by R. L. Stine
Dad stood up to clear the table. “I know I’ve been very tense lately. I know I haven’t been paying much attention to you. But things are going to get better. I promise.” Dad smiled for the first time in weeks. “How about a game of Scrabble?”
Dad and I moved into the living room and set up the Scrabble board. He started making up crazy words, and I did, too. And suddenly everything seemed back to normal again.
So I thought it would be okay to ask him a question. “Dad, exactly what kind of work are you doing?”
He swallowed. His cheek twitched. “I can’t talk about it.”
“Why not? Don’t you trust me, Dad?”
“I can’t talk about it. Until it is completed, I can’t discuss it with anyone.” He sighed.
“But—” I started to protest.
He pulled off his glasses and placed them down on the table. “No more questions, okay? There’s nothing more to say,” he said softly.
“I’m not a baby,” I said, my voice trembling. “If you’re doing some kind of secret work, you can trust me.”
“I’m sorry, Laura. I really can’t discuss it with you.”
Dad leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes as if he was suddenly exhausted. Then he opened them. “Want to finish this game?” he asked.
I nodded, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.
When we finished playing, Dad helped me put the game away. “Laura, it might be a good idea if you lived with your mother for a while,” he said. He kept his eyes down on the Scrabble box.
I grabbed my chest as if I’d been stabbed.
Those words hurt so much.
“You—you want to send me away?” I choked out.
“It might be best.”
“I have to move away because … because I asked you what you’re doing in the shed?” I said, trying to force back the tears.
“You’ll understand someday,” he said quietly. He pulled his glasses back on. “It’s for your own good.”
“No!” I screamed. “No! How can it be for my own good? You know I don’t want to live in Chicago. I have to be near the woods. And what about my school? And all my friends? I can’t just leave them because you have some kind of stupid secret!”
“Laura—” Dad raised a hand to silence me. “I’m your father. I have to do what’s best for you. Believe me, I don’t want to send you away. I love you more than anything, but … ”
I pressed my hand over my mouth to hold back a sob.
I can’t believe he is saying this, I thought, unable to stop my whole body from trembling.
“Okay, okay,” I finally choked out. “I won’t go near the shed. I promise. And I won’t ask any more questions. No more questions about your work.”
Dad squinted at me. “You promise?”
“Promise,” I said.
But there was no way I was keeping that promise!
I’m going to learn his secret, I decided. I’m going to find out what’s the big deal. What’s so secret that he’d send his own daughter away?
I’m going to find out the truth.
I went to bed a little after eleven. But I couldn’t fall asleep.
I was too hurt to sleep. Too hurt and frightened and angry—all at the same time.
I reached for the phone on my night table and called Ellen. “Hello.” Her voice was groggy with sleep.
“Did I wake you?” I asked.
“It’s okay.” She yawned. “What’s wrong? You sound terrible.”
I told her about what Dad had said to me. “I can’t sleep,” I whispered. “Every time I shut my eyes, a new horror scene appears in my mind. I keep picturing my dad in his white lab coat. Holding a helpless little animal in one hand and a huge hypodermic needle in the other. Injecting little animals with strange chemicals. Making them whimper and howl.”
“But your dad is a vet,” Ellen said. “He gives shots to animals all the time.”
I stared up at the shadows on my bedroom ceiling, my mind spinning. “But it’s different now,” I said. “He won’t tell me what he’s doing. What kind of experiments would have to be a secret—from his own daughter?”
“I don’t know. But your dad wouldn’t hurt a fly. He could never torture an animal. It’s impossible.”
“Ellen, he lost his job at the animal hospital. Maybe it was because he was doing something wrong,” I said.
“You don’t know that,” she argued. I knew she was trying to calm me down. But nothing she said made me feel better.
I finally let her go back to sleep. Then I closed my eyes and fell asleep, too—but not for long.
A low rumbling sound floated in through my open bedroom window and woke me up.
I glanced at my clock radio. A little before two in the morning.
Rubbing my eyes, I crept to the window and gazed out at the woods. Darting lights flickered through the trees.
I forced back a yawn and stared hard. The lights swept slowly back and forth, floating eerily like ghosts. A shiver ran down my back.
There are no roads in the woods. And no other houses for nearly a mile. Who could be out there?
I’d better wake up Dad, I thought. I turned away from the window.
No. I changed my mind. I’m not going to wake him up. I don’t really want to talk to him now.
But I had to find out who was out in the woods. I pulled on the jeans and tank top I’d worn during the day. A few seconds later I opened the kitchen door and stepped outside.
Clouds drifted across the sliver of a moon. A shifting wind made the grass bend first one way, then the other. Like ocean waves, I thought. It was a warm breeze, but it sent a chill down my back.
I carefully shut the door, listening for its soft click, making sure it was closed. Then I trotted across the lawn toward the woods.
I searched the trees for the lights. But they had vanished. The rumbling sound had also stopped.
“Weird,” I muttered.
I stopped halfway across the yard and listened. Silence now. Silence …
Except for a low cry.
A sad whimper.
I turned. The cries were coming from the shed.
The shed. I had to see what was inside it. This was the perfect time.
Dad kept a padlock on the door. But I knew where he hid the key. I crept back into the kitchen and pulled the key from the little cup where Mom used to keep her Sweet’n Low packets.
Then I sneaked back outside. I felt a chill of fear as I stepped up to the shed. I could hear the animals inside, groaning, crying. It sounded as if they were pleading with me to rescue them.
“I’m coming,” I whispered.
But I wheeled away from the door when I heard another sound.
A low growl. And then the pounding thud of heavy footsteps.
Running. Running rapidly toward me.
I was too startled to move. I froze as the big creature appeared from around the side of the shed.
It took a powerful leap. Leaped high. Caught me at the shoulders.
And knocked me hard to the ground.
“Georgie!” I cried. “Get off! Get off me!”
Tail wagging furiously, the big dog pinned me to the ground and licked my face. His hot breath steamed my cheeks. I was laughing too hard to roll away from him.
“Georgie—stop!” I pleaded. “Are you lonely out here? Is that the problem?”
Finally I pushed him away. I sat up and wiped the thick slobber off my cheeks.
A light washed over me. I turned to the window and saw the kitchen lights on. The back door swung open. Dad poked his head out. He held his pajama bottoms up with one hand and squinted into the yard. He didn’t have his glasses on.
“Laura?” Dad called, his voice clogged with sleep. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
“There were lights,” I said. “In the woods. And I heard some kind of rumbling sound. I—I wanted to see what it was.”
Dad scratched his forehead. His grayin
g hair was sticking out all over his head. “You were probably dreaming,” he said, frowning.
“No. It was real,” I insisted. “The lights were moving around the trees, and—”
“Come inside,” he said. He squinted at me. “You weren’t trying to sneak into the shed, were you?”
“No. Of course not,” I lied. I had the padlock key wrapped tightly in my fist.
For a moment his stare turned cold. I felt as if his eyes were stabbing me. “Come inside,” he repeated. “I don’t want to hear about lights in the trees. I’m tired.”
I sighed and slumped into the house. I could see there was no point in trying to talk to him.
Once Dad went upstairs I slipped the key back into its normal place. I glanced out the kitchen window and stared at the shed. I could still hear the mournful cries. Suddenly I knew where I could find some answers.
The animal hospital.
I’ll go see Dr. Carpenter at the animal hospital tomorrow, I decided. I know she and Dad aren’t talking, but that doesn’t mean I can’t talk to her.
She’ll tell me the truth about Dad. I know she will.
After school the next day I loaded up my backpack, pushed my way through a crowd of kids, and ran out the front door of the school building.
It was about a two-mile walk to the animal hospital, and I wanted to get there before Dr. Carpenter left for the day.
The animal hospital was tucked in a cul-de-sac at the other side of the woods. It was an enormous two-story white stucco building with a steeply sloping red roof.
It had started as a small, square building and had quickly grown. Now it had endless wings, annexes, and research labs, stretching in all directions into the woods.
Inside, it looked more like an old hotel than a hospital. The long halls twisted and turned and seemed to stretch for miles. The doors were made of black oak and creaked when you opened them. The walls were painted dark green. A crystal chandelier hung over the waiting room, which was furnished with old brown leather armchairs and sofas.
Since it didn’t look like an animal hospital, it was always surprising to hear the barks and yowls and chirps of the patients.
I had seen the operating rooms a few times when I visited Dad. They were white and bright and sparkling clean. And the research labs were also very modern and medical looking.
As I stepped into the waiting room, a flood of memories swept over me. I remembered so many visits here. And several really upsetting scenes….
I remembered an adorable white-and-brown cocker spaniel puppy that had been hit by a car. And a bright red-and-blue macaw that had an ear of corn stuck in its throat. And two huge yellow dogs who started a snarling, raging fight in the waiting room, clawing each other until the carpet was puddled with blood.
The waiting room was empty now. I glanced at the clock above the reception desk: a little after four-thirty. A young woman sat behind the desk, shuffling through folders.
I asked to see Dr. Carpenter and told her my name. She picked up the phone, pushed a few buttons, and muttered into the receiver.
A few seconds later Dr. Carpenter came sweeping into the room, her white lab coat flying behind her. “Laura! How nice to see you!” she cried and wrapped me in a hug. “How are you? I’ve missed you so much!”
I hugged her back, taking in her pretty blond hair, her bright green eyes that always seemed to catch the light, and her warm smile. I missed her, too.
I remembered sometimes when I was angry at Mom, I secretly wished that Dr. Carpenter was my mother instead.
I glanced behind her, where a quarter, a dime, and a penny, mounted on black velvet and set in a small silver picture frame, hung on the wall. It made me smile. It reminded me of Dr. C.’s first day at the animal hospital, four years ago.
Georgie had swallowed some change I had dropped on the kitchen floor, and he got really sick. Dr. Carpenter operated, and it was a great success! She framed the change—because it was from her very first patient.
Dr. Carpenter laughed and twirled me around, as if I were still a little girl. “Laura, did you stop by just to say hi?”
I hesitated. “Well … no.” My smile faded. “I really wanted to talk to you. I mean, if you have time.”
I suddenly felt nervous. Could I really ask her to tell me the truth about Dad?
“I seem to have plenty of time,” she replied. She gestured around the empty waiting room. “I’ve been spending more and more time in the research lab. Kind of frustrating. But it’s important.”
She put a hand on my shoulder and guided me through the door, down a long hall with closed doors on both sides. Her office stood at the end of the hall. She gestured for me to take a seat in a low blue armchair in front of her desk.
The desk was glass, clean and uncluttered except for one stack of papers and folders, and a telephone. The walls were covered with framed photos of animals, some of the pets she had cared for.
Dr. Carpenter slid gracefully into the desk chair and swept her blond hair back over her shoulders. Then she leaned across the glass desk and smiled at me.
“This is such a surprise,” she said. “I’m so happy that you came to see me. What did you want to talk about, Laura? Is it boy trouble? Something you can’t discuss with your father?”
I laughed. I’m not sure why. The laugh just burst out.
“Do you get to talk to your mother much?” Dr. Carpenter asked. Elbows on the desk, she rested her head in her hands, studying me with those intense green eyes. “How is she doing?”
I shrugged. “She calls once a week. And I visit her a lot,” I said. “But she’s so far away. It’s not like having a mom who’s always there for you….” My voice trailed off.
Dr. Carpenter frowned. “I know what you mean. Well, how is Ellen? Who is she in love with this week?” Dr. Carpenter laughed.
“Last week it was Steve, the tennis player. This week—I’m not sure.” I laughed, too.
“So what are you and your dad up to these days? You two still making up Scrabble words? Still taking long walks in the woods?”
I took a deep breath. “We don’t really play Scrabble all that much. We hardly do anything together lately.”
My throat suddenly felt so dry. I coughed. “He’s—I don’t know—different lately.”
Dr. Carpenter’s eyebrows went up. “Different? What do you mean? How is he different?”
“Well … he’s very quiet and … angry. He hardly talks to me. He—he spends a lot of time alone, working in the shed.”
“Hmmm. That doesn’t sound like your dad at all. What is he working on?” Dr. Carpenter asked.
“I don’t know. He won’t tell me,” I replied.
Dr. Carpenter reached across the desk and squeezed my hand. “Laura, he’s probably just out of sorts. Leaving a job isn’t easy. You have to give him time.”
I swallowed hard. “I … wanted to ask you about that. Why … why did my dad leave?”
Dr. Carpenter released my hand. She leaned back in her chair and sighed.
“Please tell me,” I pleaded. “Why did my dad leave the animal hospital?”
“I had to let him go,” Dr. Carpenter said finally.
I gasped. “You mean—you fired him?”
She sat up straight. Her cheeks reddened. “Well … that’s not really the right word. I had to let him go because—”
“Why?” I interrupted. “Why?”
She swallowed. “It’s hard to explain, Laura. We … had different goals. We wanted to take our research in different directions.”
I let out a deep breath. Different goals, I thought. That seemed okay.
Suddenly I felt all the tension leave my body. It was good to have someone to talk to. I knew coming here was the right thing to do.
I sat back in my chair. “What kind of work is Dad—” I started to ask another question, but the phone rang.
“Sorry,” she said, making a face at the phone. She picked up the receiver and talked for two or three min
utes. “No, you shouldn’t bathe him,” she kept saying. “Keep the fur dry. I know, I know. You’ll have to put up with the smell. No. You shouldn’t bathe him.”
After a few more minutes she hung up the phone and stood up. “I’m sorry, Laura. I’d better get back to work. But come back anytime. Really. I mean it. I’ve missed you.”
We said our goodbyes and I left.
Outside, heavy clouds had rolled over the sun, and the air had turned cold. Wisps of fog floated low to the ground.
Visiting Dr. Carpenter was a good idea. But I still felt so confused. I wasn’t any closer to finding out why Dad was acting so strange.
When I reached home, I headed to the shed. I put my ear to the door. Quiet. Dad wasn’t in there. I yanked hard on the lock.
“You won’t get it open that way.”
I jumped back in surprise as Joe jogged out from the woods.
He grinned at me. “I think a key would work better.”
I laughed. I was glad to see him. He looked really cute in baggy khaki shorts and a faded red T-shirt.
This time I’m definitely going to invite him to the birthday party, I decided. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I was exploring, you know. I spotted the back of the house from the woods, but I didn’t know it was yours.”
He grinned and swept back his long hair with both hands. “You should have come to the pond today. I saw a whole family of deer there.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course. The deer come when I’m not there. They don’t want me to get an A.”
We both turned when we heard a growl coming from the trees.
A dog’s growl.
Georgie loped to the edge of the clearing. He stopped a few feet from us and raised his head, big, brown eyes studying us suspiciously.
“Hey—where’d you come from, boy?” Joe asked.
“Georgie!” I called. “What were you doing in the woods?”
Georgie’s tail began to wag. He lowered his head again and trotted up to us. Dead leaves clung to the fur on his side.
I reached to pull them off. Then I tried to hug him, but he pulled away. “Georgie, what’s wrong?” I asked. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
