by R. L. Stine
I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.
Then I heard a burst of noise. “Peeps! Peeps! PEEEEPS!”
The little people! The monster hadn’t scarfed them all down. And they were back!
I opened my eyes again. Something was hovering in the air near my head. A wooden box.
The puppet box! The little people must have brought it from the attic!
The monster spotted the box too. The sight seemed to put it in an even worse mood than before. It roared and bounded toward me.
Then a voice from the kitchen doorway made it stop in mid-bound.
“Hey, monster!”
Freddy! I couldn’t believe it. My little brother stood in the doorway. He was wearing his Dallas Cowboys football helmet and pads. He held his baseball bat ready to swing.
He looked completely ridiculous. And I was never so glad to see him in my life!
The monster screeched with rage and leapt at Freddy.
“Batter up!” Freddy yelled. He swung the wooden bat.
Crrrrrrck! The bat whacked the monster square in the chest.
Wood splintered. And the bat snapped in half!
Oh, no!
The monster tumbled backward, end over end. Toward me.
I snatched up the marble rolling pin from the floor. This time I didn’t plan to miss.
Wham! I brought the rolling pin down on the thing’s head with everything I had.
The monster grunted and fell. Out cold.
“Peeps!” the little people sang. The puppet box fell to the floor beside me.
I scooped up the greasy, stinking, floury monster, shoved it inside, and slammed the lid.
Then I collapsed on the floor.
Freddy rushed over to me. “Are you all right?” he cried. “I thought that thing was going to kill you!”
“I’m fine,” I wheezed. “Thanks to the little people—and you!” Then I frowned. “Hey, I thought I told you to run.”
He grinned. He looked goofy with the helmet on. “Would the Dallas Cowboys run?”
I laughed. My Brainiac brother. He was all right!
A tinkling sound filled the air. Freddy and I turned.
Thousands of tiny bits from the broken glasses rose into the air. The wire frames floated beside them. Then, in a flash of light, the pieces all fused together.
The glasses were whole again.
They floated across the room to me. I put them on.
The little people were grouped around us, beaming. I waggled my fingers at them. “Hi, guys. And thanks a million!”
The striped one jumped into my lap. “Peeps!” he trilled.
“Well, I guess that’s—” I started to say.
A noise from the box interrupted me.
The monster was beating against the lid!
The box banged and jumped on the floor. The broken clasp shook. Wiggled.
The monster was trying to break out!
21
“Oh, no, you don’t!” I yelled.
I scrambled up and threw myself on the box. I could feel the monster pounding against the lid. Whack! Whack!
“Quick!” I told Freddy. “Find some wire or something to hold the latch closed.”
“Right!” Freddy said. “Just don’t let it out.”
“Well, duh!” I snapped. “Will you please hurry?”
Freddy ran out. I clutched the box grimly.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Each time the monster hit the lid, the whole box jumped off the floor. But I was ready for it. I sat on that box and rode it like a rodeo queen. No way was that furry freak going to get past me. I wasn’t about to go through that nightmare again!
At last Freddy ran back in. He waved a padlock at me. “I got it out of Dad’s tool kit,” he panted.
He slipped the lock through the latch and clicked it shut.
Silence. Immediately the monster stopped struggling.
Together we sat on the floor, our backs to the cabinets. We were totally beat.
“We did it, Jill!” Freddy crowed.
I glanced at my little brother. His eyes shone with excitement. I was happy too. But mostly I was exhausted.
And there was one more thing I needed to do.
I pointed at the padlocked box. “Do you feel comfortable with that?” I asked Freddy.
He made a face. “Not really.”
I got to my feet and limped into the garage. I fetched the hammer and some finishing nails from Dad’s tool kit. Then I nailed the box lid shut. Just in case.
We carried the box back up to the attic and shoved it behind the biggest pile of trunks. We didn’t want Mom or Dad finding it and opening it!
“That should do it,” I said.
“Maybe so. But if we spot any new buildings going up around here, let’s dump the box into the wet concrete,” Freddy answered. He wasn’t smiling.
We went back downstairs. Dozens of little people flitted after us, peepsing like crazy. Apparently they approved of us.
I thought of something. “Maybe that’s how Uncle Solly made friends with them in the first place,” I suggested. “Maybe this monster is their enemy. But he captured it. Just like we did.”
In the kitchen I gazed at the mess on the floor. Flour lay everywhere. The shish-kebab skewer had left a hole in the wall. Chairs were knocked over.
And the den! What kind of mess would we find in there? I thought of the pool of monster puke. Oh, gross! I was going to have to clean that up?
Little people peepsed away on the kitchen table. I frowned thoughtfully, then held out my hand. A creature stepped onto my palm—the brown one we saw in the attic. I put him on my shoulder.
“What do you say, little guy?” I asked him. “Can you help us with this mess?”
“Peeps!”
I pointed to the flour, then to the canister.
“Peeps! Peeps!”
The little man waved his hands. Flour rose in a white tornado. Flecks of dust and dirt and monster filth spun away and formed a second, dirty twister.
The flour spun itself back into the canister. The filth spun straight into the garbage.
I picked up the canister and sniffed the flour. Fresh and perfect!
“Excellent!” I exclaimed.
After that the other little people got into the act. The knife returned to its drawer. So did the skewer. The skillet sailed back into the cabinet. And the holes in the wall filled themselves in before our eyes! Grains of plaster dust leapt up from the floor and into the dents. It was like watching a videotape on rewind.
We wandered through the house. Everywhere we passed, the little people did their thing. And everything they touched was left cleaner and brighter than before.
In no time the whole house was spotless. Freddy and I stood in the den. We stared at each other in delight.
“You guys are the greatest,” I told the creatures. “You know, you could make a lot of money as a cleaning service!”
Just then the front door opened. Mom and Dad walked in.
“I hope they haven’t been up to any more roughhousing,” Mom was saying. “And all that nonsense about poltergeists! I’m a little worried about them, frankly.”
“I don’t think it’s that serious,” Dad replied.
We met them at the door to the den. Mom gazed around in wonder.
“Well, I’ll be. You cleaned up.” She ran her finger across some shelves. “Boy, did you clean up! This is more like it.” Then she narrowed her eyes at us. “Did Dad put you up to this?”
I laughed. “No! We just thought—you know. Special day and all.”
Mom still looked suspicious. “Well, I hope you at least had a little fun. What else did you do?”
“Watched a video,” I told her.
She sighed. “TV. I wish you kids would find something active to do. What about school sports? Otherwise you’re going to be a couple of couch potatoes.”
That was too much for Freddy. “Active?” he sputtered. “You want to hear about active?”
; I kicked the back of his leg. He stopped.
“We’ll try,” I said to Mom.
Her face broke into a smile. She pulled Freddy and me to her and hugged us. “I know you will. And I know we’re all going to be very happy,” she said. “Don’t you just love this house?”
Freddy and I exchanged glances.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think we do.”
Freddy and I said our good nights and headed up to bed. As soon as we were out of the room, I slipped the magic glasses on. A tiny hairy man bowed politely to us from the banister.
“One good thing about this house,” I said. “From now on, chores are going to be a snap!”
22
The next morning I waved to Freddy as he walked off to his own school. Two little people sat happily on his shoulders. The kids in his class were going to get a pretty special magic show, I guessed. Bullies might get a surprise as well.
I had just met up with Breanna outside the middle school when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned. Breanna’s brother, Bobby, stood behind me.
He grinned at me. “What’s happening, Tex?”
“Hi, Bobby,” I said cautiously. I still wasn’t sure how to take him.
Bobby turned to his sister. “Did you ask her yet?”
“I haven’t had a chance,” Breanna protested. “You ask.”
Bobby turned back to me. “Will you come to our party?” he asked.
I felt my cheeks turning pink. “You’re having a party?”
“Next Friday,” Breanna confirmed.
“And I’m invited?” I blurted out.
“Well, of course you are!” Breanna answered, laughing. “All our friends are invited.”
Friends, she said.
I beamed. “I’d love to come,” I told them both.
* * *
Later that day I took my seat in science class. Mrs. McCord wrote busily at the blackboard.
I slipped on my special glasses and pointed to her. The little zebra-striped man on my shoulder nodded and jumped away.
The chalk broke in Mrs. McCord’s hand. She picked up another stick.
It broke too. Then another. And another.
Finally, Mrs. McCord gave up. “I don’t understand it,” she murmured, looking puzzled. “Whoever heard of rotten chalk?”
I slipped the glasses back in my knapsack and stood up. “Let me help you, Mrs. McCord,” I called.
Mrs. McCord peered over her glasses at me. “I beg your pardon?”
I went to the chalkboard and grabbed a piece of chalk. “What do you want me to write?” I asked.
“Thanks for offering, Jill, but the chalk is no good,” Mrs. McCord said, smiling.
I shrugged. “It feels fine to me.” I grabbed her notes and started writing away. I could feel everyone staring at me.
After a moment of trouble-free writing, the teacher said, “Let me see that chalk.”
I handed her the stick I’d been using. She stared at it suspiciously. Then she started to write.
The chalk broke.
She started again.
The chalk broke again.
“Try another piece,” I suggested. I picked one up from the tray under the blackboard. I wrote my name in big, loopy letters. “See? Piece of cake.” I smiled.
Mrs. McCord snatched the chalk from me. It broke as soon as it touched the board.
People started giggling.
I grabbed another and showed that it, too, was fine.
Mrs. McCord tried it. It broke.
By now kids were rolling in the aisles. Mrs. McCord’s face was red. “Now, why can’t I—” she began.
Then she broke off and narrowed her eyes at me.
I turned to the class and hooked my mouth with my finger. “Caught you like a fish!” I said.
The class howled.
At first I was afraid Mrs. McCord wasn’t going to be a good sport. But finally she burst out laughing. “Nice one, Jill. How on earth did you do it?” she asked me.
I just grinned and shrugged.
On my way back to my desk I pointed at Bobby. “You’re next,” I told him.
Bobby groaned and slumped lower in his seat.
At my left ear I heard a tiny voice: “Peeps?”
“Soon, little friend,” I whispered. “Very, very soon.”
I turned to Bobby and smiled my biggest, fakest smile. He was about to be very impressed with the tricks I had up my sleeve.
Or—to be precise—sitting on my shoulder!
Are you ready for another walk down Fear Street?
Turn the page for a terrifying sneak preview.
CAMP FEAR GHOULS
I stood a few yards to the side of the cemetery gate. One rickety old house stood directly in front of me. It had lots of carved wooden decorations around the porch. From the walkway I could see the huge spider-webs that hung off them.
The front steps were splintered and sagging. The screen on the front door hung open on one twisted hinge. The weeds sprouting from the lawn were nearly as tall as me.
I read the address out loud: “Three three three.”
I thought the Camp Fear Girls’ invitation said 333. But that couldn’t be right.
I thought we would be meeting at the house of one of the members: But no one could possibly live here. This place was a wreck!
I dug into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out my invitation. Even in the dim light, it was easy to read the big bold numbers. 333.
Yes. This was definitely the right address.
“Weird,” I murmured, making my way up the broken steps.
Creak!
A board bent under my foot. It began to splinter and crack. I jumped forward.
CRRRACK! The board snapped in half.
Whoa! This is dangerous, I realized. My foot could have gone right through!
I stepped carefully over to a nearby window and peered inside. I couldn’t see anything. The glass was caked with dust and cobwebs, inside and out.
Then I moved to the door. I knocked gently.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Strange laughter floated from inside the old house. It sounded warped. Slowed down. Like a tape recorder with its batteries running low.
I shivered. Who—or what—could laugh like that?
I froze, listening. I couldn’t hear anyone coming to the door.
I took a shaky breath. I slowly reached out and rapped on the door again. This time harder.
Ha ha ha ha ha.
I shuddered. That creepy laughter again! And still no one came to the door.
Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
I had to be at the wrong place.
“I’m out of here,” I declared loudly. “Who needs the Camp—”
My words died in my throat. An icy cold hand gripped my shoulder!
I spun around. And saw Amy!
“You scared me!” I gasped.
“That was the idea,” Amy told me, wiggling her eyebrows.
She was dressed in a dark blue pleated skirt and white blouse, with a red bandanna around her neck. A matching red sash with several rows of badges sewn to it hung across her chest.
“Why are you standing out here?” Amy asked. “Wouldn’t they let you in?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t sure I was at the right place. I could hear people laughing inside, but nobody answered when I knocked.”
Amy slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Oh, that’s right—you don’t know the secret knock.”
She crossed to the door and tapped three times, slowly. Then two times fast, and then three more times slowly.
The front door creaked open.
“See?” Amy shrugged. “Nothing to it.”
I followed Amy through the darkened entry. I turned to see who had opened the door.
There was no one there! Did the door open all by itself?
No. That was dumb. The door had probably been unlatched all this time. When Amy knocked, it swung open. That’s all.
Amy led me into a room to the right of the front door. It was brightly lit—and filled with all sorts of cool stuff. A big-screen TV took up one wall. Next to it I saw a VCR, a five-CD player, a Sega and a Super Nintendo game system, and two speaker towers. Big leather couches circled a snack table that was piled high with chips, soda and cookies.
“Awesome!” I whispered to myself. The inside of this house was nothing like the outside.
Four or five girls in uniforms like Amy’s knelt by the snack table, eating. Three others stood by the entertainment system. A couple more sat on the couch. One stood by the window.
I did a quick count in my head. Eleven girls. And Amy made twelve. Twelve new friends.
“Attention, everybody,” Amy called. “This is Lizzy. She’s our new recruit.”
All eleven girls turned their heads at the exact same moment. “Hi, Lizzy,” they called.
Amy walked me around the room, introducing me. There was a red-haired girl named Trudy, and a tall, thin girl named Violet. Priscilla had dark frizzy hair. Lorraine’s was short and blond.
Pearl, a pretty girl with two long brown braids, stood by the window. All the girls wore red sashes across their uniform, like Amy. All except Pearl. Hers was purple. Maybe that means she’s some kind of troop leader, I guessed.
“Pearl, this is Lizzy,” Amy said, introducing me. “She’s from Waynesbridge.”
Pearl smiled and stuck out her hand. “Cool. Welcome to my house, Lizzy. And welcome to the troop.”
“Thanks,” I replied, clasping her hand.
“Um, where’s your scout leader?” I asked, gazing around the room, and back toward the front door.
“Oh, that would be Pearl’s mother. She had to run some errands,” Amy explained. “But she left us lots of snacks. Have some, Lizzy.”
“Thanks,” I said, eyeing the tortilla chips.
While I munched on some chips, Amy, Trudy, and Pearl took thick, green candles from a cupboard. They passed them out to the rest of the Camp Fear Girls, who lit them.
Then Trudy flicked out the ceiling light. Pearl moved to the front of our group.
“Didn’t I promise you some scary fun?” Amy whispered, sitting next to me. “It’s story time!”
I took a quick peek around the room. The green candles must have come from a special horror shop or something. Their light made everyone look spooky.