by R. L. Stine
“But, Dad—” Freddy started to protest.
“Give it time,” Mr. Hardwick said. “Give it time. You’ll see that I’m right.” He turned and walked back to his room. The discussion was over.
The tall brick wall behind the school was perfect for hitting a tennis ball against. Teddy loved to play tennis, but her forearm was weak. She knew the only solution was to practice. Many afternoons—while Freddy was at his fencing lessons or cruising the neighborhood on his skateboard or at home playing video games—she slammed a ball against that wall again and again until the racket felt like part of her arm.
She liked the thump the tennis ball made as it hit high on the brick wall. And she liked trying to be in position to hit it when the ball came sailing down. It was almost as much fun as playing against an opponent. On good days, it was better.
Today wasn’t a good day. Cletus Darrow appeared after she had been hitting the ball for only ten minutes. She didn’t see him at first. She was concentrating on her game. But a shadow slid over her, and the shadow felt cold, so she knew a Darrow was near.
Teddy turned, instantly angry. “What do you want?” she snapped. The ball bounced through her hand, and she had to chase it.
“Something wrong with your racket?” Cletus said, wolf eyes peering out at her from behind a thick strand of dark hair.
“No way,” Teddy shot back. “Go away. I’m serious.”
“I’m serious too,” Cletus said with a sneer. A sneer was his natural expression. “You have a hole in your racket.”
“You’re crazy. Go away.”
“Let me see it.” Cletus shot his arm forward and snatched the racket from Teddy’s hand. He tugged it so hard she nearly fell over.
“Give it!” she cried, sticking out her hand.
Too late. Cletus pulled a pocketknife from his pocket—and cut through the center of the netting. “See? I told you. A big hole in your racket.” He laughed and tossed the racket to the grass.
Freddy wasn’t popular with girls. Maybe it was because he had so many interests of his own, and things he liked to do by himself, that he had no time for girls.
But the next day during lunch period, he was surrounded by a group of girls from his class. And they were actually interested in the story he was telling them, the story of how his family had lived on a cattle ranch and the time four big cows somehow had gotten into the house and refused to be moved.
It was one of those rare moments. Freddy being the center of attention, and the girls laughing at his story and enjoying hanging with him, and maybe noticing him for the first time since he’d started at the school.
Of course, the moment was spoiled when Harry Darrow crept up behind Freddy and pantsed him. Harry yanked Freddy’s jeans down to his ankles. And the girls got hysterical because Freddy was wearing the Hello Kitty underpants his grandmother had sent him since it was the only clean pair he had.
So Freddy was double embarrassed because of the underpants. And because of the wild laughter that poured up from the girls like a bubbling fountain.
And then Freddy, struggling to pull up his jeans, saw Cletus across the room with his phone raised. And of course, Cletus was making a video of the whole thing and telling everyone about how great it would look when he put it up on YouTube.
Freddy wanted to kill kill KILL.
The rage shot through him till he thought his whole body would explode.
But later at home, Dad still insisted that revenge was not the way to go.
“Revenge never works out the way we want,” he explained calmly, speaking in a low, soft voice, his eyes moving from Freddy to Teddy.
Both kids protested, shouting at once, insisting they couldn’t take it anymore. “We have to pay them back, Dad,” Teddy pleaded. “If we don’t, they’ll just keep on torturing us forever.”
“They embarrassed me in front of the whole school!” Freddy said. “How can I have any friends if they keep making me look like a total loser?”
“Patience,” Dad said, raising a hand to signal that the kids should calm down. “Patience. All good things come to those who wait. Have you ever heard that advice?”
“No,” Teddy grumbled. “And it’s stupid.”
“We don’t want good things to come to anyone,” Freddy muttered. “We want revenge.”
“I’m warning you one last time,” their father said. “Don’t look for trouble.”
They didn’t look for trouble, but it found them.
Twice a week after school, they both took a lifesaving class at the town rec center. It was a stormy day, with strong gusts of wind blowing rain in all directions, so the instructor moved the class to the indoor pool.
Because of the dark skies and sheets of rain that cascaded down, Freddy and Teddy were the only students who showed up for class. They lowered themselves into the sparkling pool, which was heated and smelled delightfully of chlorine, and blinking under the bright white lights, waited for the instructor to appear.
Freddy suggested they do a few laps because he never could stay still, even in water. He kicked off from the pool wall and began to do a furious breaststroke. He always liked to be first.
Teddy began to swim after him. Her stroke was as graceful as his was frantic and choppy. They both loved the water. How great would it be to be a seal, and swim whenever you wanted? Freddy had once asked.
Freddy touched the far wall, turned, and started back. When something grabbed his ankles, he thought at first he had bumped the wall. But when he felt strong hands tighten around his legs and hold him back, he began to kick furiously.
“Hey! Let go! Hey!”
He struggled to twist around and see who—or what—was gripping his legs, holding him in place. But he couldn’t turn all the way. He felt a strong tug, and with a hard splash, his head slid under.
Spluttering and coughing, he pulled himself up above the water—and saw his sister struggling at the other side of the pool. She was splashing and thrashing and screaming, unable to move.
Was someone holding her legs too?
“Let GO!” Freddy managed to scream before another tug pulled him under the surface again. The hands squeezed so tightly, pain shot up and down his legs. Freddy squirmed and twisted, unable to free himself.
Someone’s holding me down! Trying to drown me!
From under the water, he heard Teddy scream. The scream was cut off sharply. The water all around him churned.
Let go. Let GO!
He bucked and kicked. The water suddenly felt so hot. How long could he stay under?
As his panic swelled, his body went limp. Fear made his muscles give out. Fear choked him, paralyzed him, ended him. He gave up the struggle and gazed wide-eyed into the blue-green water as it bubbled and swirled.
And then the grip on his ankles loosened. He felt his legs go free. Freddy swung his arms up and floated to the surface. His head rose over the water. He choked and coughed, the taste of chlorine filling his mouth.
Shaking water from his hair, he spun around—and gaped at the grinning face of Harry Darrow. Harry pushed out his lips and spat a stream of water into Freddy’s face. He giggled. “Scare you?”
Freddy opened his mouth to protest, but anger choked his voice. “You . . . You . . .”
Harry tossed back his head and laughed up at the bright lights. “You’re so pitiful and lame, Freddy,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re no fun to scare. It’s too easy.”
He gave Freddy a shove, turned, and started toward the pool ladder.
Across the pool, Teddy was shouting at Cletus Darrow. “Did you really want to drown me? Are you both crazy? Did you think that was funny? You creep. You stupid creep!” Water dribbled down her chin as the angry words poured from her mouth.
The Darrow brothers climbed out of the pool and headed to the locker room, laughing, fist-bumping, and congratulating each other.
Freddy narrowed his eyes to slits and stared at Teddy, who stared back at him, still shivering, still shaking o
ff water. Neither one said a word, but they were both thinking the same thing.
“They tried to drown us.”
“They really wanted to hurt us. It wasn’t a joke.”
“They’re getting meaner and meaner, Dad. They aren’t backing off or getting bored.”
“They held us underwater. They wanted to kill us.”
Mr. Hardwick tossed up both hands. “Okay, okay. I surrender.”
“Surrender?” Freddy asked. “What does that mean?”
“You can have your revenge,” his father replied. “Go ahead. They asked for it. You’ve been very patient.”
Freddy and Teddy both studied him. “You really mean it?” Teddy demanded.
He nodded. “Invite them to the house. I’m sure we can convince them to stop.”
Both kids giggled at that. “I’m sure we can,” Freddy said.
The Darrows appeared uncomfortable as Freddy and Teddy led them into the den. Cletus had a mouthful of pink bubble gum that he kept popping loudly. Harry had his hair down over his eyes, and he kept curling his hands into fists, as if he wanted to punch something.
“Nice dump,” Cletus said. He dropped down onto the green leather couch and propped his big, muddy shoes on the coffee table.
“Why did you two losers call us over?” Harry demanded, eyeing Freddy and Teddy suspiciously through his thick strands of hair. “Did you want to apologize for being such crybaby wimps?”
Teddy couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across her face. “We want to show you something,” she said.
“What if we don’t want to see it?” Cletus snarled, just showing off how tough he was.
“You losers don’t have anything to show us,” Harry said. He sat down on the coffee table, propping his hands behind him.
“You might want to see this,” Freddy said. He raised his hand to his nose and poked two fingers into a nostril. Pinching his fingers together, he began pulling something from his nose.
“Ewww. What is that?” Cletus leaned forward on the couch.
“A worm,” Freddy said. “Watch.” He tugged the fat brown worm out of his nose and dropped it onto the carpet. Then he reached into his other nostril and pulled out an even longer worm.
“Whoa!” Harry jumped to his feet. He swept back his hair, and his eyes were wide with shock.
Freddy pulled another worm from his nose and tossed it at Cletus.
“Watch me,” Teddy said, stepping in front of her brother. She opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue. Wriggling black insects covered her tongue. Spiders. They spilled over her tongue and tumbled onto the floor.
“Gross!” Cletus cried. “Ohhhh, that’s sick.” Both brothers were on their feet now. The pink gum fell from Cletus’s open mouth and dropped onto his shirt.
Teddy spat out another dozen spiders.
“Have you seen this trick?” Freddy demanded. He had a large hammer in one hand and a long nail in the other. He placed his hand flat on the table, palm down, poked the nail into the back of his hand, and hammered the nail all the way in.
“No way!” Harry screamed.
Cletus let out a high shriek.
Freddy tugged out the nail. “No blood,” he said. “And it doesn’t hurt. Know why?”
The Darrow brothers were too shocked and horrified to answer.
“That’s because we’re dead,” Teddy answered the question for them.
“You picked on the wrong kids,” Freddy said. He pounded the nail through his hand again, just showing off. “You tried to drown the wrong kids. We can’t be drowned. We’re dead.”
The Darrows were frozen like statues as Mr. Hardwick entered the den. He studied the quivering, pale, frightened brothers for a long moment and then turned to Freddy and Teddy. “You showed them?”
Both kids nodded. Teddy spat a spider from her mouth.
Their dad sighed. “Guess we’ll have to move again. That’s the problem with getting revenge. Now we can’t stay here. This isn’t a place for civilized zombies.”
Teddy tugged her dad’s sleeve. “But can we eat their flesh? Please?”
“We haven’t had flesh for so long!” Freddy exclaimed, starting to drool. “Please, Dad? Please?”
“Well. . . .” Mr. Hardwick hesitated. “Okay. Go ahead, kids. But don’t spoil your appetite for dinner.”
And that brings our story to an end. This story started with screams of delight, and now it ends with a different kind of scream.
The last things we hear are the screams of the tasty Darrow brothers.
Raw Head and Bloody Bones
by Bruce Hale
SCREAMS RIPPED THE SUBURBAN OCTOBER afternoon in two like a construction paper pumpkin. “AAAHH!” A cluster of kids burst from the de la Vega family’s garage, blowing right past twins Tally and Gabriel Soto, who stood in the driveway.
The kids screamed their way down the street, eyes bulging and mouths gaping in terror. But Tally and Gabe didn’t join their panic. Actually, the twins were annoyed by it.
“Dang,” said Gabriel. “He’s done it again.”
Tally grimaced. “That stinker.”
For the past two years, Luis de la Vega had run the scariest neighborhood haunted house in San Lorenzo, scarier by far than the one the twins ran. The difference between the two was like that between a sock puppet monkey and King Kong.
Tally and Gabe suspected Luis was using his mom’s Hollywood connections to spice up his scares with special effects and makeup from movies she’d worked on. But no one could confirm it. All the twins knew was that their sixth-grade classmates called the Sotos’ House of Terror babyish by comparison. And the result was that Luis had raised his admission fee to two dollars and was banking some serious bucks.
Meanwhile, the twins were stuck with the leftovers—broke kids, or those too young to know a good scare.
Jamming his hands into his jeans pockets, Gabriel scowled. “Come on.” He jerked his head toward the now-silent garage. “Might as well get this over with.”
Tally, short for Natalia, pulled her wild black hair into a ponytail and slipped a scrunchie around it. “We have to know our enemy,” she said. “Otherwise, how will we beat him?” Her jaw tightened. Tally really didn’t like to lose. Enough was enough. “Luis’s reign ends today. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” said Gabriel.
Together, they marched up the flagstone walkway to the garage’s side door. A sign above it read “Enter at Your Own Risk” in dripping monster letters, and beneath that, “Admission $2.” Somewhere, a hidden sound system played creepy organ music.
Nice touch, thought Tally.
Gabe turned the doorknob and pushed. When he saw what was inside, he gasped involuntarily, and they both took a step back. But it wasn’t due to Luis’s skill with frights.
A wild-eyed teen loomed close, staring at them, like she’d just seen a ghost. Her tan face had gone all chalky. Blood stained her T-shirt, and her hands dripped red.
Tally recovered first. She dug into her bag. “Very scary, I’m sure. Here’s our four bucks.”
The older girl seemed dazed. “What?”
“The admission fee?” said Gabriel. “To see Luis’s crummy haunted house?”
Gory Teen’s hand clutched her chest, adding more red smears to her T-shirt. “He’s not— We’re, uh, not open.” Her lips quivered, as if she was trying to suppress some strong emotion.
“Great acting,” said Tally. “Really. I’m sure you’ll get cast on American Horror Story.” She held out the bills. “Now take this, so we can go inside.”
The girl glared at the twins with angry puzzlement, like they were insulting her in Norwegian. “He’s gone, don’t you get it? We’re closed!”
Bam! The door slammed in their faces.
“Oh, our money’s not good enough?” Gabriel twisted the doorknob, but Gory Teen had locked it from the other side.
As Gabe fumed, a pensive Tally led him back down the walkway.
“I can’t believe how far
he’ll go to keep us from getting the edge,” he said. “Turning down paying customers?”
“What if she’s not kidding?” Tally mused.
Gabe scoffed. “Of course she’s kidding. Luis saw us coming, then told her not to let us in.”
“I dunno.” Tally loved her brother, but even she had to acknowledge that he often missed the subtle stuff. Gory Teen’s blood may have been fake, but the shock in her eyes was real.
Gabe cast a dark look back at the silent garage. “Never mind. Tomorrow we’ll track down one of those kids who ran, get the inside story. De la Vega’s not beating us this year.”
“No way, no how,” agreed Tally.
But the next day at school, when they went looking for Connor, one of the screaming kids, he was nowhere to be found. “I think he stayed home sick,” said Omar, a mutual friend.
“I heard they had to take him to the funny farm,” said Ebony, widening her eyes knowingly.
Oddly enough, Gabe and Tally got the same result for both of the other kids they’d recognized at the haunted house. Missing, presumed wacko.
Strange. But not enough to stop the twins.
They regrouped at the playground’s edge as lunch period drew to a close. “It’s like they’re conspiring to keep us from learning about his haunted house,” said Gabriel. He kicked at a tuft of grass with the toe of his sneaker.
“Don’t you worry,” said his sister. “We were born the day before Halloween. We own this holiday.”
“But Halloween’s nine days away, and our haunted house has to open soon. If we can’t find out what Luis is up to, what can we do?” asked Gabriel.
She arched an eyebrow. “We get creative.”
It turned out that creativity involved talking to a kid from their neighborhood, who attended Luis’s fancy private school across town. Right after they got home, the twins dumped their book bags in the kitchen and headed down the street to Josh Johnson’s house. He was shooting baskets in his driveway.
“Hey, Josh,” said Tally. “What’s the deal with your classmate?”
Their neighbor sank a swish. “Which one?”
“Luis de la Vega,” said Gabriel, retrieving the ball. “We tried going to his haunted house yesterday, but some girl said it was closed.”