took their places. The camera operators moved behind their cameras. The three judges stopped their conversation and straightened up behind their table.

  “Ten minutes, everyone,” Hess announced. “Quiet on the set.”

  Nicole and I had our eyes on Nathan. He walked over to the casserole dish, lifted it, and put it in the oven.

  Nicole grinned at me. “Now what? What’s going to happen?”

  The judging started, and Sunday and Jackson went first.

  “It’s a fish chowder,” Sunday explained as their dish was poured into three bowls. “We used cream and a clear broth, plus the ingredients from the box.”

  They both glanced at Nicole and me. “It may not be hot enough,” Jackson said. “Because of the interruption.”

  The judges muttered to one another. “It’s hot enough,” Jake said. “The temperature is fine. I’m a little disappointed in the flavor. You might have used more cream, I think.”

  Mary swallowed a mouthful of the chowder and licked her lips. “The flavor is okay, I think. But the potatoes are hard. Undercooked.”

  Next to her, Larry shrugged. “The dish is okay. Just okay,” he said.

  The assistants took away the chowder bowls. Then they carried our soup pot to the judges’ table and ladled out bowls of our fish soup.

  I watched as the three judges sampled a few spoonfuls. I still wanted to win the contest. But I didn’t feel the same excitement. I wasn’t going to be upset if our soup didn’t score big.

  Mainly, I wanted to see what happened when the judges ate the Monster Blood. I know it was sick. But I think I cared more about my revenge plan than I did about winning.

  “The soup is a little thin,” Mary said. She took another taste. “Yes. A nice combination, and the ingredients are well cooked. But a little thin, Sascha and Nicole.”

  “I agree,” Jake said, setting down his spoon. “It definitely could use more seasoning.”

  Wait till you taste Nathan and Ashli’s dish, I thought. It definitely has plenty of seasoning!

  The soup bowls were taken away, and Ashli and Nathan’s casserole dish was carried to the judges’ table. The judges helped themselves to big portions.

  “Chef Ashli and Chef Nathan won the first round of our contest,” Hess said into the camera. “Let’s see if they can win round two. It’s worth ten more points.”

  The three judges lowered their forks to their plates and began to sample the casserole. Nicole and I stood tensely. We both gripped the countertop and held our breath.

  Jake licked his lips. “What is that unusual spice?” he asked.

  “Very interesting and different,” Mary said. She took a few more forkfuls. “I’m enjoying this. So many different flavors.”

  Nicole and I were afraid to look at each other. We kept our eyes straight ahead on the judges’ table.

  Larry held his fork up in front of him with a chunk of casserole on it. He studied it for a long moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything like it,” he said.

  Next to us, Ashli and Nathan were celebrating, pumping their fists above their heads.

  I stared at the three judges as they helped themselves to more.

  Come on, Monster Blood! I thought. Come on! Do your thing!

  They had swallowed a lot of Monster Blood.

  What was it going to do to them?

  Nothing.

  The Monster Blood did nothing.

  The judges swallowed their last bite and wiped their mouths with their napkins. And they declared Ashli and Nathan the winners of the dinner round.

  Come on, Monster Blood. Come on!

  I didn’t give up. I ignored Ashli and Nathan, who were fist-bumping each other and celebrating their victory. And I kept my eyes on the judges.

  Nicole sighed. “It didn’t work. We’re losers,” she murmured.

  “We still have the dessert round,” I said. “It’s worth twenty points. We can still get a tie score, beat them in the tiebreaker, and win it all.”

  But I didn’t believe that, and neither did she.

  “Cut! Let’s stop right there, everyone!” Hess shouted. “That’s a wrap for today.”

  Ashli and Nathan continued to congratulate each other. Sunday and Jackson looked as glum as Nicole and me.

  “We will record the dessert round tomorrow,” Hess announced. “Be here promptly at noon, chefs.” He smiled at Ashli and Nathan. “They are cooking up a storm,” he said. “But they can still be beat, everyone. You can still surprise them. Tomorrow will decide the winner of the Silver Spatula.”

  I watched the three judges walk out of the studio. They were laughing about something. They appeared to be in a good mood.

  That wasn’t right. They were supposed to be sick or something. The Monster Blood was supposed to make Ashli and Nathan’s dish taste terrible. Or maybe do something to the judges so that Ashli and Nathan would lose big-time.

  But Nicole and I knew who the big-time losers were. We were.

  We walked home with our heads down. Clouds covered the late-afternoon sky. The houses, the trees, everything was in shades of gray. Perfect for my mood.

  We crossed the street onto Nicole’s block. Two little boys rocketed past us on their scooters. “That looks like fun,” I muttered.

  “Fun? What’s fun?” Nicole replied glumly. She groaned as she shifted her backpack on her shoulders.

  “At least I have an excuse to miss Toby’s birthday party tomorrow,” I said.

  Nicole shook her head. “It sounds like a nightmare. All those eight- and nine-year-olds in one room?”

  “Yeah. A nightmare,” I said. “I couldn’t decide whether to go to Toby’s birthday party or have all my teeth drilled.”

  Nicole laughed.

  Then her eyes went wide. She stopped walking and grabbed my arm. “What’s wrong?” I said.

  “
We forgot the Monster Blood, Sascha. We left it in the tote bag at the TV studio.”

  I gasped. “Oh, wow.”

  Nicole stared hard at me. “Think we should go back for it?”

  I thought for a moment. “No,” I said. “We don’t have to go back there. The tote bag is tightly closed. It will be okay.”

  Boy, did I get THAT wrong!

  “You and Nicole are wizards in the kitchen,” Mom said at dinner. “I can’t believe that other kids are better chefs than you.”

  “I have to admit Ashli and Nathan are pretty good cooks,” I said. “And … they cheat.”

  Toby laughed. “You’re a cheater, too. You always cheat when we play Uno.”

  He took a big bite of his hamburger and chewed with his mouth open. He sits across from me, and he knows that makes me sick.

  “I don’t have to cheat at Uno,” I said. “You’re such a loser player. I can win with a blindfold on.”

  “You cheated at breakfast,” Toby said. “You took the last toaster waffle. And it was mine.”

  “Did it have your name on it?” I shot back. “I didn’t see your name on it.”

  Mom gazed across the table at Dad. “Frank,” she said. “Do you have anything to say about this?”

  Dad blinked. “About what? Sorry. I wasn’t listening. I was thinking about something else.”

  “Sascha was telling us how she and Nicole are losing on the TV cooking show,” Mom said. “What were you thinking about?”

  “Helium balloons,” Dad answered. “I’m thinking we shouldn’t get the helium balloons for Toby’s party tomorrow.”

  Toby slammed both fists on the table. “Why not?” he demanded.

  “Well … I’m imagining what you and your friends will do with the balloons,” Dad said. “You’ll pull them down and inhale the helium so you’ll have funny voices.”

  “We will not!” Toby cried. But he couldn’t keep a straight face. He burst out laughing. “They did that at Eden Franklin’s party.”

  Mom turned to Toby. “Where were her parents?”

  “Did you know there’s a helium shortage in the world?” Dad said. “Maybe that’s a good reason—”

  “No!” Toby shouted. He tossed a carrot slice at Dad. “No! I want balloons! It’s my party, and I want balloons!”

  I stood up. “I’m done,” I said. “Is it okay if I go up to my room?”

  I could still hear them arguing about balloons from upstairs. I hurried into my room and shut the door.

  I thought about doing some homework. But it was Friday night. Who does homework on a Friday night?

  I sprawled on my bed. Took out my phone and watched some funny videos. Then I texted a few friends about what they were doing this weekend.

  I was lying there staring at the ceiling when my door swung open and Toby burst in. “Hey, Sascha!”

  “Who won the helium balloon fight?” I asked.

  He tapped his thumb on his chest. “I did, of course.”

  I sat up. “Toby, why are you here? I told you a thousand times to knock before you come barging in.”

  “Give me back my birthday present,” he said. “I want it back.”

  “You can’t have it,” I said. “I told you, I’m getting you another present.”

  He crossed his arms in front of him and stuck out his chin. “No. I want the Monster Blood. I want to show it to everyone at my party tomorrow.”

  “Just forget about it,” I said. “It’s too sticky and too creepy and—”

  “But it’s MINE!” He grabbed my arms and tried to tug me up from the bed. “It’s MINE, Sascha. I want it back!”

  “Toby, let go of me!” I pulled my arms free. It wasn’t easy. He’s stronger than he looks. Especially when he wants his way.

  “Listen to me,” I said. “I can’t give the Monster Blood back to you. I returned it to the store.”

  Okay, I know. That was a lie.

  But it was close to the truth. And believe me, it wasn’t the first lie I had ever told him.

  He stared into my eyes, studying me. Trying to figure out if I was telling the truth. “You took my present back? Really?”

  I nodded. “It was just too sticky and dangerous. And it was growing.”

  He made a disgusted face at me. “Okay. Then you can’t come to my party tomorrow. You are banished.”

  “Oooh. Big word,” I said. “Where’d you learn that?”

  “In a video game,” he said. “But I mean it, Sascha. You’re not invited.”

  I shrugged. “I can’t come anyway, Toby. I have to go to the TV cooking show.”

  “You’re going to LOSE!” he said. He punched me on the shoulder, spun around, and stomped out of the room.

  What an animal. He really is a spoiled little criminal. But try telling that to Mom and Dad.

  As soon as he was gone, my phone made a dinging noise. A text message.

  I raised it to my face and read it. The text was from Nicole.

  Please come over. I know it’s late. But I’m really scared.

  I texted her back: Scared? Scared of what?

  Just come. Please.

  “I know it’s nine o’clock,” I told Mom and Dad. “But it’s not a school night. Tomorrow is Saturday.”

  “Sascha, it’s a little late—” Dad started.

  “I know. But I’m just going to run to Nicole’s and then hurry right back. I’ll be home in half an hour. I promise.”

  They exchanged glances. “Okay, but bring your phone,” Mom said. “Call us if you want us to come pick you up.”

  “Mom, Nicole is only three blocks away. What could happen?” I said.

  Yes. What could happen? What WAS happening? Why did Nicole say she was afraid?

  I ran all the way to her house. It was a dark, moonless night. The air was heavy and wet, as if it was about to start raining again. And strong gusts of wind whistled and howled through the trees, making the branches creak and groan.

  I was trying to straighten my windblown hair when Mrs. Hilliard opened the front door to their house. She blinked in surprise. “Sascha? Nicole didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  Sparky, Nicole’s little white dog, came hurrying to the front door, yapping excitedly. He jumped on me, front paws reaching my knees, short, stubby tail wagging like crazy.

  Sparky and I are pals. I picked him up and hugged him.

  Nicole’s mom stepped aside so I could walk in. Their house was always warm and always smelled of coffee. I think Nicole’s parents drank it all day long.

  Sparky licked my face. I set him down, and he scampered away.

  “I came to talk about the TV cooking show,” I told her.

  Another lie. It seemed to be a big night for lies.

  “That’s so exciting. You and Nicole on TV,” she said, smiling.

  “Well … yes,” I replied. “I just wish—”

  Nicole strode into the room before I could finish my sentence. “Hi, Sascha. Thanks for hurrying over.”

  “Nicole says you’re having a little bad luck on the show,” Mrs. Hilliard said. “But you’re still in it, right? You can still win?”

  I nodded. “Still in it.”

  Nicole stepped between me and her mother. “Sascha and I have to talk, Mom. It’s important.”

  Mrs. Hilliard’s mouth dropped open. “Well, excuuuuse me.” She pretended to be insulted. “Nice to see you, Sascha. Good luck tomorrow.” Then she turned and walked toward the back of the house.

  “What is it?” I whispered to Nicole. “Why are you scared?”

  Nicole waited till her mom was completely gone. “We did the wrong thing,” she whispered.

  I dropped down on the ottoman in front of a brown leather armchair. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

  Nicole sat on the edge of the couch across from me and leaned close so she could whisper. “We shouldn’t have left the Monster Blood in the TV studio,” she said.

  She glanced behind her to make sure her mother hadn’t returned. �
�What if it grows and grows and oozes out of the tote bag?”

  “I already told you—” I started.

  But she interrupted, her eyes wide with fear. “That tote bag has my name on it. If the Monster Blood gets out and destroys the studio and does horrible damage, they’ll know who to blame.”

  “But, Nicole,” I said, “the tote bag is closed up tight. And look what time it is. Almost ten o’clock. There won’t be anyone there to let us in.”

  “We have to try,” Nicole said, clasping her hands tensely in front of her. We have to get the Monster Blood back. I … I won’t be able to sleep unless we do, Sascha.”

  I stood up. I could see she was seriously frightened. All kinds of thoughts spun around in my mind. I glanced out the window. Such a dark night. And so late …

  “Nicole, the studio will be locked up tight,” I said. “There’s no way we’ll get in.”

  “We have to try,” she said. “We’ll find a way, Sascha.”

  “But—” I started to argue with her some more. But I could see she would not give up.

  “Okay, let’s say we go,” I said. “And somehow we get into the studio. Then what? What do we do with the stuff once we get it?”

  Nicole shrugged. “I don’t know. Dump it in a trash can, I guess.” She stood up across from me. Her eyes locked on mine. “I only know I won’t be able to sleep at all until I know the Monster Blood is out of the TV studio.”

  I stared back at her for a long moment.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  “We have to sneak out and hope my parents don’t notice I’m gone,” Nicole whispered. “They’ll never let me go out this late.”

  Her parents were in the back, so we headed to the front door. Sparky followed right behind, wagging his tail. He thought he was going, too.

  “Sorry, Sparky,” Nicole said softly. “Not tonight.”

  The dog lowered his head, as if he understood.

  I pulled open the front door, and a strong gust of wind almost blew us back into the house. “I think it’s going to rain again,” I said. “Should we get rain ponchos or something?”