by R. L. Stine
I walked slowly, carefully, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
I was half a block from home when I saw the little orange kitten run into the street.
“Not again!” I cried.
I heard Billy Miller’s screams before I saw him come darting out from behind a hedge. “My kitten! My kitten!”
I glimpsed Billy’s frightened face. I saw the little cat freeze in the center of the intersection.
I had no choice.
I had to rescue it.
I leaped into the street and started to run.
“My kitten! Alex—help! Get my kitten!”
Running hard, I heard the blast of a car horn. Then the shrill squeal of tires on the pavement.
“Uhh.”
I felt a hard bump. From behind.
My hands flew up.
And I was flying, flying through the air.
I flew into a bright white light. The street, the lawns, the sky—they all disappeared.
All colors vanished. I seemed to fly forever.
I landed in a shock of pain. The world rushed back. Colors and sounds.
I heard Billy crying. A car door slammed. A woman shouted, “Hey! Hey! Hey!” The same word over and over.
The sky spun above me, whirled so fast, as if I were on some kind of amusement park ride.
“Hey! Hey!”
The woman bent over me, her face red and twisted in fear. “Hey—are you all right?”
My skin prickled. Something scratched my arms. Blinking, I realized I had landed on a thick evergreen bush.
I struggled to catch my breath. I gazed up at the frightened woman.
“Are you all right? I—I almost stopped in time. I didn’t hit you hard, but—”
“I … think I’m okay,” I said. The sky stopped spinning above me. I saw Billy holding the kitten in his arms.
With a groan, I sat up. I pulled bristles off my arms and the front of my shirt. The bush had cradled my fall.
“Does anything hurt?” the woman asked. “Is anything broken? Should I call the police? An ambulance? Can you stand up?”
“I … think so,” I said. She helped pull me up.
I felt shaky but okay. I tested my arms, my legs. I twisted my head around. Everything checked out okay. Nothing broken, nothing hurting.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said, her voice trembling. “I almost stopped in time. I … I just feel so awful.”
I pulled more pine needles off my jacket. “It’s okay,” I told her. “I knew I was going to be hit by a car today.”
Her frightened expression faded. She narrowed her eyes at me.
I knew instantly that I’d said the wrong thing. The words had just spilled out.
She studied me intently. “We’d better get you to a doctor,” she said.
Mom and Dad took me to see Dr. Owens. She checked me out and said everything was all right. “You might feel a little stiff and sore tomorrow,” she said. “But I think you can go to school.”
Wow. Hit by a car, and I don’t even get a day off from school!
On the way home, I slumped in the back of the car, feeling really glum. What a lost opportunity, I thought bitterly. I really blew it this time.
What if I had made a bet with Chip and Shawn? What if I’d bet them that I’d be hit by a car on the way home?
I could have won big-time!
“You were really lucky,” Mom said, turning from the passenger seat to face me. “Really lucky.”
No, I wasn’t, I thought. What’s lucky about being hit by a car and not winning a dime from it?
“Next time, Alex, look both ways before running out to save a kitten,” Dad said.
Ha-ha. Very funny.
Chip, Shawn, and Tessa were waiting in the driveway when I got home. They cheered when I told them I was perfectly okay.
But Tessa tilted her head and stared hard at me.
“Alex, I know why you ran out into the street and got hit by a car today,” she said.
“I do too,” I replied. “To rescue a kitten.”
She shook her head. “No. To make sure your diary is more interesting than mine. You’ll do anything to win our bet!”
Chip and Shawn laughed. But I didn’t think it was funny.
“I don’t have to do a lot of crazy things to make my diary interesting,” I told Tessa. “Because I’m a really good writer.”
So far, of course, I hadn’t written a single word in the diary. The diary had written it all for me.
Thinking about the diary gave me a chill.
What would it say about tomorrow? Would it have more bad news for me?
I suddenly realized I was afraid of the diary. I was so excited at first. But knowing the future was really creepy.
Maybe I shouldn’t open it again, I thought. Maybe I should tuck the thing away in a drawer and never look at it again.
But would that change things?
Wouldn’t the same things happen in my life even if I didn’t read about them first in the diary?
“I talked to my uncle Jon.” Tessa’s words broke into my thoughts. “He says his garage is ready. We can use it anytime to rehearse in.”
“Yaay! That is totally awesome news!” Chip exclaimed. “Let’s go right now!”
“I can’t,” I said. “I was just in an accident—remember?”
Chip nodded. “Oh, yeah. Right.”
We made a plan to try to rehearse that weekend. Then, feeling sore and achy, I made my way into the house for dinner.
A noisy thunderstorm struck while we were eating. Lightning crackled over the backyard, and a boom of thunder made the house shake. Rain poured down. The lights flickered but didn’t go out.
Mom and Dad kept glancing at me as I ate. I knew they were thinking about the car hitting me. But none of us talked about it.
After dinner, I hurried upstairs to my room. I slid the diary out from its hiding place in my desk drawer. Then, holding it between my hands, I stared at the cover.
I didn’t open it. I wondered if I could keep myself from opening it.
My hands trembled as I held it. I was afraid of it now—and I had good reason to be.
I knew I was holding some kind of magic. But was it evil magic?
Diary, what is your secret? I wondered for the hundredth time. How do you know what’s going to happen tomorrow?
And why are you written in my handwriting?
My hands moved as if on their own. As if I were no longer in control.
My hands pried open the diary.
I shuffled through the pages.
Yes. There it was—an entry for tomorrow.
I didn’t want to read it. I didn’t want to know.
But I couldn’t help myself.
I raised the book close to my face and started to read.
DEAR DIARY,
The eighth-graders had their Junior Olympics at the running track in back of school today. The track was still wet from all the rain last night. Runners kept slipping and falling, and a couple of kids really cut up their knees.
The wind was blowing like a hurricane. Some of the javelin throwers had their javelins come flying back at them! It was a mess, but we seventh-graders got out of school all day to watch them. So we thought it was terrific.
The blue team won every single event. Except for the broad jump, which was a tie.
“Excellent!” I cried out loud. I set the diary down and pumped my fist above my head.
I hope Chip and Shawn and the other guys bring lots of money to school tomorrow! I’m going to win it all! All!
They won’t believe that Blue can win every event. And then, when I bet them the broad jump is a tie, I’ll clean them out!
Thinking about all the bets I would win really cheered me up. I could forgive the diary for the car accident. I suddenly didn’t feel as scared of it. The little book was going to make me rich!
I raised it close and began to read the rest of tomorrow’s entry….
Tessa keeps givin
g me a hard time. I can’t tell if she is teasing me or not.
She keeps saying that I’m doing things just to make my diary more interesting than hers. She says I’ll do anything to win our bet.
It isn’t true at all. But what is Tessa going to think when she hears the crazy thing I did after school?
Huh? After school?
My heart started to pound. As I gripped the diary, my hands were suddenly cold and wet.
What did I do after school?
I bent over the diary and read…
You should have heard the screams. Everyone was in a total panic.
Maybe a hundred kids were watching me, and more were running over from the playground.
I heard kids shouting all down the block and out to the street.
What an adventure!
I don’t even remember climbing up onto the roof of the school building. But there I was, teetering on the roof edge at the gutter.
And then, it’s hard to believe—but I did it. I flapped my arms like a bird and jumped off the roof.
“Ten … fifteen … twenty …”
After the Junior Olympics, I stayed in the bleachers to count the money I had won. The total came to thirty-five dollars.
Not a bad day’s work.
I jammed the wad of fives into my jeans pocket and zipped my denim jacket up to my chin. I shivered.
What a cold, dreary day. The sky had been dull and gray all afternoon. The ground was still drenched from the heavy rains last night.
A cold wind kept gusting, swirling, blowing so hard, the bleachers behind the school trembled.
Leaning into the wind, I made my way into the school building. I had spent all afternoon watching the Junior Olympics. Cashing in big-time.
Now I had to pick up my backpack from my locker and walk home.
Walk home without climbing up onto the roof of the school.
This is one diary prediction that will not come true, I decided.
I waved to Tessa, who stood talking to a group of girls.
Tessa made a face and turned away from me. She was steamed because she lost ten dollars to me betting that the broad jump wouldn’t be a tie.
Ha-ha. My diary is better than yours! I thought.
I had been thinking about the diary all day.
Of course, I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand how it worked, how it knew the future.
It was kind of magical. It was totally scary.
But, so far, finding it was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
The next Ravens basketball game is tomorrow, I suddenly remembered. I know the score of the game will be waiting for me in tomorrow’s diary entry.
I could feel the wad of five-dollar bills in my jeans. Maybe I’ll let the guys win a few dollars at first, I thought. Just so they don’t get suspicious when I totally clean them out again.
Yes, the diary was definitely great. Awesome. Fantastic.
If only it didn’t bring any more bad news.
I felt a cold tingle of fear. Was the diary also evil?
I stopped in front of my locker. I shivered again. A frightening thought rolled through my mind.
What if the diary was causing these bad things to happen?
What if it wasn’t just reporting what happened the next day? What if it was causing me to be hit by a car? What if the diary forced me to jump off the roof?
No. No way.
I shook my head hard, as if trying to shake that thought from my mind.
What a crazy idea.
That little book can’t force me to do anything, I decided.
I am a free person. I have a mind of my own. I can decide what to do and what not to do.
No book can tell me what to do!
I swung my backpack over my shoulders and jogged out the back door of the school. The sky was even darker. Another storm was on its way. The air felt cold and wet.
I saw a couple of guys tossing a football back and forth at the edge of the playground. Their shoes sloshed in the wet grass. The gusting wind kept carrying the football out of their hands.
I turned away from the school. A blast of wind sent my hair flying straight up. I brushed it down with both hands. Then, leaning into the wind, I started toward home.
I had gone only two or three steps, when I heard the screams.
Frantic screams.
“Alex—help me! Help!”
I froze at the sound of my name.
“Alex! Alex! Help me!”
I uttered a startled gasp and spun around.
A little boy stood in the grass near the back of the building, waving frantically.
I took a few steps toward him and his face came into focus. Billy Miller.
Not again!
“Alex—help!”
I took off running. “Where’s your cat?” I cried.
Some other kids were also hurrying over to Billy. The two boys dropped their football and came running. I saw two of Tessa’s friends trotting to help the boy.
I got to him first. “Where’s your cat?” I repeated breathlessly. My eyes searched the playground.
“At home,” Billy said. The wind blew his blond hair over his face.
I gaped at him. “Huh? At home?”
“It’s not my kitten!” he wailed. “It’s my Raiders cap! My new Raiders cap! Look!”
He stuck his arm up, pointing wildly. “Up there. The wind blew it!”
“Oh, noooo,” I moaned. I raised my eyes to the slanted, black roof of the school. Squinting into the gray sky, I could see the black-and-silver Raiders cap. It rested on the rain gutter at the edge of the roof.
I’m not going up there to get it, I told myself.
I’m not going to make that diary entry come true.
I turned back to Billy. He had tears in his eyes. His face was bright red. His bottom lip kept quivering. “Please?” he whispered. “It’s my brand-new cap.”
What is up with this kid? I wondered. It’s like he is haunting me! He already caused me to get hit by a car.
And now …
“Maybe the wind will blow it back down,” I told Billy. “Maybe if you wait long enough …”
“NOOOO!” he wailed. “I WANT IT! I WANT MY CAP!”
“Get it for him, Alex,” Nella, one of Tessa’s friends, shouted. “Just climb up the drainpipe. It’s not hard.”
“Uh … I’m not a good climber,” I said. “I … don’t have the right shoes.”
“Help the poor kid,” another girl said. “Look at him—he’s crying!”
Tears were streaming down Billy’s cheeks. He still had his hand raised, pointing to the cap.
“Maybe someone else could help,” I said. I turned to the crowd of kids who had gathered around us. I counted at least twenty kids. “Does anyone else like to climb?”
“Help him, Alex,” Nella repeated. “Just shinny up the drainpipe. It’s not that high.”
“Any volunteers?” I pleaded. “Anyone?”
No one.
“I WANT MY RAIDERS CAP!” Billy shrieked.
I swallowed hard. I gazed at the metal drainpipe running up the side of the building to the rain gutter along the edge of the roof. “Okay, okay,” I muttered.
I had no choice. Everyone was staring at me. If I just left Billy standing there crying, no one would ever let me forget it.
So … I was doing it. I was heading up to the roof.
Kids clapped and cheered. I stepped up to the wall and grabbed the metal drainpipe with both hands.
It felt wet and slippery from all the rain. The wind blew, making the gutter above me rattle.
I gazed straight up. The building was only two stories high at this end. But the roof appeared a mile above me!
I could see the cap. It was hanging halfway over the gutter edge.
If only a gust of wind would blow it down and save me from having to do this!
But … no.
I took a deep breath and grasped the cold, wet drainpipe. I moved m
y hands high and wrapped my legs around the pipe.
Kids were still cheering, urging me on. I glimpsed Billy standing in front of the crowd. He had finally stopped crying. He had his eyes raised to the cap.
With a groan, I pulled myself up. My hands slipped on the wet metal. But I kept a tight grip on the pipe with my legs.
Slowly, slowly, I pulled myself up.
I was gasping for breath when I reached the roof. I leaned forward carefully and spread my hands onto the dark shingles. Then I pulled myself onto the roof.
The roof seemed to slant straight up. One slip, I realized, and I could roll right off.
I was on my hands and knees on the edge of the roof. A strong wind fluttered my jacket.
My whole body was trembling. My legs felt like rubber. I started to crawl forward. So carefully. Planting one hand. Then the other. Sliding one knee forward. Then the other knee.
The Raiders cap was only a few yards away. But I kept slipping on the wet shingles, sliding toward the edge of the roof.
Each time I slipped, a scream went up from the kids below. I turned and glimpsed other kids running from the playground.
I could hear their excited shouts. I knew they were cheering me on. But I couldn’t make out their words.
I crawled forward, inch by inch. And then I stretched out one hand … stretched …
… and grabbed the cap.
Below, kids were cheering and shouting, slapping high-fives. Billy leaped into the air, laughing and clapping.
“Yes!” I cried, gripping the cap tightly in my fist. “Yes!” I jumped to my feet.
Why?
Why did I jump to my feet?
It was as if I had lost control. Some kind of powerful force had pulled me up.
There I was, standing on the edge of the roof, laughing, waving the cap in the air. A victory celebration?
No! I didn’t want to be there. What had pulled me to the roof edge?
I lowered the cap to my side. And stared down, gripped with cold, sudden horror.
So far down to the ground.
What next? What next? I asked myself.
My whole body shuddered.
Am I going to flap my arms and jump off? Just as the diary said?
Is there nothing I can do to save myself?
The diary—it’s always right, I realized to my horror. It always tells the truth.
