Heads, You Lose!

by R. L. Stine

  The Prince gripped it by the cheeks. He ran his fingers over the nose, the mouth, the forehead. Then he placed the head on his stump of a neck. He twisted it from side to side. All the while, he murmured strange words, magical words, I guess. He pushed the head down hard, twisting it, twisting it … murmuring softly….

  A few seconds later, the head was attached.

  He blinked his eyes several times. He opened and closed his mouth. Testing the head.

  Then he stepped past us, back into the chamber, and shouted for his guards. He gave Henway and the Duke a quick bow. “Thank you so much for confessing to your crime,” he said. “You made my job much easier.”

  He turned to the guards who came bursting into the room. “Take these two traitors to the dungeon!”

  “But — but —” Henway and the Duke began to sputter again.

  They begged and pleaded as the guards dragged them away. The chamber door closed behind them.

  The Prince adjusted his head on his neck. He tilted it one way, then the other. He moved his eyebrows up and down.

  When he finally turned to us, he had a smile on his lips. “Jessica,” he said, “tell me about the coin. The coin you tossed in your wager with the Duke. What is so special about that coin?”

  “It’s just a joke coin,” I said. “It’s a fake.” I handed it to him. “See? It has two heads.”

  He studied the coin carefully, turning it between his fingers. Then he smiled. “That is ME on both sides!” he said.

  “Huh?” I stared at him. “The face on the coin — it’s you?”

  He nodded. “Yes. It’s true.”

  I thought hard. “That must be why the coin brought us here,” I said. “It brought us here to help you.”

  Prince Warwick straightened his shirt sleeves. He smiled again. “You rescued me from those two evil men,” he said. “I am going to give both of you a very big reward.”

  He looked at the gold coin again. Then he raised his hand and tossed it back to me.

  I reached for it. But it flew over my shoulder.

  I turned and saw it bounce onto the carpet.

  Ryan and I both dove for it. We both reached out and wrapped our fingers around it. At the same time … the same time …

  And I felt that flipping sensation again. First I was dizzy. Then the floor came up to meet me. The bright red carpet shimmered and glowed in front of me … over me … all around me.

  I opened my mouth to scream. But I flipped over fast. No sound came out. The room tumbled in front of me.

  I saw the Prince standing beside his writing table, his face confused. And then I didn’t see him. I saw a blur of the purple drapes and the red carpet and the flickering chandelier on the ceiling.

  Just a blur. All of it a whirling blur as I felt myself toppling over and over.

  “Ooof.” I landed hard on my back. My breath shot out of my body.

  I gasped for breath. And realized I was staring up into a bright blue sky. I was flat on my back on grass, staring up at the sky. Daytime again.

  Slowly, I sat up. I saw the school building up ahead.

  “We … we’re back on the playground!” Ryan cried. “Jessica — check it out. We’re back! We’re back!”

  I climbed to my knees. I shook my head hard, trying to shake away my dizziness. I still felt as if I were flipping head over heels, doing cartwheels in the air.

  I glanced around at the soccer field … the trees lining the street … our good old school building. Then I turned to Ryan. “Hey — we didn’t get our reward!” I said.

  And a voice behind us said, “I’m going to give you your reward right now!”

  I spun around.

  It was Boomer. And he was waving a big fist in my face.

  Ryan and I jumped to our feet. I squinted at Boomer. “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Lunchtime,” Boomer answered. He waved his hand under my chin. “Pay up. I’m starving. Give me your lunch money.”

  “Boomer, please,” Ryan groaned. “We just got back and —”

  Boomer grabbed the front of Ryan’s T-shirt. He pulled it toward him. I could hear the shirt ripping. “Do you have lunch money for me or not?” he boomed.

  I tapped Boomer on the shoulder. “Let’s flip for it one more time,” I said. “Come on. Flip you for it.”

  Boomer let go of Ryan. He gave Ryan a hard shove back. Then he turned to me. “Okay. We’ll flip for it, Jessica. If you lose, you both give me your lunch money for a month!”

  “No problem,” I said.

  He never learns! I thought.

  I pulled out the gold coin. “Here goes,” I said. “Heads, I win.”

  I flipped the coin high in the air. It caught the sunlight as it flew up. Then sank to the grass and landed at Boomer’s feet.

  We gazed down at it.

  TAILS.

  I picked up the coin and studied it. Tails on both sides.

  The Prince had switched coins! He tricked us!

  I guess he wanted the one with his face on it.

  Boomer stuck his meaty hand under my face. “You lose — big-time, Jessica. Pay up. Pay up now, or … face the Mighty Fisto!”

  “You named your fist?” I cried. “Oh, never mind. Of course, you did.”

  Ryan and I reached into our backpacks for our wallets. “Put the Mighty Fisto down, Boomer,” I said. “We’re paying … We’re paying!”

  Ryan and I were broke. And it was going to be hard to skip lunch for a month. But we were so totally happy to be home, it was a small price to pay.

  I carried the gold coin around for a couple of days. But none of my friends wanted to make any bets.

  After dinner, I went up to my room. I decided to tuck the coin on a shelf where I keep a lot of other magic tricks. But as I crossed my room, I saw a yellow-green glow.

  I stopped. My heart skipped a beat. Was something in my bookshelf on fire?

  No.

  I hurried closer — and saw that it was the little Horror. The tiny figure that Jonathan Chiller had attached to my gift package in his HorrorLand souvenir shop.

  Suddenly, Chiller’s words repeated in my mind: “Take a little Horror home with you …”

  A ring of bright light radiated off the Horror’s body. It glowed brighter as I stared. And the ring of yellow-green light spread out from the figure … wrapped around me …

  … Until I felt the warmth of it. A fiery warmth. A bright curtain of light circled me. And then began to pull … pull me inside.

  I struggled to breathe. But the heat was so intense. The light was so bright, I clamped my eyes shut.

  A second later, I opened my eyes. The glow had vanished. I stood in a store aisle. I blinked at cluttered shelves and display cases.

  “How did I get here?” I said out loud. And then I saw I wasn’t alone. Standing behind the counter with a strange, unpleasant smile on his wrinkled face — Jonathan Chiller!

  “Jessica, welcome back,” he said in his croaky voice. His gold tooth gleamed as his smile grew wider.

  “But … how did I get here? What am I doing here?” I cried.

  His smile faded. He narrowed his eyes at me behind his square spectacles. “It’s time to pay me for your souvenir,” he said softly. “It’s time for you to pay, Jessica.”

  HorrorLand Theme Park is supposed to be “The Scariest Place on Earth.” My brother, Chris, and I had to beg our parents to take us there. And then we had to beg them to let Chris and me go exploring without them.

  So here we were, our first afternoon in the park — on our own — staring into the Tunnel of Screams. All I could see was a long, dark tunnel, as black as night. I could hear shrieks and muffled cries from deep inside.

  “Looks awesome,” I said. “Let’s go.” I pulled Chris into the tunnel.

  We took a few steps and left the sunlight behind. In the gray light at the tunnel entrance, I could see high stone walls curving over us. Like a cave.

  And flickering lights. They danced and darted along
the ceiling and reminded me of the fireflies in our backyard in August. The gray light soon darkened to black as we walked farther into the tunnel.

  The other kids and families weren’t in sight. And all I could hear were shrill, horrifying screams. Screams that seemed to come from all sides, in front of us, behind us. Screams of terror. Long, high shrieks of fright.

  “Like stepping into a horror movie,” Chris said in a whisper. He was shuffling next to me, keeping close. I could barely hear him over the screams and cries.

  Was I frightened? Well … my whole body started to tingle, and my legs felt shaky.

  I guess I have to admit that I, Meg Oliver, was actually terrified! Maybe for the first time in my twelve years.

  “Whoooooooah.”

  A low moan right behind me made me spin around with a gasp. But of course I couldn’t see anything there.

  “Chris? Where are you?” I shouted.

  My brother is eleven. But sometimes he acts like a six-year-old and hides from me just to make me worry. There’s only one year between us, but I’m the mature one. And the sensible one. So I’m always in charge.

  “Chris?”

  A shrill scream rang through the tunnel and echoed all around me.

  And someone grabbed me from behind.

  Grabbed me around the waist. And I felt hot breath on my face.

  I let out a shriek — and spun around.

  In the flickering firefly light, I saw Chris grinning like a cat. He let go of me and did a crazy dance.

  “You creep!” I cried. I grabbed him by the ears.

  Chris has giant ears. Sometimes I call him Dumbo. They are waaay too big for his head. Mom says he’ll grow into them, but I don’t believe it.

  Sometimes when I get angry at him I grab both ears and pull with all my might. Sometimes I do it when I’m not angry at him. I do it just for fun. And because he hates it.

  So I pulled his ears. Then I gave him a push, and we started moving again through the Tunnel of Screams.

  The tunnel made a sharp turn, and we both bumped into the cold stone wall. A little girl’s scream repeated and repeated, high and shrill.

  Even in the dim light, I could see the fear on Chris’s face. I mean, I probably looked scared, too. It’s just so frightening to hear real people screaming in horror.

  And then it got even more frightening — because I thought I recognized the screams. It sounded just like us.

  “Chris —” I called. My voice trembled. “Is that you? Is that you screaming?”

  I couldn’t hear his reply.

  And then I heard two more screams — could it be? Chris and me screaming together?

  But that was impossible. Where did the screams come from?

  This was HorrorLand. It had to be some kind of trick.

  “Chris — are you okay? Do you hear those screams?” I cried. I grabbed for his shoulder. But I grabbed only air.

  The tunnel appeared to grow darker.

  “Chris? Doesn’t that sound like us?”

  No answer.

  The screams were too real. I wanted the tunnel to end.

  “Chris? Where are you?” I called.

  Finally, squinting into the flickering light, I saw him up ahead of me. I ran and caught up. “Chris?”

  I grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. And cried out in shock.

  His face … Chris’s face … it was GONE!

  I was staring at his ugly, grinning skull!

  R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street and the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at www.RLStine.com.

  Goosebumps book series created by Parachute Press, Inc.

  Copyright © 2010 by Scholastic Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, GOOSEBUMPS, GOOSEBUMPS HORRORLAND, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  First printing, May 2010

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-30120-6

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