by R. L. Stine
“Peter and I brought extra bathing suits,” Patty Perfect chimed in.
“We can loan you one,” Peter Perfect said. He turned to Mrs. Hooping-Koff. “Do we get extra points for that?”
She scribbled ten extra points for that in her notepad.
“We are having the best time arguing about the different rides,” Patty Perfect gushed.
Mrs. Hooping-Koff awarded them ten more points.
“Does anyone want some Honey Crunch Tree Bark?” Junkfood John asked. He held up a big brown bag and was chewing loudly.
“We already had breakfast, John,” I said.
He shrugged. “I know. But this is a snack.” He waved the bag in the air. “Anyone want to try some? It’s made from real tree bark. No artificial flavors.”
“Grunnnt gruntgrunt,” the principal grunted. We had no idea what he was trying to say.
“There’s the Whip-It Swing Ride!” Handy Sandy cried. “That’s a fun, simple ride to start out on.”
Sandy was right. The Whip-It was just swing seats on very long cords. The ride swung you around and around, and your swing floated out higher as you spun. Then, suddenly, it would stop and whip you in the other direction and your seat would fly even higher.
It was simple but fun, so we all started trotting toward it.
“We love the Whip-It!” Patty Perfect exclaimed. “We’ll have the best time of everyone on this terrifying—I mean—terrific ride.”
Mrs. Hooping-Koff wrote in her notebook again.
I shook my head. “We’re never going to beat the Perfects unless we cheat,” I muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Cranky Frankie said, running up beside me. “I thought of that. That’s why I brought this can of grease.”
TWENTY-NINE
I stopped and stared at the small can Frankie held in front of me.
“It’s called Greasy Grease,” Frankie whispered, keeping the can close to his body so no one else could see it. “It’s the greasiest grease you can buy without a prescription.”
“But—but—” I stuttered.
He grinned. “I know what you’re going to ask, Adam. You’re going to ask me what am I going to do with it?”
Kids were climbing into the swing seats, getting ready to ride.
“Before the Perfect twins sit down,” Cranky Frankie whispered, “I’m going to grease their seats.”
I gasped. “Huh? And then—?”
Frankie’s grin grew wider. “And then, when the swings suddenly whip in the other direction, the Perfects will slide off their swing seats and go flying.”
“But—but—”
“Believe me,” Frankie whispered. “They won’t have any fun. And they won’t get any points, either.
“But y-you can’t do that!” I stammered.
“Watch me,” Frankie said.
I watched him run up to the two swings in the middle of the ride. He made sure no one was watching, then poured some Greasy Grease on his hands—and wiped them onto both seats.
“Hurry, everyone!” Mrs. Hooping-Koff shouted. “The ride is about to start! Sit down! There’s room for everyone.”
She and Principal Grunt found seats just as the swings started to move to the right. I gripped the two cords that held my seat and prepared to swing. I glanced down the circle of kids and saw Peter and Patty with big smiles on their perfect faces.
Cranky Frankie was in the swing beside me. He had a smile on his face, too. But it was a nasty smile.
They have a horrible surprise in store, I thought. In a few minutes, the Perfects are going to go flying. I just hope they don’t get hurt.
The ride picked up speed. My swing and all the others floated out higher.
Kids were laughing and screaming. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.
Faster. Faster. We all swung higher. The ride moved even faster.
I held my breath. I knew what was about to happen. The ride was going to stop with a hard jolt—and then the swings would whip in the other direction.
Faster. Faster. Higher. Higher.
Here we go . . .
I wanted to close my eyes—but I couldn’t.
We were flying far above the ground. Our feet were in the air, way above our heads. The swing floated out farther. And then—
WHUPPPP.
A sharp stop. The seats swung one way, then the other. Then jerked in the opposite direction.
I screamed when I saw two people slide out of their swing seats and go flying into the air.
The Perfect twins? Did the twins just go flying?
My seat swung around, so I couldn’t see them.
I twisted to the side—and saw Cranky Frankie slap his forehead. “Oh, wow. Would you believe it?” he cried. “I did it again. I greased the wrong seats!”
My seat whirled around—and I saw Mrs. Hooping-Koff and Principal Grunt sailing through the air.
Their mouths hung wide open in silent screams. Their hands flapped the air helplessly. They flew high over the park and then began to swoop down.
Down . . .
Down . . .
I gasped as they landed with a tall SPLASH into Six Thrills Lake.
Oh, wow. Oh, wow.
I hoped they could swim.
The ride ended and we all climbed off.
I felt a little dizzy.
Cranky Frankie ran to the nearest trash basket and tossed the can of grease into it. He shrugged and grinned at me. “Well, it was worth a try,” he said.
The Perfect twins ran up to us. They were looking a little nauseous, but Patty Perfect said, “We had the best time!”
She turned to her brother. “Let’s pull Mrs. Hooping-Koff out of the lake so we can tell her we won.”
THIRTY
Hello, readers. I’m Windy Winston, and I’m going to continue the story of our day at Six Thrills Amusement Park.
Before I start, I’d like to tell you a little bit about me.
Do you know how I got the nickname Windy? I bet you don’t. And I bet you could make ten guesses and not come up with the right answer.
You could think about it all morning and discuss it with your friends all day and dream about it at night and try to find the answer about my name online. But you won’t figure it out.
So I’m going to tell you now why my nickname is Windy and save you all the trouble.
You see, people started calling me Windy because they think I talk too much.
Of course, they are wrong. That’s a crazy idea. I know when to talk and when to keep quiet. And I know I never go on and on about things and talk and talk till I’m blue in the face.
I never do that.
So I’m not sure how people got the idea that I talk too much. It was just a big mistake, and the nickname caught on, and I’ve been called Windy ever since.
So there you have it. Now you know.
I’m not sure about how I feel about it, to be honest. I don’t want to bore you with a long discussion of my feelings. I know you’d all like to know what happened next at Six Thrills.
And, of course, I’m going to tell you all about it. So don’t skip ahead. But I do feel that you should know that sometimes my nickname makes me feel a little uncomfortable.
I mean, do people really think I’m a windbag? That I talk too much? That I go on and on when I should just stop talking about whatever it is I’m talking about?
Do people really think that?
Or did they give me that nickname just to make fun of me?
If that’s true, my feelings are hurt. I don’t think it’s nice to call someone names or give hurtful nicknames that will follow them for the rest of their life.
Do you agree with me?
I mean, Windy isn’t such a bad word. But is it the right name for me? Or is my reputation being ruined because of it? Do people laugh when I tell them my name is Windy?
Sometimes I feel people are laughing behind my back. And that makes me feel really . . .
Well, I don’t know how it make
s me feel. I’ll have to give it some thought.
I mean, what if I was called Silent Winston?
Would I like that better? Would it change things for me at all? Or would people still laugh when I told them my name? It’s a lot to think about, as you can imagine.
But I definitely don’t want to be known as someone who talks too much. Someone who just keeps talking and talking in circles. I’d be embarrassed if people thought that about me.
So I guess that explains why I’m called Windy Winston. I mean, not completely. But if you have any questions about any of this, I’m happy to discuss it more.
But now I’d like to continue the story of our adventure at Six Thrills. I’d like to—but it looks like my time is up.
Bye for now.
THIRTY-ONE
Adam Bomb here.
Whew . . . I thought that Windy Winston kid would never shut up. On the bus coming to the park, I asked him what time it was, and he talked for half an hour. I was ready to explode.
When he finished, I still didn’t know what time it was—and I didn’t care. I wanted to put ice cubes on my ears to cool them down from all that listening.
Anyway, we were all dying to ride on the park’s fastest and most dangerous roller coaster, the Blister Twister. It’s called that because you get blisters on your hands from squeezing the metal safety bar in front of you in terror.
The gate to the ride opened, and everyone rushed to get into a car.
Luke Puke held back. “I can’t go on this ride,” he said, his voice trembling.
“Because of the fast ups and downs?” I asked.
“Because it’s a roller coaster,” he replied, holding his stomach. “I get sick even thinking about roller coasters.” He made an ULLLP sound from deep in his belly.
“You should try to get over your fear,” Babbling Brooke told Luke. “Maybe you will ride the coaster and not get sick.”
Luke Puke stared at her. “Would you like to ride in the same car with me?” he asked.
“Never mind,” Brooke said. “You should probably stick with your fear. It’s better for everyone.” She then hurried into a coaster car as far away from Luke as possible.
Brainy Janey bumped up beside me. She’s so smart— she was wearing gloves. That way, she wouldn’t get blisters on her hands from squeezing the safety bar in terror.
“Roller coasters are so interesting,” she said. “I’ve been studying about them.”
“Why?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
We climbed into the front car. “Roller coasters were invented by a man named Simon Roller,” Janey said. “He built the first roller coaster on a beach in California.”
“Interesting.”
“The first coaster didn’t have a car to sit in,” Janey continued. “You had to pull yourself up to the top on your stomach. Then you’d do somersaults all the way down.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Mr. Roller never got to try his own coaster,” she said. “A big wave came and washed it out to sea. He forgot all about his invention and went surfing instead.”
Janey is such a brainiac. She reads books in her sleep!
I climbed into the car beside her and pulled the metal safety bar down over our legs.
The coaster rolled forward. The Blister Twister ride was starting.
The car tilted and began to pick up speed as it rolled uphill.
Our safety bar popped back up.
“Whoa—!” I let out a cry and tugged it back down.
We climbed higher and the car picked up speed.
The safety bar popped up again.
“Oh nooo,” I moaned. I stretched my hands up and tugged it down.
“STOP THE RIDE!” I screamed. “OUR SAFETY BAR IS LOOSE! STOP THE RIDE!”
The car zoomed up near the top.
“OUR BAR IS LOOSE!” Janey and I cried. “OUR BAR IS LOOSE! STOP THE RIDE!”
Two cars behind, Patty Perfect turned around. “LET’S ALL LET GO OF THE BAR AND RAISE OUR HANDS HIGH ABOVE OUR HEADS!” she shouted.
Brainy Janey reached up for the bar with her hands— but she missed.
We were about to go zooming down—with nothing to hold us in the car.
“HELLLP!” Janey and I screamed. “STOP THE RIDE! OUR SAFETY BAR—”
“WHEEEEE!” Everyone else screamed, their hands raised high as the Blister Twister nosedived.
Down . . .
Down . . .
Down . . .
Down . . .
Down . . .
We fell at rocket speed.
THIRTY-TWO
“WHOOOOAH!”
I tried to grab Janey as she flew out of the car into the air.
I missed. And then I went sailing out, too. We were both flying above the coaster cars as they plummeted down.
“YAAAAAAIIIIIIIII!”
Whose scream was that? Was it mine? Was it Janey’s?
We flapped our arms wildly like chickens. Why did we think that would help?
We were swooping down now, Janey and I flying together, side by side.
Down . . .
Down . . .
Down . . .
And then we crash-landed.
“OOOOOF!”
That was the sound of me landing in an empty car of the rollercoaster.
THUDDDD!
And that was the sound of Brainy Janey landing beside me.
The car whipped down, then started to roll uphill again. I was panting like a dog, my chest heaving, my breath pumping out in loud wheezes.
Janey’s gloves had come off somehow, and she had her hands clamped tightly over her face. Her whole body shuddered and shook. Finally, she lowered her hands and laughed. “What a thrill ride!” she cried.
The roller coaster reached the top and began to roll downhill again.
I gripped the safety bar and shut my eyes.
Everyone screamed as we rocketed down once again.
When I opened my eyes, I saw who was sitting in the car in front of us— Windy Winston and Nat Nerd.
Nat turned his head, his eyes filled with surprise. “I don’t remember you being back there,” he said.
“We weren’t!” I cried.
I was still breathing hard when the cars rolled to a stop. I couldn’t wait to climb out. Now I knew why they called it the Blister Twister. I had blisters on my butt from the ups and downs and from landing so hard in the coaster car!
Patty and Peter Perfect went running to Mrs. Hooping-Koff. “We had the best time!” Peter exclaimed. “And we didn’t even hold on!”
“Peter and I screamed the whole time,” Patty said. “We screamed so hard, we lost our voices and started croaking like frogs. We should win ten points—and get extra credit for croaking!”
“I should win!” Disgustin’ Justin declared. He held up his hands. “Look. I have blisters on my blisters from gripping the safety bar.” He shoved his red blisters into Mrs. Hooping-Koff’s face.
“Yucko!” she said and backed away. “Put your hands down. That’s disgusting.”
“You don’t win,” she said. “And neither do the Perfects. The winners are Adam and Janey.”
Mrs. Hooping-Koff waved to us. “Adam and Janey flew from car to car and landed perfectly.”
I turned to Janey. “Wow. She saw all of that?”
“They rode in two cars—not just one,” Mrs. Hooping-Koff said. “So I'm awarding them ten points each!”
Janey and I leaped into the air and high-fived. “Yaaaay.”
But then Janey turned to Mrs. Hooping-Koff. “Don’t we get extra credit for almost dying?”
Our teacher shook her head. “There’s no points for almost dying,” she said. “You get fifty points for dying, but you’re still alive. Almost dying doesn’t count. Sorry.”
“So what’s the score?” I asked.
Mrs. Hooping-Koff checked her notepad. “Well . . . let’s see. The Perfects h
ave eighty points, and Adam and Janey have ten points.”
I slapped Janey another high five. “We’re catching up!” I said.
THIRTY-THREE
Babbling Brooke here, continuing the story.
I was having so much fun at the park, I wanted to jump up and lead everyone in a cheer. So I did:
“GO, PARK! GO, PARK! GO, PARK!
“YOU’RE FUN IN DAY OR DARK!
“THE RIDES ARE ALL A THRILL!
“TOO BAD LUKE PUKE GOT ILL!
“YAAAAAY!”
I did a double somersault and landed on my back. When I was able to stand again, I realized all my friends had moved on. I’m not sure they had even heard my awesome cheer.
But that’s okay. I was having an amazing time. I only hoped we could win more points. I knew we could do it—if I worked hard to cheer everyone on.
The park was crowded, and it took me a while to find my friends. When I found them, they were piling into open cars at the Safari Thrill Ride. So I took off running and jumped into the car next to Wacky Jackie.
“This is supposed to be a cool ride,” she said. “It takes you through a swamp and a forest. And you can see hundreds of real animals living in the wild.”
The driver was a young man wearing a blue admiral’s cap. He stood up and came walking back through the car. “Remember, keep your hands inside the car at all times,” he said. “Don’t try to pet any animals. These are wild animals, and they will bite.”
Nervous Rex started to shake. “What happens if my hand gets b-bitten off?” he asked.
“No problem. We’ll refund your money,” the driver said.
“B-but I didn’t pay any money,” Rex said. “I won a contest.”
The young man rubbed his chin. “In that case, we’ll replace your hand with a plastic one from the gift shop,” he said. “So, no worries.”
“No worries,” Nervous Rex repeated. But he didn’t seem all that convinced.
The driver started toward the front of the car. But then he stopped and turned back. “I do have one other announcement to make,” he said. “I’m afraid you will not be seeing our hippopotamus today. Our hippo escaped a few weeks ago, and we are still searching for him.”
