The Howler
Page 9
“Normal.” I kept repeating the word in my mind. Repeating it until it became a prayer. Please—let everything be normal again.
And it was.
Scott’s house stood, as always, next door to mine. No exploded window. No sign of a fire.
As Vanessa and I raced up the driveway, Scott, Ed, and Justin came running out. “Where did you two go?” Scott demanded. “What’s up with you guys?”
Scott didn’t remember anything that had happened. None of them did.
I tore up to the attic. Dark and silent. No fire. No ghosts. The Howler stood on the carton where I’d left it. I picked it up and examined it. No sign that it had exploded.
Everyone seemed eager to get home. We all said goodbye. Vanessa and I exchanged glances. We were the only ones who remembered the horror, who knew that we had all just barely survived.
I carried the Howler home and up to my room. I promised myself that my adventures with ghosts were over.
I had seen Ian. Ian had forgiven me. And he had saved my life. I hoped he could rest now.
I wrapped the cord tightly around the Howler. The little box was dangerous. Deadly dangerous. I planned to hide it away in the basement, where no one could find it.
But before I could step out of my room, Nick barged in. “Hey, punk—” he greeted me. “Is that your face, or were you hit by a truck?”
“Ha-ha,” I muttered. “Funny. Real funny.”
“Give me that thing,” Nick said, grabbing for the Howler.
“No way,” I replied, jerking it away.
“No. Give it to me,” Nick insisted. “Remember that joke I played on you with it? When I made you scream like a stupid baby? I want to play that same trick on some girls I know.”
I hesitated. I opened my mouth to explain to my brother just how dangerous the Howler could be.
“Hand it over, punk,” he growled. “Or I’ll pound you till your face looks like coleslaw.”
After that, I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t keep a grin from spreading over my face.
“Okay, here,” I said, giving the Howler to Nick. “Take it. Have fun. Have a lot of fun.”
Take a look at what’s ahead in THE NIGHTMARE ROOM #8
Shadow Girl
I pulled open the door. The room behind it was totally dark.
I took a step inside and swept my hand over the wall, searching for a light switch.
Stan stepped in behind me. He huddled so close, he bumped into me.
“Okay!” I found the switch and clicked it on. A ceiling light flashed on, sending bright yellow light over us.
Blinking against the sudden light, I glanced around.
The room was not much bigger than a closet. It was completely bare, no furniture at all. The ratty, brown carpet had a long tear in it. The gray paint on the walls was peeling.
A window on the wall across from us was covered by a wide, black shade. A single, wooden shelf was built into the wall next to the window. It appeared to have something resting on it.
Stan pulled off his ski cap and shoved it into his coat pocket. His brown hair was matted wetly to his forehead.
“Why would Jada come in here?” he asked. “It’s just an empty closet.”
I shrugged. “Beats me. I’m totally confused. I thought we’d find something really interesting.”
I stepped past Stan and crossed to the shelf on the wall. I saw a dark pile of cloth folded neatly on the shelf.
No. Not cloth.
I pulled part of it down and unfolded it. A long, blue-black cloak.
I held it out in front of me. “Check this out, Stan. It’s like a cape with a hood.”
“Weird,” he said, studying it. He pulled the rest of the stuff off the shelf. “Look.” He held up a pair of black tights. Long, silky black gloves. An oval-shaped, blue pendant on a chain. And then a mask. A black mask with two cat-eye holes cut into the front.
“Must be some kind of Halloween costume,” he said.
I took the mask from him and rolled it around in my hands. “Why would anyone leave a Halloween costume back here in a hidden room?” I asked.
I slid the mask under the hood of the cloak. And then another idea struck me. “It looks like some kind of superhero costume,” I said. “The Masked Cape Person!”
Stan still had the black tights in his hand. “Yeah. Well, I guess that’s what superheroes wear, right? Tights and a cape?”
I raised the cloak in front of me. “Do you think this is Jada’s? Think she wears this stuff?”
Stan shook his head. His face was knotted in confusion.
I laughed. “Maybe Jada has a secret life that no one knows about. Maybe she sneaks in here at night, and put on this costume, and pretends to be The Masked Cape Person!”
Stan shook his head. “This is just too weird,” he said again.
And then his expression changed. His eyes went wide. He suddenly turned pale. “Selena—” he whispered, staring at the mask in my hand.
“What? What’s wrong?” I asked.
“What if—what if that’s a burglar costume?”
I let out a gasp. “Excuse me?”
“It looks like something a burglar might wear,” Stan said. “And didn’t they say on the news—”
“That the person who has been robbing houses in Elmwood wore a mask and a cape?” I cut in.
Stan nodded excitedly.
“But that’s totally insane!” I cried. “Jada a burglar? That’s too stupid, Stan. She’s a twelve-year-old girl, like me, She doesn’t put on a costume and sneak out in the middle of the night to rob houses.”
I moved to the window and tugged on the shade until it slid up. Gray light washed into the room. The window had been left open a crack.
I peered outside. A high tree branch rested right outside. It would be easy for someone to climb out this window, onto the tree branch—and then climb down to the ground.
What was I thinking?
“You are so not right,” I told Stan. No way my cousin is a burglar!”
Stan nodded. “Yeah. It’s a stupid idea. Don’t ever tell Jada I said it.”
He started to fold up the tights. “I don’t think we solved the mystery, Selena.”
“We made the mystery even more mysterious,” I said. I tugged down the shade. Then I started to fold the cloak.
“Hey—is anybody home?” a voice called.
Stan and I both gasped.
Jada’s voice. From downstairs.
We were caught.
About the Author
R.L. STINE says he has a great job. “My job is to give kids the CREEPS!” With his scary books, R.L. has terrified kids all over the world. He has sold over 300 million books, making him the best-selling children’s author in history.
These days, R.L. is dishing out new frights in his series THE NIGHTMARE ROOM. When he isn’t working, he likes to read old mysteries, watch SpongeBob Squarepants on TV, and take his dog, Nadine, for long walks around New York City, where he lives with his wife, Jane, and son, Matthew.
“I love taking my readers to scary places,” R.L. says. “Do you know the scariest place of all? It’s your MIND!”
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Credits
Cover design by John Fontana
Cover illustration by Vince Natale
Copyright
THE NIGHTMARE ROOM #7: THE HOWLER. Copyright © 2001 by Parachute Publishing, L.L.C. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Adobe Digital Edition June 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-190453-0
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