Monster Blood For Breakfast! Read online

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  MONSTER BLOOD FOR BREAKFAST!

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  ENTER HORRORLAND

  The Story So Far…

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  TEASER

  FEAR FILE #3

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ALSO AVAILABLE

  COPYRIGHT

  My name is Matt Daniels, and my terrifying story began on a typical morning. In my house, typical means totally annoying. Because who showed up just as my sister, Livvy, and I were finishing our breakfast?

  The kid from next door. Bradley Wormser.

  Everyone at school calls him Worm, and it’s a pretty good nickname for him. Trust me.

  Bradley shows up in our kitchen almost every morning, just as Livvy and I are finishing breakfast. And he gobbles up whatever he can grab.

  He’s so skinny, it’s hard to believe he could eat everything on the kitchen table if we let him. He really does look like a long, lanky worm with glasses!

  I have this idea that one day I’m going to glue the Pop Tarts to the table. Then I’m going to enjoy the look on Bradley’s face as he struggles to pull them up.

  I’m great at inventing stuff. And I’m really interested in science. And I’m a pretty good athlete.

  But none of that helps me against Worm Wormser. He drives me nuts!

  This morning, Bradley waited till my mom’s back was turned. Then he dropped a fat, dead horsefly into my cereal. I stared down at the fly floating on top of the milk.

  “Yucko,” Bradley said. “You don’t want that, do you, Matt? There’s a dead fly in it.”

  He pulled the bowl away from me, tilted it to his face, and drank the cereal down. Then he spit the fly onto the floor. “Not bad,” he said, using Livvy’s sleeve to wipe his mouth. “A little soggy.”

  “Let go of me!” Livvy cried.

  He snapped his fingers an inch from her nose. He thinks that’s totally funny. Livvy hates it.

  Mom has no idea what a pain Bradley is.

  She was cleaning something at the sink. “Mom, can I have another bowl of cereal?” I asked.

  “No seconds, Matt,” she replied without turning around. “You’ve got to watch your weight. Your big swim meet is coming up soon, remember?”

  My stomach growled. Angrily, I grabbed a wet glob of cornflakes from Livvy’s bowl with my fingers — and stuck it onto Bradley’s nose.

  Mom turned around. “Matt!” she shouted, glaring at me. “Don’t play with your food!”

  “Yeah, Matt. Don’t play with your food,” Bradley said, grinning.

  As soon as Mom went back to cleaning, he made a grab for Livvy’s Pop Tart.

  Mom turned around again just as Livvy snatched it away. “Livvy, no fighting!” she snapped.

  “But, Mom —”

  See what I told you? You spell Bradley’s name P-A-I-N.

  This was the most important week of my life. And I didn’t need Bradley in my face.

  I would love to invent something to make the creep disappear. Or maybe I could just ask him to disappear. But there are a few problems.

  For one thing, he lives in the house right next door. And his mom and my mom are business partners. They both run a party catering business from our homes.

  This means that Livvy, Bradley, and I are thrown together a lot.

  And there’s one other big problem. Bradley worships me.

  This morning, Bradley put his paws all over my new swim team T-shirt. “Matt, can I have this shirt? Where’d you get it? It’s awesome. It’s kinda small on you — isn’t it?”

  He always wants to dress like me. He thinks it will make him popular, too. It’s pitiful, right?

  And the guy never stops talking. “Did you see that scary movie on HBO last night? Claw? It totally creeped me out. When those two claws reached out of the basement and grabbed the kid by the shoulders?”

  He squeezed Livvy’s shoulders with both hands. “Just like this. Ha-ha! I’m the vicious CLAW!”

  “Stop! Let go!” my sister screamed.

  “Livvy,” Mom scolded. “Stop being such a crab.”

  Bradley laughed. He waited till my mom left the kitchen. Then he pulled a small orange-and-black can from his backpack. “Matt, check this out. Go ahead. Open the lid. I dare you.”

  I groaned. “Now what?”

  Worm spends all his time online. He plays these sci-fi battle games till late at night. And he’s always sending away for all kinds of weird things.

  He shoved the can toward me. “Go ahead. Open it,” he said.

  I pushed his hand back. “No way.”

  He grinned. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  He gripped the lid and started to turn it. Then, suddenly, he stopped, and his eyes went wide. His smile faded. “Watch OUT!” he screamed. “It’s gonna BLOW!”

  The lid popped off and clattered to the floor. I stared into the can. Empty.

  Bradley laughed.

  And then I smelled something. Something heavy and damp and rotten floating up from inside the can. Like dead fish, only much worse. Like year-old spoiled milk.

  “Ohhhh.” I grabbed my stomach and let out a groan. I tried to hold my breath.

  Too late. The sick smell invaded my nose. And now I could taste it on my tongue!

  “Ulllp!” My stomach lurched. I started to gag.

  I jumped to my feet and ran to the bathroom. Livvy was retching loudly. She came running right behind me, her hand pressed tightly over her mouth.

  I could hear Bradley laughing his head off. He has a hee-haw donkey laugh. Obnoxious.

  Leaning on the bathroom sink, I took several deep breaths. My stomach heaved. I couldn’t get the pukey smell from my nose and mouth. And I could smell it on my clothes. I glanced at the clock. No time to change. I was going to smell like sour milk at school all day!

  I trudged back into the kitchen. Bradley was still laughing at his stupid joke. “That was a riot!” he said. “You both turned green! Ha-ha!”

  He held up the empty can. “Check it out.”

  In big black letters, the label read: GAS ATTACK. A PARTY FAVORITE!

  Livvy had tears in her eyes. Her hands were balled into tight fists. I knew she wanted to murder Bradley. So did I. But what could we do?

  “You guys totally stink!” he said. And he laughed his hee-haw donkey laugh some more.

  * * *

  What could be more embarrassing than walking to school with Bradley every morning? Livvy took off and ran, her red ponytail flying over her backpack. “So long, suckers!” she shouted.

  I was stuck with him. No way to escape.

  It’s only three blocks to Shandy Hills Middle School. But with Worm beside me, it always seems like three miles.

  “I have those same sneakers,” Bradley told me. He stomped down hard on my foot. “But mine aren’t scuffed up like that,” he said.

  “Give me a break,” I muttered.

  He ran ahead a few steps, then pushed a hand against my chest to stop me. Then he opened his backpack and fumbled around inside it.

  “Swear you won’t tell anyone about this,” he whispered. “I’ve got somet
hing here I bought online that will totally impress Mr. Scotto.”

  “No way,” I said, jumping away from him. “If it’s another stink can, keep it to yourself!”

  “No. This is serious,” he said. He swatted a fly off his stringy brown hair. Then he pulled a tiny jar from his backpack. “This is no joke. This is a big deal.”

  A school bus rumbled past and turned onto Willis Street. I glanced around. We were the only kids in sight. “Bradley, we’re going to be late,” I said.

  I hate to be late. I’m a competitive swimmer, remember. I like to be first — not last!

  Bradley spun the lid off the tiny glass jar. Inside, I saw a jagged piece of white rock.

  “Know what it is?” Bradley asked. His brown eyes flashed. “Don’t try to guess. It’s a piece of rock from the planet Venus.”

  “Huh?” I cried. “Are you kidding me? Bradley, how could you fall for such a stupid —”

  “You’re stupid, Matt!” he shouted. “It’s real. One of our space probes brought it back. There are only ten rocks like this on earth. And I won an auction for it. Would you believe it only cost me twenty dollars?”

  I just shook my head. I didn’t know what to say. Bradley and I are both twelve years old. Old enough to know you can’t buy a rock from Venus for twenty dollars.

  He pulled it out of the jar and placed it carefully in my hand. “Is this going to score points with Mr. Scotto or not?” he asked. “Don’t be too jealous, Matt. But this could win me the Science Prize.”

  The Science Prize was a big deal. I’d been working on my project for weeks.

  Mr. Scotto is our math and science teacher. But he’s also a celebrity in Shandy Hills.

  He used to be an astronaut. This year, he started a contest in our school. He said he’d award five hundred dollars and a free month at NASA Space Camp in Florida to the kid in his class who created the most original science project.

  Cool, right?

  And since I’m the science freak in school, everyone expects me to come up with something great. And I think I have a really good idea. But how could I compete with a rock from the planet Venus? This couldn’t be real, could it?

  I turned the rock over in my hand and studied it carefully. It was solid white, kinda chalky, and very cool to the touch.

  “Whoa, wait!” I held it up close to my face. I struggled to read the tiny type engraved in the stone.

  “What’s your problem?” Bradley said. “Give it back.”

  “Bradley, bad news,” I said. “Didn’t you read the tiny type?”

  He blinked. “Tiny type?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It says ‘made in China.’ ”

  “Not funny!” he cried. “You are so not funny.”

  He grabbed the stone out of my hand. He raised it close to his face. And froze.

  I wasn’t kidding him. It really did say MADE IN CHINA on it.

  Bradley shrugged. “No biggie,” he said.

  Bradley says that a hundred times a day. “No biggie … no biggie …”

  Totally obnoxious, right?

  “No biggie.” Bradley pulled back his arm — and heaved the stone at the stop sign on the corner.

  It made a ping sound as it hit the metal sign. Then I froze in horror as the stone bounced off — and flew into the windshield of a passing car.

  It happened so quickly. The crack of the windshield. The shattering tinkle of glass as it caved in. The squeal of brakes.

  Through the broken glass, I saw the angry scowl on the driver’s face.

  Bradley moaned. “I don’t believe it! I was aiming at the stop sign.”

  He saw the driver staring at us. Bradley pointed at me. Then he shouted as loud as he could, “Why did you throw that stone, Matt?”

  Bradley took off, running down the block.

  Too late for me to run. The driver’s door swung open. He pulled himself out of the car.

  And I let out a low moan as I saw who it was — our teacher, Mr. Scotto.

  Later at lunch, I didn’t feel much like eating. I put some kind of sandwich on my tray and an apple. I forgot to pick up a drink. I was still in a daze, I guess.

  I carried my tray across the lunchroom to the table where my buddies from the swim team sat. I slumped down into a chair with a loud sigh.

  “Matt, what’s your problem?” Kenny Waters asked. He crushed a soda can in his hand and tossed it at a group of girls at the next table. They cried out angrily and called him some ugly names.

  “I had a little thing with Mr. Scotto this morning,” I murmured.

  “No way!” Kenny replied. “You’re his star. No way he’s going to pick on you.”

  “He didn’t exactly pick on me,” I said. I didn’t feel like talking about it. I was trying to erase it from my mind. But it wasn’t easy.

  When Mr. Scotto came storming out of his car, I took the rap for Bradley. I didn’t snitch on him. No one likes a snitch, right?

  Mr. Scotto is big and tall and athletic. He works out all the time. He’s got biceps a foot high. I mean, you don’t really want to get on his bad side.

  He looks like the astronauts you see on TV. Very short, flat haircut; broad, tanned forehead; and blue eyes that seem to stare right through you like lasers.

  Well, he was definitely aiming lasers at me this morning.

  “I’m really sorry,” I told him, shaking my head. “It was a total accident. The stone slipped from my hand and bounced off the stop sign and …”

  I’m pretty good at talking my way out of trouble. But Mr. Scotto was very angry. He said the car was only a month old.

  He knows I’m not a bad kid. I think he believed it was an accident.

  “My insurance will probably cover it,” he said. “If not, I’ll have to call your mom and dad about it.”

  I sighed. It was my own fault. Maybe I should have snitched on Bradley. Mr. Scotto’s warning about calling my parents repeated and repeated in my head all morning. Each time I thought about it, I got angrier.

  Bradley really is a worm, I told myself. I’ve got to do something about him.

  I had this idea for a new invention. It was called Bradley in a Can. When you twisted off the lid, a bunch of disgusting brown worms came flying out.

  The idea made me laugh.

  Suddenly, I felt an elbow poke into my side. “Yes or no?” Kenny asked.

  I stared blankly at him.

  He laughed. “You really are on Mars today!” he said. “We were talking about the swim meet championship this week.”

  “You ready?” Jake Deane asked. “Are you taking the extra practices with the coach?”

  Huh? Extra practices? “Well … for sure,” I said.

  The bell rang. I jumped to my feet and picked up my tray. I hadn’t eaten a thing.

  I’ve gotta get over this, I decided. I have to stop being angry at Bradley and concentrate all my energy on the swim team.

  Forget about Bradley … Forget about Bradley … Forget about Bradley …

  * * *

  The next day, I took my seat in Mr. Scotto’s math class and tossed my backpack to the floor. Of course Bradley sits next to me. Where else? He’s my shadow!

  He tapped me on the shoulder. “Yo. What’s up?”

  I shook his hand off my shoulder and stared straight ahead. I just ignored him. Maybe he’d take the hint.

  We had a math test. Twenty algebra equations to solve.

  They were pretty easy. I’m good in math. Equations are like doing puzzles, and I like solving puzzles.

  I leaned over the test page, my pencil filling in answers. Next to me, I kept hearing Bradley’s chair squeak. I glanced at him quickly.

  Would you believe it? The Worm was staring at my answers, then writing them down.

  I glanced back again. I wasn’t imagining it. Bradley was definitely copying from me.

  Did Mr. Scotto notice?

  I raised my eyes to the front of the room. No. The teacher was leaning over his desk, reading a book. He kept lookin
g up at the clock. We had only ten minutes left.

  Whew. I felt a little relieved. He didn’t see Bradley cheating.

  But then I felt Bradley’s breath on my neck. And Bradley whispered, “Don’t go so fast.”

  Too loud.

  Some kids turned around.

  I froze. The pencil fell from my hand.

  Mr. Scotto jumped to his feet. “What’s going on?” he boomed. He narrowed his eyes on Bradley and me. “Are you two comparing answers?”

  “Matt, you don’t have to keep showing me your answers,” Bradley said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “I can do the test on my own.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  I couldn’t take the blame for Bradley again.

  Cheating was serious in our school. I knew I could be suspended for this. And then what about the swim meet? My teammates were all counting on me. It was the championship — the biggest meet of my life.

  And what would Mom and Dad say if I was forced to miss it?

  How could Bradley do this to me?

  “Matt, Bradley, put down your pencils,” Mr. Scotto said. “I need to talk to you both.” He waved us to the front of the room.

  I could barely breathe. I didn’t believe this was happening.

  “No biggie,” Bradley whispered, following me to the front of the room. “He loves you. You can talk us out of this.”

  Mr. Scotto rubbed a hand over his short hair. He eyed us both, shaking his head. “I do not allow cheaters in my class,” he said sharply. “I’d like you both to go stand in the hall till the test is over. You both get zeros.”

  “But — but —” I sputtered. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything. It was Bradley. He —”

  Mr. Scotto raised a hand to silence me. “Not another word,” he said. “You know how I feel about taking responsibility.”

  He wouldn’t listen to me. “Are you … going to suspend us?” I asked in a trembling voice.

  “I haven’t decided,” he replied.

  I glared furiously at Bradley. He stood there with a stupid grin on his face.

  Bradley will probably say “No biggie” when we get out in the hall, I thought. And I’ll have no choice. I’ll have to punch his lights out. And then I really will be suspended — for good. And then I’ll have to punch his lights out again.

  Mr. Scotto held the classroom door open. Still grinning, Bradley stepped out into the hall.