by R. L. Stine
“Wow. Look at those high-heeled shoes,” Ashley exclaimed. “Who would wear high heels to an amusement park?”
“The hair styles are weird, too,” I said. “It’s like we stepped into an old black-and-white movie on TV.”
My comment made us both stop and stare at each other.
I think we had the feeling that something very mysterious had just happened to us. And I think at that moment we both knew where we were.
“We—we’re in Firelight Park,” Ashley stammered, her eyes gazing all around.
“But—how?” I managed to choke out.
Ashley didn’t reply. She was staring at the flickering torches that lined all the walkways. “This is—impossible,” she murmured finally. “Impossible.”
We both shook our heads, staring at this strange park in disbelief.
How did we get here?
How would we get back to Kings Island?
Were we trapped here? Trapped here forever?
These frightening questions flashed through my mind.
“I feel scared and excited and curious and terrified all at the same time!” Ashley exclaimed.
I nodded. “Me, too,” I choked out.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
Two teenage boys wearing big blue sport shirts buttoned up to the collar and wide brown pants pushed past us. I followed them with my eyes. They were hurrying to a tall building in front of us.
A long line had formed in front of the entrance to the building. A sign made of hundreds of red and blue light bulbs proclaimed RIDE THE SHOOT-THE-CHUTE!
“What is the Shoot-the-Chute?” Ashley demanded.
I shrugged. “Some kind of water ride, I’d guess.”
I suddenly noticed that people were staring at us. Mostly they were staring at Ashley.
Because of her clothes, I guessed. She had to be the only girl in sight in Day-Glo orange shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt, and white high-tops.
People were staring at my pump sneakers, too. And I guess my faded jeans with holes at both knees and my Heavy Metal Headbangers T-shirt were a little out of place.
“I feel like some kind of freak,” Ashley complained. “Why are they staring at me like that?”
“They’re the ones who are dressed funny!” I cried.
“I don’t like this,” Ashley said, her voice trembling. “I really don’t like this, James.”
“Hey—you wanted an adventure, right?” I replied. I tried to sound cheerful. I was probably as frightened as Ashley. Maybe more frightened.
I watched her chin tremble and her eyes start to tear up. I didn’t want her to lose it. So I forced myself to sound cheerful. Like I was having a good time. Not a care in the world.
“It’s so hot,” I said, wiping my forehead with one hand. “Let’s get some ice cream.”
I led the way to a small white cart with a green- and white-striped umbrella over it. A short, chubby man in a long white apron leaned over the cart. He had shiny slicked-down black hair and a thin black mustache.
He lifted himself off the cart as Ashley and I stepped up. “What’ll it be?” he asked.
“Do you have frozen yogurt?” Ashley asked.
The man narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re a little late for April Fool’s Day, miss,” he said.
“No. Really. Frozen yogurt,” Ashley repeated.
The man frowned. “Why would anyone freeze yogurt?”
“Ashley,” I whispered. “He doesn’t have it.” I turned back to the ice-cream man. He was staring at Ashley’s outfit.
“Do you have rocky road?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Another joker. You two are Abbott and Costello, huh?”
“I’ll have praline ice cream,” Ashley said.
The man’s skinny little mustache twitched, as if it were about to jump off his face. He rubbed his chin with a chubby hand. “You two are funny. You should go on the radio. You dress funny, too. Where’d you get those costumes?”
“What flavors do you have?” I asked.
“Vanilla and chocolate, naturally,” he said, rolling his dark eyes impatiently. “And I’ve got tutti-frutti.”
“Tutti-what?” Ashley asked shrilly. “What’s that?”
I could see the man was starting to get angry. And glancing behind us, I saw that a small crowd had gathered. Our strange clothing was attracting attention.
“We’ll have two vanilla cones,” I said quickly.
The man nodded, opened the lid on the white cart, and began scooping ice cream into two cones. I dug into my jeans pocket and felt a couple of dollar bills. I hoped it would be enough to pay for the cones.
“That’ll be four cents,” the man said, handing us two double-scoop cones.
“Ashley—a double-dip cone for two cents!” I cried in surprise.
Her mouth had dropped open in shock.
“Have you got it or not?” the man asked, hands at the waist of his apron.
I pulled a nickel from my pocket. “Keep the change,” I told him. Big spender.
“Can you tell me what year this is?” Ashley asked suddenly.
The man’s wormlike mustache twitched again. He narrowed his eyes at her. “What did you ask me?”
“What year is this?” Ashley repeated as if it were a perfectly normal question to be asking an ice-cream man at an amusement park.
The man didn’t reply. He shook his head and muttered something about kids today. He gave us a weary little wave. “See you in the funny papers,” he said, and turned away from us.
Ashley and I walked away, licking our enormous cones. The ice cream was really good, sweet and creamy.
As we walked, I noticed that people stared and pointed at us. “Funny costumes,” I heard a woman say. “Are they in the circus show?”
“We’ve got to do something,” Ashley whispered. She had a white ice-cream mustache over her mouth. The cones were very drippy.
“We’ve got to find P.D.,” I said. “He’ll know what to do. And he’ll probably know how to get us home.”
“Don’t say probably,” Ashley said shrilly. “He’s got to know how to get us home. He’s got to!”
We wandered through the crowd, trying to ignore the stares and comments. The line had grown longer at the Shoot-the-Chute. We also passed a long line at a ride called Moon Rocket.
Peering into the entrance, I saw a long rocket ship, very old-fashioned looking, with dozens of little cars like little train cars. It looked more like a huge caterpillar than a rocket. It was wrapped around a circular track.
And when the cars were filled with passengers, the rocket spun around the track, faster and faster. The passengers squealed and shouted, even though they weren’t going as fast as a roller coaster.
I guess they thought it was pretty fast though.
“Hey—James!” Ashley pulled me away from the entrance.
I spun around, trying to see what she was pointing at.
“It’s P.D.!” she cried, starting across the crowded plaza.
Staring into the bright light of the tall torches, I saw him against a low fence. I recognized the long white hair and the baggy denim overalls.
“Hurry!” Ashley cried, pushing her way through the crowd.
She didn’t have to tell me to hurry. I was just as eager to talk to P.D. as Ashley was.
Now maybe we’ll find out what’s going on here, I thought.
He’s got to get us out of here. He’s got to!
“Hey, P.D.!” Ashley called.
When he turned around, we both gasped.
15
“P.D.?” Ashley’s voice sank.
The white-haired man spun around. His dark eyes glanced back at us through heavy black-rimmed glasses. He held a stubby black pipe in his teeth. No beard.
Ashley and I both saw at once that it wasn’t P.D.
The man turned to his wife and pointed at us. I guessed he was commenting on our weird outfits.
Ashley sighed and shook her head.
<
br /> “Keep searching,” I said. “We’ll find him.”
We walked past a small square park. A crowd had gathered in front of a white bandstand. On the low stage a quartet wearing straw hats and red- and white-striped shirts was singing a slow song.
“It’s a barbershop quartet,” Ashley said.
“Well, I could tell it wasn’t a rap group!” I exclaimed sarcastically.
We stopped for a moment to search the crowd. No sign of P.D.
The four singers leaned close together. They were singing something about an old Kentucky home.
Ashley and I started walking again. A strong breeze came up, making the torch flames flutter. Our shadows grew longer.
We passed a small food stand selling Coney Island dogs. In the far distance I could see a Ferris wheel, dark against the purple sky.
The wind fluttered Ashley’s hair. She didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were narrowed, searching for P.D.
An idea popped into my head. “Hey—I bet he’s waiting for us back at The Beast,” I said.
“Maybe,” Ashley replied. The wind blew her hair over her forehead. She pushed it back with both hands.
“Which way is The Beast?” I asked. “I’m all turned around.”
“Let’s ask that guard,” Ashley said.
Across the walkway, a guard in a blue uniform leaned against a narrow wooden booth. It looked like those photo-developing booths they have in malls, except it was painted blue.
We jogged over to him. “Which way is The Beast?” Ashley asked eagerly.
He stared back at us with cold brown eyes. He adjusted his blue cap as he studied us.
“Which way is The Beast?” Ashley repeated.
He frowned. “What’s The Beast?”
“You know. The roller coaster,” Ashley repeated impatiently.
“You mean the Shoot-the-Chute? It’s over there.” He pointed.
“No. It’s called The Beast,” I said. “It’s back in the woods. But we lost our way and—”
“I see you lost your clothes, too,” the guard said sternly.
“Can you tell us where The Beast is?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Try the wild animal show. They’ve got the only beasts I’ve ever heard of.”
“But—but—” I stammered.
The guard narrowed his eyes at Ashley. “I’m sorry, miss. But I really can’t allow you to walk around in your underwear like that.”
Ashley’s mouth dropped open. “Huh? My underwear?”
“An undershirt and shorts are not proper attire,” the guard said. “Are your parents in the park?”
“No,” Ashley muttered.
“Well, wait right here. I’ll get someone to take you to the office. You can call them to come pick you up.”
Ashley and I exchanged glances. “That would be a real long distance call!” Ashley told the guard.
The guard scowled. “I can’t let you walk around like that. Just wait here.”
“No way!” Ashley cried.
She wheeled around and started to run. I was a few steps behind her. But I stopped short, nearly colliding with a baby carriage.
“Stop! Stop right there!” I heard the guard scream.
He grabbed for me with both hands.
I ducked away. Fell. Landed hard on my knees. My poor knees were having a rough night!
Glancing up, I saw Ashley running full speed through the startled people in the crowd.
I struggled to my feet. But the guard was right behind me.
I couldn’t get away.
I was caught.
16
I stood up, swallowing hard, and waited for him to grab me.
But to my shock, he ran right past. “Stop her! Stop that girl!” he shouted.
I realized he wasn’t interested in me. He only wanted to catch Ashley.
Shaking my head hard, as if shaking off a close call, I followed him. I saw Ashley turn a corner into a crowded area. I turned the corner too, but I lost sight of her.
People jammed the narrow walkway between two rows of brightly lit carnival booths. As I hurried past, searching for Ashley, I saw dart games, water balloon games, ring toss games.
“Win a Kewpie doll!” a man shouted through a megaphone. “Everyone’s a winner! Win a Kewpie doll for your cutie!”
I had to slow to a walk. The crowd was too thick to run.
I couldn’t see Ashley or the guard.
The wind whipped through the walkway. Women cried out and grabbed their skirts. Men held on to their hats. The flames of the tall torches flickered and bent.
A line had formed in front of a sideshow stage, blocking the street. I searched frantically for Ashley, but didn’t see her.
I was starting to get that heavy feeling of dread in my stomach again. What if I couldn’t find her?
On the sideshow platform, a man with a black mustache and oily, slicked-down black hair held a megaphone to his mouth. He wore a straw hat and a flashy, red- and black-striped sport jacket.
“See the two-headed boy!” he called into the megaphone, his shrill voice floating over the crowd. “It’s real. It’s all real, folks. The boy has two heads. You can count ’em for yourself!”
I pushed deeper into the crowd, searching for Ashley.
“Hurry, hurry! The show is about to begin. Two bits is all it takes, folks. Two bits to see the wonders of the known universe. See the amazing Elastic Woman! And her husband, the incredible Lobster Man! When she wraps him in her arms, she really wraps him, folks! But watch out—he pinches!”
Some people laughed. The crowd surged forward. I was forced to move along with it.
Another blast of wind made everyone reach for their hats.
Ducking my head, I pried myself free from the crowd. I turned the corner and was heading around the back of the sideshow—when someone grabbed my shoulder.
“Huh?” I spun around. “Ashley!”
“Quick—in here!” She pulled me to the back door of the sideshow building. Then she opened the door and slipped inside before I could protest.
We found ourselves in a steamy, dark room. A dim red lamp provided the only light.
I could hear low, murmuring voices nearby. And through the thin walls I could hear the carnival barker out front. “Hurry, hurry!” he was shouting. “The show is about to begin! You don’t want to keep the Wild Man of Borneo waiting—do you, folks?”
My eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark. I turned and stared into Ashley’s troubled face. “I—I think we lost that guard,” she whispered.
“Then let’s get out of here!” I urged.
She grabbed my arm. “But what are we going to do? That guard said there is no Beast here. He’d never heard of it. How are we going to find P.D.?”
“Maybe the guard is new here,” I suggested. “Maybe he doesn’t know his way around yet.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Ashley rolled her eyes. “Be serious, James. What are we going to do?”
“We’ll just have to keep looking,” I said. I pulled my arm free. “Hey—you’re supposed to be the brave, adventurous one, remember?”
That made her smile. “Guess I forgot.”
“Let’s go find a map of the park,” I suggested. “Then maybe we can—”
I stopped when I felt a cold, wet hand on my arm.
“Come on, let go, Ashley,” I whispered.
She gaped at me. “I’m not touching you.”
With a gasp, I turned to see a strange-looking teenage boy grinning at me. His face was shadowy and evil in the dim red light. His black eyes were wide, and his mouth appeared to be locked in its jagged grin.
“I’m the Jelly Boy,” he said in a weird singsong. His cold, wet hand patted my arm, giving me chills.
“I’m the Jelly Boy,” he repeated. “I’m a good boy. I’m the Jelly Boy.”
17
He wrapped his cold, slimy hand around my hand. His arms and legs seemed soft and rubbery, like jelly. His grinning face was inches from mine.
His breath smelled sour.
“I’m the Jelly Boy,” he chanted. “I’m a good boy.”
“Nice to meet you,” I choked out. “My friend and I—we’re leaving now.”
I tried to slide my hand free. But he held on. His hand was so wet and cold, I had shivers running down my back.
“I’m the Jelly Boy. I’m the Jelly Boy.” His grin never moved.
“Ashley—let’s go!” I cried.
She started backing toward the door—then cried out.
I followed her gaze. A two-headed boy stepped out of the shadows into the red light. His left head was sort of tilted at an odd angle. The other head stood straight. All four eyes stared directly at us.
“Who are you?” the right head demanded in a surprisingly deep voice.
Before Ashley or I could reply, an enormous woman waddled into the room. She was so wide, she had trouble squeezing through the doorway. She wore a huge white dress, bigger than a camping tent. Her face was as round as a balloon, and she had at least twelve chins.
“What’s going on?” she asked sharply.
“Uh—we’re leaving,” I managed to say in a trembling voice.
“No, you’re not,” the two-headed boy replied, moving quickly to block the door.
“You’re staying with us,” Jelly Boy whispered, bouncing on his rubbery, jellylike legs.
“You’re staying with us forever,” the two-headed boy said.
18
The strange, frightening weirdos started to close in on us.
I glanced at Ashley. She was tugging at her hair with both hands, her eyes wide with fright. “Let us out!” she shouted at them.
She turned to the door. But the two-headed boy was still blocking the way.
Suddenly a shrill voice boomed out from the front of the room. “Show time, guys. What’s the delay?”
We all turned to stare at the carnival barker. He took off his straw hat and dropped it on a table beside his megaphone. “Let’s not keep the fans waiting. Get a move on!” he ordered them.
“Wanda, get your beard on. Artie, straighten your head. It’s falling off your shoulder. Come on, guys.” His eyes went wide when he finally noticed Ashley and me.
