by R. L. Stine
A thin smile spread over Mr. Moon’s face. “It’s perfect for our party,” he said. “It’s cold and drafty. The wallpaper is torn. The rugs are stained. Very creepy.”
“I think our next house should be brand new,” Angela replied. “And I think we should paint the walls white and yellow. I’d like to live in a bright, shiny house.”
“Maybe,” Mr. Moon muttered. He was arranging plastic skulls in a row on the mantelpiece.
“I agree with Mom,” Michael Moon said, stepping into the room. He wore a black T-shirt with a photo of Jimi Hendrix over the front, pulled down over black jeans.
He was chewing an apple, turning it as if he were eating an ear of corn. Juice ran down his narrow, pointed chin.
“I’m tired of living in these creepy old barns,” he said.
Mr. Moon’s heavy black eyebrows shot up. “Did we ask for your opinion?” he snapped.
“Why do we have to have this party?” Michael asked.
“You’ll have fun,” his mother replied. “You know our parties are always exciting. And you’ll get to spend time with your new friends.”
“I don’t have any new friends,” Michael said, scowling. “How can I make friends when I have to change schools every year?”
“Help your mom with the crepe paper,” Mr. Moon ordered.
“Listen to me,” Michael insisted. “Don’t have this party. Please. I’m begging you.”
Angela turned and studied him. “Michael, you know we have to have the Halloween party. We always have the party, don’t we?”
Mr. Moon stepped between them. “Michael, stop arguing,” he said sternly. “This is going to be the best party yet. Put on your coat and run down to the corner. We need more black streamers.”
“Buy as many as you can,” Angela said.
“But—why won’t you listen to me?” Michael whined.
“Buy more orange streamers, too,” Angela said. “This party has to be special.”
Grumbling to himself, Michael grabbed his coat from the closet. Then he stomped angrily out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.
“He used to be fun,” Mr. Moon said, shaking his head. “When he was little, we always had a good time together. But now…”
“He’s just going through a phase,” Angela said.
“I hope so.” Mr. Moon sighed. He swept a hand back through his straight black hair. “Let’s check the windows,” he said. “Try the control.”
Angela moved to the bookshelves on the back wall. She lifted away a stack of books.
She pulled out a square black metal box and opened it with a key. Inside were three red buttons. Angela pushed the top button.
Clang. Clang clang. Clang.
They both watched as steel bars slammed down over all of the windows.
Smiling, Mr. Moon walked over to the front window. He wrapped his hands around two of the bars and tugged.
“Solid,” he said. “Very good.”
“I tested the doors,” Angela told him. “They all lock automatically when I push the middle button.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Moon said, his smile growing wider. “Excellent. Doors locked. Windows barred. That will keep them in. I don’t want any of these kids to escape.”
4
The next morning, Tristan made his way down the aisle of the school bus to his usual seat in the back row.
“Hey, Tristan—”
“Yo—what’s up?”
“How ya doin’?”
Tristan slapped hands as he walked to the back. He was one of the most popular kids at Wordsworth Middle School. He had a lot of friends because he was smart and funny, quiet, and easy to get along with.
The next stop was in front of Ray’s house. Ray came running down the driveway, struggling into his jacket. Late as usual.
“Stone Cold Ray is in the house!” he shouted, climbing aboard.
“Give me a break,” the bus driver muttered.
“Hey, Ray—stand up!” a kid shouted from the aisle.
Lots of kids laughed. Everyone knew Ray hated being so short.
“You got a problem with that? You got a problem with that?” Ray shook his fists and acted tough as he made his way to the back.
“Hey!” Ray cried out as someone bounced a milk carton off his head.
More laughter.
“You got a problem with that?” Ray screamed. “Anybody want a piece of me? You want a piece of me?”
“Everybody settle down,” the driver shouted, turning in his seat. “That means you, Stone Cold. Or you can be stone cold outside as you walk to school!”
Ray dropped into the space between Tristan and Rosa. “Look at them shaking,” he said. “I’ve got them all scared.”
Rosa shook her head. “They don’t know you’re joking. One of these days you’re going to get pounded.”
Ray stared at her. “Joking?”
“Hey, Ray—did you get a party invitation in the mail yesterday—from Mr. Moon?” Tristan asked. He was eager to change the subject.
Ray nodded. “Yeah. It blew up in my face. Pretty cool.”
Bella’s house was the last stop on the bus route. She climbed on and waved to them as she dropped into the last empty seat near the front.
“We’re not going to Moon’s party, are we?” Ray asked.
“I don’t want to,” Tristan answered. “But my mom says I have to.”
“We won’t stay long,” Rosa added. “Maybe just an hour.”
Ray made a face. “Hey, Kimball!” he called to a kid near the front. “Did you get Moon’s party invitation yesterday?”
“Huh? From Michael Moon?” the kid asked. “Is he having a party?”
“No—from his father,” Ray answered.
“Is it a costume party?” another boy shouted. “Is Michael going to come as a human?”
A few kids laughed.
“I didn’t get any invitation,” Kimball said.
“Did anybody get an invitation to Moon’s party?” Ray shouted.
Silence. A lot of kids shook their heads no.
Only one hand went up. “I got one,” Bella called.
“Weird,” Rosa murmured. “Just the four of us? Are we the only ones invited to the party?”
Later, in the lunchroom, they asked more kids if they’d received invitations.
But no one they asked had gotten one. No one seemed to know that Mr. Moon was having a Halloween party.
“Weird. Totally weird,” Bella said, finishing her fried chicken. She took a long sip from her orange juice carton.
“Yes, you are weird,” Ray said, staring at Bella’s lunch plate. “Do you always eat the chicken bones, too?”
“I don’t eat them. I just chew on them,” Bella replied. She raised two fists. “You got a problem with that?”
Rosa stared at Bella’s gnawed chicken bones. “That’s gross,” she said. “My dog eats bones. But I really don’t know any people who eat—”
“OWOOOOOOOOO!” Ray tossed back his head and let out a long wolf-howl. “I eat bones!” Ray snapped his teeth at Rosa. “Stone Cold Ray eats human bones! OWWOOOOOOOOO!”
Rosa shoved him so hard, he nearly fell off his chair.
“Time to go,” Tristan said, climbing to his feet. “Before we get thrown out.”
The four of them made their way out to the hall.
Tristan glanced up and down the hall to make sure Mr. Moon wasn’t nearby. “Do you realize we haven’t found anyone else who has been invited to Moon’s party?” he asked.
“We can’t be the only ones—can we?” Rosa said.
“I’ll bet he invited a bunch of kids from his old school,” Bella said.
Ray pounded lockers with his fist as he followed them down the long hall. “Yeah. You’re right. Probably a bunch of kids we don’t know.”
Tristan turned—and once again saw someone watching them.
Michael Moon. Huddled in a classroom doorway. Half-hidden from view.
Is he following us? Tristan wonde
red.
What does he want? Why is he watching us like that? What’s going on?
5
“Some of you may wonder about my name,” Mr. Moon said. He carried a long pointer and paced back and forth in front of his desk.
Tristan sat next to Ray in the front row of the classroom. Sunlight washed over them from the window. Heat coming up from the radiator against the wall made it rattle.
Mr. Moon wore a loose red sweater over baggy gray pants. When he stepped into the sunlight, his pale face appeared to glow.
“Some of you may already know that there will be a full moon this Halloween,” he said. He tapped the desktop with the end of the pointer.
Why does he keep staring at Ray and me? Tristan wondered.
He paces back and forth. But every time he turns our way, he keeps his eyes on the two of us.
What is his problem?
“Luna means moon,” the teacher continued. “Can you think of words that come from luna?”
“Looney Tunes?” Ray called out.
Kids laughed.
“It isn’t funny. Ray is right,” Mr. Moon said, nodding at Ray.
The laughter stopped instantly.
Ray flashed Tristan a thumbs-up. “Tell the truth. Am I a genius, or what?”
“The words lunacy and lunatic come from luna,” the teacher continued, ignoring Ray.
“So that means we should call him Mr. Lunatic,” Ray whispered to Tristan.
Tristan struggled not to burst out laughing.
“Something funny?” Mr. Moon asked. He leaned over Tristan, the pointer raised.
“Not really,” Tristan replied. “Just Ray’s face.”
That got a big laugh from everyone but Ray.
“Let’s try to keep on the subject,” Mr. Moon said softly. He kept his gaze on Tristan. “We were talking about the word lunatic.”
He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at Tristan. “People who howled at the moon were called lunatics. As the years passed by, lots of other legends grew about the full moon.”
He turned to the rest of the class. “Do you know any legends about the full moon?”
A girl named Kim-Lee raised her hand.
“Don’t they say that more crimes happen on the nights of the full moon?” she asked. “You know. Robberies and murders and everything?”
Mr. Moon nodded. “Yes. Police report that their busiest nights are full-moon nights. Many more crimes are committed. Any others?”
Silence.
Then Kim-Lee raised her hand again. “And doesn’t the moon control the ocean waves?”
“Well, the pull of the moon is said to affect the ocean tides,” Mr. Moon replied.
Tristan raised his hand. “What about werewolves?” he asked. “Some people think that werewolves come out when the full moon is at its highest, right?”
“Yes.” Mr. Moon shook his head and tsk-tsked.
“I’m sure that all of you have seen the frightening reports on the news about the recent animal attacks,” he said. “Some people are blaming the attacks on werewolves.”
He paused.
“Werewolf attacks. Right here in our town. It’s hard to believe. Do werewolves exist or not?” he muttered. “Perhaps we’ll find out during the full moon on Halloween night.”
Suddenly Ray jumped to his feet. His eyes bulged in horror.
“My hands!” he screamed. “Oh, no! My hands! They’re growing fur!”
6
On Halloween, a few nights later, Tristan found himself thinking about Ray’s dumb werewolf joke in class.
Why did Mr. Moon get so upset? Tristan wondered. The teacher totally freaked. He turned bright red and gaped at Ray, shaking in fright.
Didn’t Moon know that Ray was just being Ray? Couldn’t he tell it was a joke?
Tristan pulled the wide-brimmed hat down over his hair. Gazing into the mirror, he adjusted the black mask that covered his eyes.
“Tristan, where did you find that stuff?” His mom stepped up behind him, shaking her head.
“It was all in my old toy chest,” he replied. He pulled a cap pistol from the holster at his waist and twirled it on his finger. “Wish I still had some caps.”
“Do kids these days know what a cowboy is?” Mrs. Gottschalk asked.
Tristan tugged at the mask. It made his face itch. “Not really,” he said. “No one is into cowboys. That’s why I like the costume.”
His mom straightened the white cowboy hat. “This is a little small. It will blow off in the wind.”
“We’re going to be indoors—remember?” Tristan replied with a groan. “We’re going to be at that stupid party.”
“Maybe it will be fun,” she said. “If your whole class comes…”
“My whole class isn’t coming,” Tristan replied, tying a red bandanna around his neck. “We asked a whole bunch of kids at school if they were coming. No one even heard of this party. He must be inviting kids we don’t know.”
“Let me tie that for you. You’re messing it up.” She leaned down and began to knot the bandanna. “Are you supposed to be the Lone Ranger?”
“Who’s that?” Tristan asked.
He gazed out the bedroom window. A silvery full moon was rising over the treetops. Thin wisps of cloud wriggled across the big moon like shadowy snakes.
“Where are you? Are you upstairs?” Rosa’s voice rang out from the first floor.
Tristan heard her footsteps on the stairs. He pulled both pistols as she stepped into the room. “Stick ’em up!”
Rosa’s mouth dropped open. She stared wide-eyed at him for a moment. “That’s the geekiest costume I ever saw,” she said.
“Hey, give me a break,” Tristan replied. He slid the pistols back into their leather holsters. “I’m going to be the only cowboy in town tonight.”
“You’ve got that right,” Rosa said, rolling her eyes.
Mrs. Gottschalk studied Rosa. “What are you supposed to be? A fish?”
“No way. I’m a mermaid,” Rosa replied. She wore a blond wig tied high on her head in a bun. Her cheeks and forehead glittered with sparkly stuff.
“See? I drew fish scales all over this green jumpsuit with a Magic Marker,” Rosa said. “I’m half fish, half girl.”
“Which half is the fish half?” Tristan joked.
“Ha-ha.” Rosa shoved him into the dresser.
His cowboy hat toppled off and sailed to the floor. He bent to pick it up. “Rosa, if you’re a mermaid, where are your tail fins?”
“I didn’t know how to make fins,” she replied. “Besides, how can you walk with a tail over your feet?”
“I think she looks very…different,” Tristan’s mom said. She glanced at the clock. “If you don’t get going, you two are going to be late.”
They both groaned.
“I guess you’re not looking forward to Mr. Moon’s party, either?” Tristan’s mom asked Rosa.
Rosa shook her head. “No way.”
“Well, just stay for an hour,” Mrs. Gottschalk said. “Then tell Mr. Moon your parents don’t want you to stay out late.”
She straightened Tristan’s bandanna. “It’s the truth, after all,” she said. “And don’t forget. You both do have to be home by eleven—at the very latest.”
“Right. Eleven,” Tristan repeated.
“Mr. Moon will understand,” his mom said. “Especially with all the frightening news stories on TV lately.”
Tristan led the way out of the house. A gust of cold wind greeted him. He grabbed the hat with one hand to keep it from flying away.
Their shoes crunched over the gravel driveway. They both gazed up at the silvery full moon.
Tristan felt a chill start at his neck and tingle down his back.
He turned to Rosa. The moonlight washed over her, making her face shimmery and pale.
Again he turned his face to the moon. It gave off such cold, icy light.
Far in the distance, an animal howl rose over the rustle of the trees.
A dog howling?
Or a wolf?
“Why do I have such a bad feeling about tonight?” Tristan asked in a whisper.
7
They picked up Bella and Ray on the way to Mr. Moon’s house.
Bella wore a long, pleated black dress and a starched white blouse with a high collar. She had sprayed her hair black with a white streak down the center.
“I’m Cruella De Vil,” she announced. “So be careful. I’m totally mean tonight.”
“How will we tell the difference?” Ray asked.
“Ha-ha. Be careful, Ray, or I’ll smear your fake tattoos.” Bella reached out to pinch his bare arm.
Ray pulled away. His arms were covered with blue and red tattoos. He wore silver tights and a bright red cape over a sleeveless silver muscle shirt. His eyes peered out from a silky silver mask.
He shivered as a strong gust of wind fluttered his cape.
Rosa laughed. “Stone Cold Ray is going to be cold tonight in that little T-shirt!”
Ray raised his tattooed fists. “You got a problem with that?” he growled. “You got a problem with that?”
The wind sent Tristan’s cowboy hat sailing over the grass. He chased after it. “I think there used to be a string on this thing you could tie under your chin,” he said. He jammed the small hat back on his head.
“Look at those kids.” Ray pointed to a group of nine or ten trick-or-treaters hurrying up a driveway across the street. “They’re having fun. They don’t have to go to a dumb teacher’s party.”
“We don’t have to stay for long,” Tristan said.
He heard a loud crack behind him. A twig breaking?
He spun around—and saw a dark figure standing half-hidden by a tall hedge.
A vampire.
White face. Dark red lips. Black hair slicked back. Long black cape fluttering in the wind.
“Be careful,” the vampire called softly. So softly Tristan wasn’t sure he heard the words correctly.
“Be careful.”
“Hey—” Tristan called out to him. Was it Michael Moon?
“What’s your problem?” Ray shouted.
Pulling the cape around him, the vampire shrank back into the darkness of the hedge.