by R. L. Stine
I shivered.
Turning to leave, a memory flashed through my mind.
The INSTA-TAN bottle. We hadn’t dropped it back into the Dumpster. We had tossed it into the woods on the other side of the neighbors’ house.
“Yes!” I cried happily. “Yes!”
We had chased each other across the neighbors’ yard—and I’d heaved the bottle into the trees.
It will still be there, I told myself. It has to be there.
I darted past Lily’s house, glancing up at the front windows. I couldn’t see anyone looking out.
Past the neighbors’ house, dark and empty. The remodeling work not finished.
Into the woods. The dead leaves wet and slippery under my shoes. The bare tree branches shook and rattled in the shifting, sharp wind.
Where had the bottle landed? I asked myself. Where?
It hadn’t gone far, I remembered. Just past the first trees.
It had to be nearby, I knew. Somewhere near where I stood.
A blanket of deep shadow had fallen over the woods. I kicked at a pile of dead leaves. My shoe hit something hard.
Bending quickly, I tossed leaves away with both hands.
Only a tree branch.
I moved deeper into the woods, pushing my way through clumps of tall, dead weeds.
I stopped.
It has to be around here, I knew. My eyes desperately searched the shadows.
There it is. No. Just a smooth stone.
I kicked it away. Then I turned slowly, making a complete circle, my eyes sweeping the dark ground.
Where is the bottle? Where?
I sucked in my breath when I heard the sound.
The crack of a twig.
I listened hard. I heard the crackle of leaves. The brush of a leg against a winter-dry shrub.
Another twig cracking.
Swallowing hard, I realized I was no longer alone.
“Wh-who’s there?” I called.
19
“Who’s there?”
No reply.
Frozen as still as a statue, I listened. I heard the scrape of feet moving rapidly over the ground. I heard heavy breathing.
“Hey—who is it?” I called.
I glanced down—and saw the bottle. Lying on its side, nestled in a pile of leaves right in front of me.
I bent quickly, reached eagerly for the bottle with both hands. But I jerked back up to my feet in fright as a dark figure lumbered out from the trees.
Panting hard. Its long tongue flapping from its open mouth.
A tall, brown dog. Even in the dim light, I could see how scraggly and tangled its fur was. I could see large burrs stuck in its heaving side.
I took a step back. “Are you alone, boy?” I called in a frightened whisper. “Huh? Are you alone, doggie?”
The animal lowered its head and let out a whimper.
I searched the woods for other dogs. Was he part of a pack? Part of the pack of stray dogs that liked to chase me, growling and snapping?
I didn’t see any others.
“Good dog,” I told him, keeping my voice low and calm. “Good doggie.”
He stared up at me, still panting. His scraggly, brown tail wagged once, then drooped.
I bent slowly, keeping my eyes on the dog, and picked up the bottle. It felt surprisingly cold. I held it up and tried to see if any of the liquid remained inside.
But it was too dark to see.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t use every last drop, I thought, struggling to remember. There has to be a little left. Enough for Dr. Murkin to test.
I shook the bottle close to my ear, listening for the splash of liquid inside. Please, please, let there be a drop left! I pleaded silently.
The trees shivered in a sharp, swirling gust. Leaves rustled and scraped against each other.
The dog let out another soft whimper.
I grasped the bottle tightly in my right hand and started to back away. “Bye-bye, doggie.”
He tilted his head and stared up at me.
I took another step back. “Bye, doggie,” I repeated softly. “Go home. Go home, boy.”
He didn’t move. He let out another whimper. Then his tail began to wag.
I took another step back, grasping the INSTA-TAN bottle tightly. Then, as I started to turn away from the staring dog, I saw the others.
They poked out quickly, silently, from the dark trees. Five or six big dogs, their eyes glowing angrily. Then five or six more.
As they lumbered nearer, moving quickly, steadily, I could hear their growls, low and menacing. They pulled back their lips and bared their teeth.
I froze, staring in terror at their darkly glowing eyes, listening to their menacing, low growls.
Then I spun around awkwardly. Started to run.
“Ohh!” I let out a shrill cry as I stumbled over a fallen tree branch.
The bottle flew out of my hand.
As I fell, I reached out for it, grasping desperately.
Missed.
I watched in horror as it hit a sharp rock—and shattered. The jagged pieces flew in all directions. A tiny puddle of brown liquid washed over the rock.
I landed hard on my knees and elbows. Pain shot through my body. But I ignored it and scrambled to my feet.
I whirled around to face the dogs.
But to my surprise, they were running in a different direction. Through the trees, I glimpsed a frightened rabbit, scrabbling over the leafy ground. Barking and growling, the dogs chased after it.
My heart pounding, my knees still throbbing, I walked over to the rock and stared down at the jagged pieces of orange glass. I picked one up and examined it closely.
“Now what do I do?” I asked myself out loud. I could still hear the excited barking of the dogs in the distance. “Now what?”
The bottle was shattered into a dozen pieces. My evidence was gone. I had nothing to show Dr. Murkin. Nothing at all.
With an angry cry, I tossed the piece of glass at the trees. Then I wearily slunk toward home.
Mom and Dad hurried to a school meeting after dinner. I went upstairs to my room to do my homework.
I didn’t feel like being alone.
I took Jasper in my lap and petted her for a while. But she wasn’t in the mood. She glared at me with those weird yellow eyes. When that didn’t work, she scratched my hand, jumped away, and disappeared out of the room.
I tried calling Lily, but no one answered at her place.
Outside, the wind howled around the corner of the house. It made my bedroom windows rattle.
A chill ran down my back.
I leaned my elbows on my desk and hunched over my government textbook. But I couldn’t concentrate. The words on the page became a gray blur.
I walked across the room and picked up my guitar. Then I bent down and plugged it into my amp.
Lots of times when I’m feeling nervous or upset, I play my guitar for a while. It always calms me down.
I cranked the amp up really high and started to play a loud blues melody. There was no one else home, no one to tell me to turn it down. I wanted to play as loud as I could—loud enough to drown out my troubled thoughts.
But I had played for only three or four minutes when I realized that something was wrong.
I kept missing notes. Messing up the chords.
What’s wrong with me? I wondered. I’ve played this tune a million times. I can play it in my sleep.
When I glanced down at my fingers, I saw the problem.
“Ohh!” I uttered a weak groan. That disgusting hair had sprouted over both of my hands. My fingers were covered in thick, black hair.
I turned my hands over. Both palms were covered, too.
The guitar fell heavily to the floor as I jumped to my feet.
My arms began to itch.
With trembling hands, I tore at the cuffs. Pulled up the sleeves.
My arms were covered, too! The thick, bristly hair swept over both arms and hands.
My mouth suddenly felt dry. My throat ached.
I tried to swallow.
Was the disgusting hair growing on my tongue?
Feeling a jolt of nausea, I lurched across the hall to the bathroom. Clicking on the ceiling light, I leaned over the sink. I brought my face up close to the mirror and stuck out my tongue.
No.
My tongue was okay.
But my face—my cheeks and chin—were covered with black hair.
It’s spreading so fast! I realized. The mirror reflected my horror.
It’s spreading so fast now—all over me.
What am I going to do?
Isn’t there anything I can do?
20
I got to school early on Monday morning and waited for Lily at her locker.
It had taken hours to shave off all the bristly clumps of hair. But I did it.
This morning I wore a sweater with extra-long sleeves, and I pulled a baseball cap down low on my head in case the hair grew back during the day.
“Lily, where are you?” I murmured impatiently. I paced nervously back and forth in front of the row of green lockers.
Lily and I have to face this problem together, I told myself. I remembered the frightened expression on Lily’s face when I asked her if she had been growing weird hair.
I knew the same thing was happening to Lily. I just knew it.
And I knew that Lily must be embarrassed like me, too embarrassed to admit it, to talk about it.
But the two of us can figure out what to do, I decided.
If the two of us go to Dr. Murkin and tell him about the INSTA-TAN lotion and the hair, he’ll have to believe us.
But where was Lily?
Kids jammed the hall, slamming lockers, laughing and talking. I glanced at my watch. Only three minutes till the bell rang.
“How’s it going, Larry?” a voice called.
I turned and saw Howie Hurwin grinning at me. His sister, Marissa, stood beside him. Her braid was caught in her backpack strap, and she was struggling to free it.
“Hi, Howie,” I said, sighing. He was the last person I wanted to see this morning!
“Ready for tomorrow?” he asked. Why did he have to grin like that when he talked? That grin just made me want to punch him.
“Tomorrow?” I glanced down the crowded hall, searching for Lily.
Howie laughed. “Did you forget about the Battle of the Bands?”
“Ow!” Marissa cried. She finally managed to tug her braid free. “Is your band still going to play?” she asked. “We heard about Manny leaving.”
“Yeah. We’ll be there,” I told her. “We sound pretty good.”
“We do, too!” Howie replied, grinning even wider. “We might be on TV. My uncle knows a woman who works on Star Search. He thinks maybe he can get us on.”
“Great,” I replied, without any enthusiasm.
Where was Lily?
“If we get on that show, we’ll probably win,” Marissa added, still fiddling with her long braid. “And then we’ll be famous.”
“They asked us to play at the next school dance,” Howie said. “They didn’t ask your band, did they?”
“No,” I replied. “No one asked us.”
That made Howie’s grin practically burst off his face. “Too bad,” he said.
The bell rang. “I’ve got to go,” I said, hurrying toward Miss Shindling’s room.
“See you at the contest tomorrow,” Marissa called.
“We’re going first,” Howie shouted. “I guess they’re saving the best for first!”
I heard the two of them laughing as I stepped into the classroom. I made my way to my seat, searching for Lily. Had she slipped past me while I was talking with Howie and Marissa?
No. No sign of her.
I sank into my seat, feeling worried and disappointed. Was Lily sick today? I hoped not. She can’t get sick the day before the Battle of the Bands, I told myself. She just can’t.
“Larry, would you hand out the tests?” Miss Shindling asked, dropping a heavy stack of papers into my arms.
“Huh? Test?”
I had totally forgotten.
Lily didn’t come to school. I tried phoning her at lunchtime. The phone rang and rang, but no one answered.
After school, I decided to go to Lily’s house to see what had happened to her. But as I walked out of the school building, I remembered that my mom had asked me to come straight home after school. She had some chores she wanted me to help her with.
It was a clear, cold day. Puffy, white clouds floated high in the afternoon sky. All the snow had finally melted, but the ground was still soft and wet.
I waited for several cars to pass. Then I crossed the street and headed for home.
I had walked nearly a block when I realized I was being followed.
A dog brushed softly against my leg. Startled, I stopped and stared down at it.
The dog had light brown fur, almost red, with a white patch at its throat. It was a medium-sized dog, a little bigger than a cocker spaniel. It had long, floppy brown ears and a long, furry tail that swept slowly back and forth as it gazed up at me.
“Who are you?” I asked it. “I’ve never seen you before.”
I glanced around, making sure there weren’t a dozen other dogs lurking in the bushes, getting ready to chase after me.
Then I turned and started walking again.
The dog brushed my leg again and kept on going. As I walked, it stayed a few yards ahead of me, glancing back to make sure I was following.
“Are you following me—or am I following you?” I called to it.
The dog’s tail gave a single wag in reply.
It followed me all the way home.
My mom was waiting for me in the driveway. She had a long green sweater pulled down over her jeans. “Nice day,” she commented, glancing up at the sunny sky.
“Hi, Mom,” I greeted her. “This dog followed me home.”
The dog sniffed at the low evergreen shrubs that lined the front walk.
“She’s kind of pretty,” Mom said. “What a nice color. Who does she belong to?”
I shrugged. “Beats me. I’ve never seen her before.”
The dog came over and stared up at Mom.
“At least she’s friendly,” I said, setting my heavy backpack down on the driveway. “Maybe we should keep her.”
“No way,” Mom replied sharply. “No dogs. Not with Jasper in the house.”
I bent down and petted the top of the dog’s head.
“She has a tag on her collar,” Mom said, pointing. “Check it out, Larry. Maybe it says the owner’s name.”
The dog’s tail wagged furiously as I petted her head. “Good dog,” I said softly.
“Come on, Larry. See what the tag says,” Mom insisted.
“Okay, okay.” I reached for the round, gold tag hanging down from the dog’s collar. Then I dropped to my knees and lowered my face so that I could see it clearly.
“Huh?”
I recognized it instantly.
It wasn’t a dog tag. It was Lily’s gold pirate coin.
21
I nearly fell over. I felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach.
“M-mom!” I stammered. But my voice came out as a gasp.
“Larry—what are you doing?” Mom called. She had wandered to the side of the driveway and was pulling up some dead weeds. “What does the tag say?”
“It—it isn’t a tag,” I finally managed to choke out.
She turned her head back to me. “Huh?”
“It isn’t a dog tag,” I repeated, still holding it between my fingers. “It’s Lily’s gold pirate coin.”
Mom laughed. “Why would Lily give her coin to a dog? Didn’t her grandfather give her that coin?”
“I—I don’t know why,” I stammered. “I don’t get it, Mom.”
>
The dog’s hot breath brushed over my hand. She pulled away from me, settled back, and started scratching her long, floppy ear with her back paw.
“Are you sure it’s a gold coin, Larry?” Mom asked, crossing the drive, standing right behind me.
I nodded and reached for the coin again. “Yeah. It’s Lily’s gold coin, Mom.”
“It must be some other gold coin,” Mom suggested. “I’m sure it isn’t the same coin.”
Mom must be right, I decided.
I let go of the coin and raised my hand to pet the dog’s head.
But my hand stopped in midair when I saw the dog’s eyes.
She had one blue eye and one green eye.
22
“It’s Lily! It’s Lily!” I shrieked, jumping to my feet.
My shouts frightened the dog. She uttered a shrill yip, turned, and bolted from the front yard.
“Lily—come back!” I called after her. “Come back! Lily!”
“Larry—wait!” Mom cried. “Please—!”
I didn’t hear the rest of what she said. Jumping over my backpack, I darted toward the street. I hurtled across without slowing to look for cars—and kept running toward Lily’s house.
It is Lily! I told myself. That dog has a green eye and a blue eye. And it’s wearing Lily’s coin!
It is Lily! I know it!
I could hear my mom calling for me to come back. But I ignored her and kept running.
Lily’s house was three blocks away. I ran at full speed the whole way. By the time her house came into view, I was gasping for breath, and I had a sharp pain in my side.
But I didn’t care.
I had to see Lily. I had to know for sure that the dog wasn’t Lily.
Such a crazy thought! As I crossed the street, I started to realize how crazy it was.
Lily, a dog?
Larry, are you totally losing it? I asked myself. Mom must think I’m totally wacko! I realized.
Lily, a dog?
I slowed down, rubbing the pain at my side, trying to massage it away.
I spotted Lily’s parents in the driveway. The trunk of their blue Chevy was open. Mr. Vonn was lifting a suitcase into it.