by R. L. Stine
He blinked. “Excuse me? This camera is probably valuable, Julie. It —”
“There’s something very wrong with it,” I said. My voice came out high and shrill. “I don’t want it. Please —”
“It can be repaired,” he said.
“No, it can’t!” I cried. “There’s a curse on it or something. The camera is EVIL! Please, Mr. Blank — take it. Keep it safe. Keep it away from people.”
He squinted at me. “I don’t believe in curses or magic,” he said. “That’s crazy.”
“Please — just take it,” I said. I turned to go.
“Maybe I could give you store credit,” he said. “You could pick something out in return.”
“No thanks!” I said. I couldn’t stay there another second. I just wanted to get away from the camera.
I bolted out of the office and out the front door. The bell over the door clanged loudly. I ran into the mall. Nearly knocked over a woman pushing a double baby stroller. “Sorry,” I called, and kept running.
Did I actually get rid of that evil thing? I wondered.
Will it be safe with Mr. Blank?
Or will it come back to haunt me again?
* * *
After school the next day, I pulled my digital camera from my locker. Then I hurried to the auditorium. Kids were rehearsing a play, Bye Bye Birdie, and I planned to photograph it for the yearbook.
Everyone was huddled in front of the curtain. Mrs. Harper sat at the piano at the side of the stage. She was banging out a number from the show.
She is the new music teacher. She told us all she wants to shake things up around our school.
Bye Bye Birdie is the biggest musical our middle school ever tried. I planned to take hundreds of shots, from the beginning rehearsals to opening night.
But as I hurried toward the stage, I let out a groan. I’d totally forgotten that Becka and Greta were in the play.
They stood in the middle of the stage, arguing with each other about something. But as soon as they saw me, they both turned and made ugly faces.
I made a face back at them. Then I heard heavy footsteps behind me. Shoes thudding on the concrete auditorium floor.
I spun around.
“David!” I cried. “What are you doing here?”
He had a big grin on his face. He swung his hands from behind his back — and I stared at what he was carrying. The evil camera!
He raised it to his face, turned to the stage, and aimed it up at Becka and Greta. “Say cheese!” he called up to them.
I froze in horror.
He raised his thumb to push the shutter button.
“NOOOOOOO!” I screamed.
I stuck my hand in front of the lens.
David lowered the camera. “Why did you do that?” he cried. “What’s your problem, Julie?”
I didn’t answer. I stomped toward him and made him back up in the aisle. “What are you doing with that camera?” I demanded.
David shrugged. “What’s the big deal? My dad let me borrow it. He said you didn’t want it anymore.”
“But — but —” I sputtered.
“I know you tried to get rid of it,” David said.
“Huh?” My breath caught in my throat. “How do you know that?”
He shrugged again. “I watched you,” he said softly. A strange smile spread over his face. “I followed you, Julie.”
“You WHAT?” I cried.
“Who do you think was spying on you?” David said, still grinning. “I stayed up day and night. I watched you leave it in that little house. And I watched you toss it in the pond. Who do you think returned it to you both times?”
My mouth hung open. “How did you get it from the bottom of the pond?” I asked.
“I reached in and pulled it out.” David laughed. “That pond is only a foot deep.”
I just stared at him. I couldn’t speak.
“You sneaked into my house? You returned it? You spied on me? But — why?” I cried.
“Just to mess with your mind,” David replied. “I really want to win our contest, Julie. I wanted to get you totally stressed so I could win it easily.”
I gave a bitter laugh. “Well, you got me totally stressed, David,” I said. “Good work, dude.” And then I added, “But I’m still going to win the contest.”
He started to say something. But Becka interrupted from the stage. “David — take our picture for the yearbook!”
Becka and Greta both started waving David to the stage.
I stepped in front of David and raised my digital camera. “I’ll do it,” I said. “I was here first.”
“But we don’t want you to snap us,” Greta said nastily.
“Yeah, Ju-Ju. You don’t know how to snap bubble gum!” Becka exclaimed.
They both laughed and slapped high fives. Like that was some kind of hilarious joke.
“Go away, Ju-Ju,” Greta said. “David has the cool camera.”
I turned to David. “Don’t use that camera,” I said. “I’m warning you.”
He laughed. “Warning me?”
“I had a good reason to get rid of it,” I said. “David, listen —”
But he raised the camera in both hands. And aimed it at the two girls.
“No!” I dove forward. Tried to grab it away from him.
Too late.
The camera flashed. The film slid out.
“An instant classic!” David cried. He handed the picture up to Becka.
She and Greta leaned over it, watching it develop.
They had smiles on their faces. But the smiles quickly faded.
“Ohhh, gross!” Becka cried.
Greta groaned, too. “Oh, that’s totally SICK!”
The two girls squinted at the photo.
“What’s wrong with your camera, Ju-Ju?” Becka asked. “The color is all messed up.”
“Huh? My camera?” I cried. “David was the one —”
“Your camera stinks!” Greta said. “Like you, Ju-Ju!”
“Why are you blaming me?” I said. “I didn’t —”
But Becka shoved the picture into my face. David and I stared at it.
In the snapshot, both girls had green faces and arms. And their skin was all cracked and spotted — like alligator skin!
I gasped.
Was that going to happen to Becka and Greta?
Were they both going to get green alligator skin in a few minutes?
A shudder shook my body. I nearly lost my lunch.
David had snapped the picture. But the two girls blamed me. They blamed my camera. Not David.
If the picture came true …
I shuddered again.
I knew I had to get help. But who could help me? Mom and Dad would never believe a wild story like this.
I grabbed the camera from David. And I ran up the aisle to the exit.
I could hear the two girls making jokes about my camera. Then suddenly, the jokes stopped.
I reached the auditorium doors. I started to push one open.
And I heard two shrill screams of horror. From the stage.
I didn’t have to turn around. I knew what I would see.
My knees felt weak. I grabbed the door handle to hold myself up. Another shudder ran down my body.
I turned slowly — and saw Becka and Greta screaming and tugging at their faces.
Even from the back of the auditorium, I could see their dry green skin. All cracked and lined and lumpy.
I swallowed hard. I forced myself to breathe.
Becka shook a fist at me. “YOU did this to us!” she shrieked. “You’re a WITCH!”
“Why do you HATE us SO MUCH?” Greta wailed.
Mrs. Harper jumped up from the piano. She stared at me sternly with her hands at her waist.
Everyone in the auditorium was staring at me.
Becka and Greta screamed and cried, tugging the green skin on their cheeks.
“We know what you did to Reena!” Greta cried.
&
nbsp; “We’ll sue your family!” Becka shouted. “We’ll have you arrested! The whole school will know you’re a WITCH!”
“I — I —” I could only stammer. No words would come out.
My panic quickly turned to anger. This camera was ruining my life!
I swung it high — and smashed it against the back wall. Smashed it hard. Smashed it again. And again.
Gasping for air, my arms aching, I raised the camera to examine it.
It wasn’t hurt at all. Not even a tiny dent.
I opened my mouth in a scream of rage. Pushed the door open and ran from the auditorium.
I was halfway to the front exit when my cell phone rang. I fumbled in my bag and pulled it out. “Mom!”
“Hi, Julie. I just wondered if —”
“Mom, I’m so glad you called!” I said in a trembling voice. “You’ve got to listen to me. I — I don’t know what to do.”
I leaned against the wall and pressed the phone to my ear. I told her the whole story. I started with Reena. Then I told her about Karla and her arm. I told her everything.
Mom listened without making a sound.
I ended by telling her what just happened to Becka and Greta, and how they blamed me and called me a witch.
“Wow,” Mom muttered in a low voice. “Wow.”
“What can I do, Mom?” I cried. “You’ve got to help me!”
“Julie,” Mom said, “I know exactly what you need to do.”
I gasped. “Huh? You do? Tell me!”
“Type it up, print it out, and give it to your creative writing teacher,” Mom said. “It’s an excellent story. Very clever. Really.”
My mouth dropped open. “No, Mom. You got it wrong. Listen to me —”
“I like the supernatural part,” Mom said. “Of course, your dad likes that sci-fi stuff more than me. But I’ve always said you have a great imagination. I think you take after your aunt Jenny. She —”
I gritted my teeth. I tried not to explode into a million pieces. “It’s … not … a … story,” I said slowly.
“What did you say?” Mom replied. “My phone is beeping. I’m getting another call. I’m still at work. Dinner may be a little late. Bye, dear.”
She clicked off.
I heard voices. Three cheerleaders in their red-and-gold uniforms came skipping past me. They practiced a cheer as they moved down the hall.
They seemed so happy. I slumped against the wall and watched them till they turned into the next hallway.
I never felt more frightened. I’d lost my best friend. I’d injured poor Karla, who was still in the hospital. And Becka and Greta were going to turn the whole school against me. Everyone would soon believe I was a witch.
A sob escaped my throat. I bit my lip. I didn’t want to cry.
I shoved open the doors and ran outside. Into a cool, gray afternoon. A few raindrops were in the wind.
I didn’t care about the weather. I didn’t care about anything but getting rid of the evil camera.
I ran all the way home. I didn’t stop at corners. I didn’t look for oncoming cars. Houses and yards and streets passed me by in a gray blur. Like an out-of-focus photo.
I pulled open the front door and heard a cry.
“Julie!” Sammy ran up to greet me. His face was pale. His eyes were big and frightened.
“Help me!” he cried. “There’s a bee in the house! It’s going to sting me!”
Sammy was stung on the nose when he was three. He’s been terrified of bees ever since.
He grabbed my hands and squeezed them. “Kill it! Kill it!”
“Sammy, are you home all by yourself?” I asked.
“Mrs. Kellins was here. But she had to run back to her house for a few minutes.”
I heard a loud buzz. Sammy wasn’t making it up. A fat yellow bumblebee swooped low over his head.
He screamed. “Kill it! Kill it!”
I swung my hand and tried to slap it away. The camera slipped out of my hand and hit the floor.
The bee soared high, then shot back, making a straight line for my face.
I swatted at it with both hands. It made an angry buzzing sound — and retreated to the window curtains.
I turned and saw Sammy pick up the camera.
“Nooooo —” I shouted. “Drop it! I mean it! Drop it!”
I saw the bee bounce off the front window. Then it came darting toward my little brother.
I swiped the camera out of Sammy’s hands.
And it FLASHED.
Sammy grabbed the film as it slid out of the camera. He raised it close to his face to watch it develop.
“Give me that!” I cried. I grabbed for it. But he swung it out of my reach.
I had a sick feeling.
What have I done to my little brother?
The bee flew out the front window. That didn’t make me feel any better.
“Awesome shot!” Sammy cried. He laughed. “Totally awesome shot of the bee!”
He handed the photo to me. My hand shook as I raised it to my face. It was a close-up of the bee. Sammy’s face was completely hidden behind it.
“Weird,” I muttered.
The bee looked gigantic. Like something out of a horror movie. And it appeared to be perched on Sammy’s shoulders — in place of his head!
“Hey!” I cried out as another bright FLASH made me blink.
Oh, no …
As the explosion of color faded, I saw Sammy holding the camera. Another square of film came sliding out.
“Did — did you just take my picture?” I stammered.
He giggled. “It was my turn!”
“You idiot! You idiot!” I cried.
He laughed and danced around me. “What’s your problem, Julie? Let’s see how it came out.”
He pressed next to me as we watched the picture develop.
“Totally awesome!” Sammy declared as it slowly came into focus.
At first, I thought I was holding it upside down. But I wasn’t. The photo showed me falling headfirst.
Where was I?
I squinted hard at the picture. The background was a total blur. But I could see my face so clearly — screaming my head off as I fell.
Panic swept over me. “No! No! No!” I shouted.
I grabbed the photo — and ripped it to tiny shreds.
I tossed the shreds to the floor. I grabbed the camera away from my brother.
And then I opened my mouth in a shriek of horror.
“Sammy!”
His face — it was hidden. Hidden behind thick, yellow, spiky hair.
BEE hair!
Two skinny antennae poked up from the top of his furry head. They twitched back and forth. Sammy raised both hands and frantically tore at the wiry hair that covered his face.
“Sammy! Can you talk?” I screamed. “Can you see me? Can you talk?”
“BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!”
The next morning, Mr. Webb called to congratulate me. He said I won the photo contest against David. I would be taking the big yearbook picture from the high diving board.
I barely replied. I think I muttered, “Thanks,” and hung up.
I was too worried about Sammy. Mom and Dad had taken him to the hospital. He’d been there all night having tests.
Finally, Mom called. “What’s up?” I cried. “How is Sammy?”
“The doctors are very puzzled,” Mom said. Her voice was hoarse. She sounded very tired.
“They think maybe Sammy had an allergic reaction to something he ate,” Mom said. “But Sammy keeps telling them a crazy story about a camera.”
At least he stopped buzzing! I thought.
“Guess what?” Mom said. “Those two girls from your class — Becka and Greta? They’re being examined in the next room. Some kind of skin problem. Just like in that story you told me. Isn’t that weird?”
I sank to my knees on the floor. I realized I was pressing the phone so hard to my ear, I was giving myself a headache.
I took
a long, deep breath. But it didn’t help.
“I’ll call you when we learn more,” Mom said. She clicked off.
Of course I knew what Sammy’s problem was. Becka and Greta, too. It was the evil camera.
But who would believe me? Mom still thought it was a story I made up!
I crossed my fingers and prayed the doctors would find a way to help Sammy, Becka, and Greta.
The camera was hidden deep in my closet. I’d been awake all night thinking about it.
At about three in the morning, I came up with a plan. A desperate plan to destroy the camera. And to reverse all the evil it had done. And to try to save my own life.
It was a crazy hope. But it was the only plan I could think up.
* * *
I glanced at the clock over the mantel. Time to go to school and shoot the big yearbook photo.
“You’re a winner, Julie,” I murmured to myself. I rolled my eyes bitterly. “Yeah. For sure. Big winner.”
I pictured the photo Sammy had flashed of me.
I could see myself, falling … falling headfirst … screaming in terror as I fell.
I hugged myself to stop shivering.
Was that photo about to come true? Would I be falling just like that off the high diving board?
Or would my plan save my life?
It was a glowing, sunny day. Not a cloud in the clear blue sky. A soft wind fluttered the flag in front of my school and made the trees whisper.
I made my way around to the new pool next to the soccer field. The building was long and low and white. The sun sparkled like gold in the wide glass doors.
A blast of warm air greeted me as I pulled open a door. Loud voices and laughter echoed off the white tile walls.
Teachers were already herding their classes into the empty swimming pool. Kids were laughing and goofing on each other — having fun.
I sighed. I knew today wasn’t a fun day for me. I gazed up at the high diving board. A chill ran down my back.
A metal ladder stretched to the blue platform at the top. The rungs were narrow and steep. The platform looked a lot higher than I remembered.
I pictured myself falling headfirst from the diving board. I’d pictured it a thousand times during the night. But now it seemed a lot more real.
