by R. L. Stine
Contents
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About the Author
Also Available
Copyright
I hate chickens.
They are filthy creatures, and they smell like … like … chickens.
“Crystal, it’s your turn to feed the chickens,” Mom says. My least favorite words.
I carry the seed bucket out to the backyard, and they come scurrying over, clucking and squawking and flapping their greasy wings. I hate the way they brush up against my legs as they peck the seeds off the ground. Their feathers are so rough and scratchy.
My brother, Cole, and I are always trying to convince my parents to get rid of the chickens. “Just because we live on a farm doesn’t mean we have to have chickens,” I always say.
“Right! We’re not farmers!” Cole agrees. “So why do we have to have those smelly chickens?”
“It’s always been our dream,” Mom always replies. Blah blah blah.
Cole and I have heard the dream story a thousand times.
We’ve heard how Mom and Dad grew up in the Bronx in New York City. How they hated the noise and the dirt and the concrete. How they dreamed of leaving the city for good and living on a farm near a small country town.
So, when Cole was two and I was four, we moved to Goshen Falls. Lucky us! The whole town is three blocks long. We have a cute little farm with a cute little farmhouse. And even though Mom and Dad are computer programmers—not farmers—we have a backyard full of chickens.
Cluck. Cluck. That’s their dream.
My dream is that Cole gets punished for mouthing off the way he always does. And his punishment is that he has to feed the chickens for the rest of his life.
Everyone has to have a dream—right?
“OWW!” A chicken pecked my ankle. That hurt! Their beaks are so sharp.
I tossed a final handful of seed on the ground and hopped backward, away from the gross, clucking creatures. Their little black eyes glinted in the sunlight as they strutted over the grass. Pecking each other. Bumping each other out of the way as they dipped their scrawny heads for the food.
I dropped the bucket in the back of the little barn we also use as a garage. Then I washed my hands under the cold water spigot at the side of the barn.
I heard a low roar. A shadow rolled over the barn. I gazed up to see a small plane dipping under the puffy afternoon clouds.
I took a deep breath. The tangy aroma of potatoes floated in the air.
That’s what the farmers grow around here. Mostly potatoes and corn.
I dried my hands on the legs of my jeans and hurried off in search of my brother. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. Most of my friends from school were away on a 4-H club trip.
Mom asked me to keep an eye on Cole. He’s ten, two years younger than me. But sometimes he acts like a four-year-old. It seems like he’s always finding new ways to get into trouble.
I wandered through town. No sign of him. I asked Mrs. Wagner at the bakery if she’d seen him. Cole likes to stop in there and beg her for free doughnuts.
Mrs. Wagner said she saw Cole and his friend Anthony heading out of town in the direction of Pullman’s Pond.
Uh-oh, I thought. What are they planning to do at the pond? I started to the door.
“I just love your hair, Crystal,” Mrs. Wagner called. “It’s such a beautiful deep shade of red. You should be a model. Really. You’re so tall and thin.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Wagner!” I called as the door closed behind me. I wasn’t thinking about my hair or being a model. I was thinking about Cole and Anthony and the pond.
I trotted the rest of the way through town. Waved to Mr. Porter standing in the window of the Pic ’n’ Pay. Then I turned off the street and followed the dirt path that led to Pullman’s Pond.
I didn’t have to go far to find Cole and Anthony. They were hiding behind the long hedge at the edge of Vanessa’s property.
I gazed beyond the hedge to the falling-down old farmhouse where Vanessa lives.
Who is Vanessa? I guess you might say she is the most interesting person in Goshen Falls. And the most weird.
Actually, Vanessa is like someone from a horror movie. She is kind of pretty, with long, straight black hair and a pale, white face. She dresses all in black. She wears black lipstick and black fingernail polish.
Vanessa is a mystery woman. No one knows if she’s young or old.
She keeps to herself. I’ve hardly ever seen her in town. She lives in her old farmhouse right outside of town with her black cat.
Naturally, everyone says she is some kind of sorceress.
I’ve heard all kinds of stories about Vanessa. Frightening stories. Most of the kids in Goshen Falls are scared of her. But that doesn’t stop them from playing tricks on her.
Kids are always daring each other to sneak up to Vanessa’s house. It’s kind of a game everyone plays. Sneak up to her house, tap on the window, make her cat screech. Then run away before Vanessa sees you.
“Hey—Cole!” I called in a loud whisper. I ducked my head as I ran along the hedge. If Vanessa was home, I didn’t want her to see me.
“Hey, Cole—what’s up?”
As I came nearer, I saw that Cole and Anthony weren’t alone. Two other kids huddled behind the hedge. Franny Jowett and Jeremy Garth.
Cole raised a finger to his lips. “Ssshhhh. Vanessa is in there.”
“What are you doing?” I demanded. I saw that Franny and Jeremy held plastic water pitchers in their hands. “Is that lemonade or something?”
They shook their heads solemnly.
“Some kids dared them to fill Vanessa’s mailbox with water,” Cole explained.
“Huh?” I gasped. I stared at Franny and Jeremy. “You’re not going to do it—are you?”
“They have to,” Cole answered for them. “A dare is a dare.”
“But that’s so mean!” I protested.
My brother snickered. “The mailbox is right next to the front door. No way they won’t get caught.”
Franny and Jeremy are blond and pale. Now they looked even paler than usual. Jeremy made a soft, choking sound. Franny gripped her pitcher tightly and peered over the hedge at the black metal mailbox on its tilted pole.
“You accepted the dare. Are you going to wimp out?” Cole demanded.
Franny and Jeremy glanced at each other nervously. They didn’t reply.
“Don’t do it,” Anthony suddenly chimed in.
We all turned to Anthony. He’s short and chubby and has a round face and very short black hair. He wears red-framed glasses that are always slipping down his little pug nose.
“Don’t do it,” Anthony repeated.
“Why n-not?” Franny stammered.
“Didn’t you hear what happened when Vanessa caught Tommy Pottridge?” Anthony asked in a hushed whisper. “Didn’t you hear what she did to him?”
“No!” Franny and Jeremy declared together.
I felt a tremble of fear run down my back. “What did Vanessa do to Tommy?” I demanded.
I peered over the tall hedge. Did something move in Vanessa’s front window?
No. Just a glint of sunlight on the windowpane.
We huddled closer to Anthony. Even though it was
a warm spring day, I suddenly felt chilled. “What did Vanessa do to Tommy?” I repeated in a whisper.
“She caught him sneaking up to her house,” Anthony reported. “She did some kind of magic spell on him. She made his head blow up like a balloon.”
“Oh, come on!” I exclaimed, rolling my eyes.
“No—really!” Anthony protested. “His head was huge. And it got all soft and squishy. Like a sponge.”
Cole laughed.
Anthony clamped a hand over Cole’s mouth. “It’s true!” he insisted. “Vanessa gave him a big, soft, spongy head. That’s why we don’t see Tommy around anymore!”
“But the Pottridges moved away!” Franny cried.
“That’s why they moved,” Anthony replied. “Because of Tommy’s head.”
We all froze for a moment, thinking about Anthony’s story. I tried to picture Tommy with a big, squishy head.
Cole broke the silence. “Give me that!” he cried. He grabbed the water pitcher from Jeremy’s hands. “I’ll fill up her mailbox. I’m not scared.”
“No way!” Jeremy protested. He wrestled the pitcher away from my brother. Then he turned to Franny. “We’re doing it—right? We were dared, so we have to do it—right?”
Franny swallowed hard. “I guess,” she choked out.
“All right!” Cole cheered, slapping them both on the back. Franny nearly dropped her pitcher. “You can do it! Lots of kids play tricks on Vanessa. And they don’t get squishy heads.”
“I still think it’s mean to fill someone’s mailbox with water,” I protested. “And it’s not worth the risk.”
No one wanted to listen to me or my warnings.
Franny and Jeremy tiptoed to the end of the hedge. Then they began slowly making their way over the tall, weed-choked grass.
They carried their plastic water pitchers in both hands in front of them. And they kept their eyes on the tilted mailbox to the right of the front door of Vanessa’s farmhouse.
Cole, Anthony, and I crept out from behind the hedge to watch. I held my breath and stared at the front window, looking out for Vanessa.
But the glare of yellow sunlight filled the windowpane. I couldn’t see a thing.
Franny and Jeremy seemed to be moving in slow motion. It was taking them forever to cross the lawn to the mailbox!
A million tiny white gnats flew over the tall grass. Swirling and dancing in the sunlight, the gnats sparkled like jewels.
Franny and Jeremy walked right through them. Their eyes didn’t leave the mailbox.
The two boys and I stepped a little closer, eager to see better.
No sign of anyone inside the house.
We stepped even closer.
At last, Jeremy pulled down the metal mailbox lid. He and Franny raised their plastic pitchers.
They both lowered the pitchers to the mailbox.
And poured.
The water made a soft splashing sound as it hit the metal mailbox.
Franny emptied her pitcher. Jeremy had nearly emptied his.
Then the front door swung open—and Vanessa burst out.
She wore a flowing black dress. Her straight black hair flew wildly behind her. Her black-lipsticked lips were open in an angry cry.
The cat screeched shrilly from somewhere in the house.
Franny dropped her pitcher. She bent to pick it up.
Changed her mind.
Ran.
Jeremy was already diving into the bushes at the far side of the house. Franny ran close behind him.
Cole, Anthony, and I hadn’t moved.
We stood in the grass. Frozen. Watching Vanessa.
I gasped when I saw Vanessa’s furious stare.
I turned to Cole and Anthony. “Why is she staring like that at us?” I choked out. “Does she think we did it?”
My whole body stiffened. As if Vanessa’s eyes were shooting out some kind of laser ray.
I forced myself to spin away. And I started to run.
Cole and Anthony were at my sides. Our sneakers thudded heavily over the dirt path. We kicked up clouds of dirt as we ran. A blur of green and brown, the fields appeared to tilt and sway around me.
We ran through town without stopping. Without saying a word. Without even looking at each other!
Mrs. Wagner stepped out of the bakery. She started to say hello. I caught the shocked expression on her face as the three of us ran past her without slowing down.
We ran until we reached my house. We burst through the gate, slamming it open so hard, the whole fence shook. I pushed open the front door with my shoulder, and all three of us staggered into the living room.
Gasping for breath, I dropped to my knees on the carpet.
Cole and Anthony collapsed onto the couch.
We struggled to catch our breath. I brushed my hair back off my sweaty forehead. The clock on the mantel chimed. Three o’clock.
Cole and Anthony burst out laughing.
I narrowed my eyes at them. “What’s so funny?” I demanded breathlessly.
That made them laugh even harder.
“What’s so funny, guys?” I repeated. I climbed to my feet and pressed my hands into my waist, waiting for an answer. “Why are you laughing?”
“I don’t know!” Cole answered finally.
“I don’t know, either!” Anthony echoed.
And they both laughed again.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, shaking my head. “That wasn’t funny. It was scary.”
Cole pulled himself up. His expression turned serious. “Did you see the way Vanessa stared at us?”
“She didn’t see Franny and Jeremy,” Anthony said. “She only saw us.” He pulled off his glasses and cleaned them on his T-shirt sleeve. The short black hair on his round head glistened with sweat.
I felt a chill. “What if Vanessa decides to do something terrible to us?” I demanded. “You two won’t be laughing then.”
Cole pulled himself up even straighter. He ran a hand back through his wavy blond hair. Cole is tall and even skinnier than me. Sometimes I think he looks like a grasshopper.
“Crystal, what do you mean?” he demanded softly.
“I mean, if Vanessa thinks we were the ones who filled her mailbox with water, maybe she’ll pay us back. You know. Make our heads swell up or something.”
“But we didn’t do anything!” Anthony protested. “We have to tell her it was Franny and Jeremy.”
“Snitch,” Cole muttered, grinning at his friend.
“Maybe she won’t give us a chance to explain,” I said. “Maybe she’ll just do something horrible to us.”
I started to the kitchen. “You guys want something to drink?”
I didn’t hear their replies.
I pulled open the fridge and took out a bottle of iced tea.
A second later, I opened my mouth in a loud scream of pain.
“Crystal—what happened?” Cole came running into the kitchen.
I shuddered in pain. “Ohhhh.”
“What happened?” he cried.
I shook my hand, trying to shake away the throbbing. “The fridge door,” I managed to choke out. “I—slammed it on my hand.”
I shook my hand some more. Then I tested each finger. I could move them. Nothing broken.
I raised my eyes to Cole. “Why are you grinning?” I demanded.
“You didn’t slam your hand,” he replied. “Vanessa did!”
Anthony giggled from the doorway.
“Cole—you’re not funny!” I screeched. I wrapped my fingers around his scrawny neck and pretended to strangle him. But my hand still hurt. I had to let go.
“Vanessa cursed you,” Anthony said, picking up where Cole had left off. “Now your hand will probably swell up to the size of a cantaloupe.”
“And it will get soft and squishy like Tommy’s head,” Cole added gleefully. “Soft and squishy—like your brain!”
“Not funny! Not funny!” I insisted. I admit it. I felt a little afraid. I didn’t like k
idding around about this stuff.
My hand ached and burned. I opened the freezer and stuck it inside. “What if Vanessa really has powers?” I asked them. “What if she really did make me slam the door on my hand?”
Cole and Anthony raised their hands in front of them and began moving them back and forth, as if casting spells on me. “You are a sponge head!” Cole cried, lowering his voice, trying to sound like a real sorcerer. “You will mop up the dinner dishes with your head!”
That’s when Mom and Dad walked in.
“What on earth—?” Mom cried. “Crystal—why do you have your hand in the freezer?”
“Oh. Uh …” I slid my hand out and closed the freezer door. “Just cooling off,” I said.
Mom narrowed her eyes at me. “Cooling off one hand?”
“Actually, I slammed a door on it,” I told her.
“Vanessa slammed a door on it,” Cole corrected.
“Vanessa?” Dad asked, crossing to the sink. “You mean that strange woman who lives outside of town?”
“Have you been pestering that poor woman again?” Mom demanded. “Don’t you kids have anything better to do than sneak around and play tricks on her?”
“We didn’t do anything,” Cole said. “Really.”
“That’s the truth,” Anthony chimed in.
“Then why did you mention Vanessa?” Mom asked Cole.
I decided I’d better change the subject. “Where were you two?” I asked my parents.
“Out back. Trying to decide where to put the fence for the vegetable garden,” Dad replied. He was washing his hands in the kitchen sink, something Mom always scolds him for.
“If we didn’t have chickens, you wouldn’t need a fence,” I grumbled. “I think you should get rid—”
“That reminds me,” Mom interrupted. “Cole, some of the chickens wandered all the way to the back. Would you go out and round them up, please?”
“Chicken Roundup!” I exclaimed gleefully. I slapped Cole on the back. “Congrats! Your favorite job!”
“But that’s not fair! I did the chicken roundup last time!” Cole wailed. “It’s Crystal’s turn!”
“I fed them this morning,” I declared. “And it wasn’t even my turn. Besides, it’s easier for you to round them up. Because you look like a big rooster!”
Everyone laughed except Cole. He grumbled and shook his head. Then he grabbed Anthony and pulled him outside to help with the chicken roundup.