by R. L. Stine
“Let’s get inside,” she said. “Conan or his parents could be back any minute.”
Trigger pranced along as they made their way over the grass to the front door. The house loomed much bigger and darker as they crept onto the stoop.
“Down, Trigger. Stay down,” Evan whispered. “You can’t come in with us.”
Andy tried the front door. “Locked.”
Evan groaned. “Now what?”
“We try the back door, of course,” Andy replied. She had already jumped down off the stoop and was heading around the side of the house.
“You’ve done this before—haven’t you?” Evan demanded, following her.
“Maybe,” she replied, grinning at him in the dark.
A loud howl somewhere nearby made them both stop.
“What was that?” Evan cried.
“A werewolf,” Andy told him calmly. “Or maybe a cat.”
They both laughed. Nervous laughter.
The back door was locked, too. But the kitchen window was open a crack. Evan pushed it open wider, and they crept into the dark kitchen.
Holding his breath, Evan could hear every sound. Their sneakers scraped noisily against the linoleum. The refrigerator hummed. Water swirled in the dishwasher.
I can even hear the pounding of my heart, Evan thought. What am I doing? Have I really broken into Conan’s house?
“This way,” Andy whispered. “His room is probably upstairs.”
Evan kept against the wall as he followed Andy to the front stairs. They passed the small living room, bathed in orange light. The floorboards creaked under their shoes. Evan stumbled over a pile of old newspapers stacked in the narrow hallway.
Up the wooden stairs. The banister squeaked under Evan’s hand. A Venetian blind rattled against an open window, startling him.
“Sure is dark,” Andy muttered as they reached the top of the stairs.
Evan tried to reply, but his breath caught in his throat.
Holding onto the wall, he followed Andy to the first bedroom. She fumbled until she found a light switch, then clicked it on. The ceiling light revealed that they had found Conan’s room.
They both stood in the doorway, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the light. Then they quickly glanced around.
The walls of the small, square room were filled with posters of sports stars. The biggest poster, above Conan’s bed, showed Michael Jordan jumping about ten feet in the air as he slam-dunked a basketball. A bookshelf against one wall held very few books—but was loaded with sports trophies that Conan had won on various teams.
Suddenly, Andy started to laugh.
Evan turned to her, startled. “What’s so funny?”
She pointed to Conan’s bed. “Look—he still has a teddy bear!”
Evan turned his eyes to the bed, where a forlorn-looking, nearly flat, one-eyed teddy bear rested on the pillow. “Conan the Barbarian?” he cried, laughing. “He sleeps with a teddy bear?”
A loud creak made them cut their laughter short.
They listened hard, their eyes wide with fear. “Just the house,” Evan whispered.
Andy shivered. “Enough fooling around. Let’s find the Monster Blood and get out of here.”
They moved into the center of the room. “Where do you think he hid it?” Evan asked, pulling open the closet door.
“He didn’t,” Andy replied.
“Huh?” Evan spun around.
Andy had the blue can of Monster Blood in her hand. Grinning, she held it up to show Evan.
Evan let out a surprised cry. “You found it? Where?”
“Right on this shelf,” she replied, pointing. “He put it next to his tennis trophies.”
Evan hurried over to her and took the blue can from her hand. As he held it up to examine it, the lid popped off.
The green Monster Blood began bubbling over the top of the can.
“It’s growing fast!” Evan declared.
Andy stooped down and picked up the lid. She handed it to Evan. “Put it back on. Hurry.”
Evan tried pushing the lid back on. It kept slipping off.
“Hurry up,” Andy urged. “We’ve got to go.”
“The Monster Blood—it’s up over the top,” Evan cried.
“Shove it down,” Andy instructed.
Evan tried pushing the green gunk down into the can, pressing against it with the palm of his hand. Then he tried pushing it with three fingers.
He gasped as he felt the green goo tighten around his fingers and start to pull them down.
“It—it’s got me!” Evan stammered.
Andy’s mouth dropped open. “Huh?”
“It’s got my fingers!” Evan cried shrilly. “It won’t let go!”
As Andy hurried to help him, they both heard the front door slam.
“Someone’s home!” Evan whispered, tugging to pull his fingers free. “We’re caught!”
16
Andy froze in the center of the room, her eyes wide with horror.
Evan nearly dropped the can of Monster Blood. The sticky green substance tightened its grip on his fingers, making loud sucking sounds.
But Evan only cared about the sounds coming from downstairs.
“I’m home!” he heard Conan shout.
“We’re home, too!” It was a woman’s voice, probably Conan’s mother.
“They’re all home,” Evan whispered.
“We’re dead meat!” Andy murmured.
“I’m going upstairs,” Conan called to his parents.
Evan let out a terrified cry as he heard Conan’s heavy footsteps on the stairs. “Andy—wh-what do we do?” he stammered.
“The window!” she replied.
They both lunged toward the open window and peered out. A narrow concrete ledge stretched just beneath the window.
Without hesitating, Andy raised a leg over the windowsill and climbed out onto the ledge. “Evan—hurry!” she whispered, gesturing frantically.
Evan was still desperately trying to pull his fingers from the bubbling green goo. Andy reached in through the window and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Evan—!”
He heard Conan’s footsteps in the upstairs hall just outside the bedroom.
Using his free hand for support, Evan scrambled out the window and joined Andy on the narrow ledge.
“D-don’t look down,” Andy instructed in a trembling whisper.
Evan didn’t obey. He glanced down. The ground seemed very far below.
They each stood on a side of the window—Andy to the left, Evan the right. They pressed their bodies against the brick wall—and listened.
They heard Conan step into the room.
Did he notice that the light had been turned on?
No way to tell.
Loud rap music suddenly jarred the silence. Conan had turned on his boom box. He started chanting off-key along with the music.
Evan pressed as tightly against the side of the house as he could.
Go back downstairs, Conan, he pleaded silently. Please—go back downstairs!
How will Andy and I ever get away from here? he wondered, feeling all of his muscles tighten in panic.
Despite the hot night air, a cold chill ran down Evan’s back. He shuddered so hard, he nearly toppled off the ledge.
The blue can stuck to his hand. The Monster Blood sucked at his fingers. But he couldn’t worry about that now.
He could hear Conan moving around inside the room. Was he dancing to the loud music?
Evan glanced across the window at Andy. Her eyes were shut. Her face was clenched in a tight frown.
“Andy—!” Evan whispered. He knew that Conan couldn’t hear a whisper over the booming music. “Andy—it’ll be okay. As soon as he leaves, we’ll jump inside and sneak down the stairs.”
Andy nodded without opening her eyes. “Did I ever tell you I’m afraid of heights?” she whispered.
“No,” Evan replied.
“Well, remind me to tell you!”
“We’ll be okay,” he murmured.
Clinging to the side of the house, Evan kept repeating those words to himself. “We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
Then Trigger started to bark.
A low bark of surprise at first. And then a louder series of barks, insistent barks, excited barks.
Evan swallowed hard. He glanced down to the ground.
Trigger was peering up at him, jumping against the side of the house, as if trying to reach the ledge. The dog barked louder with each jump.
“Trigger—no!” Evan called down in a frantic whisper.
That only made the dog bark more furiously.
Did Conan hear it? Could he hear Trigger’s ferocious barks over the music?
“Trigger—stop! Go home! Go home!”
Suddenly the music stopped.
Trigger’s excited barks rose up even louder against the new silence.
Conan must hear them now, Evan realized.
The cocker spaniel threw himself wildly against the side of the house, trying to get up to Evan and Andy. Despite Evan’s frantic signals to be quiet, the dumb dog barked his head off.
Evan’s breath caught in his throat as he heard Conan making his way to the window.
A second later, Conan stuck his head out. “What’s going on?” he shouted.
Evan’s knees buckled. He started to fall.
17
Evan clung to the brick wall and stopped his fall.
He stared at Conan’s blond hair poking out the window. Evan was close enough to reach out and touch it.
“Shut up down there!” Conan shouted.
That made Trigger bark even louder.
He’s going to see us, Evan thought, trembling all over.
There’s no way Conan won’t see us.
“Conan—come downstairs!” Mrs. Barber’s voice floated up from downstairs. “Conan—come down and have your cake and ice cream. You said you were dying for dessert!” she called.
Conan’s head disappeared back into the bedroom. “There’s some stupid dog barking down there,” he called to his mother.
Clinging to the side of the house, struggling to keep his quivering knees from buckling again, Evan shut his eyes and listened.
He heard Conan’s footsteps cross the room. The bedroom light went out.
Silence.
“He—left,” Evan choked out.
Andy let out a long breath. “I can’t believe he didn’t see us out here.”
Evan glanced down to the ground. Trigger had finally stopped barking. But he continued to stand and stare up at them, his front paws against the side of the house, his stubby tail spinning like a propeller.
“Dumb dog,” Evan muttered.
“Let’s go,” Andy urged. She didn’t wait for Evan. She practically did a swan dive into the house.
It took Evan a few moments to get his legs to work. Then he ducked his head and climbed through the window after Andy.
Holding his breath, he led the way on tiptoe to the bedroom door. He stopped and listened.
Silence. No one in the dark hallway.
He could hear the Barbers’ voices downstairs in the kitchen.
He and Andy made their way to the top of the stairs. Then, holding tightly to the banister, they crept halfway down.
Evan stopped to listen again. Andy bumped right into him, nearly sending him sailing down the stairs. “Shhh!” she cried.
They could hear Conan talking to his parents in the kitchen. He was complaining about the other guys on the basketball team. “They’re all wimps,” Evan heard Conan say.
“Well, that’ll make you look even better,” Mr. Barber replied.
Evan took another deep breath and held it. Then he made his way down to the bottom of the stairs.
Almost out, he thought, his entire body shaking. Almost out of here.
He reached for the front doorknob.
“Conan, go upstairs and get your math book,” he heard Mr. Barber say. “I want to see the homework you had trouble with.”
“Okay,” Conan replied. His chair scraped against the floor.
Andy grabbed Evan’s shoulder.
They stared in frozen horror at each other—one foot away from escape—and waited to be caught.
18
“Conan—don’t go now. Get the book later,” Mrs. Barber chimed in. Then they heard her scold Conan’s father: “Let the boy have his cake and ice cream.”
“Fine, fine,” Mr. Barber replied. “He can show me the book later.”
Conan’s chair scraped back into place under the table.
Evan didn’t wait another second.
He jerked open the front door, pushed open the screen door, and burst out of the house like a rocket.
He could hear Andy gasping as she ran behind him. And then he could hear Trigger’s shrill yips as the dog followed, too.
Down the Barbers’ front lawn, into the street. Their sneakers slapped the pavement as they ran full speed through the darkness.
They didn’t stop until they reached Evan’s driveway.
Evan leaned against his family’s mailbox and struggled to catch his breath. He raised his hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead—and saw the blue can still stuck there.
“Help me,” he pleaded. He reached out his hand to Andy.
She was breathing hard, too. Her eyes kept darting back down the street, as if she expected Conan to be chasing after them.
“Close one,” she murmured. She turned to Evan. Her eyes glowed excitedly in the light from the streetlamp. “That was fun!”
Evan didn’t agree. In his opinion, it was far too scary to be fun. And here he was, still stuck to the can of Monster Blood.
He pushed his hand toward Andy. “Pull it off,” he told her. “I think you need both hands. I can’t do it.”
She grabbed the can in both hands. The green gunk bubbled over the sides, making loud sucking sounds.
Andy tugged. Then tugged harder. Then she took a deep breath, leaned back, and tugged with all her might.
The Monster Blood finally let go of its grip on Evan’s fingers. The can slid off with a loud pop. Andy went tumbling back onto the pavement.
“Ow!” Evan held up his three fingers and tried to examine them under the streetlight. They were all wrinkled and pruney, the way they looked when he had been swimming for an hour or two.
“Yuck! That stuff is so gross!” he cried.
Andy climbed slowly to her feet. She still cradled the Monster Blood can in both hands. “At least we got it back,” she murmured.
“Yeah. Now we can bury it again,” Evan said, still examining his fingers.
“Huh? Bury it?” Andy pulled the can away, as if protecting it from Evan.
“You heard me,” Evan said firmly. “It’s just too dangerous to mess with, Andy. Take it home and bury it in your back yard, okay?”
Andy stared down at the can. She didn’t reply.
“Bury it,” Evan repeated. “Take it home and bury it. Promise?”
“Well…” Andy hesitated. Then she said, “Okay. Promise.”
Evan woke up with a bad sore throat the next morning.
His mother worried that he might be coming down with the flu. So she kept him home from school. Evan spent the day reading comic books and watching MTV. His sore throat disappeared by midafternoon.
He returned to school the next day, feeling refreshed and ready to see everyone.
The good feeling lasted until he stepped into Mr. Murphy’s science class near the end of the day. Evan had to walk past the hamster cage to get to his seat.
As he neared the cage, he peered in.
That’s weird, he thought. Where’s Cuddles?
When did Mr. Murphy get a rabbit?
A rabbit?!
He stopped and leaned closer to the cage.
Familiar black eyes stared up at him. A familiar pink nose twitched at him.
It was Cuddles, Evan realized.
Cu
ddles had grown as big as a rabbit!
19
Evan leaned over the hamster cage, staring at the giant-sized Cuddles, as the bell rang. He turned to see that the other kids had all taken their seats.
“Evan, I see you’re examining your victim,” Mr. Murphy said from the front of the room.
“I—uh—” Evan couldn’t think of a reply. “Victim?”
Mr. Murphy angrily narrowed his beady black eyes at Evan. “You’ve been overfeeding Cuddles, Evan. Look how fat he has become.”
Almost as fat as you! Evan wanted to say.
Evan knew that Cuddles’ weight problem wasn’t his fault.
And it had nothing to do with overeating.
Cuddles had grown to triple-hamster size because of Monster Blood.
“When I find Andy, I’ll strangle her!” Evan muttered.
“What did you say, Evan?” Mr. Murphy demanded.
Evan could feel his face turning bright red. He hadn’t meant to talk out loud.
“Uh… nothing,” he replied, totally embarrassed. He slunk to his seat.
Andy has gone too far this time, he thought bitterly. She promised she’d bury the Monster Blood. She promised!
And now she’s turned Cuddles into a fat freak! And Murphy thinks it’s all my fault!
“Please stay after school,” Mr. Murphy told Evan, “so we can discuss Cuddles’ diet.”
Evan heard some kids snickering. He knew they were laughing at him.
He saw Conan and Biggie at their seats in the back. Conan was twitching his nose, puffing out his cheeks, pretending to be a fat hamster. Biggie was laughing his head off.
Evan stared at the hamster all through class. Cuddles appeared to grow right before Evan’s eyes. With each breath, the hamster seemed to puff up wider and taller.
Its black eyes were as big as marbles now. They stared back at Evan, as if accusing him.
When the hamster moved to its water tube, the entire cage rattled and shook.
Please don’t grow anymore! Evan pleaded silently, staring at the shaking cage. Please stop right now, Cuddles. Okay?
The hamster breathed noisily. Wheezing gasps. Evan could hear Cuddles panting all the way across the room.