by R. L. Stine
I balled my hands into tight fists. “I’d do anything to beat them in this variety show,” I said. “Seriously. I’d do anything.”
Famous last words?
After dinner that night, Jenny and I went to our friend Jonathan Sparrow’s house to talk about the variety show. Jonathan is tall, very skinny, and he has tiny, round black eyes over a bent nose that resembles a bird’s beak. But that’s not why everyone calls him Bird. Everyone calls him Bird because his last name is Sparrow.
Duh.
Jenny and I have known Bird our whole life, mainly because our parents are good friends, and we live across the street from one another. Tonight we had the house to ourselves. Bird’s mother was away on a business trip. And his dad is coach of the high school soccer team, and he was at soccer practice.
Bird is kind of a tense guy. He likes to pace back and forth when he’s thinking about something. And right now he was thinking about the variety show.
Jenny and I sat on opposite ends of the long brown leather couch in the living room and watched Bird wear out the carpet with his pacing. Jenny was chewing on a PayDay bar, which she refused to share with me. “You might be allergic to peanuts,” she said.
I groaned. “You know I’m not allergic to peanuts.”
“It might be a new allergy you just got today,” she said. “How can you be sure?”
“Let’s forget about peanut allergies and talk about what we’re going to do,” Bird said. He wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans. He always has sweaty hands. He says it’s a family trait.
“I think we have one big problem,” he said. “We don’t have any talent.”
“Bird nailed it,” Jenny said, swallowing the last chunk of the candy bar. “We can’t sing. We can’t dance. We don’t play any instruments. We have no talent.”
“Are we going to let a little thing like that stop us?” I said.
They both laughed. Jenny gave me a shove. “Since when are you the cheerful one? That’s supposed to be my job.”
“I’m not being cheerful. I just want to win the five hundred dollars.”
“Hey. Do you know how to yodel?” Bird asked.
“No,” Jenny and I said in unison.
“Neither do I,” Bird said.
“Maybe we could do some kind of play,” I said. “You know. A comedy skit.”
“Are we funny?” Bird asked.
“You’re both funny looking,” Jenny said.
I swiped my hand over her head and messed up her hair.
Bird started to say something. But he stopped when we heard heavy footsteps in the hall. Coach Sparrow burst into the room. He tossed his soccer jersey onto a chair.
“Dad — you’re home early,” Bird said.
“Yeah. I stopped practice early because there’s a big storm coming.” He has a gruff voice that always sounds hoarse. He doesn’t really look like a big jock soccer coach. He’s tall and lanky like Bird, and he wears these square, black-framed glasses that make him look more like an English teacher.
“What are you guys doing?” he asked. He pulled the whistle from around his neck and tossed it onto his jersey.
“Schoolwork,” Bird answered.
Coach Sparrow nodded. “I’m going to check all the windows. Hear that wind howling out there? The rain is on the way.”
He trotted out of the room. Bird waited for him to move out of sight. Then he said, “I have an idea.”
“Do we have to learn how to play violins?” I said.
Bird shook his head. “No. No violins. We have to go up to the attic, but my dad never wants me to go up there,” he whispered.
“Why? Is it haunted?” Jenny demanded. She is the horror freak in the family. She always wants places to be haunted. I guess that means she’s braver than me. But we don’t have to get into that.
“I don’t know why,” Bird continued, whispering. “He never told me. But, listen. There are old clothes up there. Piles of them. They might make great costumes for a comedy skit.”
“Awesome,” Jenny said. “Let’s go check them out.” She jumped off the couch and pulled me to my feet.
“Wait,” Bird ordered. He checked the back hallway and glanced around. “Okay. The coast is clear.”
He led us to the attic door, in the hall past the kitchen. He pulled the door open and fumbled on the wall for a light switch. A dim orange light washed over the steep steps. “Okay. Follow me,” he whispered.
I hung back. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“I guess we won’t know till we get up there,” Bird said.
As we started to climb, the wooden stairs groaned like we were hurting them. I gripped the slender banister. It trembled under my hand. It seemed about to fall off the wall.
The air in the stairwell was hot and damp. I could feel drops of sweat on the back of my neck. Above us, the storm winds howled, so loud I thought they were blowing through the house.
The orange ceiling light blinked. It glowed so dimly, I could barely make out my shoes on the stairs.
Bird led the way, followed by Jenny. They were nearly to the top of the stairs. I was still halfway down, trying to get my heartbeat to slow, telling myself there was nothing to be afraid of.
It’s just an attic filled with old junk.
The wind gave a loud howl, and the orange light flickered again. The banister shook in my hand. Why did the air suddenly smell so sour?
Bird and Jenny reached the top. Their shoes clumped onto the attic floorboards. “Are you sure this attic isn’t haunted?” Jenny asked.
I didn’t hear Bird’s answer.
I climbed the creaking stairs to the top. The attic was small, with stacks of cartons everywhere. A window rattled at one end. The ceiling came slanting down on both sides, barely a foot over our heads.
An old armchair was covered by a stained gray blanket. I saw a baby crib against the wall. The crib was filled with piles of old books.
“Spooky,” Jenny said, gazing around.
“No, it isn’t,” Bird replied. “It’s just a lot of my parents’ old stuff.”
“But it’s spooky with the wind howling,” I said. “And the flickering light. And the —”
I didn’t get to finish what I was saying. Because something came flying across the long room. Not flying, exactly. It came shooting across the room, bumping the low ceiling as it darted closer.
Straight for my head!
A bat! A red-eyed bat, its wings flapping loudly.
I tried to duck out of its way. But I stumbled back into Jenny.
The bat screeched as it shot overhead. I could feel the wind off its wings in my hair.
Jenny and I both tumbled backward into a tall stack of cartons.
“Noooo!” A scream escaped my mouth as the cartons toppled over.
Jenny and I landed in sitting positions on the floor. With a groan, I pulled myself to my feet. Then I turned to look at the fallen cartons.
And then we saw what Bird’s father had hidden back there.
A dark wooden cabinet. All three of us stared at it in surprise. It was tall and wide and had two doors across the front. It was covered by a thick layer of dust.
Bird stepped past Jenny and me to the front of the cabinet. Then he rubbed a finger along one door. “This dust is an inch thick. No one has touched this cabinet in a long time.”
“Open it,” Jenny said. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
I stepped in front of Bird. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” I said. “I mean, maybe Bird’s parents hid it back there for a reason.”
“You mean because it’s haunted?” Jenny said.
“Shut up,” I snapped. “Stop talking about things being haunted.”
Jenny laughed. “You are so brave, Ben.” Then, of course, she added: “Not.”
“I don’t see you pulling the doors open,” I said to Jenny. “Go ahead. Do it.” I gave her a little shove toward the cabinet.
She stopped short. She took a step back.
“I
think we should go back downstairs,” Bird said. “My dad is always telling me the attic is dangerous. I told you, he never wants me to come up here.”
“Bird, it was your idea,” I said. “What’s your problem?”
“I decided I don’t like attics.”
I stared hard at the cabinet doors. I’ll be the brave one for once, I thought. “Let’s just take a peek,” I said.
I pushed Jenny out of the way and raised my hand to the door on the right. I gripped the round wooden knob and tugged.
“Look out!” Jenny screamed at the top of her lungs.
I uttered a cry and stumbled back.
Jenny laughed. “Only kidding.”
“Not funny,” I said. “You didn’t scare me.” At least they couldn’t hear my heart pounding like a bass drum in my chest. “Not funny at all.”
I grabbed the knobs on both doors and pulled. No. The doors wouldn’t budge.
“Stuck,” I said. “I need something to pry them open.”
“Let’s just leave it shut,” Bird said. “Probably just old clothes in there anyway.”
“Is that a tool kit?” Jenny asked. She pointed to a black metal box tucked against the wall.
I dropped to my knees and unlatched the lid. Then I pulled a long screwdriver from inside. “This should work,” I said.
“Ben, you know you’re terrified,” Jenny said. “Why are you doing this?”
“We’ll see who’s terrified,” I said. I turned and dug the tip of the screwdriver into the crack between the door and the cabinet.
And as I did, a deafening explosion of thunder shook the house.
“Whoooa.” A cry escaped my throat.
And the lights went out.
I blinked. We were standing there in total darkness.
None of us spoke. The howl of the wind sweeping across the roof was the only sound we heard.
I kept blinking, as if it would help me see better.
“Too bad we didn’t bring a flashlight,” Jenny said. Her voice cracked.
“Yeah. Too bad,” Bird said. “I can’t see a thing.”
I heard a soft giggle. “Jenny? What’s so funny?” I asked.
“It wasn’t me,” she said. “Did you laugh, Bird?”
“No way,” he said.
I felt a chill at the back of my neck. And heard another soft laugh, just above a whisper.
“Come on, Jenny, you’re not funny,” I said. “Stop doing that.”
“I told you, it wasn’t me,” she insisted.
“It sounded like it was coming from the cabinet,” Bird said.
“No way,” I replied.
I heard another soft giggle.
And then a cold hand grabbed me by the throat.
“Gaaaack.” The cold hand closed around my throat. I started to gag. I jerked my whole body back, freeing myself from the icy grip. “Who did that?” I choked out in a weak, trembling voice. I could still feel the cold, hard fingers on my throat.
“Oh. Sorry,” Jenny said. “Was that you? I didn’t mean to scare you. Really.”
“You did it on purpose!” I cried.
“No —” Jenny started. “I didn’t. Really, I —” She stopped as a beam of gray-green light swept over the attic wall. Light from a flashlight.
“Is someone up there?” Coach Sparrow’s voice from downstairs.
“Yeah, Dad. We’re up here,” Bird called down to him.
The wide circle of light moved back and forth over the ceiling and wall.
“Why are you up there? What are you doing?”
“Uh …” Bird hesitated. “We’re just looking through old clothes for costumes.”
“I don’t like you being up there,” his father shouted. “Especially in this storm.”
Another roar of thunder made the attic shake. The window rattled against the howling winds.
“I’m tossing the flashlight up,” Coach Sparrow said. It thudded onto the attic floor and rolled to the wall. The beam of light shone on our frightened faces. “Use it to come downstairs.”
“Okay, Dad,” Bird called. “Be right down.”
“Maybe we could do a comedy skit about three kids trapped in the dark in a haunted attic,” Jenny said.
“Stop saying haunted,” I snapped. I realized I still had the screwdriver gripped tightly in my hand. “Hey, Bird, beam the light on the cabinet,” I said.
“Dad wants us to go downstairs,” Bird said.
“It’ll only take a second,” I replied. “Don’t you want to know what’s inside there?”
He swung the flashlight up and aimed the light at the wooden doors.
I plunged the screwdriver forward and struggled to pry open one of the doors. It didn’t budge.
I gripped the screwdriver handle in both hands and pushed harder.
I nearly fell as both doors swung open. Then the attic rang with our screams as a man came leaping out at us.
He fell at my knees, his arms wrapped around my legs.
Bird dropped the flashlight. It clattered on the floor.
Jenny screamed again.
I froze. I couldn’t move. Or make a sound.
By the time Bird picked up the flashlight and shone it in my direction, I realized it wasn’t a man that had tumbled from the open cabinet.
I dropped down to examine it. A puppet. A tall marionette, the strings tangled around its body. One arm was draped limply around my leg.
I lifted it off the floor and held it up to Jenny and Bird. “It’s a puppet,” I said. I tried to untangle the strings. It was a girl puppet with long, straight blond hair and a tiara on her head.
“A princess puppet,” Jenny said.
I felt my body shudder. I handed the puppet to Bird. I don’t know why, but puppets have creeped me out ever since I was a kid. I get this heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I see a puppet. I know it’s weird. But it happens.
Jenny isn’t as bad as I am, but she feels weird around puppets, too. She can’t explain it, either.
Bird handed me the flashlight. “Are there more in the cabinet?” he asked. He rested the princess puppet against the wall and stepped up to the cabinet. “Check it out.” He pulled out a tall marionette with a shield and a sword attached.
“A knight to go with the princess,” Jenny said.
“And one more,” Bird said. He pulled out a puppet in a purple robe. This one had a black beard and wore a jeweled turban. “Must be a king,” Bird said. “A sultan.”
Jenny and I stared at the marionettes in Bird’s hands. “Why do they look familiar?” Jenny asked.
I shrugged. “Beats me.” I gazed down at the princess puppet, folded against the wall. “Bird, why did your parents hide them away up here?”
Bird shook his head. “Maybe they’re valuable. You know. Maybe they’re worth a ton of money, and my parents were afraid someone might steal them.”
“Maybe …” I said.
“We can ask your dad,” Jenny said.
Bird shook his head. “No. No way. He might get really steamed because we went into the cabinet. He might —”
“What’s that on the bottom shelf?” Jenny asked, pointing.
I turned the flashlight back to the cabinet. Jenny reached down and pulled something out. At first, I thought it was a towel. But when I shone the light on it, I saw that it was a white beard. A long, fake beard.
“Ooh, creepy,” Jenny said with a shudder. She shoved the beard back onto the bottom shelf.
“These puppets are awesome,” Bird said, holding the knight and the sultan at his sides. “They make Anna and Maria’s puppets look like baby toys.”
“Huh?” I turned to him. “You saw their puppets?”
He nodded. “Yeah. They were practicing in the music room at school. Anna and Maria made the puppets themselves — and they look it. They’re kind of like rag dolls with strings.”
I studied the puppets. They didn’t look amateur or homemade. For one thing, these were very tall, at least three fee
t tall. And they had awesome faces, not just paint on wood. The eyes were glassy and the eyelids blinked. Their costumes were well made and didn’t look like doll clothes.
Another explosion of thunder rocked the house. Lightning crackled nearby, making the narrow room bright as day for a second or two.
In the strange light, I caught a thoughtful expression on Bird’s face. “Uh-oh,” I said. “What’s going on in that little brain of yours?”
“I’m thinking about the puppets. Thinking about the variety show. Thinking maybe —”
“Don’t say it,” I said. “Stop thinking.”
“Thinking maybe we could do a great skit with these puppets,” Bird continued.
“No way!” Jenny and I cried at the same time.
“Jenny and I don’t like puppets,” I said. “We have a thing about puppets. The whole idea is giving me the creeps.”
“Get over it,” Bird said. “You want to win the five hundred dollars — don’t you?”
“We can’t do puppets,” Jenny insisted. “How can we do puppets if Anna and Maria are already doing puppets?”
“Look at these puppets,” Bird said. “They’re awesome. They’re a thousand times better than their babyish rag dolls. Our puppets can kill their puppets!”
That made Jenny and me laugh.
“Bird is right,” I told Jenny. “Maybe we can finally beat them at something.”
“But puppets give me nightmares,” Jenny said, her eyes on the princess puppet. “You too, Ben.”
“Maybe Bird is right about that, too,” I said. “Maybe it’s time to get over it.”
“Let’s see if we can figure out how to work these things,” Bird said.
We propped the flashlight up so that it cast a broad beam of light over the ceiling. Then we each took a marionette. It took a while to untangle the strings.
They were attached to crisscrossing wooden control sticks. One stick held the strings for the head and the hands. The foot and leg strings were attached to the other stick.
I had the sultan puppet. The strings were totally tangled in his long robe. Jenny was practicing with the princess puppet. She tilted the control sticks, and the puppet’s head bobbed from side to side.
