by R. L. Stine
I hated this new house. I even hated my birthday.
Most of all, I hated the Grool.
Leaving my waffles on the plate, I ran up to my room. I snatched the Grool out of its cage and shook it as hard as I could.
“I warned you!” I threatened. “You ruined my birthday! Now you’ll pay!”
The Grool throbbed happily in my hand, and I hurled it back into the gerbil cage. “I hate you!” I shrieked. “I really hate you! You and your bad luck!”
Plopping down at my desk, I decided I had to take action. Strong action.
No birthday party. No more Grool.
“I’m keeping my promise,” I told the creature.
I pulled a notebook out of my desk drawer and began to make some plans to get rid of it.
“Daniel, it’s not raining anymore,” I whispered to my brother. “Come on, it’s time.”
The Grool vibrated in its plastic container.
Ba-boom. Ba-boom.
Daniel glanced up from his computer screen. “Now?” he asked. “Give me a break, Kat. I’m on level ten, and I need to slay only one more troll before I can open the treasure chest.”
“This is important. Really important,” I insisted.
Daniel sighed. “Do you think you should do it? You know what the book said.”
“I’ve got to!” I cried. “Remember, it’s the Grool’s fault that Killer ran away.”
Daniel was definitely nervous. And scared.
But he obediently hit the save button on Troll Terror and followed me outside to the backyard. It had rained all day. But now a few stars shone high above us in the charcoal night sky.
“Here. You hold the Grool,” I whispered. I shoved the creature into his trembling hands.
I skipped over to the garage—feeling happy for the first time in days. “I’m getting rid of the Grool,” I sang to myself.
Grabbing the biggest shovel I could find, I made my way back to Daniel. Then I started to dig.
This had to be a serious hole, a deep hole. Something the Grool could never, ever climb out of.
A cool breeze blew around me. But digging in the damp ground was hard work. Sweat rolled down my back and forehead.
I didn’t feel scared at all. I had to do something to make life normal again. I had to stop all the bad luck.
And if it meant burying a living sponge, fine. As long as I never had to see that stupid, snickering creature again.
I peered down into the hole. It seemed pretty deep, about as long as my arm.
“I’m finished,” I told my brother. “Pass me the Grool.”
Daniel silently handed the sponge to me.
As I held it over the deep hole, the sponge didn’t throb. It didn’t breathe. It didn’t even feel warm.
It felt dry and dead, like an ordinary kitchen sponge.
But I knew better.
I dropped the Grool into the hole and watched happily as it tumbled down the steep dirt sides to the bottom.
Picking up the shovel again, I began throwing dirt onto the creature—heap after heap.
Dig. Throw. Dig. Throw.
Finally, the hole was filled up. I used the back of the shovel to smooth the dirt flat. “There,” I said. “No one but us will know the Grool is buried here.”
I lowered my eyes to the soft, wet dirt. “Bye, bye Grool,” I called out happily. “Daniel, I think our luck is going to change now.”
Daniel didn’t reply.
I spun around. “Daniel? Daniel? Where are you?”
My brother had disappeared.
13
What had I done?
I dropped the shovel in a panic. “Daniel!” I shrieked. “Where are you?”
Had I made my brother disappear? Did burying the Grool somehow make Daniel vanish into thin air?
“Daniel? Daniel?” I called in a trembling voice.
I heard a soft rustling sound coming from behind the garage.
I crept quietly toward it. “Daniel,” I whispered. “Is that you?”
No reply.
I peeked behind the garage.
Daniel sat with his arms locked around his knees. Safe and sound.
“Daniel!” I cried. I felt so relieved that I pinched him.
“Cut it out,” he snapped. He leaped to his feet.
“What are you doing back here? I was so worried—I thought the Grool got you!”
Daniel didn’t reply. He lowered his eyes to the ground.
“Why did you hide?” I demanded.
“I was scared,” he murmured. “I thought the Grool might explode or fight back or something.”
“You were scared?” I asked. “Why didn’t you at least answer me when I called you?”
“I thought maybe the Grool was chasing you,” he confessed, his face turning red.
“Daniel, don’t worry,” I said. The poor guy was really frightened. And embarrassed that he had hid.
I put both hands on his shoulders. “The Grool is gone. It’s buried deep in the ground.”
He swallowed hard. “But what if it comes back? What if what the book said comes true?”
“We’ll never see the Grool again,” I said quietly. “And don’t forget—the book said Grools don’t really exist. It’s all made up. Just a myth, a fairy tale.”
Daniel sighed. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right, Kat,” he said. “At least this time.”
“This time?” I shot back. “How about all the time?” I slugged Daniel on the arm.
“Oh, that hurts so much I think I’m going to pass out!” Daniel cried sarcastically. He fell on to the wet lawn and pretended to faint.
“Come on, let’s go in,” I urged. “You’re getting soaked. And I’m covered with dirt.”
Daniel scrambled up and elbowed me aside.
“Race you!” he cried, running toward the house.
I leaped up the steps and beat him into the house by about a second. I slammed the screen door and held it closed, so Daniel couldn’t open it.
“I won!” I shouted.
“Only because I let you,” Daniel cried. He banged on the door.
“Do you want to get in here?” I asked.
Daniel nodded.
“Then say, ‘Kat beat me fair and square’,” I commanded.
“No way!” he replied.
“Stay out there all night, then—with the Groooooooool!” I told him. I let out a ghostly howl.
“Okay, okay. Kat beat me fair and square,” Daniel grumbled. “But I’ll win next time!”
Actually, I didn’t really care about the race. I felt so glad that I buried the Grool, I would have let Daniel win ten races.
As we burst into the living room, Mom and Dad raised their eyes from their newspapers. The house smelled of fresh paint.
“Where were you?” Dad asked.
“Oh, just fooling around in the yard,” I replied.
“Is everything all right?” Mom asked with concern. “You’re filthy!”
“Everything is fine,” I answered. “Now.”
“Okay, go and wash up,” Mom ordered. “Then come into the kitchen.”
Daniel and I crowded into the bathroom, leaned over the sink, pushing and bumping each other, and cleaned ourselves up.
“Do you know what time it is?” Mom asked as I raced back into the kitchen.
“Yes!” I shouted happily. “It’s time for my birthday cake.”
Mom beamed. “Well, sit right down here.”
I dropped excitedly into the chair she offered. Finally, I thought, things are going right again.
Daniel perched on the chair next to mine. He grabbed my arm. “Something bad is going to happen,” he whispered. “I know it. I just know it.”
I’m not going to let anything wreck tonight, I thought.
“Don’t be such a wimp,” I whispered. “Everything’s fine.”
At the kitchen counter, Mom hovered over the cake. She touched a match to each of the thirteen candles—one for each year and an extra
one for luck.
What an awesome cake! Mom had ordered it from the bakery down the street. It had all my favorites: pink frosting roses, chocolate icing, and a layer of strawberries. A tiny chocolate Ferris wheel sat on top.
“Ready, Kat?” Mom asked. She carried the cake to the table. Her faced glowed happily in the candlelight. Dad flashed me a big grin.
They all began to sing “Happy Birthday”.
I saw Daniel watching me closely as he sang.
They finished the song. I shut my eyes and made my wishes.
“I wish Killer would come home,” I said to myself. “And I wish the Grool would never return. And that Daniel is wrong—that nothing bad will happen.”
I leaned forward, closer to the candles, and blew hard.
Pop!
The loud noise from the kitchen nearly made me fall into my cake!
14
“Boy, that cork was loud!” chirped Mom.
She set down a tray of glasses and a large green bottle. “It’s your favorite—sparkling apple cider,” she announced. “I know it’s not as good as a day at WonderPark….”
“Oh, Mom!” I gasped, my heart still pounding. “It’s great. Everything is going to be great.”
An excellent birthday. Cake, sparkling cider, and presents—two new video games, a Discman and some CDs, a purple backpack, and a sweatshirt in pink and purple—my favorite colors.
That night before bed, I stuffed my school books into my new backpack. I stared at the gerbil cage. Empty and clean—as if the Grool had never even existed.
I got rid of the disgusting creature, I thought happily. I really did.
My family will finally be safe from bad luck.
The clock in the hall chimed ten. Time for bed. I climbed into my nightshirt and dove under the covers.
When the alarm rang the next morning, I bounced out of bed and ran to the window to check the weather.
“Oh, nooo!”
I uttered a low moan of horror.
The backyard—it looked like a desert!
Overnight, the grass had all burned brown. All the pink begonias dropped to the ground, dead and brown. Dad’s red roses had shriveled and turned black.
Poor Dad, I thought. He worked so hard to make the yard beautiful. And, now…
As I stared at the ugly, dead yard, I tried to force the thought from my mind. But deep down inside, I knew exactly how it all happened.
The Grool.
From its grave, the Grool had turned its evil powers on the lawn. And it killed every single living plant, flower, and blade of grass!
What should I do? I wondered, staring out at the burned, dried-out, dead, dead yard.
Should I remove the Grool from the ground?
Did I have a choice?
Not really.
I quickly pulled on my new sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. Then I crept downstairs. I sneaked out to the spot where I had buried the Grool.
And I began to dig.
Brown, dry leaves rained down on my head. My shoulder ached from lifting the damp, heavy dirt. My stomach didn’t feel too great, either.
Dig, toss. Dig, toss.
The more I dug, the worse I felt.
I wanted to throw the shovel down and run from the spot. To leave the terrible creature buried for good.
But I had to face the truth.
If I left the Grool buried, it would keep on punishing me. It would punish my whole family.
I dug to the bottom of the hole. Then I bent down and pushed the dirt away with both hands.
Slowly, before my frightened eyes, the Grool throbbed into view. More alive and excited than ever.
“I should smash you with this shovel!” I yelled at it.
The Grool vibrated crazily, almost as if what I said made it happy.
Ba-boom. Ba-boom. I could hear it breathe.
And then once again, it turned from brown to pink to tomato-red. And it kept changing color as it breathed.
Brown. Pink. Red.
Brown. Pink. Red.
I grabbed the Grool from its grave. It pulsed so hard that it throbbed right out of my hand and fell to the ground.
“Stay still!” I shrieked, snatching it up.
The Grool stared at me. Its tiny, round eyes glowed red with evil.
I shivered.
I gritted my teeth and shoved the Grool into the pocket of my new sweatshirt. I trudged back to the house, through the kitchen door, and into the hall that led to the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, I heard a noise. It came from Mom and Dad’s bedroom.
They’re awake, I thought. I’ve got to hurry before they see me and ask questions. That’s all I need.
I leaped up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Whomp! I slipped and landed hard on my right knee. “Ouch!” I shrieked.
I felt the Grool shake in my pocket. I heard its ugly, soft snicker.
Heh, heh, heh.
It was laughing at me!
I jerked it out of my pocket and squeezed it so hard that my fingers hurt. Then I ran to my room and threw the Grool into the gerbil cage.
“I’ll find a way to destroy you,” I promised. I rubbed my aching knee and glared at the little beast. “Before you can bring us any more bad luck, I will destroy you!” I cried.
But how? I wondered.
How?
15
“Kids, Aunt Louise is coming tomorrow,” Mom told Daniel and me the next morning. “So I want you both to clean up your rooms after school today.”
“Aunt Louise is coming?” I asked. “Great!”
Aunt Louise is my favorite aunt. Even though she’s a grown-up, she’s completely cool.
She wears long, flowery dresses and drives a bright yellow convertible.
And Aunt Louise blows the biggest bubble gum bubbles! And she knows a lot of really funny jokes.
Mom says Aunt Louise has her head in the clouds. I guess that means she has a wild imagination. I don’t know about that, but she does know a lot about things like astrology and tarot cards.
And, maybe—about Grools.
That night, after I cleaned my room and before I went to bed, I said a special good night to the Grool.
“My aunt is coming tomorrow and she’s going to help me get rid of you forever,” I whispered. It stared up at me, breathing softly.
After school the next afternoon, Daniel and I turned the corner onto our block. And we saw Aunt Louise’s yellow convertible in the driveway. We ran the rest of the way home.
“Hey—what’s up?” Aunt Louise called as we burst into the house. A floppy yellow straw hat covered her black curly hair.
Before Daniel could get to her, I threw my arms around Aunt Louise and whispered in her ear, “Come upstairs with me. Now. It’s super-important.”
My aunt pulled off her hat and set it on my head. She admired me in the hat. “Super-important?” she asked.
“Yes,” I whispered, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the stairs.
“Have you ever heard of a Grool?” I asked.
“A Grool? Hmmm. I’ll have to think about that one for a minute,” she replied thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so. What is a Grool?”
“Well,” I explained, “Daniel found a picture in an encyclopedia. And the book said it was an ancient, mythical creature….”
“Well, if it’s mythical, honey, that means it doesn’t exist,” Aunt Louise interrupted.
“But it’s not mythical!” I cried impatiently. “I should know because I have one. And it causes trouble, lots of trouble.”
Aunt Louise followed me to my room.
“Have you ever heard of a Lanx?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“That’s another creature in that encyclopedia. It looks like a potato, but it has a mouth full of sharp teeth.”
“Good heavens. It sounds disgusting!” Aunt Louise exclaimed. “But tell me about this… Grool. What does it look like?”
“Here
. I’ll show you,” I said. I pulled her into my room.
I pointed at the gerbil cage. The Grool squatted in the corner.
Aunt Louise walked up to the cage. “So you’re a Grool,” she said, leaning down. She reached over to pick it up.
“Wait,” I cried. “Maybe you shouldn’t touch it.”
But I was too late.
16
Aunt Louise picked up the Grool and placed it in the palm of her hand. She studied it for a long while.
Then she turned to me. “Kat, it’s only a dried-up sponge. What’s the big idea?”
“But—but—” I sputtered.
“Oh, I get it!” she laughed. “You really had me fooled! I thought you were serious!” She tossed the Grool to me.
I tried to catch it, but I didn’t want to touch it. It plopped to the floor.
“Pretty funny, kid.” She chuckled as she turned to leave. “You have a great imagination. Just like your aunt.”
I picked up the Grool and examined it closely.
Not warm.
Not breathing.
Not moving at all.
Dry and hard.
An ordinary sponge.
Aunt Louise thought I was joking. But the joke was on me.
The Grool had tricked me again!
I hurled the creature back into the gerbil cage. It lay there lifeless. “I hope you rot in there!” I exploded.
Before my amazed eyes, the dry brown sponge began plumping-up. In a few seconds, it became fuller and moister.
“Yuck!” I groaned, watching it turn pink and then red.
The Grool huffed and puffed. Whoa-ahhhh. Whoa-ahhh.
Those little black eyes peered out at me excitedly.
The Grool snickered softly.
Why was it so pleased with itself? I wondered. Nothing horrible had happened.
Or had it?
I thought of Dad’s fall off the ladder. The tree branch. Mrs. Vanderhoff’s fingers. Killer running away. My spoiled birthday party. Our dry, rotted backyard.
It was all too much. Too much!
With a desperate cry, I yanked the evil thing out of its cage. Then I slammed it down hard on my desk.