by R. L. Stine
“Listen to me,” I said. “It isn’t funny. The girls came to help me. They said we have to get out of HorrorLand. We have to get to the other park.”
Carly Beth rolled her eyes. “There were no other girls,” she said. “You hit your head, Robby. You knocked yourself out. You dreamed it.”
“Come on. Let’s go find the others,” Sabrina said. She took my left arm. Carly Beth took my right. They began to lead me out of the arcade.
My mind spun. Were they right? Was it just a crazy dream? Did I dream that those two missing girls came to my rescue? They seemed so real….
“Hey — stop!” I cried. I jerked my arms free. Just inside the door, I bent down and picked something up off the floor….
The golden token.
I knew Granny Vee wasn’t feeling well. But I didn’t know how sick she was. And of course I didn’t know that she was about to send my brother, Peter, and me on the most terrifying trip of our lives.
In one week, Peter and I would be listening to the frightening moans of ancient mummies. And covering our ears against their ugly chants.
But today, we were in Granny Vee’s living room, running and ducking behind the furniture, laughing and shouting. “HEYYYYY!” I let out a scream as a cold blast of water hit my forehead.
Peter laughed. “Nice move, Abby. You walked right into it!”
I growled and dropped to my knees behind the green corduroy couch. I wiped the water off my face. Then I checked out the tank on my water blaster. Still half full.
I leaned forward. Tensed and waited with my finger on the plastic trigger.
Peter was hiding behind the flowery orange-and-yellow curtains. I could see his white sneakers poking out from the bottom.
I waited … waited … and let go a long, full blast the second he stepped out. It smacked him in the chest and soaked the front of his T-shirt. He stumbled back to the window. His blaster sent a wild spray up toward the ceiling.
“Are you two having fun?”
We both turned to see Granny Vee step into the room. She waved her black cane in the air. “Is it my mistake?” she asked. “I thought I was in my living room. But I seem to have wandered into a water park.”
Peter stepped away from the window and lowered his head. “Sorry,” he muttered.
I brushed my wet hair out of my eyes. My hair is long and black and very straight. My best feature. And I don’t like having it soaked.
I picked up my water bottle from the coffee table and took a long drink.
“I begged you not to use those water guns in the house,” Granny Vee said, peering at us through her thick, square-framed glasses.
“Sorry,” Peter repeated.
I did one of my famous long-distance water spits and showered the back of his neck.
He let out a squeal and jumped a mile.
“I win!” I said, pumping my fists high above my head.
“Abby, you’re a cheater,” Granny Vee said, unable to keep a straight face.
She thinks I’m a riot.
“Cheaters never quit, and a quitter never cheats,” Granny Vee said. It was one of her favorite sayings.
“It isn’t funny!” Peter grumbled. He pulled the soaked T-shirt off, balled it up angrily, and tossed it at me.
Peter has long, straight black hair, too. He’s as skinny as a broom handle and short. He’s ten — two years younger than me — but he looks like he’s seven or eight. Granny Vee says she can’t understand why he doesn’t grow more — since he eats enough for ten kids!
I’m nearly a foot taller than he is. Which gives me a real advantage in our water-blaster battles. I don’t think he’s ever won one. Especially when I use my spectacular water-spitting skills against him.
Peter stuck his tongue out at me. Then he stormed out of the room. He’s a sore loser.
“Come sit down, Abby.” Granny Vee waved me to the couch. I noticed that she was leaning more heavily on her cane than usual.
Her hair has stayed shiny and black. But that day, I saw long gray streaks poking through. And her skin was very pale, so tight I could see her cheekbones underneath.
She lowered herself beside me and squeezed my hand. Her hand was ice-cold!
“I need to talk to you,” she said. She looked down at the floor. “I haven’t been feeling well.”
Those words sent a shock down the back of my neck. I gasped. Granny Vee is the only family Peter and I have. We’ve been living with Granny Vee since we were little.
If anything happened to her …
She kept her gaze on the floor. I saw her shoulders tremble. She was always the powerhouse in the family. Suddenly, she looked so frail.
“I’m going to check into the hospital for some tests,” she said softly.
“Tests?” I cried. “What kind of tests?”
She squeezed my hand again. “It’ll be okay.” Her voice was a whisper.
“But … what about Peter and me?” I asked.
She finally turned to look at me. “I have a nice plan for you,” she said. “The two of you are going to stay with your Uncle Jonathan.”
I blinked. “Who?”
“Your Uncle Jonathan. He hasn’t seen you since you were a baby.” She smiled. “He’s fun. You’ll see.”
“Where … where does he live?” I asked.
“He lives in an old house in a tiny village in Vermont, called Cranford,” Granny Vee said. “It’ll be a big change from Boston for you. I think you’ll both find it very interesting.”
My heart was pounding. There were a million questions I wanted to ask. But I couldn’t get them out.
“Jonathan can’t wait to see you,” Granny Vee said. “I sent him pictures of you and Peter. He was thrilled.”
She saw the look on my face.
“You’ll like him, Abby. He’s a very interesting man. And besides, it’s only for two weeks.”
“But I’m worried about you, Granny Vee,” I said. “Why are you sending us to a faraway village? Shouldn’t Peter and I stay close?”
She squeezed the handle of her cane. Her hand was so small and white. “Your cell phone will work in Jonathan’s village,” she said. “We’ll talk all the time. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine at all.
R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street and the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at www.RLStine.com.
Goosebumps book series created by Parachute Press, Inc.
Goosebumps HorrorLand #5: Dr. Maniac vs. Robby Schwartz
copyright © 2008 by Scholastic Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, GOOSEBUMPS, GOOSEBUMPS HORRORLAND, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, October 2008
e-ISBN 978-0-545-84040-8
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