Series 2000- Are You Terrified Yet?

  Series 2000- Are You Terrified Yet?

  R. L. Stine

  Scholastic (1998)

  * * *

  Rating: ★★★☆☆

  Tags: Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, Horror, Schools, Children's Stories, Horror Tales, Horror Ghost Stories, Horror Stories, Courage, Bullies, Fear, Spiders

  Fictionttt Juvenile Fictionttt Horrorttt Schoolsttt Children's Storiesttt Horror Talesttt Horror Ghost Storiesttt Horror Storiesttt Couragettt Bulliesttt Fearttt Spidersttt

  Craig's the new kid in school. Everyone in town thinks he's a big hero. But the school bullies aren't convinced. They're going to run a little test involving--for starters--a jar filled with tarantulas.

  Goosebumps (R)

  Series 2000

  No. 9

  ARE YOU TERRIFIED YET?

  by

  R.l. STINE

  Copyright 1998 by Parachute Press, Inc.

  BOOK JACKET INFORMATION

  Goosebumps

  No. 9

  APPLE FICTION

  Along came a spider …

  Welcome to the new

  millennium of fear

  Goosebumps (R)

  SERIES 2000

  “Go, Craig! Go, Craig!” Amy chanted, urging me on. I lowered my hands to the coffin lid. The wood felt cool and smooth, my heart pounded so hard, I could barely breathe. It’s no big deal. A coffin is just a big wooden box. It’s no different from lying down on a bed. I took a deep breath. Pushed with all my strength. The coffin lid slid open. I gazed inside—and started to scream.

  SCHOLASTIC INC. RL4 008-012

  ARE YOU TERRIFIED YET?

  I let out a scream as the huge insect scraped the back of my neck. I could feel its pincers prickle my skin.

  My hand shot up to my neck. I grabbed the bug. “Whoooa!” I nearly toppled off my bike.

  I braked hard. Caught my balance.

  And stared down at the brown leaf crinkled in my hand.

  A leaf? A dead leaf?

  Not a huge, disgusting insect.

  “Oh, wow.” With a groan, I crumpled the leaf and tossed it to the street.

  Craig, remember your promise, I scolded myself. You’re starting a new school—and a new life. You never heard the word wimp before. You never heard the name Fraidy Cat.

  That’s all in the past, I reminded myself. You left those names behind at your old school.

  Starting today, you’re going to be brave, Craig. You’re going to be fearless.

  You’re going to be a superhero!

  My bike tire crunched over the brown leaf as I shifted gears and started pedaling again. I shook my head.

  Craig, how will you ever be a superhero if you scream because a leaf scrapes your neck?

  Well … it was a pretty big leaf, I told myself.

  Do you ever have conversations with yourself on the way to school in the morning? Do you ever talk to yourself about what you plan to do and not do?

  Well, I do. My name is Craig Morgenstern. I turned twelve a few weeks ago.

  My family moved to Middle Valley, a little town in Ohio that you’ve probably never heard of. It’s not in the middle of anything, and it doesn’t even have a valley. But Middle Valley means a lot to me.

  It means I can start a whole new life.

  Know what the kids at my old school called me?

  Can-Can-Can-Craig.

  That’s because I stammer when I’m frightened. And since I’m frightened all the time, I stammer a lot.

  Can-Can-Can-Craig.

  They thought that was so funny. But every time someone called me that, I just wanted to sink into the ground and disappear forever.

  Some people are braver than others—and just about everyone is braver than me.

  Maybe it’s because most kids my age are bigger than me. I’m short and very skinny. I have crazy brown hair that refuses to stay down. Most of the time, my hair looks as if it’s standing straight up in fright!

  Kids at my old school loved to make me scream.

  They would jump out at me from their lockers. And sneak up behind me and pinch me. Or drop bugs and worms and things down my back.

  I won’t even tell you what they did to me last Halloween. I start to shake just thinking about it.

  But that’s old news.

  No way anyone at Middle Valley Middle School will ever call me Can-Can-Can-Craig.

  Because I’m the new me.

  Of course I felt nervous starting a new school. My hands were cold and sweaty on the handlebars of my bike. My leg muscles kept cramping up as I pedaled downhill.

  But nervous is normal—right? Nervous isn’t the same as scared.

  The morning breeze felt cool on my hot cheeks. The sun was still a red ball, floating low over the rooftops. The leaves shimmering on the trees were bright shades of red and yellow. Fall had started early this year.

  A maroon van filled with kids and dogs rumbled past me. The dogs barked and frantically pawed the back window as the van rolled by.

  I shifted gears again. The hill leading down to the school was pretty steep.

  I crossed a street and passed a group of kids. It was easy to tell this was the first day of school. They were all talking at once, very excited. And their backpacks were all new and clean and stiff-looking.

  Most of the kids seemed to be about my age. I wondered if any of them would be my friends.

  I watched them cross the street, thinking about how hard it is to make new friends.

  I should have kept my eye on the road.

  My front tire hit something—a rock, I think. Before I could cry out or catch my balance, the bike skidded … skidded … and toppled over.

  My hands flew up.

  I hit the pavement hard.

  Pain shot up my side.

  The bike fell on top of me. One handlebar jabbed into my ribs.

  I groaned and waited for the pain to fade. Then I started to push the bike off me.

  But before I could move, I saw a blue car rolling down the hill.

  I heard a baby cry. A high, shrill wail … from the backseat.

  And behind the wheel—nobody!

  No driver. No driver …

  The baby screaming.

  The car rolling faster now, about to run right over me.

  I froze in panic.

  But the baby’s scream forced me to move. My arms and legs all kicked out at once, like a bug on its back.

  I shoved the bike off me and jumped to my feet.

  The blue car rolled faster. It looked like a roller-coaster car zooming down a track.

  Hunched in the middle of the street, I blinked once. Twice. Trying to make a driver appear behind the wheel.

  But no. No driver.

  And the car rolled toward me. A few feet away. The baby howling in terror.

  I heard another cry—and raised my eyes to the top of the hill. “My baby! My baby!” A red-haired woman came running frantically down the hill, both arms churning the air, her yellow jacket flying behind her like a cape.

  I sucked in a deep breath. And moved to the driver’s side.

  Here it comes! Here it comes!

  I didn’t think. No time to make a plan.

  I readied myself. Tightened every muscle. Timed it … timed it …

  As the car rolled past, I grabbed for the door handle.

  And missed.

  “Oh, no!” A cry escaped my throat as my hand hit the door.

  I made a wild leap.

  Hit the side of the car and bounced off. I landed on my knees at the side of the street.

  “Noooooo!”

  I heard others screaming now. And glimpsed the red-haired woman, her hands pumping, her scream like a chant
: “My baby! My baby!”

  I turned to see the car rolling faster now, rocketing down the hill—to an intersection. I saw a red traffic light. Kids crossing. The intersection crowded with kids.

  Craig, get moving! I ordered myself. Save that baby!

  I forced my legs to run. Stumbling, staggering, I chased after the car. Off-balance, my head spinning, the baby’s shrill wails ringing in my ears, I caught up with the car.

  Ran alongside it.

  Reached out both hands. Stretched …

  Stretched for the door handle.

  No. I can’t reach it, I saw. I can’t catch it.

  I can’t …

  Down below, I saw kids crossing the street.

  “Look out! Look out!” I screamed to them.

  Inside the car, I saw tiny pink hands waving wildly in the backseat.

  I struggled to run faster.

  I reached out … reached out …

  Missed again.

  Then I grabbed it. My hand tightened around the handle.

  Running as fast as I could to keep up with the car, I pulled open the car door.

  I leaped headfirst into the front seat.

  The baby wailed and thrashed its little arms. It squirmed and struggled in its car seat.

  I pushed myself up. Gasping, I lowered my foot. It bumped the brake pedal.

  I raised my foot—and slammed it down hard.

  The car lurched. And rocked to a stop.

  I bounced forward. My head hit the windshield.

  “Ohhh.” Pain shot down my body. I shut my eyes.

  The hard jolt of the car made the baby stop crying. Outside, I could hear kids shouting. Loud cries of surprise and alarm.

  I did it, I realized. I stopped the car in time.

  I could feel the blood pulsing at my temples. I felt so dizzy … so dizzy, I couldn’t hold my head up.

  Everything went bright red. The red faded to white. A throbbing white light.

  I think I started to faint.

  But the mother’s shouts snapped me awake. “My baby! My baby!”

  The back door flew open. The red-haired woman leaned into the car. She unfastened the baby and lifted it in her arms.

  I sat behind the wheel, still gasping for breath. My whole body started to quake and shake.

  Did I really do that? I asked myself.

  I climbed dizzily out of the car. I rubbed my forehead. It still ached from bumping the windshield.

  Kids surrounded the car, all talking at once, all staring at me.

  Hugging her baby tight, the woman came hurrying over to me.

  “That’s the bravest thing I ever saw!” she declared. She hugged me with her free hand. “You are a hero!”

  I could feel my face growing hot, and I knew I was blushing.

  Me? A hero?

  Some kids started to cheer. Someone slapped me on the back.

  The woman had tears running down her face. “I got out of the car to mail a letter,” she explained. “I didn’t see the car rolling downhill. It … it could have been a tragedy.”

  “Yeah. I guess …,” I murmured. I didn’t know what to say.

  I think I was in shock. My head was spinning. I couldn’t feel my feet touching the ground. I was numb!

  The woman shifted the baby to her other arm. Then she turned to the crowd. “Did you see what this boy did? He jumped off his bike and threw his body against the car to stop it!”

  Well … that wasn’t exactly right. Not exactly the way it happened. But with everyone staring and clapping and talking, I didn’t feel like arguing.

  “He was nearly killed!” the woman exclaimed, wiping away tears. “But he risked his life to save my baby and all the kids in the street. I never saw anything so brave!”

  Another loud cheer rose up.

  I jammed my hands into my jeans pockets, trying to stop from shaking.

  I didn’t feel brave. I didn’t feel like a hero. I knew that my big rescue was pretty much an accident.

  I mean, I didn’t jump off my bike. I fell!

  And then, when I saw that car coming at me, I didn’t know what I was doing!

  As the crowd cheered and congratulated me, I felt like confessing. It was all just an accident. I’m not really brave!

  But I kept my mouth shut. I forced a modest smile.

  This is your big chance, Craig, I told myself. This is a lucky moment for you. This is your chance to make sure that no one ever calls you Can-Can-Can-Craig again.

  The woman hugged me again. She leaned into the car and started to strap in the baby.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I spun around.

  I stared at a girl with black curly hair and round black eyes.

  “Are you the new kid in the sixth grade?” she asked. She had a smooth, low voice, a grownup’s voice. “I heard there was a new kid in our class this year.”

  She wore a black vest over a white top, a short black skirt over black tights.

  I nodded. “I guess.” If only I could get my heart to stop racing. And my legs to stop trembling.

  “I’m in your class,” she announced. “I’m Amy Suskind.”

  She introduced me to the two guys with her— Travis Walker and Brad Caperton. “They’re in our class too,” Amy said.

  “I’m Craig Morgenstern,” I told them, my voice still breathless and shaky.

  Travis and Brad gazed at me suspiciously. They were both tall and lean.

  Brad had short, spiky dark hair. He wore a black denim jacket, a blue T-shirt, and faded jeans, torn at both knees.

  Travis had freckles on his nose and cheeks. He had intense green eyes. He wore a Cleveland Indians cap pulled down low over his forehead. A tiny silver ring gleamed in one earlobe.

  Amy’s round dark eyes peered into mine. “Craig, are you always this brave?” she asked.

  “Uh … yeah. I guess so,” I replied.

  Brad narrowed his eyes at me. His lips formed a sneer. “You mean you do stuff like this all the time?”

  I cleared my throat. “Well, yeah,” I said. “I try to. It keeps me from getting bored.”

  What am I saying? I asked myself.

  Why am I acting like such a jerk?

  I guess I wanted to take advantage of this lucky accident. No more Can-Can-Can-Craig. Not ever again.

  Little did I know how much total terror my bragging would bring me.

  Little did I know that my words would lead me into a coffin.

  A locker door slammed behind me. I jumped a mile.

  I instantly spun around to check if anyone had seen me jump.

  It was the second day of school, and I was enjoying my new role as hero.

  Kids I didn’t know waved and nodded to me in the hall. In the lunchroom on Monday, I heard a tableful of really cute girls talking about me. They kept glancing over to my table and smiling.

  Even some of the teachers flashed me a thumbs-up as I passed them in the halls.

  Craig, this is excellent, I told myself.

  I think I’m going to like it here!

  I caught myself strutting to class. I had to remind myself not to get too carried away.

  Deep down inside, you’re still Can-Can-Can-Craig, I told myself.

  Amy and Travis came around the corner, bumping each other playfully, trying to slam one another into the wall.

  “Everyone is still talking about what you did yesterday,” Amy said, giving Travis a hard bump that sent him flying.

  “Oh, that was nothing,” I bragged. “Really. What’s the big deal?”

  She laughed, tossing back her black curls. Her dark eyes flashed. I could see how much she admired me. I could see she looked up to me—even though she was six inches taller!

  She thinks you’re great, Craig, I told myself. Don’t blow it.

  Travis straightened his backpack on his shoulders. “You want to do something brave?” he asked.

  “Well …” I hesitated.

  Travis motioned across the hall. “Help Brad beat u
p his big brother.”

  Amy and I followed Travis’s gaze. Across the hall, a big, athletic-looking guy was shoving Brad into an open locker. Brad was struggling and squirming. But the big guy was too strong for him.

  “That’s Brad’s brother?” I murmured. He looks really tough, I thought.

  Sometimes I’m glad I’m an only child.

  “That’s Grant,” Amy said in a whisper.

  “He thinks because he’s in ninth grade he can push Brad around,” Travis explained, frowning.

  I shuddered as Grant shoved Brad all the way into the locker and slammed the door. A big grin on his face, Grant turned and stomped away. The floor seemed to shake under his heavy footsteps.

  I turned and found Amy and Travis both staring at me.

  “Uh … Brad just has to stand up to his brother,” I said.

  How lame can you get?

  “Brad shouldn’t let himself be pushed around,” I added. “I know I never would!”

  Why did I say that?

  Why am I acting like such a big shot?

  The three of us hurried across the hall. Travis pulled open the locker, and we tugged Brad out.

  He appeared dazed. He shook himself like a dog trying to get dry and blinked several times.

  “Craig says you have to stand up to your brother,” Amy reported.

  “Excuse me?” Brad turned to me. “You want to help me stand up to him?”

  “Well …” I swallowed my bub7um.

  Careful, Craig, I warned myself. They already think you’re brave. You don’t have to prove it again.

  How wrong can a person be?

  I was walking home after school, humming to myself, feeling good. The red and yellow leaves shimmered in a warm breeze, warm as spring. The sun beamed down in a clear blue sky.

  I started up the steep hill. I had just passed the corner where my daring rescue had taken place when I heard an urgent call. “Craig—hey! Stop! Craig!”

  I turned and saw Amy running along the sidewalk, her backpack bouncing wildly on her shoulders. “Craig—help!”

  Help?

  “What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Quick—over here.” She grabbed my arm and tugged me around the corner. “Hurry!”