by R. L. Stine
I pulled Shari to the lab in the back of the store and knocked on the door. You can’t just open the door and walk into the developing lab. If you let in the light, you destroy the film in there.
We waited about five minutes. Then Terry came out. At first, he didn’t recognize me. I think he forgot that I had put on four hundred pounds in the past few days.
“Yuck. What happened to your skin, Greg?” he demanded, making a disgusted face. “Have you got a rash or something?”
“I don’t know,” I replied glumly. “Can you do me a favor, Terry?”
He shrugged. “What’s the favor?”
I held up the first two snapshots. The negative of Shari, and the positive of me weighing a ton. “Can you reverse these for us?” I asked.
He squinted at the two squares for a long while. “I don’t get you,” he said finally.
I sighed. “Can you take the negative and make a positive of it? And can you take the positive and make a negative?”
Shari let out a sharp cry. She realized what my plan was.
Maybe if we reversed the pictures, it would reverse our bodies.
Terry would make a positive of Shari’s negative, and she’d grow back to her normal size. Then he’d make a negative of my picture, and I’d shrink the way Shari had.
It seemed to make sense. Was it worth a try?
Definitely.
Terry took the two snapshots. He studied them closely. He scratched his head. “I guess I could do it,” he said. “But I’m really busy in there. When do you need it?”
“NOW!” Shari and I both cried.
Terry stared at us, then down at the two photos.
I scratched the back of my neck. My arms were so fat, I could barely lift them that high. In a few hours, I knew, I’d be too heavy to walk. Someone would have to wheel me around in a wheelbarrow. No—make that two wheelbarrows!
“Please!” I begged.
“I just don’t have time,” Terry said.
“I’ll give you my allowance for the next two months!” I cried.
“Okay. I guess I can find the time. It’s a deal,” Terry replied. “Wait out here.”
He disappeared into the lab. We stood outside the door and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The longest half hour of my life.
Mr. Kramer kept staring back at us from the front counter. Shari and I tried to ignore him.
I wanted to sit down. Carrying so much weight made my feet hurt. But I was afraid if I took a seat, I’d break it. And I wouldn’t be able to get back up.
So Shari and I stood outside the door to the lab. And thought about this new plan.
Would it work? Would reversing the photos reverse us?
Finally, the door swung open and Terry stepped out. “Here,” he grunted. He handed me the new prints. “Don’t forget what you said about your allowance.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “Thanks, Terry.”
I gazed at the new prints. Terry had done it right. A positive of Shari, smiling into the camera. A negative of me, weighing four hundred pounds.
“Now, get lost,” Terry said, glancing up to the front desk. “Go ahead. Beat it. Before you make me lose my job.”
I took Shari’s hand and started to pull her to the front of the store.
Poor Shari. She really did feel light as a feather. She looked even paler and skinnier than when we came into the store. Her hand felt like brittle bones.
We stepped out of the store and stopped on the corner. I held the new prints up so we both could see them.
“Is it working?” I asked her. “Do you feel any different?”
“Not yet,” she replied softly.
“Neither do I,” I moaned.
We stared at the new prints. And waited.
We stood on that corner for at least half an hour. Staring and waiting.
Waiting to feel different. Waiting for our bodies to change.
But nothing happened.
We didn’t change at all.
“We’re doomed,” I murmured sadly. “Doomed.”
A chunk of skin peeled off my forehead and dropped to the sidewalk.
25
The next morning, I woke up early, before my alarm. I stretched and yawned. Then I turned and struggled to pull my huge body out of bed.
“Heave-ho!” I cried, straining every muscle.
And I went flying across the room!
“Oww!” I groaned as I hit the wall. I bounced off. Dropped to the floor. Bounced up again.
“What’s going on?” I cried out loud.
And scrambled to the mirror. And stared at the reflection of my old face. My old body.
No folds of sagging flesh. No puffed-out cheeks or bulging balloon of a belly.
Me!
I was back!
I squeezed my arms. I rubbed my face. I pulled my hair.
I felt so happy to see myself!
I leaped onto the bed and started jumping up and down, tossing up my arms, and whooping and cheering at the top of my lungs.
“It worked! It worked!”
Reversing the photo had reversed me!
“Yaaaaay!” I let out a cheer for myself.
Mom and Dad burst into the room, still in their bathrobes. Frightened expressions on their faces. “Greg—what’s wrong?”
And then they both froze with bulging eyes and opened mouths.
Mom uttered a squeak of surprise. Dad goggled at me in shocked silence.
“You—you’re you again!” Mom stammered finally.
“You—you—you—” Dad struggled to say something, but he couldn’t. He pointed a finger at me and stuttered.
And then they both rushed over and wrapped me in a tight hug.
“I knew it was something you ate,” Mom said happily. “Some kind of food poisoning.”
“Just an allergic reaction,” Dad added, finally able to speak. “I knew you’d be fine in a day or two.”
“We knew you’d be fine,” Mom declared.
“Yeah. Me, too,” I said.
What a lie!
“You were very good during all this trouble, Greg,” Mom said, wiping away a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. “You had such a good attitude.”
“Yeah. Well… I always try to think positive,” I told her.
I gobbled down my breakfast and hurried next door to Shari’s house. As I ran up to the back door, she stepped out, grinning, waving her arms in the air in triumph.
“It worked! It worked, Greg!” she cried happily.
She came running toward me, her black hair flying behind her head, laughing and cheering. Back to normal.
Back to normal!
Whooping and shouting, the two of us did a wild “Back to Normal” dance in her backyard.
When we stopped to catch our breath, Shari turned to me. “We’d better hurry. We’re going to be late for school. I can’t wait to show everyone that I’m me again.”
“Me, too!” I cried. “But wait right here. I have to get something in my room. I’ll be right back.”
I turned and started jogging quickly across the grass to my house.
“What are you getting?” Shari called, following me.
“The camera,” I shouted back.
She ran faster. Caught up with me. Grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to a stop. “Greg—the camera? Why do you need the camera?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. My expression turned serious. I lowered my voice to a whisper.
“For revenge,” I replied.
26
“Greg—don’t!” Shari pleaded.
I ignored her. I knew what I wanted to do. I knew what I had to do.
I ran into the house. Took the stairs two at a time up to my room. Pulled the camera from its hiding place. And hurried back outside.
Shari was waiting for me on the sidewalk. “Greg—this is crazy,” she insisted. “What are you going to do?”
I couldn’t stop an evil
smile from spreading across my face. “I’m going to take Mr. Saur’s picture,” I told her.
“NO!” she gasped. “Greg—you can’t!”
“Watch me,” I replied, still grinning.
“But—but—but—” she sputtered.
I started walking toward school, taking long strides. I gripped the camera tightly in both hands.
“Greg—something terrible will happen!” Shari protested.
“I know,” I said, unable to stop grinning. “Old Sourball deserves it.”
“But, Greg—” She tried to stop me. But I jogged faster, moving away from her.
“He deserves it,” I repeated. “He refused to believe a true story. He called me a liar in front of the whole class. And he gave me an F. An F for a really good report.”
“But, Greg—” Shari started.
I didn’t let her get a word in. I was too worked up. The closer we came to school, the more excited I got about my revenge plan.
“He’s going to ruin my whole summer,” I continued. “And he’s wrong, wrong, wrong! And then, when I got so huge, Sourball was really cruel. He made jokes about me in front of everyone. He embarrassed me, Shari. He totally embarrassed me.”
“Greg—”
“He wanted to hurt my feelings,” I declared. I could see our school through the trees in the next block. “He wanted to embarrass me in front of the whole class. He deserves what he’s going to get.”
“So what are you going to do?” she demanded breathlessly.
I stopped at the corner. “He dared me to prove that the camera is evil. So I’m going to prove it—and get my revenge at the same time.”
* * *
I slipped into class just as the final bell rang. The other kids were already in their seats, just getting quiet.
Mr. Saur had his back turned. He was writing something on the chalkboard.
I stepped up behind him. And waited for him to turn around.
My heart thudded in my chest. My hands were shaking so much, I could barely hold the camera.
I took a deep breath and held it.
This was my big moment. My big chance.
“Mr. Saur—?” I called softly.
He spun around, as if I had shouted. “Greg!” he cried. “You’re looking very slender.”
I ignored his words. I raised the camera to my eye.
Time for revenge, I thought.
“I brought the camera,” I told him. My voice came out high and shrill. “Remember? The camera from my report? You asked me to prove that it’s evil. So here goes!”
I centered his startled face in the viewfinder.
I raised my finger over the shutter button.
He grabbed the camera from my hands.
“Oh, yes! The evil camera!” he declared, staring down at it. “Don’t waste it on me. Let’s take everyone’s picture!”
“No!” I cried.
He waved his hand. “Donny and Brian—move in closer.” Then he shoved me in front of him. “Get in the shot, Greg.”
“No!” I pleaded. “Mr. Saur—no!”
“Say cheese, everyone!”
The camera flashed.
The white square photo slid out.
Mr. Saur smiled at me. “I think I got everyone in class in the shot,” he said. “Now what’s going to happen?”
I swallowed hard. “Uh… we’ll see,” I replied. “We’ll see.”
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