by R. L. Stine
“Why are you in here?” Feingold repeated. “What are you doing with that computer?”
“Uh … Returning it,” I said. My voice cracked.
He rubbed his bear whiskers.
“I … borrowed it this afternoon,” I said. My heart was in my throat. I could barely speak. “Uh … Miss Rush asked me to bring it to her classroom. So now … I’m returning it.”
He nodded. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not.
He glanced at the wall clock. “It’s kind of late,” he said.
“I know,” I replied. “I … had to stay late in class. Working on a project. But I wanted to return the laptop.”
When did I get to be such a good liar?
“Very good,” Feingold said. “Don’t bother hooking it up. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
He believes me! Yay!
He flashed on the lights. “Have a nice evening, Jack,” he said. He lumbered toward his desk. “Thanks for returning the laptop.”
“Hey, no problem,” I said. Could he see the sweat pouring down my forehead?
I turned and hurried out of the computer room. No one in the hall.
I spun around the corner and started toward the front doors. I didn’t walk — I jogged.
I burst breathlessly out of the school, onto the front steps. The air was cool. The sun floated low behind the houses across the street.
“Well, that went well,” Emmy said sarcastically.
I uttered an angry cry. “You almost got me in a lot of trouble.”
“You failed, Jack,” she said coldly. “I hope you do better next time.”
Next time?
Yes.
There would be a next time. And a next time after that. And guess what? I finally ended up getting caught.
But that’s a long, frightening story.
25
That afternoon, Mom had to come pick me up in her car. I think she believed my story about having to stay late in the computer lab.
I was becoming a total liar, and I hated it.
After dinner, I called Eli. I needed him to think hard about my Emmy problem. I needed his help desperately.
I told him the whole story. About stealing the laptop. Everything.
Eli listened in near silence. Every few minutes, he muttered, “Wow. Wow.”
“ ‘Wow wow’ doesn’t help me,” I said. “What should I do?”
“Jack, it’s a no-brainer,” he answered.
“Excuse me? A no-brainer? What?”
“Stop fighting her. Find her a friend,” Eli said. “Find her a digital friend as fast as you can, and she’ll go away.”
“You’re definitely right,” I said. “But what will I have to steal to find the friend?”
The next morning, I found out.
I was walking through the halls at school, on my way to the lunchroom. I had the phone in one hand. My backpack bounced on my back.
I blinked at a white flash of light. The light bounced off the tile walls.
“I just got a signal,” Emmy said from the phone. “A strong signal.”
“You mean that flash of light?” I asked.
“Find it. Hurry,” she replied.
It didn’t take long to find out what made that flash. I turned the corner, and I saw Mick holding a little camera up to his face. He was taking Darryl’s picture against a locker. He flashed the camera again.
The phone buzzed in my hand. “That’s it,” Emmy said excitedly. “There’s someone in there. I’m getting a strong vibe. Go get it, Jack!”
I gasped. “Huh? Are you kidding me? That’s Mick’s camera. Do you really think I’m going to steal Mick’s camera?”
“Go get it — now!” The phone vibrated wildly in my hand. “I mean it, Jack. Go get it.”
“No way,” I said. “Mick will pound me into cat food.”
“I can hurt you too, Jack,” she said.
“Not if I put you away,” I replied.
I spun my backpack around and jammed the phone deep inside it.
“I’ll find you a friend,” I called into the backpack. “But I won’t steal Mick’s camera. You can’t do anything to make me.”
And then I opened my mouth in a horrified scream as my backpack burst into flames!
26
Other kids screamed. Mick and his friends backed away.
I hoisted the backpack — and slammed it against the wall until the flames were smothered.
I shook it hard. Smoke rose up from the canvas. I turned it in my hands, examining it.
Only slightly scorched. The bottom was all black. It smelled terrible.
“I can take a hint,” I called in to Emmy.
“Go steal the camera,” she said.
I sighed. “I’ll try.”
My legs were trembling. My stomach did flip-flops as I followed Mick and Darryl into the lunchroom.
I stayed far back in the food line. I definitely didn’t feel like eating. But I put some things on my tray. I didn’t even look to see what I was choosing.
Mick and Darryl and some other guys took a table in the corner. I saw Mick set his camera down and begin to paw through his food.
Mick eats with his hands. Even mac and cheese and Jell-O. No one has the nerve to tell him he eats like a pig. Probably, his parents are also afraid to tell him.
The camera sat on the edge of the table. Mick was talking to Darryl, who sat across from him. Mick was stuffing his mouth with both hands.
I took a deep breath. I started toward their table. I was going to end up with Mick’s camera. Or I was going to end up dead.
Was I a little tense?
I don’t have to answer that question.
“Hey, Jacko!” Mick shouted with a mouthful of food.
I pretended to be startled by his shout. And I faked a big fall. I tripped right at the side of the table. I stumbled forward. And dropped my tray onto Mick’s tray.
“Hey! Klutz!” Mick shot back as my food bounced off the tray.
In one quick motion, I slid the little camera off the table and shoved it into my jeans pocket.
Did anyone see?
I grabbed the edge of the table and caught my balance. “S-sorry,” I stammered. “I tripped.”
“No problem,” Mick said. He grabbed a plate of French fries off my tray and began gobbling them up.
Darryl took my ham-and-cheese sandwich and shoved it into his mouth. He giggled. “No problem, dude.”
I lifted my tray and started away. “Sorry,” I repeated.
I got away from them as fast as I could. I couldn’t breathe. My legs felt like rubber bands.
I knew any second Mick would shout: “Come back! Bring back my camera!”
But no.
I set the tray down and ran into the hall. The camera felt heavy in my jeans pocket.
“Success!” I told Emmy. “I took the camera — and I’m still alive!”
I pulled the camera from my pocket and jammed it into the burned backpack. “Is there a digital person in there?” I asked Emmy.
“I can’t tell,” she said. “We need to examine the camera carefully. Wait till we get home with it.”
That was a mistake.
Because we never got home with it.
27
After school, I hunched down in the back of the school bus and prayed that Mick and Darryl would leave me alone. I had the phone and the camera in my backpack on my lap. I kept my eyes down, trying to avoid trouble.
But trouble came anyway.
When I looked up, the two big bruisers were grinning down at me.
“How did you burn your backpack?” Mick demanded. He poked the burned bottom with a finger.
“Playing with matches?” Darryl said. He giggled as if he’d made a clever joke.
“Did you set it on fire?” Mick asked. “So you wouldn’t have to do homework?”
“N-no,” I stuttered. “I —”
Mick grabbed the backpack in his big, meaty hands. He swiped it away from me. “
Let’s see if he has matches in there,” he said.
“Yeah. Let’s see,” Darryl echoed.
“There aren’t any matches!” I cried. “Give it back! I mean it!”
I made a wild grab for the backpack. But Mick swung it out of my reach.
Grinning, he unzipped it and dumped everything out, onto the empty seat next to me.
His grin faded quickly when the camera bounced onto the seat.
He narrowed his eyes at it. He picked it up.
I’m doomed, I thought. I’m totally doomed. What should my last words be? Why didn’t I plan any last words?
I’m dead meat. The deadest meat in the world.
Think fast, Jack. Think fast.
“Uh … I bought the same camera as you,” I blurted out. “I saw you had one a couple of days ago. And … I bought the same one.”
Mick turned it over in his hand, examining it.
“Where’s your camera?” Darryl asked him.
Mick shrugged. “I think I left it in school.”
Wow, I thought, starting to breathe again. He doesn’t know it’s stolen.
Mick slapped Darryl on the shoulder. “You always wanted a camera like this — didn’t you?”
Darryl nodded. “Yeah. It’s cool.”
“Well, happy birthday,” Mick said. “Take it — it’s yours.”
“Hey, thanks, dude!” Darryl shoved the camera into his jacket pocket. He grinned at me. “Thanks, Jacko. You’re the man!”
I started to demand they give the camera back. But it wasn’t mine. It was Mick’s. How could I make a fuss about it?
The bus came to a stop in front of Mick’s house. Laughing, the two big jerks headed out the door.
Darryl waved to me from the sidewalk. He raised the camera. “Thanks, dude!” he shouted.
The bus pulled away.
I gathered up my books and the cell phone and shoved them back in my backpack.
“You messed up again, Jack.” Emmy’s voice rose from the phone. “Next time you’d better come through for me. Hear?”
“I hear,” I muttered. “I hear.”
I knew that next time I had to succeed. I had to find Emmy a friend. I had to get rid of her.
What a shame that next time turned out to be the worst night of my life.
28
That night.
I had finished dinner. I was in my room, playing a car-racing game on my laptop. My parents were across town visiting some friends. Mindy was downstairs babysitting Rachel.
A calm, quiet night. But then Emmy spoke up.
“We’re going out tonight, Jack. No arguments. It’s time for you to prove what a good friend you are.”
Mindy was in the kitchen making Pop-Tarts for Rachel. They smelled great. I just wanted to stay home and share some.
But I was a prisoner. A prisoner to a voice on a cell phone. And I had to do what I was told.
If I didn’t …
“Find me a friend, Jack,” she said as I sneaked out the front door. “Find me a friend who’s like me, and I’ll go away forever. I promise.”
It was a cool, windy night. Low clouds covered the moon. The streetlight on our curb was out. The front lawn was covered in darkness.
I started walking down the driveway. Was I shivering because of the wind or because I didn’t know what Emmy had in mind?
“Wh-what are we going to do?” I stammered.
A car rolled past slowly. Rap music blared from inside it. The headlights blinded me for a moment.
“Keep walking,” Emmy ordered. “To the house on the corner.”
I walked quickly toward the corner. I had the phone in my jacket pocket. I tried to zip the jacket, but the zipper stuck. I gave up after three or four tugs.
A few seconds later, I stood on the sidewalk, gazing up at the corner house. The Howells lived there. My parents knew them. They weren’t friends, but sometimes they talked in the front yard.
The front porch light sent out a pale circle of yellow light. The rest of the house was dark.
“Why are we here?” I asked Emmy. “What are we doing?”
“You’re going to break into the house,” she replied.
“Huh? Excuse me?” My voice came out high and shrill.
“You heard me, Jack.”
“I’m a kid. I’m twelve years old,” I protested. “I don’t break into houses.”
“Sure, you do,” she said. “You’d do it for me, right?”
I studied the house. The garage door was open. No car inside. “Looks like no one is home,” I said.
“See? It will be easy,” Emmy said. “You’ll be in and out of there in a minute or two. And I’ll be right there with you.”
I laughed. “That’s a big help. No one can see you.”
Her voice turned angry. “Don’t make fun of me, Jack.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay. You want me to break into the Howells’ house. And what am I supposed to do in there?”
“Find a clock radio,” she said. “Find a clock radio and steal it.”
“That’s crazy,” I said.
“No, it isn’t. I’m getting a signal, Jack. There’s a digital clock radio in this house. And someone is trapped inside it. I know I’m right. You have to go in there and bring out the clock.”
I stared at the dark windows. At the tall chimney, black against the black sky. At the dim light from the porch.
My mind whirred. My stomach churned.
“I … can’t do it,” I told her. “I’m sorry. I can’t break into someone’s house. I just can’t!”
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
I screamed and grabbed my ears as a deafening, high-pitched wail blasted from the cell phone.
A powerful whistle, it grew higher … higher … more shrill.
I pressed my hands over my ears, but I couldn’t close out the sound. I shut my eyes against the pain. It felt like my head was about to explode.
I dropped to my knees. My whole body twisted in pain as the shrill whistle rose … rose higher …
… Then it finally stopped.
I gasped. I was panting hard. My head ached and throbbed.
I just stayed there on my knees on the driveway, waiting for my body to stop shaking, for my head to stop pounding.
I glanced around. Did the neighbors hear the whistle?
No. The houses nearby were dark.
Where was the cell phone? I spotted it on the grass where I must have dropped it. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I moved to the phone and picked it up.
“Have you learned your lesson, Jack?” Emmy’s voice rose from the little speaker.
“Do I have a choice?” I muttered. My ears were still ringing.
“Go get the clock radio,” she replied.
“Okay, okay.” I tucked the phone back into my jacket pocket. Then I moved up the driveway on shaky legs.
The windows at the side of the house were all dark. There was no one home.
I found a kitchen window half open. I pushed it up all the way. Climbed onto the window ledge. And lowered myself into the dark kitchen.
29
“OUCH!”
I bumped hard into something. A table? A cabinet?
Dishes clattered. Something crashed. “Oh … I don’t like this!” I whispered. “I … can’t see a thing.”
Dark clouds kept any light from seeping into the kitchen window. “Where is the kitchen door?”
“Calm down,” Emmy said, her voice muffled by my jacket pocket. “Take a breath. Your eyes will adjust.”
“No way,” I protested. “It’s pitch-black —”
And then I uttered a scream as something brushed against my leg.
“Th-there’s something in here,” I stammered.
It brushed my leg again. I nearly leaped out of my skin.
It purred. A cat. The Howells have a cat.
“You’re wasting time, Jack,” Emmy scolded. “You don’t want to get caught — do you?”
&nb
sp; Stupid question. I didn’t bother to answer it.
My eyes adjusted slowly to the blackness. I found the kitchen door and slipped into the narrow, dark hall.
“Where is the radio?” I asked Emmy. “Can you tell from the signal? Where is it?”
She hesitated for a moment. “It’s in their bedroom,” she said finally. “I think.”
“You think?”
“The signal isn’t strong,” she said. “It’s hard to read. Try the bedroom, Jack. You don’t have time to stand here and argue with me.”
The floorboards creaked under my shoes as I made my way slowly down the hall. It grew darker. I could barely see the wall beside me.
My shoulder bumped a framed painting or photo on the wall. It slid and scraped the wall but didn’t fall off.
I stepped into the doorway at the end of the hallway. “I think this is the bedroom,” I whispered.
“Turn on a light,” she said. “Just for a second. Just long enough to find the clock radio.”
My hand fumbled on the wall. It took a long while to find the light switch.
Finally, I flipped it on. A ceiling light flashed on, sending white light over the room.
I saw a double bed with a purple bedspread. A flat screen TV on a long, low dresser. A stack of paperback books on a bed table.
Hidden behind the books — a white digital clock radio. The time was 9:23.
“I see it,” I told her. I flipped off the ceiling light. I moved carefully to the bed. Then I ran my hand along the bedspread to guide me to the bed table.
“Grab the radio,” Emmy said excitedly. “Unplug it and let’s get out of here.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” I snapped in a shrill, tense voice.
My hands fumbled over the radio. My heart was pounding. I could hear the blood pulsing at my temples.
I’d never been so scared. I definitely wasn’t cut out to be a thief.
I trailed my hand down the cord from the back of the radio until I found the plug. I gave it a hard tug. The plug came free.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay. Okay.”
I raised the clock radio and quickly wrapped the cord around it. “We’re outta here!” I whispered.
I spun away from the bed table. My shoe caught in the thick carpet, and I almost fell onto the bed.
