by R. L. Stine
He handed me the box.
I reached into my backpack for my money. “How much do I owe you?” I asked.
Chiller waved me away. “Don’t pay me now,” he said. “You can pay me back the next time you see me.”
Next time?
What did he mean by that?
We drove home the next day. But we had a surprise in store for us. In the car, Mom and Dad said they had to go to Chicago on a business trip.
“I can’t believe you won’t be home for Halloween,” I said. “It’s this weekend. Who is going to decorate the house?”
“You and Chris can decorate,” Dad said. “You know where I keep the orange lights, and the skulls, and the plastic jack-o’-lanterns.”
Chris shook his head and slumped down in the backseat. “It won’t be the same. Who’s coming to stay with us?”
“Penny,” Mom said.
“Huh? Penny? You’re joking!” Chris and I cried together.
“Don’t act so surprised. She’s known you since you were babies,” Mom said.
“But she’s a hundred and twenty!” Chris cried.
Dad laughed. “She’s not that old. She’s only a hundred and eighteen. And she has the energy of a hundred-and-ten-year-old!”
That made Chris and me laugh. Penny is our old babysitter. She used to live with us until we really didn’t need a full-time babysitter anymore. She’s tiny and frail, like a little sparrow. And she has terrible eyesight.
Chris and I always loved her because she’s a total flake. And she let us do whatever we wanted — because she couldn’t really see what we were doing!
We were a few miles from home when my friend Kelly texted me. She was reminding Chris and me not to forget her Halloween party tomorrow night. Kelly always likes to be early. Her party was the day before Halloween!
She asked how HorrorLand was.
“Horrifying,” I texted back. And I meant it.
I couldn’t wait to get home. I wanted to get to work on my vampire costume for Kelly’s party.
Kelly loves to do fashion drawings. She’s always filling up her notebook with sketches of models in crazy outfits. She’s really talented. I didn’t want my costume to be totally embarrassing next to hers.
I poked Chris in the side. He pulled his iPod earbuds from his ears. “Do you have a costume for Kelly’s party?” I asked.
He snickered. “I bought these pointy ears. I’m going to put them on and go as a Vulcan from Star Trek.”
“That’s totally dumb,” I said.
“I know,” he replied. He shoved the earbuds back into his ears. His head bobbed up and down to the music.
“You look like a bobblehead doll,” I said.
He didn’t hear me.
* * *
At home, I unpacked quickly. I unwrapped the Floig and gazed at it. It stared back at me with its big, black froggy eyes. I squeezed its soft green belly.
“Where am I going to put you?” I murmured.
My antique doll collection takes up nearly one whole wall in my room. I have some wonderful dolls from the 1920s and 1930s. They have lifelike hair in old-fashioned styles and very sweet and pretty faces.
My oldest doll is from the 1890s. I call her Elizabeth. She belonged to my great-great-grandmother.
The doll has beautiful blond braided hair. Her long pink skirt is in pretty good shape. But the color on her face is totally washed out.
I don’t care. Elizabeth is my favorite doll. Mainly because she’s been in our family for so long.
I squeezed the Floig again. It felt good. Like a soft beanbag.
Then I placed it in the corner of my desk. I picked up the little Horror that Jonathan Chiller had attached to the wrapping. And I placed it next to the Floig.
I had to laugh. The Floig looked so ugly compared to all my beautiful old dolls, I just couldn’t put them near each other.
I had no way of knowing that the funny-looking thing would save my life.
My parents left the next morning. Penny arrived when Chris and I got home from school that afternoon.
She stepped into the house, squinting through her thick eyeglasses and carrying a round goldfish bowl in both hands.
Chris and I were happy to see her. We both ran to give her hugs. But she held the fishbowl up in front of her.
“The yellowish one is Arlo,” she said. “The one in the middle is Jeffrey. And the pretty one? I named her Meg, after you.”
“Oh, that’s so nice!” I gushed. I peered into the water. The three bobbing goldfish looked exactly alike. “Which one is Meg?” I asked.
“The pretty one,” Penny replied. She set the bowl down on the coffee table. Her bones made kind of a creaking sound as she bent over.
She straightened up and spread out her arms for hugs. She was so tiny, almost like a stick figure. I tried not to hug her too hard.
Her short hair was bright orange. She had a small black-and-orange pumpkin clip on one side. Her lips were orange to match her hair. She smelled like lemons.
“I want to hear everything you’ve been doing,” she said. She lowered herself into the armchair beside the coffee table and took out her knitting. “Calm down, Arlo,” she said, squinting at the fishbowl. “You’re making Jeffrey and Meg nervous.”
“We just got back from HorrorLand,” Chris told her.
“I heard that’s a scary place,” Penny said. “Did you see any ghosts?”
“Not really,” Chris said.
“My house in New Hampshire was haunted,” Penny said. “You know, ghosts won’t hurt you unless you stare them in the eye.”
I squinted at the pile of knitting in her lap. “Penny, what are you making?”
“It’s a sweater,” she said. “For my nephew.” She held it up.
Chris and I exchanged glances. We both saw that the sweater had three arms. Penny had worse eyesight than we thought!
“Maybe her nephew has three arms,” Chris whispered.
I held a finger up to my lips. “Don’t embarrass her.”
“My fish like Halloween,” Penny said. “I give them special treats.”
“Sweet!” I said. I told her about the Halloween party at Kelly’s house.
“Don’t stay out too late,” Penny said. “I go to bed at seven-thirty. But I’ll leave all the lights on.”
* * *
At seven-thirty, we said good night to Penny. Then we headed outside to walk to Kelly’s house.
I stopped on the front walk and did a slow twirl. My cape swirled around me. “Well?” I gave Chris a shove. “You didn’t say anything about my costume. What do you think?”
“Awesome,” he said. He barely looked at it. “What are you supposed to be? A gypsy?”
“No, you idiot!” I shoved him away. “See the fangs? The black lipstick? I’m a vampire! I spent hours on this costume. Look. I even dyed my hair black.”
“Meg, you look much better as a vampire,” he said, grinning. “Are you going to bite someone’s neck?”
I rolled my eyes. “Ha-ha.” I walked faster, trying to get away from him.
“I know whose neck you’re going to bite,” Chris said, jogging to catch up to me. “Justin Goldberg. You’re going to bite his neck — aren’t you, Meg?”
I spun around angrily. “Have you totally lost your mind? No way I’d bite Justin Goldberg’s neck.”
“You would,” Chris insisted. “Because he’s your boyfriend. You’d love to turn him into your vampire slave.”
I let out a cry. I tried to shove Chris, but he danced out of the way. “Someone should lock you up,” I said. “You’re totally whacked or something!”
I made a grab for his pointy ears. I wanted to rip them off and throw them into the street. But my arms got tangled in my cape, and I had to stop and untangle myself.
I shivered. It was a cold night for October. The ground was crunchy and hard from the frost. A thin sliver of a moon, like a fingernail clipping, hung low in the black sky.
“I don’t
even like Justin Goldberg!” I shouted. Chris was dancing on the sidewalk, walking backward, up ahead of me. “So don’t make up stuff about me!”
He started to laugh. But then his eyes went wide and he stopped dancing. “Meg?” he cried in a soft whisper. He pointed to the hedges beside the walk.
I trotted up to him and followed his gaze.
“I see it!” I whispered.
We were both staring at something in the hedge. It was alive! Something caught in its brambles. Squirming frantically.
I took a step closer. And pressed my hands against my cheeks.
“Oh, no!” I cried. “It’s … it’s a BABY!”
“It’s not a baby!” I cried. “Too big!”
But what was it?
I crept up to the hedge, breathing hard.
What could it be? We took a closer look. It looked like a small boy — with orange skin. He wore a blue T-shirt over a big diaper. He was kicking his legs frantically. I saw shiny red shoes on his feet.
He thrashed his skinny arms. He was grunting in a funny hoarse voice.
“Hold still,” I said. “We’ll get you out.”
But he kept kicking those little red shoes and grunting and twisting.
I reached both hands into the hedge and wrapped them around his middle. Then I gave a hard tug — and he popped right out.
I uttered a startled cry. I couldn’t believe how light he was. Like he weighed about ten pounds!
I was so surprised, I nearly dropped him.
But I managed to set him down on his red shoes. He kept making those grunting sounds and flapping his little arms, like he was still stuck in the hedge.
Chris and I stared at him. Was he a boy dressed as a baby? What a weird Halloween costume! A T-shirt and a diaper? That orange skin?
But wait. He had two slender antennae on top of his bald head. Like snail antennae.
Was he supposed to be an alien baby? A mutant?
He finally stopped grunting. He raised his face to us. He had tiny black eyes. They looked like raisins.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “How did you get caught in that hedge?”
He didn’t answer.
“Cool costume,” Chris said. “Did you buy it, or did you make it?”
No answer. He gazed up at us with those little eyes. His mouth moved silently up and down.
“Do you live around here?” I asked. “I’m Meg Oliver. He’s my brother, Chris. We live in that house on the next block.” I pointed.
“Are you hurt?” Chris asked.
“No.” The boy finally spoke. He had a strange tinny voice. “My feeling is okay.”
Chris and I glanced at each other. We were both thinking the same thing: Why did he have such a weird voice? It was like a cartoon character.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.
He nodded. “My feeling is okay.” He hugged himself. He must have been freezing in that costume!
“How old are you?” Chris asked.
“Many,” the kid replied. He held up one hand. He had only three fingers!
“How did you do that?” I asked. “Is it a special glove?”
“Are you dressed as an alien baby?” Chris asked him.
He tossed back his head and opened his mouth in a tinny laugh. He sounded a lot like SpongeBob!
A cold gust of wind made me shudder. I wrapped my black cape around me.
“You’re putting us on, right?” I said. “You’re doing that funny voice?”
“My feeling is funny,” he replied. His smile was all crooked on his orange face. He laughed again, raising his eyes to the black sky.
“Do you go to our school?” Chris asked.
The kid stared back at him but didn’t reply.
“We’re going to be late,” I told Chris. “I promised Kelly I’d get there early.”
“Yeah. Well, awesome costume,” Chris told the kid.
“Bye,” I said. “Stay out of the hedges.”
Chris and I turned and walked away. The wind was swirling around us. A cloud rolled over the tiny sliver of moon, and the street grew darker.
Chris and I started to trot. Kelly’s house was the last one on the block, across from Becker Woods. My cape fluttered behind me as we hurried. I knew my hair was a mess.
Kelly had all the lights on. A huge, fiery jack-o’-lantern grinned at us on the front stoop. Chris and I leaped onto the stoop. I rang the doorbell.
I heard a sound behind us. I turned. “Oh, I don’t believe it,” I whispered.
Chris turned to see what I saw. The orange kid in the diaper had followed us. He stood staring at us from the sidewalk.
Kelly’s front door swung open. I heard a growl.
I jumped to the side as Kelly’s big dog came roaring out, barking ferociously.
“Noooooo!” A scream burst from my throat as the dog lowered his head and leaped off the stoop. In a frenzy of growls and snapping teeth, he tore straight at the little kid.
I screamed again.
To my shock, the dog stopped short. He pulled back a few inches from the kid. It was like he’d hit an invisible wall.
The dog lowered his head. He tucked his tail between his hind legs and began to whimper. His whole body trembled.
The kid hadn’t moved. He had his hands at his waist. His tiny raisin eyes were trained on the trembling dog.
Kelly burst onto the stoop. “What did you do to Bubba?” she cried. She pointed. “Look at him. He’s shaking like a leaf!”
“He … he jumped at that kid,” I stammered.
Kelly blinked. “Kid? What kid?”
I turned back. The little orange guy had vanished.
Kelly leaped off the stoop and threw her arms around Bubba’s neck. “Are you okay, baby? You hate Halloween, don’t you?”
“There was a little kid standing there in a weird costume,” Chris said. “I guess the kid scared him.”
“Dogs hate Halloween,” Kelly said. “It’s just too weird for them. They don’t get it at all.”
She gave Bubba a final pat on the head. The dog was still trembling. He slowly climbed up the stoop and walked back into the house.
I heard kids laughing inside. And loud music.
“I was going to make Bubba a costume,” she said. “You know. For the party. But I knew he’d just tear it apart and eat it.”
“He’s always so gentle,” I said. “It’s weird that he wanted to attack that kid.”
I realized Kelly was staring hard at me. I suddenly knew why.
I burst out laughing. “Kelly — I don’t believe it! Your costume is almost identical to mine!”
She threw an arm around my shoulders, and we both laughed. Our capes got tangled together.
“Meg, we’ve been best friends so long,” she said. “We even think of the same Halloween costume!”
“Your makeup is better,” I said. “Your eyes really look like they’re sunken deep in your head. And your blue lips are awesome.”
“Your black lipstick is better,” Kelly said. “Much creepier.”
“I think my costume is the best,” Chris chimed in.
We ignored him. We bumped him out of the way and walked into the party.
Kelly’s living room was hot and already crowded. I stepped under orange and black streamers strung over the ceiling. I saw a grinning skull on the coffee table, surrounded by huge black plastic spiders. Black candles flickered everywhere.
Eerie music boomed from the stereo. Everyone was in costume. I saw a ghost in a bedsheet. I saw two mummies at the food table, trying to pick up tortilla chips with their bandaged hands. A pirate with a black eye patch and a parrot on his shoulder waved to Chris. Probably one of my brother’s buddies.
“Did you see Melody?” Kelly asked. “She’s a riot. She’s dressed as a mushroom. Really.”
I glanced around. No sign of a mushroom.
I turned toward the den, and a tall two-headed alien stepped in front of me.
“Hi, Carlos,” I said.
Silence for a moment. Then his voice seemed to come from far away. “Meg, how’d you know it was me?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re the only science-fiction geek I know,” I said. “Who else would come here in a two-headed alien costume?”
Both of his heads stared at me. One head was bright blue and had a nose that stuck straight out like a bumpy cucumber. The other head was red and had four eyes, two noses, and two mouths with dripping fangs.
“Can you tell which is my real head?” Carlos asked.
“They both are!” I joked.
He didn’t laugh. “No. Take a guess. Which mask is my head in?”
His voice was so muffled, I could barely hear him over the loud voices and creepy music.
I gazed at the blue head, then the red head.
“Neither one,” Carlos answered before I could guess. “My real head is buried inside the chest of this costume.”
I laughed. “Totally clever.”
“There’s only one problem,” Carlos said. “I can’t see a thing. Where am I? Who am I talking to?”
Carlos is the funniest dude I know. He’s a good friend.
And he knows everything about aliens and mutants and every sci-fi movie ever made. He spends all his time online reading strange blogs. He’s totally into it.
He stepped past me to show off his costume to some kids who had just arrived. I turned and saw Bubba. The poor thing was huddled in a corner, head down, still shaking.
What was that about?
Kelly’s Halloween party was awesome. Her mom kept bringing in more and more pizzas. We played a scary hide-and-seek game across the street in Becker Woods.
Then we came back to the house to warm up. After we drank hot apple cider, Kelly turned off all the lights. We sat around the living room, gazing into the flickering flames of the black candles.
Carlos pulled off his two heads and set them down on the floor. He leaned into the dancing candlelight and told a scary ghost story. “This is the story of the headless ghost,” he said in a whisper.
A hush fell over the room. I had to struggle to hear his whispered story over the gusting wind outside the living room window.
