by Lois Metzger
BONES
Terrifying Tales
to HAUNT
Your DREAMS
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Foreword
YNK (You Never Know) by Todd Strasser
The Skeleton Keeper by David Levithan
In For A Penny by Elizabeth C. Bunce
Growth Spurt by Nina Kiriki Hoffman
Eyes on Imogene by Richard Peck
The Three-Eyed Man by R.L. Stine
Bones by Margaret Mahy
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Copyright
FOREWORD
Don’t worry. The events in this book—no matter how frightening—never happened. Isn’t it reassuring that nothing in these pages is real?
You won’t be visited by a ghost who can’t take his eyes off you, like the girl in Richard Peck’s story, “Eyes on Imogene.”
You’ll never have to endure what Lizzie goes through in Elizabeth C. Bunce’s “In for a Penny.” Lizzie winds up in the same room as a hand of glory, which is the chopped-off hand of a hanged thief …
… who wants it back.
You can sleep soundly, unlike the boy in David Levithan’s story, “The Skeleton Keeper.” What’s that eerie rattling inside his home every night? Why won’t it leave him alone?
But if you can’t sleep, it won’t be because some long-dead person in a portrait comes calling on you, the way someone does to the boy in Margaret Mahy’s story, “Bones.”
You’ll never meet up with a three-eyed man, as David does in R.L. Stine’s “The Three-Eyed Man.” David, of course, wants nothing to do with this man, but then David needs a favor….
You may grow several inches in a summer, or go a couple of years without growing much at all. But you won’t run across a strange woman with her own magic potion, which is what happens in “Growth Spurt” by Nina Kiriki Hoffman.
You can flip open a cell phone and it won’t be haunted—like the phone in Todd Strasser’s “YNK (You Never Know).” Next time you check to see if someone texted you, thank goodness there won’t be bizarre messages about things none of your friends could possibly know.
But, while reading this book, you may begin to wonder …
What if the stories are real?
Why do they sound like actual events told by eyewitnesses?
Is that icy chill down the back of your neck trying to tell you something?
—Lois Metzger
YNK (YOU NEVER KNOW)
by Todd Strasser
“Let’s have it, Johnny.”
Two rows from Callie Jones’s desk, Mr. Burton stood over Johnny Lin with his hand out.
“But I thought it was off, Mr. Burton,” Johnny Lin pleaded. “I swear.”
“Now!” Mr. Burton snapped angrily.
Johnny reached into his pocket and handed Mr. Burton his phone. The English teacher returned to the front of the classroom. “I am so tired of all of you fooling around with these phones in class. If you want this phone back, Johnny, have one of your parents come see me.”
“B-b-but—” Johnny began to stammer, but quickly stopped when Mr. Burton furrowed his brow and glared at him.
Hands under her desk, Callie glanced at her friend Mandi in the back of the room and texted: CSG (Chuckle, Snicker, Grin).
A moment later, Callie’s phone vibrated. She peeked down and saw: SH^ (Shut Up!).
What? Callie thought, shocked by the reply. She twisted around and gave Mandi a brief, puzzled glance. Why would she text that?
“Callie?” Mr. Burton said sharply. “Is there something back there you find interesting?”
Callie quickly turned around and faced forward again. Later, after the period ended, she waited for Mandi in the hallway. “Why did you text me to shut up?” Callie asked.
Mandi scowled at her. “Did not.”
“Did, too.” Callie opened her phone and pointed at the screen. “It came from your phone.”
“Well, I didn’t send it, okay?” Mandi said.
“How can you say you didn’t send it?” Callie asked, still pointing at the text message. “That’s your number, and that means it came from your phone.”
“Then the phone company’s messed up, because I didn’t send it,” Mandi insisted. “Didn’t you see what happened to Johnny? You’d have to be completely stupid to text in Burton’s room.” She headed into her next class.
Callie continued down the hall, totally annoyed with her friend. It was so obvious that Mandi had sent the text. Why wouldn’t she just fess up?
Her next class was Spanish, with Ms. Arnold. As Callie entered the room, the Spanish teacher handed her a test sheet and said, “I hope you studied your vocabulary.”
Callie gasped. She’d forgotten about the test! At her desk, she stared at the sheet and realized she knew hardly any of the answers. Class began. All around her, kids scribbled on their sheets. Callie quietly took out her phone and held it behind her desk where Ms. Arnold couldn’t see it. With one hand, she texted her friend David on the other side of the classroom: CALIENTE?
A moment later, she felt the phone vibrate. She pretended to yawn and glanced down at her lap. The text read: DONT CHEAT!
Callie couldn’t believe it! Why were her friends being such jerks today? And it wasn’t like she was really cheating. Normally she knew what caliente meant. She just couldn’t remember at that moment. Next she texted her friend Alyssa, who was also in the class, and asked what the word meant.
The text that came back read: MYOB (Mind Your Own Business).
Callie felt like screaming. When she thought about all the times she’d helped her friends on their tests, it was unbelievable! She couldn’t wait until class was over. As soon as she got out into the hall, she would give David and Alyssa a piece of her mind that they would never forget.
It wasn’t long before class ended. Callie hadn’t even bothered to finish the test. What was the point, when she knew hardly any of the answers? She’d failed, but so what? There’d be more tests that semester. As long as she passed the next few, she’d probably pass for the year. And, anyway, right now she was way more concerned about telling David and Alyssa a thing or two.
Callie handed in her test and headed for the door, but Gina Harmon stood in her path. Callie groaned inside. Gina was a loser with ratty hair and small reptilian teeth who wanted to be in Callie’s crowd. The only times Callie and her friends let Gina hang around was when they could send her on errands to buy granola bars from the vending machine or get books they needed from the library.
But today, Gina was the last person in the world Callie wanted to see. The previous week, Gina had worn the cutest, brand-new pink rhinestone hoodie to school, and Callie asked if she could borrow it for the weekend. Of course Gina was thrilled to let Callie wear the hoodie, even though she’d made her promise to be careful with it because it had been a birthday present from her favorite aunt. Callie wore it to Brandi Calahan’s birthday party on Saturday night (Gina wasn’t invited) and stupid Grant Chimon managed to spill grape juice all over it.
The hoodie was completely ruined and it wasn’t even Callie’s fault! It was so unfair! Now, all week, Gina had been bothering Callie about bringing back the hoodie to school because her stupid aunt was coming to visit that weekend and would expect Gina to wear it.
“Hi, Callie. I hope you remembered my hoodie?” Gina asked.
“Oh, my gosh!” Callie pretended to gasp. “I’m so sorry! Can you believe I forgot it again?”
Gina’s shoulders slumped with disappointment, and the corners of her mouth turned down. “This is the fourth day in a row you’ve forgotten. Tomorrow’s Friday and my aunt’s coming. You can’t forget to bring it tomorrow. Promise?”
“I totally
promise,” Callie said, even though she knew she might have to pretend to be sick and stay home the next day, just to avoid Gina. And that wouldn’t be easy, since she’d already missed way too many days that semester. “Gotta get to my next class. See ya later.”
Callie got out of the classroom and looked for Alyssa and David. She spotted them down at the end of the hall, talking and laughing with none other than Grant Chimon himself. Perfect, Callie thought as she marched toward them. I’ll tell off Alyssa and David for not helping me on the test, and I’ll tell Grant that it’s his fault that Gina’s hoodie got ruined, and he’d better figure out how to replace it and fast.
Just then she felt her phone vibrate. She flipped it open. The text message read: DONT LIE.
Callie stopped and frowned. Lie? she thought. Who had she lied to? She realized that it must have meant telling Gina she’d bring the hoodie to school tomorrow. But that wasn’t really a lie, because losers like Gina didn’t count.
Callie smirked to herself and started again toward her friends. Now she knew what was going on. They’d all gotten together to play a trick on her. They were sending her these stupid text messages and then pretending they weren’t. As if their phones had minds of their own. Callie started walking faster, like she couldn’t wait to get in their faces and tell them they were busted. But then she slowed down. She’d just had a better idea.
At lunchtime, Callie waited until she saw Gina enter the cafeteria. She made sure she “accidentally” got on the lunch line beside her.
“Oh, hi, Gina!” she said with a big smile.
Gina smiled back uncertainly. “Hi.” It wasn’t surprising that she was being wary, since the only other time Callie had acted friendly to her was when she wanted to borrow the pink hoodie.
“So, what looks good today?” Callie asked as they slid their trays down the rail.
“Nothing,” Gina replied.
“Ha!” Callie pretended to laugh. “You’re funny!”
Gina smiled sheepishly. “Well, it’s true. Since when does anything they serve here ever look good?”
“True that,” Callie agreed, as if Gina had just said the wisest and most profound thing ever. The cell phone in her pocket vibrated, and Callie flipped it open. The text read: DONT B FONY! Callie snapped the phone shut. She was beyond tired of her friends’ jokes.
She and Gina paid the cashier and went into the cafeteria. Usually this would be an awkward moment, because Callie would walk toward the table where her friends sat, a table Gina had never been invited to.
“Want to sit with us?” Callie asked.
Gina’s eyes widened with surprise. “Uh, sure!”
They headed for the table where Mandi, David, Alyssa, and Grant were already sitting. Callie was certain that Gina was thrilled. “Hey, guys, I asked Gina to sit with us today,” Callie said, and sat down. Gina sat beside her. Both girls placed their backpacks on the floor.
“Oh, gosh!” Callie suddenly said. “I forgot to get silverware.”
“I’ll get it,” Gina said, eager to be helpful and liked. She jumped up and headed back to the lunch line.
“Why’d you invite her to sit with us?” Alyssa whispered as soon as Gina was out of earshot.
“Why not?” Callie asked innocently. Meanwhile, she reached down to the outside pocket on Gina’s backpack. “She’s the only one here who hasn’t pretended they didn’t text me today.”
Callie slid her hand into the pocket of the backpack and quietly took out Gina’s phone. In the meantime, she felt her own phone start to vibrate, but she didn’t bother to check it. She was sure it was from one of her friends, playing another trick on her.
“Would you get off that already?” Mandi said, annoyed. “I told you before, I didn’t text you.”
Callie looked at the others. “What about the rest of you?”
David, Alyssa, and Grant shook their heads.
Callie focused on David and Alyssa. “You guys didn’t get a text from me during the Spanish test, asking what caliente meant?”
“No,” Alyssa said.
David took out his phone and thumbed through his messages. He showed the list to Callie. “You didn’t text me.”
“So you erased it,” Callie said. “What does that prove?”
Gina came back with the silverware, and everyone had lunch. Just before the period ended, while Callie was returning her tray to the kitchen, her cell phone vibrated. She opened it, knowing there’d be two messages—the one she hadn’t checked at the table, and now a new one. The texts read: DONT STEAL and DONT USE PEOPLE.
Callie rolled her eyes and shook her head. She was really getting tired of this.
As if someone had heard her, Callie’s phone didn’t vibrate again for the rest of the school day. Neither did Gina’s phone, because, after Callie took it, she turned it off and put it in her locker. Callie wasn’t worried that Gina would discover that her phone was missing. Kids were always losing their phones. Usually if you waited a day or two, someone would find it and call you.
When school ended, Callie walked home with Gina’s cell phone in her backpack. She had the perfect plan. Later that evening, she would text all her friends from Gina’s phone, saying that she (Gina) was having a big party the next night and would pay everyone ten dollars each to attend. Callie was certain Gina would find out and be so embarrassed that she wouldn’t dare set foot in school the next day. And then Callie wouldn’t have to worry about bringing the hoodie.
It was early January and very cold. Icicles hung from the bare branches of the trees, and a thick white cloud came out with each breath Callie took. She listened to her iPod as she walked home. The streets and sidewalks were icy, and several times she started to slip and had to catch herself to keep from falling. When she got to her street, she saw an old lady taking bags of groceries out of her car. Callie had seen the woman before and knew she had a bad hip. She limped and winced in pain when she walked, and, in these icy conditions, she had to keep one hand on her car to brace herself. Callie saw that the back of her car was filled with bags of groceries. The old lady would have to make a lot of trips to get all those groceries inside.
Callie’s cell phone vibrated. The message read: B HLPFL. She stopped and looked around. Somewhere, nearby, her friends had to be hiding behind a car or a tree and giggling. They must have followed her home. But Callie didn’t care. It was a stupid trick and had gotten old really fast. She felt sorry for whoever was sending her these texts, because obviously they had nothing better to do with their time. Meanwhile, she had no intention of helping the old woman. She should have known that if she bought a lot of groceries, she’d have to make a lot of trips.
Callie continued down the sidewalk. Her house was on the next block, and, to get to it, she had to cross the intersection at the bottom of a hill. The intersection was always busy. She waited until the light turned green. As she stepped off the curb, the phone in her pocket vibrated. Callie flipped open the phone. The text read: STOP!
Callie stopped. Suddenly, a loud horn blared. A huge truck barreled down the hill, hit a patch of ice, and skidded right through the intersection.
The truck roared past, and the wind from it ruffled Callie’s coat. The blood drained from her face, and she felt light-headed. Trembling, she turned and went back to the curb. If she had not stopped to read that text message, the truck would have run her over.
Still shaking, Callie looked around. One of her friends must have seen the truck coming and sent the text, right? But there was no one in sight. And even if they’d seen the truck coming down the hill, how could they have known it would hit the ice and skid? Once it had started to skid, there hadn’t been nearly enough time for someone to compose and send a text. Callie felt a shiver, which wasn’t caused by the cold. What if her friends had been telling the truth? What if they hadn’t sent those texts?
She made sure the intersection was clear and crossed the street. While she continued toward home, the phone, clutched tightly in her hand, vibra
ted again. With trembling fingers, she flipped it open.
The message read: THIS UR LAST CHANCE. FRM NOW ON, LISTN 2 WHAT I SAY!
THE SKELETON KEEPER
by David Levithan
It killed me when Dad had to close up his office and bring all the skeletons home. Our apartment was barely big enough for the three of us, and now there were at least twenty more.
“No,” my mom said. “No.”
But we didn’t have a choice. Money was tight, and the future looked even tighter if we didn’t make “some big changes.” My mom’s job behind a cash register didn’t pay well. Because I was ten, the only way I could make money was when neighbors needed something done. And, if anything, the dead needed my dad’s job more than the living.
This was because my dad built skeletons. Real skeletons, from real bones. When people died, they donated their bodies to science, and then science donated their bones to my father, who put them back together again. Then science would take them back—using the skeletons as teaching tools, so future doctors could work with real bones before operating on real people. But now, as other companies were making more accurate synthetic skeletons, fewer medical schools needed real ones. Or they skipped physical bones altogether and used computer simulations. My dad was being put out of business. But he was still receiving everyone’s bones.
It had been my grandfather’s job and my grandmother’s job and my great-grandfather’s job and my great-grandmother’s job. So Dad wasn’t letting go of it anytime soon. Even if it sent us to the poorhouse. Or killed us.
Dad brought the skeletons home one by one, each box neatly packed in the back of his station wagon, the closest to a coffin they’d ever come. Each of them had a name—not the real person’s name, but a name he had given it. “Let’s put Henry in the living room,” he’d say. Or, “I have a feeling Loretta would be most at home in the laundry room.” My mother would sigh and say, “Well, as long as Loretta doesn’t block the dryer, that’s fine.”
There wasn’t a workroom in our apartment, like there had been in Dad’s office. If he wanted to make new skeletons, he’d have to use the dining-room table. Mom was not about to allow that.
