by R. L. Stine
“These are bedrooms and my mom’s study,” he explained. “Mom is taking online courses at the ag school. So she spends a lot of time in her study reading about plants, animals, and farming.”
He glanced back at me. “Mom has the best Wi-Fi. So sometimes I sneak into her study and play Minecraft on her computer. Don’t tell.”
The narrow wooden steps leading up to the attic creaked and cracked under our shoes. “It’s just one room up here,” Skipper explained.
“Awesome,” I said. “My own private hiding place.”
“I used to come up here when I was a kid,” Skipper said. “I’d look down from the window and pretend I was at the top of a tall mast on a pirate ship.”
A dim, rose-colored light washed over us as we stepped into the room. I realized I was gazing at the attic window I had seen from the ground.
The room was small, just big enough for a narrow twin bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a small desk. The low ceiling came to a point since we were just under the slanting roof.
I squinted, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light.
And then I gasped.
A lump under the bed quilt. An arm tumbling out.
“Skipper—!” I grabbed his shoulder. “S-someone’s in the bed!” I stammered.
His eyes went wide. He let my suitcase fall to the floor. “Oh no,” he whispered. “This is where he was. We couldn’t find him. We couldn’t find him for months. He must be … he must be … dead.”
We both froze for a moment. The strange pink light shimmered in my eyes. The bump under the bed quilt went in and out of focus.
And then Skipper dove forward. With two long strides, he grabbed the bed quilt in both hands—and tore it away. He bent quickly, raised the body high—and heaved it at me!
I caught it and staggered back to the doorway.
And then his laughter rang off the walls of the tiny attic room.
My heart thudding in my chest, I gazed at the scarecrow in my arms.
I stared at the straw arms poking out from the sleeves of an old raincoat. And the head … a stained pillowcase with two big round black eyes gazing up at me.
A scarecrow.
Skipper was still laughing when Mila pushed her way into the room. She saw the straw figure in my arms. Saw the horrified look on my face. Saw her laughing brother.
“Skipper, you didn’t,” she muttered.
Skipper laughed some more. “Yes, I did.”
Mila ripped the scarecrow from my arms and tossed it at him with all her strength. He caught it and fell back onto the bed, giggling that shrill giggle of his.
Mila shook her head. “Sorry, Todd,” she said. “You weren’t really scared—were you?”
“Of course not,” I lied. “I’m getting used to Skipper’s jokes.”
Skipper tossed the scarecrow at Mila. She let it fall to the floor.
“Does he do this to everyone?” I asked. “Or just me?”
“Everyone,” she answered. She scowled at Skipper. “You’re giving Todd a great welcome. Why don’t you act your age?”
“Why don’t you?” he snapped back.
Mila kicked the scarecrow. It bounced a few feet across the floor. She turned to me. “I’ve lived on a farm my whole life,” she said, “and I still think scarecrows are gross and creepy.”
“You’re gross and creepy,” Skipper told her.
He picked up the scarecrow and held it so it appeared to stand on two feet. “Todd,” he said, “once a scarecrow came to life in the cornfield. It started staggering toward our house. I’m serious.”
He moved the scarecrow a few steps closer to me.
“We had to burn it before anyone saw it,” he said. “We set it on fire. You should have heard its screams.”
A hush fell over the room.
I stared hard at Skipper.
What is his problem?
Two nights later, my aunt and uncle made roast chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. “We never give our chickens names,” Uncle Jake said, “because we know we’re probably going to eat them.”
The food was great. I was starting to feel like part of the family. Skipper hadn’t teased me or played any mean jokes on me since yesterday. And Mila was excited to show me every part of the farm.
After dinner, I climbed up to my attic room. I stretched out on my bed, pulled out my harmonica, and started to play some blues. Bursts of wind made my window rattle, a nice rhythm to my music.
I was feeling good. Sure, I missed Mom and Dad. But there was something awesome about beginning a whole new life in a totally different place.
I was pumping away on the harp. Really into it, my eyes shut, my breath coming fast and hard. Feeling it.
“What is that shrill noise?” a voice asked.
I nearly dropped the harmonica. I opened my eyes to see Mila standing in the doorway.
“It isn’t noise,” I said. “It’s my harmonica.” I held it up so she could see it.
“I thought you were choking on something,” she said, stepping into the room.
“Haha,” I said. “Funny. What kind of music do you like?”
“Oh. That was music?” she replied. “Sorry. I couldn’t tell.”
“It’s called the blues,” I said.
She rubbed her ears. “It was so loud, I couldn’t tell what it was. Look. I think my ears are bleeding.”
I set the harmonica down on my nightstand. “Remind me to play baby lullabies next time,” I muttered.
Mila grabbed my hand and tried to tug me off the bed. “Come with me.”
I pulled back. “Where are we going?”
“Someplace special. You have to see it.”
“Where?” I demanded. “I already saw the threshing machine. I still haven’t gotten over the excitement.”
She slapped my arm. “Shut up, Todd. I’m taking you into the cornfield.”
I squinted at her. “Why?”
“Because it’s the harvest moon tonight,” she answered. “Have you ever seen the harvest moon from a cornfield at night?”
“Back home, I did it every Tuesday,” I said.
She made that grrrrr sound again. She did it a lot. “Trust me. You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like … magic.”
I sighed and slid off the bed. I pulled a sweatshirt over my shirt. “Do you always get your way?” I asked.
“Only when I’m right,” she replied.
I followed her down the stairs and out the front door. The sky was inky black. The cornfield appeared like a shimmering dark wall ahead of us.
I shivered. “It’s cold,” I murmured.
“That’s part of the fun,” Mila said.
Our shoes crunched over the ground. The dew had frozen into a layer of thin ice. A thread of orange light spread over the top of the field.
“That’s the moonlight,” Mila whispered. “Wait till it rises over the cornfield. It’s so awesome.”
We stepped up to the tall stalks, nearly two feet above my head. They cracked and crackled and buzzed as they swayed from side to side in the cold breeze.
I stopped. “Are there snakes in here?” My voice came out muffled in the cold air.
“Probably,” Mila said. “But they won’t hurt you. Just don’t step on them.”
I felt a cold tingle at the back of my neck. Why do I suddenly feel very afraid?
The wind shifted, and the stalks suddenly leaned toward us, as if reaching out to us. They’re alive! I thought. They’re coming to grab me!
The rattling along the ground sounded like a thousand rattlesnakes.
“Don’t look so scared,” Mila said. “This is supposed to be fun.”
“But—” I started.
“The stalks rattle because they’re dry and empty,” she explained. “The corn has all been harvested. The stalks are like … skeletons.”
I hugged the sleeves of my sweatshirt. “Are you trying to scare me?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No way. Wait t
ill you see how cool this is.”
“You didn’t have to mention skeletons,” I said. “You’re starting to sound like Skipper.”
“I don’t know what Skipper’s problem is,” Mila said. “He was really looking forward to you coming here.”
“Yeah. So he could scare me to death,” I said.
She frowned. “Just follow me.”
We ducked our heads and slid between the tall, swaying stalks. Our shoes scraped over a blanket of dead husks. Inside the tight rows of cornstalks, it suddenly felt warmer.
“Doesn’t it smell awesome?” Mila said, a few feet ahead of me. “So fresh!”
“Awesome,” I said. I lowered my shoulder to push stalks out of my way.
I gazed up, over the empty corn husks. Deep orange moonlight washed over the field, brightening the sky.
Mila motioned me forward. “This way,” she said. “There’s a small opening, and you can see the moon come up.”
I slapped a bug off my neck. My shoes slipped on the husks on the ground, and I stumbled forward. I grabbed a stalk with both hands to keep from falling.
“Hurry,” Mila whispered.
I stepped up beside her. We stood in a small opening, a break in the field. And I followed her gaze to the patch of sky ahead of us.
“Oh, wow,” I muttered. And stared at an enormous orange moon, round at the top and cut off by the horizon. Floating slowly up into the reddening sky, rising like a huge hot-air balloon.
“It looks so close,” I said. “Like it’s touching the ground.”
Mila smiled in reply. “You can’t see this back in New York,” she said. The orange moonlight reflected in her eyes and made her hair appear to shimmer like gold.
“Wow,” I said again. “You were right. It’s amazing.”
The moon floated higher, and now it was a perfect orange ball, glowing over the endless cornfield.
“Let’s keep walking,” Mila said. She grabbed my arm and tugged me back into the tall stalks. “You have to see the tricks the moonlight plays in the field.”
I stumbled again but caught my balance. I had to hurry to keep up with her. Despite the cold air, I mopped warm sweat off my forehead.
Narrow rivers of red-orange light washed along the ground. The cornstalks rose over me. I couldn’t see the moon anymore.
I let out a gasp as I felt something bump my ankle. I stopped short as it rolled over my shoe. A snake?
No. Too heavy to be a snake.
An animal. What kind of animal? Were those field rats Skipper told me about actually real? I shuddered.
“Hey, Mila—” I couldn’t hear my voice over the crackle of the cornstalks.
I held my breath and listened to the brush and scrape of Mila’s shoes as she darted between the stalks. The crackling grew louder. I couldn’t help it. I pictured a gigantic rattlesnake or rat wrapping around my ankle.
The moonlight didn’t break through here. I stood in total darkness now, mopping the heavy drops of warm sweat off my forehead and cheeks.
“Hey, Mila—wait up.”
No reply. I listened for her footsteps, but I couldn’t hear them anymore.
“Mila—?” My voice cracked as I called her name.
Something slid over my shoe again. I glanced down, but it was too dark to see.
“Mila? Hey, come back! Mila? Can you hear me?”
I raised my eyes and searched for the moon. I knew the moon could guide me out of the field. If I turned and walked away from it, I would end up back at the house.
The sky had brightened to charcoal gray. But the moon was not in view.
I spun around and searched in the other direction. Solid sky.
Could I find my way back to the small clearing? No. I was completely turned around now. Surrounded on all sides by tight rows of stalks.
No path. No opening. No clue as to which way I should walk.
“Hey, Mila! Mila!” My shrill voice revealed my fear.
No reply.
Where was she? Didn’t she notice I wasn’t with her anymore? Why wasn’t she coming back for me?
“Ow!” I slapped another fat bug off my forehead.
I was breathing hard. My chest was heaving up and down. My skin tingled as a cold chill swept down my body.
I can’t spend all night in this cornfield. I can’t!
How do I find my way out of here?
And then I had an idea.
I reached into my jeans pocket for my phone.
Not there.
I uttered a frustrated groan and slid my hand into the other pocket.
No. Oh no. The pocket was empty.
I shut my eyes and pictured the phone on the nightstand in my room. I didn’t bring it with me.
The first time in my life I really, really needed the phone. And I left it in my room.
A strong burst of wind sent another shiver down my body.
A loud craaack made me jump. A stalk cracked in half, and the heavy dry husk thudded against my chest. Another gust of wind sent the stalks swaying back and forth.
Circling me. They’re circling me.
A crazy thought. But I had reached total panic mode.
“Mila? Where are you? Mila?” I didn’t recognize my own voice.
I held my breath and listened for her footsteps. The only sounds were the steady whine of the wind and the cracking of the stalks.
I cried out as something wrapped around my ankle. For real this time. The gigantic rattlesnake I had imagined?
I kicked my foot up hard. Nearly toppled over backward.
My heart leaped into my throat. I held my breath again and forced myself to calm down.
She’ll come back for me. She won’t leave me here all night in the cornfield.
My teeth were chattering. Wisps of orange light danced between the tall stalks now. But I couldn’t see the moon.
And then I gasped as I heard a whispered voice.
“The corn wants you …”
“Huh?” I wasn’t sure I had really heard that. Was the wind through the cornstalks playing a joke on me?
“The corn wants you. Stay, Todd. Stay with us.”
“Noooo!” A scream burst from my throat. “Mila? Is that you? Mila?”
Silence.
Then: “Stay with us forever, Todd. The corn is hungry … so hungry.”
“Mila? Skipper?” I spun all around. “Not funny!” I screamed. “You’re not funny!”
“The corn wants you!”
“Noooo!” I screamed again. I grabbed a stalk and slapped it out of my way. Then I took off running.
I ducked my head and stuck my arms out at my sides to brush away the dry stalks. And I ran blindly, not seeing anything at all, except for the deep shadows and the dim flashes of orange light.
I didn’t get far.
“Whooooa!” My shoes slid out from under me and I fell. I fell face-forward onto the dry husks, so thick on the ground.
I landed hard on my elbows and knees, and pain shot through my body. The breath whooshed out of me, and I struggled to suck in some air.
I can’t stay here. Got to run … !
I forced myself to a sitting position. Still gasping for breath, I stood up, my legs shaking.
And powerful hands grabbed my shoulders from behind.
“Skipper!” I screamed. “Get off me!”
I twisted free and spun around to face him.
But he wasn’t there.
I blinked a few times. My heart thudded in my chest.
Was that a shadow darting into the stalks?
“Hey—Skipper?”
No one there.
No one.
But I could still feel the pressure on my shoulders, still feel the powerful fingers digging into my skin.
“Whoa. Wait.”
Squinting into the darkness, I gazed all around. “Are you hiding in the cornstalks?” My voice trembled out in a whisper. “Where are you? Come out. You’re not funny. This isn’t funny.”
I waite
d, hugging myself, my teeth chattering.
Silence now.
Would they really be this mean to me? Would they really go this far to scare the city kid?
I heard scraping sounds. Soft thuds. Growing louder.
Footsteps crunching toward me.
“Who is it?” I called. “Who is there?”
Mila pushed her way out from between two stalks. Skipper followed her, brushing corn husks away with both hands.
“There you are!” Mila cried. She stopped with both hands at her waist and stared at me. “Todd, I was so worried!”
“Why did you wander off?” Skipper swatted a bug off the side of his face. “You got us all scared.”
“You were scared?” I cried. “How do you think I felt?”
“I don’t know how we got separated,” Mila said. “I searched and searched, but I couldn’t find you.”
“Why didn’t you call?” Skipper demanded.
I slapped my jeans pockets. “I didn’t bring my phone.”
Skipper rolled his eyes. “Smart move, dude.”
“I was so worried, I went back to the house and got Skipper,” Mila said. “This was supposed to be a fun night, Todd. You weren’t supposed to get lost.”
I studied them both. Were they telling the truth?
“The voices,” I said. “The whispering voices …”
They both squinted at me.
“I know you were trying to scare me,” I said. “You planned the whole thing, didn’t you!”
Mila shook her head. “Of course not,” she said. “I wanted you to see the harvest moon, that’s all. I didn’t want—”
“What about the whispers?” I asked. “About how the corn wants me to stay, how the corn is hungry for me. That was you. I know it was. It had to be you.”
Mila and Skipper exchanged glances. “Are you totally losing it?” Skipper said.
“What are you talking about?” Mila’s eyes grew wide. “Whispers? We don’t know anything about any whispers.”
She laughed. “Are you trying to scare us?”
Aunt Clara brushed my hair off my forehead with one hand. “Guess you had quite an adventure, Todd,” she said. “Hope you weren’t too afraid out there.”
“No. It wasn’t too bad,” I lied.
