Don't Scream!

by R. L. Stine

  “You’re still my friend, Jack. My only friend. And friends help friends, don’t they?”

  “You … you’re ruining my life!” I cried.

  “Only for one more day,” a boy’s voice said. Mick’s grinning face loomed from the seat in front of me. He glanced from my watch to my surprised face.

  “Who were you talking to, Jacko?” he demanded.

  Darryl popped up beside him. He was working a toothpick up and down between his lips. He scowled, trying to look tough.

  “Nobody,” I said.

  “Talking to your watch?” Mick asked. “I heard you were going totally mental. Is it true?”

  “Give me a break,” I said. I pulled my jacket sleeve over the watch.

  “I am giving you a break,” Mick said. “I’m not going to pound you for stealing my camera.”

  “Uh … thanks,” I said.

  “I’m moving away — remember?” Mick said. “This is my last day on the school bus. My family is leaving for Detroit tomorrow morning.”

  I wanted to jump up and cheer and celebrate. Instead, I said, “Gee, your last day?”

  He nodded. His grin grew wider. He leaned over the seat back till he was practically in my lap.

  The bus started up. “Everyone, sit down!” Charlene shouted from the front.

  Mick and Darryl ignored her.

  “What should we do on my last day?” Mick asked me. “What would be fun, Jack?”

  “Uh … we could sit down in our seats and pretend we don’t know each other?” I said.

  It was supposed to be funny, but they didn’t laugh.

  Mick and Darryl looked at each other. Darryl spit the toothpick onto my chest.

  “How about something special today?” Darryl said. “You know. Since it’s your last day?”

  Mick nodded. “Something to remember me by,” he said.

  His words sent a chill to the back of my neck.

  “Oh, don’t worry, dude. I’ll remember you,” I said. I was trying to sound calm, but my voice cracked.

  “Let’s de-pants him,” Mick said.

  Darryl chuckled. “Yeah. De-pants him. And make him walk up and down the aisle so everyone can see him in his underpants.”

  “And throw his jeans out the bus window,” Mick added.

  That made them both laugh.

  “Uh … wait …” I begged.

  But Mick grabbed me and pulled me out of my seat. Darryl held my arms behind me. And then Mick grabbed my jeans and tugged hard.

  “De-pants him! De-pants him! De-pants him!” Darryl chanted at the top of his lungs.

  I knew everyone was watching.

  But what could I do?

  35

  Out the bus window, I saw Mick’s house. The bus started to slow.

  Darryl gripped my arms tightly behind me. Mick gave a hard tug to my jeans.

  Suddenly, I had an idea.

  “Wait! How about a deal?” I cried. “How about a trade?”

  Mick let go of my jeans and raised his eyes to me. “A trade? What kind of trade?”

  “My watch,” I said. “My digital watch. You’ve been trying to get it for weeks, right? I give you my watch, and you let me keep my jeans on.”

  I hated to lose it. I loved it. It was such a special watch.

  But with Emmy inside it, I didn’t want it anymore.

  Would my crazy plan work?

  “Okay, deal,” Mick said.

  Darryl let go of my arms. I pulled the watch off my wrist and handed it to Mick.

  He grinned. “Thanks, man.”

  The bus stopped. He turned and hurried up the aisle, waving the watch above his head in triumph. “Good-bye forever!” he shouted. “Have a nice life!”

  He jumped off the bus. Darryl followed, as always.

  I watched them race up to Mick’s house.

  Then I dropped into my seat with a smile on my face.

  Was it the perfect revenge?

  Yes, I told myself. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  Good-bye forever, Mick, I thought. Have fun with the watch. And congrats, dude — you’ve got yourself a new best friend!

  36

  A few minutes later, I burst into the house. I sat down next to Rachel at the kitchen counter and had a big bowl of mac and cheese with her.

  I was humming as I ate. Then I jumped up and did a wild victory dance.

  Mindy was eyeing me. “You feeling okay?”

  “I feel awesome!” I said.

  “You’re a little weird,” Mindy said. “You’re not going to smash anything, are you?”

  “No way,” I told her. “Those days are over.”

  “You’re definitely weird,” Rachel said.

  I pulled her off her stool and did a crazy victory dance with her.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon on my dad’s phone with Eli. I had to tell him what I’d done to Mick. We couldn’t stop laughing about it.

  “Genius!” Eli kept saying. “Genius! Genius!”

  He was right.

  I got off the phone and ran downstairs when Mom and Dad got home from work. “How are you feeling?” Mom asked, studying me.

  “I feel great!” I exclaimed. “Awesome. Excellent.”

  Dad had a box in his hand. “Here. This is for you, Jack,” he said. He shoved it into my hands.

  “We know you’ve been going through a hard time,” Mom said, setting down her briefcase. “We bought you a new cell phone.”

  “Really?” I gazed at the box. My throat suddenly felt tight.

  I really wanted a new phone. But what if … What if Emmy somehow showed up in it? What if the horror all started up again?

  Impossible, I decided. No way. She’s with Mick now. She’ll be moving to Detroit with him in the morning.

  After dinner, I was up in my room when the new phone rang.

  I just stared at it. I was afraid to answer. Afraid …

  On the fourth ring, I picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Jack?”

  I let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Emmy. It was a boy. A boy’s voice. Yes!

  “Hey, Jack. It’s me. Mick.”

  “Mick?”

  “You’ve got to help me, Jack. She trapped me in here. Get me out of this phone, Jack. You’ve got to help me. I can hurt you. I can really hurt you.”

  WELCOME BACK TO THE HALL OF HORRORS

  Your story is over, Jack. But your phone is ringing. You probably don’t want to answer that. It might be a wrong number — a VERY wrong number.

  I can understand why your ringtone is a SCREAM OF HORROR.

  It’s getting late. You can sleep in the guest deadroom tonight. The housecreeper is making it up for you. Don’t worry — she’ll move the bats to another room. Just watch out for the sticky stuff on the floor.

  Have a pleasant sleep. Hope you don’t hear voices.

  I am the Story-Keeper, and I will keep your story here in the Hall of Horrors where it belongs.

  Now I see we have a new visitor. Come in, come in. Don’t be shy.

  Your name is Lee Hargrove? Yes. And I see you have brought some sort of claw with you. A vulture claw.

  Is that a good-luck charm? I don’t think it was good luck for the vulture! Ha-ha.

  Well, sit down, Lee. Tell us your story. It’s called Birthday Party of No Return. Go ahead. Speak up. There’s Always Room for One More Scream in the Hall of Horrors.

  Preview

  Ready for More?

  Here’s another tale from the Hall of Horrors:

  THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

  OF NO RETURN!

  1

  My name is Lee Hargrove, and I want to start out by saying that Cory Duckworth is my friend.

  It’s true that I hate Cory a lot of the time. But that’s only because he is so lucky. Cory is lucky all the time. I mean, twenty-four hours a day and on weekends, too.

  That’s why a lot of kids at Garfield Middle School call him Lucky Duck. (Duckworth — get it?)

  Cory even looks lucky. H
e has curly blond hair and round blue eyes, a nice smile, and a dimple in his chin. You know. The kind of cute dimple that says I’m luckier than you.

  Cory is smart and has a funny sense of humor. And he’s really good at sports. Which is another reason why I hate him.

  See, I’m into sports, too. And I have a goal. I guess you could call it my one big dream in life.

  All I want is a scholarship to Summer Sports Camp.

  It’s only spring. But I think about it all the time. Summer Sports Camp is very expensive. My parents are both teachers at the high school. They say they can’t afford it.

  So I need a scholarship.

  I don’t want to hang around the house playing the same video game over and over like I did last summer. Some awesome pro athletes teach at the camp. I have to be there. I have to meet them.

  Can I get the scholarship? There are only a few things in my way. And most of them are Cory Duckworth.

  See, Lucky Duck is trying for the same scholarship. And so is Laura Grodin. Laura is twelve like us, and she’s in our class.

  Some kids say I have a total crush on Laura, and they may be right.

  Cory, Laura, and I, and a bunch of other kids are trying out for the scholarship. I know we three are the best. But only one kid can win it from our school.

  That means Laura and I are competing against one of the luckiest dudes in the universe. How can we defeat that dimple? Those sparkling blue eyes? That winning smile?

  It won’t be easy. We have to compete in three different sports. And none of them are my best sport. But we also get judged on sportsmanship and improvement and desire. And I plan to win at ALL of those.

  I’m going to do whatever it takes. I’m serious.

  After school, I was walking down the crowded hall to my locker. Lots of kids were heading to the soccer field. See, our soccer team, the Garfield Gorillas, plays in a spring league.

  I ducked under the low yellow and blue banner: GO GORILLAS.

  And suddenly, someone was waving something under my nose. I pulled my head back, and I saw it clearly — a twenty-dollar bill.

  Yes. Lucky Duckworth was crinkling a twenty-dollar bill in my face. And he was flashing me his toothy grin.

  “Check it out, Lee,” he said. He rubbed the money on my cheek.

  I tried to jerk my face away. “What’s up with that?”

  Cory danced away a few feet. He never walks. He dances or he struts or he shuffles and slides.

  “Remember? I found this money in the lunchroom?” Cory said. “Well, guess what? I turned it in to the principal’s office. But no one claimed it. So I get to keep it.”

  “Lucky,” I muttered.

  Typical, I thought to myself.

  That’s a perfect Cory story. I guess you’re starting to get the idea. He doesn’t need a rabbit’s foot for luck.

  Cory danced off down the hall. I stuck my head in my locker and screamed for a minute or two. I wasn’t angry or upset. Really. Sometimes it just feels good to scream.

  I mean, Cory is my friend. I can’t get angry when good things happen to him — right?

  I pulled my head from the locker and gazed down the hall. Laura Grodin was leaning against the wall, talking to Cory. She kept running a hand through her straight red hair and blinking her green eyes at Cory.

  He was flashing the twenty-dollar bill in her face. And bragging about what a good finder he is. I heard him say he could sniff out money from two blocks away.

  Ha. Guess he also plans to sniff out the scholarship money that I desperately need.

  I watched him showing off to Laura. And I thought: I don’t want anything bad to happen to Cory. I just wish there was a way to borrow his good luck for a while.

  Cory and Laura walked off together. I saw Mr. Grady, a school janitor, up high on a ladder in the middle of the hall. He was reaching both hands up to replace a ceiling light.

  Cory and Laura stopped at one side of the ladder.

  Mr. Grady had the big metal light fixture in both hands. What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion.

  The janitor let out a cry. I saw the heavy fixture slip from his grasp.

  Laura was talking to Cory. She didn’t see it fall. It was going to crush her head.

  I opened my mouth in a horrified scream.

  GOOSEBUMPS HorrorLand™

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  #3 MONSTER BLOOD FOR BREAKFAST!

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  #7 MY FRIENDS CALL ME MONSTER

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  BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

  SAY CHEESE AND DIE!

  THE HORROR AT CAMP JELLYJAM

  HOW I GOT MY SHRUNKEN HEAD

  THE WEREWOLF OF FEVER SWAMP

  A NIGHT IN TERROR TOWER

  WELCOME TO DEAD HOUSE

  WELCOME TO CAMP NIGHTMARE

  GHOST BEACH

  THE SCARECROW WALKS AT MIDNIGHT

  YOU CAN’T SCARE ME!

  RETURN OF THE MUMMY

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  VAMPIRE BREATH

  STAY OUT OF THE BASEMENT

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  About the Author

  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.

  Copyright

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  Goosebumps book series created by Parachute Press, Inc.

  Copyright © 2012 by Scholastic Inc.

  Cover design by Steve Scott

  Cover art by Brandon Dorman

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, GOOSEBUMPS, GOOSEBUMPS HORRORLAND, and associated logos are tradem
arks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  First printing, January 2012

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  eISBN: 978-0-545-39257-0