by R. L. Stine
I grabbed Fergie by the arm. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“That’s right!” Mickey called gleefully after us. “Running away with your tails between your legs!” Then he howled and barked some more.
Great guy—huh?
Fergie and I sat in the hall outside my room. We had really wanted to give Mickey a good scare. So he could see how it felt.
But we had messed up. Totally.
“We’ll get him next time,” Fergie offered. “We’ll come up with an even better plan. Maybe something with knives and fake blood.”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to scare Mickey out of his skin—tonight!
Not much chance of that.
Fergie and I yawned at the same time. Then we both stood up. “Guess we should go back to bed. Maybe—”
“Did you hear that?” I asked, cutting Fergie off.
She nodded. “Yeah. I hear it. Barking.”
“That’s not my brother,” I whispered. “It’s definitely the dogs!”
20
“I don’t get it!” Fergie cried in a trembling voice. “Where are your parents? Where’s Mickey?”
I led her down the hall, in the direction of the barking.
“I told you,” I whispered. “They can’t hear the dogs. I don’t know why. No one can hear them but us!”
We turned into the living room and gasped.
Two sets of red eyes glowed in the dark.
I reached for Great-grandma’s lamp, but knocked it over. It crashed loudly to the floor.
The dogs barked.
Fergie clutched my shoulder. Her hand trembled. “Turn on the lights! Please!” she pleaded.
But before I could reach the switch, the lights snapped on.
We spun around. And there stood Mom on the stairway, glaring down at us. “Cooper! Margaret! What on earth are you two doing?”
“It’s the dogs, Mom!” I cried. “See? They’re—”
“What dogs?” Mom called. I spun around.
No glaring red eyes. No dogs. Except for Fergie and me, the room stood empty.
“Wow, your mom sure was upset,” Fergie whispered as we trudged back down the hall to our rooms.
“But now you believe me, right, Fergie?” I asked. “You heard the dogs yourself!”
Fergie nodded. “For sure. There were definitely dogs here.”
“Go to sleep!” Mom called sternly. “Immediately!”
“Okay, Mom!” I called back. I turned to Fergie. “We’ll check out the woods in the morning,” I told her. “Those dogs have to be somewhere!”
“Good idea,” Fergie agreed. “See you in the morning.”
Back in my room, I couldn’t fall asleep. I sat on my bed and tossed a baseball into the air. I watched the numbers slowly click by on my alarm clock.
I thought about the dogs. They were definitely here tonight. Fergie had heard them, too.
But how do they get in and out of my house? I wondered.
And how do they vanish into thin air like that?
And why do they keep bothering me? Why?
I tossed down the baseball and crept into the hall.
I knocked softly on Fergie’s door. “It’s me. Can I come in?”
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, opening the door.
“Listen,” I said. “I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow. Let’s search for those dogs now.”
Fergie narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “It—it might be dangerous,” she stammered.
“I don’t care,” I told her. “Let’s go.”
21
A few minutes later, Fergie and I skulked around the backyard with our flashlights.
No moon tonight. No stars. A chilly mist hung in the air.
We both shivered.
I pointed my flashlight at the ground and searched for paw prints.
None. As usual.
“How come they never leave prints?” I muttered under my breath.
Fergie shrugged, but didn’t answer. I could tell she was as scared as I was. She stuck close by my side.
The beam of my flashlight fell on the jungle gym. As I stared down at the ground ahead of me, something suddenly grabbed my ankle.
“Hey!” I yelled, tumbling in the dirt.
I twisted and squirmed, trying to break free. “Help!”
Fergie rushed over to help. Why was she laughing?
“What a klutz! You’re all tangled up in the lawn sprinkler!” she exclaimed.
“It’s not funny,” I insisted. I was glad she couldn’t see me blush in the darkness. “I could have broken my leg or something!”
Fergie bent down to help free me. Then she stopped. “Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what?”
“Listen.”
We waited silently in the dark. Hardly breathing.
Then I heard it, too. A soft creaking coming from the house. It sounded like an old door swinging open and shut.
We carefully made our way toward the sound. To my surprise, we found a small window low to the ground. I’d never noticed it before.
The window was open, swinging back and forth, making the creaking noise.
“It leads to the basement,” I said, poking my head in. “Do you think this is how the dogs get into the house?”
Fergie didn’t answer me.
“Fergie?” I called.
No reply.
A chill of fear shot down my back.
I spun around.
In time to see a dark form come charging at me.
Startled, I stumbled. The back of my head hit the house with a hard thwack.
The dark creature leaped on top of me.
Pinned me to the ground.
A sour smell filled my nostrils as I struggled to get up.
But I couldn’t move.
The creature panted. Its jaws opened wide. Hot saliva dripped on to my face.
The big dog held me prisoner.
What did it plan to do next?
22
“Get off me!” I choked out.
I reached up both hands—and shoved with all my might.
To my surprise, the big dog toppled off.
I jumped to my feet, my heart pounding. Spinning around, I saw Fergie. Trapped. Backed up against the house by the other dog.
“Go home!” she cried meekly to the dog. “Go home!”
The dog didn’t budge.
I picked up a stick. I waved it furiously in front of me to keep the dogs a good distance away.
As I approached the animals, Fergie shook her arms wildly at them.
They lowered their heads and growled softly.
Then, one of them came running at me. The stick didn’t seem to bother him at all.
I lost my balance and crashed into Fergie.
Both dogs curled their lips into fierce, ugly snarls.
My legs were shaking so hard, I could barely stand.
Growling and snapping their jaws, the dogs backed Fergie and me against the house.
“Now what?” Fergie cried, grabbing my arm.
“G-good question,” I stammered as the dogs lowered their heads and moved closer.
23
I shut my eyes.
I had this crazy idea that if I made them disappear, I’d disappear, too.
Guess what? It didn’t work.
I felt a sudden burst of hot, sour dog breath on my face.
Then I felt tugging. On my sweatpants.
I opened my eyes. The dog pulled furiously at my sweats. Not biting. Tugging.
Fergie appeared as confused as I was. The other dog tugged at the hem of her T-shirt.
“What do they want?” Fergie whispered.
“I… I… I don’t know,” I answered. “They—they’re not biting or attacking!”
“Cooper, I think they want us to go with them,” Fergie said.
“That’s crazy!” I cried. The dog tugged harder on my sweatpants. “I saw this on a Lassie show once!”
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“I don’t think it’s crazy, Cooper,” Fergie said. “Watch.” She stepped forward slowly, and the dog’s tail began to wag. “See? They want us to go with them!”
I hesitated. It seemed ridiculous.
But when I edged forward, the dog that had been tugging on my pants began wagging his tail, too.
“See?” Fergie whispered.
Sorry, but I wasn’t buying it. I turned and started to run.
“Cooper, don’t!” Fergie cried.
Too late.
The big creature took off after me. Leaped high. And knocked me to the ground.
When I climbed to my feet, he started tugging again.
“Come on. Let’s see what they want,” Fergie pleaded with me. “We don’t have much of a choice, anyway. They’re not going to leave us alone.”
We followed the dogs through the woods. They stayed close by, never getting too far ahead. And always glancing back.
I pointed my flashlight along the path. The dim light didn’t help very much at all. I had no idea where we were going. All I knew was that it was very dark out—and we were headed deeper and deeper into the woods.
“I hope we can find our way back,” I muttered to myself.
Then, without warning, the dogs sped up. Their big paws trod heavily on the soft ground.
A few seconds later, they began barking and scratching wildly at something between the trees.
I lifted my flashlight and aimed it in their direction.
In the center of a small clearing stood a broken-down wooden shack. The dogs clawed at the door. When they had pushed it open, they came back for us. They began tugging again, pulling us toward the shack.
“Wha—what is this place?” I cried. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know,” Fergie whispered. “I’ve never seen this shack before.”
The dogs tugged—furiously now. They really wanted us to go in there.
“What can be inside?” I whispered to Fergie.
Fergie swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” she whispered back. “But I think we’re going to find out!”
24
“Fergie, I don’t like this,” I whispered. “Let’s get away from here—fast!”
I felt the dog clamp its jaw tighter on my ankle.
Had he understood what I’d said?
“They’re not going to let us get away,” Fergie said softly.
Snarling and growling, the dogs backed us up against the door to the shack.
“Whoa!” I cried out as the dogs leaped at the side of the shack.
“I don’t believe it!” Fergie screamed.
The dogs jumped right through the wooden wall. They disappeared inside.
“That’s impossible!” Fergie cried.
“Tell that to the dogs,” I murmured.
I had seen them do it before—in my own kitchen.
“They’re ghosts or something!” Fergie cried.
I grabbed her arm. “Let’s get out of here! Whatever happens… we can’t go in that shack!”
We’d taken only a few steps when the dogs came tearing out through the shack wall.
They edged in close, pressing us up against the shack again. Before we could struggle or try to get away, the dogs rose up on their hind legs.
Standing up, they were taller than us! Fergie and I exchanged terrified glances.
The dogs staggered forward. Pressed their front paws against our chests. And shoved us backwards into the shack.
We screamed as we started to fall.
The shack had no floor.
We fell, hurtling down. Tumbling as we fell.
Down, down, down.
Into a deep, black hole.
A deep, black hole that didn’t seem to end.
25
I landed softly on my feet. I didn’t even feel it.
Had we fallen into some kind of well? Or a tunnel dug deep under the shack?
I couldn’t tell.
I took a deep breath and gazed around the heavy blackness. “Fergie—are you okay?” I called. My voice came out tiny and shrill.
“I—I guess,” she replied after a few seconds. “Cooper—look!”
I started to reply that it was too dark to see anything. But then I glimpsed the two pairs of red eyes, glaring at us through the darkness.
I gasped.
“Don’t move!” instructed a dry whisper of a voice.
“Who are you?” I managed to choke out. “What do you want?”
“Why did you dogs bring us here?” Fergie demanded.
“We are not dogs,” the voice growled. “We are people.”
“But—but—” I sputtered.
“Silence!” the voice commanded. “Silence while you are in the Changing Room.”
“The what?” I cried.
The red eyes flared.
“Centuries ago, my friend and I had an evil spell cast upon us,” the voice continued, ignoring my question. “The spell forced us to roam these woods as dogs. Ghost dogs.”
“Too bad,” I muttered. “But what do you want us for?”
The dogs snickered. It sounded more like dry coughing than laughter.
“You are in the Changing Room,” the voice told us. “For nearly a hundred years, we have tried to get two people in here. And now we have succeeded.”
“And—?” I demanded.
“We’re going to change places with you,” the voice said casually.
“Excuse me?” Fergie cried. “You’re going to what?”
“We will take your places,” the voice repeated. “And you shall take ours. You will be the ghost dogs. You will roam these woods as we did—forever!”
“No way!” I cried. I wanted to run.
But where?
I was surrounded by heavy blackness on all sides.
“Fergie—” I started.
But I heard her gasp. And then I began to feel warm. As if someone had covered me with a heavy blanket.
The warmth swept over my body.
Simmering heat. As if I were in an oven.
Warmer. Warmer. Until sweat dripped down my face, and I was panting in the heat.
I can’t stand it anymore! I thought. I’m going to melt!
I opened my mouth to scream. But the sounds that escaped my throat weren’t mine.
In fact, they didn’t sound human at all.
26
I opened my eyes to bright sunshine.
The woods around me appeared fuzzy. I struggled to focus.
I yawned. Then I stretched my entire body and shook myself awake.
Yes! That stretch felt good.
I sniffed the air and shook myself again. Wow! Something smelled delicious.
My stomach growled. I suddenly realized I must be starving.
Still trying to focus, I took two steps and fell on my face.
I stood again, feeling unsteady. What’s wrong? I wondered.
I gazed around the woods. Why were the trees suddenly all black and white? Why was the sky gray? The grass gray?
What had happened to all the color?
Was this a dream?
I heard a gruff sound behind me. Someone clearing his throat.
I turned—and saw a black Labrador.
I started to cry out—but hoarse barks escaped my throat.
Startled, I glanced down at my own body. My own fur-covered body. “Ohhhh.” I dug my front paws into the dirt. I shook myself hard, trying to shake the dog body off. Trying to shake it away so I could see my real body. Cooper’s body.
And as I shook, I jerked my head back. And saw a long, black tail!
My tail!
I let out a startled yip. I’m a dog, too, I realized.
The ghosts in the Changing Room weren’t kidding around. They changed places with us. Fergie and I are dogs.
Fergie whimpered.
Trembling, we both began to trot, our tails hanging between our legs. Fergie’s whimpers turned into mournful howls.
What was that? Strang
e! I thought Fergie said something.
“I did say something,” she insisted. “Well, actually, I thought something. I think we can read each other’s thoughts, Cooper.”
Okay, Fergie, then what am I thinking now?
“You’re thinking of that leftover fried liver from last night that your mom put in the fridge,” Fergie thought.
That’s right!
We could read each other’s mind! Cool!
I licked my lips a few times, thinking about the liver. I loved liver so much, Mom made it for me once a week. Man, did I want that liver now!
Then I remembered I had other things to worry about.
“Fergie, what are we going to do? We’re dogs!”
“I can see that, Cooper,” she replied, swatting a fly from behind her floppy, black ear.
“Well, we’ve got to do something!” I cried. “We can’t trot around like this forever. Those ghost dogs stole our bodies! They’re probably fooling my parents this very minute!”
Fergie didn’t reply. Instead, she ran around in circles, chasing her tail. “Hey! This is fun!”
“Fergie! Quit messing around! We’re in major trouble!”
“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I’m upset about this, too, you know!”
Fergie dropped to the dirt. She buried her snout in her front paws. Deep in thought. “You know what, Cooper?”
“What?” I asked as I paced back and forth, trying to think of a way to get us out of this mess.
“Your droopy ears look pretty good—now that you’re a dog.”
“Fergie! Get serious!” I growled.
Then it hit me.
“I know!” I cried. “I know what we can do. We have to drag those ghosts back to the shack and trade places with them again!”
“Oh, sure, Cooper. No problem,” Fergie barked. “And how do you suppose we do that? Walk up to them and say, ‘Uh, excuse me, but can you come back to the shack with us? It’ll only be for a second.’”
I stared at Fergie. She had become a dog. But her personality hadn’t changed one bit!
“I heard that,” she mumbled.
I sighed. “Well, do you have a better plan?” I asked, scratching furiously at my neck.