Liar Liar

by R. L. Stine

  The front doorbell rang. I saw Amelia, the housekeeper, hurry to answer it.

  “That’s Mr. Lawrence,” Mom said. “Hurry, Ross. Get into your karate robe. You’ll have to eat later. We’ll keep dinner warm for you.”

  I gulped down a glass of apple juice, trying to get the brussels sprouts taste out of my mouth. “Uh … maybe I should skip the lesson tonight,” I said. “I have a big homework project, and—”

  “Mr. Lawrence drove all the way from Burbank,” Mom said. “Get upstairs and get changed. What’s wrong with you tonight?”

  That’s what I want to know! I said to myself as I hurried to my room.

  What’s wrong with me tonight?

  I stared at the white robe hanging on my closet door. Which way does the belt go? I wondered. Does the collar stay up or down?

  How am I going to fake my way through this lesson? I asked myself. I can’t. I don’t know anything about karate. And I’ve never seen this Mr. Lawrence before in my life.

  Why did Mom say I’ve been taking lessons since I was seven?

  How can she be so totally confused?

  I pulled on the robe and tied the belt in front of me. My hands were trembling.

  This guy could kill me, I realized.

  I can’t go through with this. I’ve got to stop it.

  Downstairs, I heard voices coming from Dad’s gym in the back of the house. Dad has a Stairmaster, a weight bench, and a treadmill in there.

  As I stepped into the room, I was surprised to see a canvas floor mat spread out in the center of the gym. Jake was on the mat, kidding around with a huge, bald, red-faced man in a white robe. Mr. Lawrence.

  The karate teacher was letting Jake throw him over his little shoulder. Jake laughed as Mr. Lawrence flipped over and landed with a hard thud on his back.

  “You didn’t know you were so strong, did you?” Mr. Lawrence asked Jake.

  “I’m stronger than Ross!” Jake bragged. He crooked both arms to show off his pitiful, pea-sized muscles.

  Mr. Lawrence sprang easily to his feet and turned to me. “Hi, Ross. You ready?” He bowed to me.

  I bowed back. “Uh … I don’t think I can do this tonight,” I started. “You see, I’ve had these terrible headaches—”

  “Tension,” Mr. Lawrence said. “This lesson should help.”

  “No. Really,” I insisted. “Maybe … uh … Jake would like a lesson tonight. I can’t—”

  He wasn’t paying any attention to me. “Let’s practice what we were doing last time, okay?”

  He stood stiffly, facing me, hands placed firmly on his hips. He stared straight ahead, concentrating. His round, bald head glowed under the ceiling light.

  What is he waiting for? I wondered. What is he going to do?

  It didn’t take long to find out.

  With a grunt, he swung off the floor. Flew up off the mat. Both legs rose sideways—and landed a hard, pounding kick in my stomach.

  “Unnnnh!” I groaned in pain.

  I doubled over. It hurt … hurt so much … I couldn’t breathe … couldn’t breathe …

  I felt my stomach tighten—then heave.

  “Unnnnnh.” The whole brussels sprout flew out of my mouth and plopped onto the mat.

  Gasping, holding my aching stomach, I collapsed to the floor.

  Mr. Lawrence huddled over me. “What happened?” He knelt beside me, his heavy arm on my shoulders. “Ross, you’ve defended against that a hundred times. Why didn’t you move?”

  “Uh …” I couldn’t speak. My breaths were rasping in my throat.

  Somehow I managed to stand. My stomach ached. I felt about to heave again.

  “Ross, are you okay? Why didn’t you defend yourself?” Mr. Lawrence asked.

  I turned away. Bent over, I started to run. Out of the gym. Down the back hall.

  “Ross, come back!” Mr. Lawrence shouted after me.

  I was nearly to the stairs when a figure jumped out to stop me.

  My twin.

  I let out a startled cry. “You—?”

  Scowling at me furiously, he grabbed my arm. “I’m late—and you try to take over my life! It’s not going to work, Rosssss,” he hissed. “Give me that robe—and get out of here!”

  “But—” I groaned weakly.

  “Get out! Go away!” he cried in a harsh whisper. “I’ve been warning you! You don’t belong here!”

  Angrily I pushed his hand away. “Get off me!” I cried.

  “Go away, Rossss!” he hissed. He shoved me. “You don’t belong here. You have to leave.”

  “But—it’s my house!” I cried. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  He raised a finger to his lips and glanced nervously down the hall. “Keep it down. I can’t explain. But I’m trying to tell you—you’re in danger. Don’t say anything. Don’t touch anything. Just give me that robe and get lost! Fast!”

  “I won’t leave!” I insisted. “You have to leave! I’m going to tell Mom. I’m going to explain that you aren’t me!”

  “She’s my Mom!” my twin declared. “Please! Leave! Just—go!”

  “No way!” I said.

  I heard voices from the gym. Footsteps in the hall.

  “Get upstairs!” my twin whispered frantically. He grabbed the robe and struggled to tug it off me. I let him take it. Then he pushed me to the stairs.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded. “Who are you? Why do you look like me?”

  “I can’t explain now. Go up to my room—quick!”

  “It’s my room!” I protested.

  “Get upstairs before they see you!” he ordered.

  “But I have to talk to Mom!” I said.

  “No way.” He twisted my arm up hard behind my back.

  “Ow.”

  He’s real, I realized. He’s a person. He’s not a ghost. A ghost couldn’t shove me or twist my arm like that.

  Squeezing my arm behind my back, he forced me up the stairs and into my room. “You can’t—” I started to say.

  But he practically heaved me into the room. “I’ll come back after the lesson. I’ll explain,” he said breathlessly. “Don’t try to escape. And don’t touch anything. I’m warning you.”

  Then he hurried back out to the hall and closed the bedroom door behind him.

  “No! Wait!” I shouted.

  I grabbed the doorknob and started to pull the door open. But I heard the lock click on the other side.

  He’d locked me in.

  “Hey—come back!” I shouted. I pounded on the door with my fists. “Give me a break! Let me out of here!”

  I pounded till my fists hurt. Silence out there.

  With a defeated sigh, I slumped away from the door. I’m a prisoner, I realized. A prisoner in my own room.

  But was it my room?

  I spun around. My eyes swept over all the familiar things. My Jimi Hendrix posters … my snow globe collection … my things.

  Yes. I was in my own room. My room in my house.

  But why does everything seem right and wrong at the same time?

  I remembered falling. Then watching the grass burn.

  I thought about the boy on the street. I had grabbed his shoulder, and his arm had changed until it slithered and curled. And his face …

  I didn’t want to think about that hamburger face.

  The milk in the store. I held the carton … and it blew up or something! And then everyone started screaming at me.

  What was going on?

  Did I cause those things to happen?

  Why? How could I?

  I paced back and forth, my heart pounding. I clenched and unclenched my fists. I stopped at the window and peered out.

  A warm, clear night. Stars in a purple sky. The olive tree below the window shimmered in a soft wind, as if inviting me. Inviting me to climb out and lower myself down its trunk.

  Yes!

  I’ll escape, I decided. Then I’ll run back inside the house and find Mom. I’ll show her the other
Ross. I’ll tell her he’s an impostor, a total fake. I’ll make her believe me. And I’ll tell her about all the other weird things that have happened. There’s got to be a logical explanation for all of it. Once Mom sees the other Ross, she’ll know I’m not lying. She’ll help me figure out what’s going on.

  My hands trembled as I reached for the window. I slid it up as high as it would go. Warm, damp air floated into the room. It smelled so sweet and fresh.

  I lowered myself onto the windowsill and slid one leg over the side.

  This was the tricky part. The nearest branch was a foot or two below the window. I had to lower my feet onto it carefully, then swing my body out and grab onto the slender trunk.

  If I slipped …

  I didn’t want to think about it.

  I turned and started to swing my other leg out the window.

  But I stopped when I saw the bedroom door open behind me. My twin burst in, still wearing his karate robe. His eyes searched the room, then stopped when he spotted me at the window.

  “Good!” he said. “Go. You have to go. There isn’t room for both of us!”

  And then I gasped as he dived forward, arms outstretched. Running to push me out the window.

  I spun to fight him off.

  But my leg caught on the side of the house.

  He grabbed my arm with both hands. And to my shock, pulled me back into the room.

  I landed on the floor, breathing hard, my body bathed in a cold sweat.

  He stared down at me, a crooked smile on his face. My crooked smile.

  “Did you think I was going to push you out?” he asked, breathing hard.

  “Well … maybe,” I muttered.

  I climbed slowly to my feet. I stood facing him, tensed and ready.

  “I’d love to push you out,” he said, squinting at me angrily. “But the fall wouldn’t kill you. And I have to get you out of here—out of here for good.”

  “So why didn’t you let me go out the window?” I demanded.

  “You wouldn’t get very far,” he said menacingly.

  “What do you mean?” I demanded.

  “You don’t understand. You don’t know anything,” my twin said, shaking his head. “I guess I have no choice. I have to explain it all before you go.”

  “But I’m not going,” I said firmly, crossing my arms in front of me. “You are going. You are the one who doesn’t belong.”

  He made a disgusted face and motioned for me to sit down.

  I dropped down tensely on the edge of the bed. He tugged off the white robe and tossed it into the closet. Then he pulled out the desk chair and sat on it backward, resting his hands on its back.

  “This is your own fault,” he said bitterly. He glanced to the door. I guessed he was making sure it was closed.

  “My own fault?” I cried. “What are you talking about?”

  “You told a lot of lies—didn’t you!” he accused. “You lied and lied and lied. You told so many lies, you broke the fabric of truth and reality!”

  “I didn’t lie that much!” I protested.

  “Ross, you lied so much, you lost all track of what’s real and what isn’t real,” he continued. “You slipped into a parallel world. Into a whole different reality. Out of your world—into my world.”

  I jumped to my feet. “Are you crazy?” I shouted. “What are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t you learn about parallel worlds?” my twin asked. “What kind of school do you go to? We study that in fourth grade.”

  “You’re totally crazy,” I muttered, dropping back onto the bed.

  “Well, didn’t you notice things are a little different here?” my twin demanded. “Didn’t you notice that things are almost the same—but not quite?”

  “Well … yeah,” I replied.

  My twin climbed to his feet. He shoved the chair back under the desk. “You lied and lied until you lost your reality,” he said.

  “No—” I said.

  “Now you’re in a world where you don’t belong. And it’s your fault. All your fault.”

  “How do you know?” I screamed. “What makes you the expert? How do you know anything about me?”

  “Because I am you!” he shouted back. “I’m Ross Arthur in this reality, in this world. And you don’t belong here! You’re an Intruder. A dangerous Intruder. You can’t stay!”

  “No!” I cried again. “You’re not Ross—I am!” I screamed.

  But I knew I didn’t belong here.

  I couldn’t belong here. Too many weird things had happened. Things I couldn’t explain.

  My twin said I broke the fabric of reality. But that sounded totally crazy.

  Was I really in a parallel world?

  My head began to throb. I didn’t know what to believe.

  “You have to go,” my twin ordered. “Get out—now!”

  “GO? Where am I supposed to go?” I shouted. “I’m staying. You leave!”

  And then I lost it.

  I jumped on him. In a wild fury, I grabbed him around the neck.

  I dropped him to the floor.

  I kicked him hard in the stomach.

  With an angry groan, he rolled on top of me. Punched me in the chest.

  And we wrestled, wrestled frantically, rolling over the floor, punching, clawing, pounding each other.

  “Only one of us belongs here, Ross,” he gasped. “Only one of us can stay. Me! You can’t survive here! I’m telling the truth. You can’t survive. You’re going to die!”

  I wrapped my twin in a headlock. I tightened my grip until his face turned red.

  “I’m not going to die!” I gasped.

  He twisted free and slammed me to the floor. He jumped on top of me and started to twist my arm.

  “Owwwwww.” I let out a howl of pain.

  A hard knock on the bedroom door made us both stop. We were wheezing, choking, gasping for breath. My side ached. My head throbbed. My neck was stiff.

  He had a deep, red scratch down his left arm.

  “Ross, what on earth are you and Jake doing in there?” Mom called in.

  “Uh … nothing,” my twin answered, wiping a gob of spit off his chin. “We’re just … kidding around.”

  “No! Mom, help me!” I cried. “It’s me! Please! Open the door! I—”

  My twin clamped his hand over my mouth before I could say more. He furiously motioned for me to be quiet.

  I struggled to get free.

  My twin clamped his hand tighter over my mouth. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t make a sound.

  Please, open the door! I silently begged. Please, Mom!

  But the door remained closed. “Just don’t wreck your room. It was cleaned this morning,” Mom called in.

  “No problem,” my twin answered.

  We listened to her footsteps padding down the stairs.

  When she was gone, my twin finally lifted his hand from my mouth. “That was very stupid,” he muttered. “She wouldn’t help you. She would know instantly that you don’t belong here.”

  “What are you saying?” I cried weakly.

  I pulled myself to a sitting position on the floor and leaned my head against the bed.

  “You just don’t get it, do you,” he said.

  I wiped sweat off my forehead with the sleeve of my T-shirt. “Get what?”

  “You don’t understand what is happening here,” he said, rubbing the red scratch on his arm. “You really never studied parallel worlds?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, there are many, many parallel worlds,” he said. “I live in one world, and you live in another.”

  “You live in the world of the cuckoos,” I muttered.

  He sighed and continued. “That night at Max’s party, the portal between our worlds opened up.”

  I frowned at him. “You mean in the swimming pool?”

  He nodded. “I saw you there in the water. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was so scared. It took me a while to figure out what had
happened.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “You slipped into my world, Ross. You slipped through the portal. You swam into my world.”

  I rolled my eyes. Something weird was definitely going on. But portals? Parallel worlds? “I don’t think so,” I said.

  He jumped to his feet. “I’m trying to explain,” he snapped. “I’m sure it looked to you like your world. The people were all the same. The places were all the same. But it’s different in a lot of ways. It’s a parallel world. It’s my world.”

  “Tell me another one,” I muttered.

  This guy was as good a liar as I was! He was so good, he almost had me believing him.

  “Since that night at Max’s party,” he continued, “you’ve been slipping in and out of my world. You’ve been going back and forth between our worlds. And now you seem to be stuck here. But you can’t stay in this reality. You don’t belong.”

  “Then why don’t you leave?” I shot back.

  All this talk about parallel worlds was starting to give me the creeps.

  “You don’t belong,” he repeated. “And you … you can do a lot of damage.”

  I swallowed hard. “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “You are from another world. You can’t just barge in and interfere with our world. You are dangerous. You are an Intruder. That’s what we call people like you.”

  An Intruder?

  “Intruders are very dangerous,” my twin continued. “Even if they don’t mean to be. Sometimes when they touch things, they change them. Sometimes they destroy things completely.”

  “Okay. I get it,” I said. “I’m an Intruder. If I touch something, I destroy it.”

  “You believe me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  I crossed the room and grabbed him with both hands.

  “Goodbye!” I shouted. “Goodbye!”

  He jumped up and shoved me away. “Nice try,” he muttered. “But you can’t control it. You can’t just grab people and destroy them any time you want.”

  He glared at me angrily. He balled his hands into fists. “Don’t ever try anything like that again,” he said.

  And then he lowered his voice. “But there isn’t much point in worrying about you. You’re going to die in a day or two.”

  “You’re crazy,” I muttered, breathing hard. I balled my hands into fists, too. I was ready to fight again if I had to.