Weirdo Halloween Read online

  No. Oh, no. This couldn’t be happening.

  My contacts were gone. The whole list was erased.

  How could that be? It was my only way to win the game.

  I saw Chris and the girl across the way. They were following a crowd of costumed kids.

  I didn’t plan to let them get away. I wanted to end the game — now.

  I shouted Chris’s name and bolted after them. Running hard, I tripped over a baby stroller. The mother screamed angrily at me as I kept going.

  Chris and the other Meg were disappearing into a huge black building. The sign above the entrance read: WORLD’S MOST DANGEROUS PUMPKIN PIE!

  Pushing kids out of my way, I hurtled in after the two of them. I glanced around. The building was as big as a hockey arena.

  Everyone was walking on a catwalk high above the floor. And far down below, I saw an enormous pumpkin pie. The pie was as big as our town swimming pool! I mean, it was gigantic!

  The crust around the pie was at least six feet high. The pumpkin filling was smooth and shiny under the rafter lights. It had to be filled with hundreds of gallons of pumpkin!

  I didn’t have time to think about it. I ran along the narrow catwalk, holding on to the metal rail. The catwalk swayed from side to side as I ran.

  People on the catwalk were screaming and laughing as it swung hard beneath them. Everyone gripped the handrail tightly. One slip — and you could plunge down into the pie.

  Struggling to balance on the narrow walk, I pushed my way up to the fake Meg. “Why are you doing this?” I cried angrily. “Admit it! Admit it to Chris that you’re not the real Meg Oliver!”

  “You’re not!” she screamed. Her green eyes flashed. “You’re not! You’re not!”

  “I’m Meg!” I cried. “I’m Meg!”

  I bumped her hard. I didn’t mean to. Someone pushed me from behind.

  She let out a low growl — and pushed me back with both hands.

  I stumbled against the rail. The narrow catwalk swayed. The catwalk floor tilted up beneath me.

  I grabbed on to her to keep from tumbling off.

  She must have thought I was trying to fight. With another growl, she pushed me again.

  My hands flew into the air.

  I screamed as I fell backward.

  I hit the rail hard. Bounced forward. Grabbed her by the waist, trying to stay on the catwalk.

  She staggered back. Back …

  And we went sailing over the edge.

  We both screamed all the way down.

  I landed with a heavy splaaaaat on top of the pie. I heard the other Meg splash down beside me.

  I hit so hard, it took my breath away. Struggling against the pain in my chest, I felt myself sink into the gooey pumpkin filling.

  I slapped my hands against the surface, trying to keep my head over the goo. But my hands plunged into the goo. My whole body was sinking fast.

  I kicked my feet. Then I tried to stand. But where was the bottom?

  The pie was so deep.

  I heard the other Meg shrieking and calling for help. I heard her slapping at the surface of the pie filling.

  The sticky orange goo rose over me like an ocean wave. Thick and wet, it was pulling me down … pulling me …

  Like quicksand! I thought.

  My shoulders sank beneath the heavy, wet pumpkin. I raised my arms high and struggled to climb up.

  But no. Every move I made caused me to sink faster.

  I tried to swim to the top. But the filling was too thick.

  In seconds, I knew I would sink.

  I heard the other Meg screaming for help.

  And from up above, I heard people cheering and laughing. The people up on the catwalk were enjoying the show! Couldn’t they see we were in real trouble down here?

  I raised my eyes and saw something move above me. I squinted up at it. A red-and-white can.

  The shadow of the can swept over me. Its top tilted down toward the pie. It took me a few seconds to read the label on its side: WHIPPED CREAM.

  A gigantic spray can of whipped cream!

  No — please! I thought.

  The can slid across the ceiling with a loud hum. It moved over the center of the pumpkin pie.

  Splaaaash.

  A heavy blob of whipped cream crashed onto the pie. The crowd cheered.

  I screamed. It missed me by only a few inches.

  “Stop it! Somebody turn it off!” Was that me screeching in total panic?

  Splaaaash.

  Everything went black as a thick layer of whipped cream covered me. The heavy cream stuck to my head, covered my eyes, my nose. Covered me … and pushed me deeper into the pie filling.

  “Stop it! Stop it!”

  I heard the crowd let out another wild cheer as a third splat shot out of the enormous can. It hit my head hard.

  I took a deep breath and held it as my head plunged under the surface.

  I stretched my toes down, trying to touch the bottom. But the pie was too deep.

  I couldn’t see. Couldn’t move. I tried frantically to shove the whipped cream off me. But it was too thick and sticky.

  My chest felt about to burst. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer.

  One more try, I thought. I have to make one more try to pull myself out of this.

  But I didn’t have the strength.

  Don’t give up, Meg. You can do this.

  I gritted my teeth and forced my arms up. Carefully, I raised myself onto my back. I spread my arms wide and tried to stay very still and float on the top.

  And then I saw something big and white bouncing over the pie. At first, I thought it was a boat. A rescue team floating across the pie to drag us out.

  As it came closer, I could see its shape. It was a pie cutter. A huge white plastic pie cutter.

  It floated closer. I waited … waited. And then I reached up and grabbed on to it.

  My hands were slippery, covered in orange goo. But I held on tight. I shut my eyes and hoped it would carry me out of the pie.

  I heard a voice. I turned and saw the other Meg grasping the other side. Her hair, her face, her clothes were all covered in pumpkin chunks and whipped cream.

  The giant pie cutter swung us to the crust at the side of the pie. We both toppled over the side and dropped onto the floor. I fell onto my back … rolled away from the pie. My feet kept slipping in goo as I struggled to my feet.

  I brushed orange pumpkin off my face. I knew I’d never forget the feeling of almost drowning in a pumpkin pie. And I’d never forget the smell.

  When I looked up, the other Meg was staring at me with a scowl on her face. “Copycat,” she muttered.

  * * *

  The next few minutes were an orange blur. Two Horrors led us to a shower room. I took a long, hot shower.

  It took several shampoos to get the pumpkin gunk out of my hair. And even longer to get the smell off my skin.

  When I came out, my jeans and top had been cleaned and dried.

  “I almost drowned in there,” I told the Horror taking care of me.

  “What a delicious way to go!” she replied.

  I stared at her. Had I really been in danger? Or was this another HorrorLand trick?

  I didn’t want to think about it.

  When I stepped out of the pie building, Chris and the other Meg were waiting for me. “You look good in orange,” she sneered. “It’s your color.”

  I turned to my brother. “See? Doesn’t that prove to you that I’m the real Meg? I’m never mean like that!”

  Chris rolled his eyes. “Just follow me,” he said. He turned and started striding quickly through the crowded street.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. I had to trot to catch up.

  “We have to settle this,” Chris replied.

  Settle this?

  We crossed Zombie Plaza. I felt a chill as we passed the Madame Doom fortune-telling booth. The wooden figure sat stiffly in her glass booth. The picture of that voodoo rag doll flas
hed again in my mind.

  I knew where Chris was leading us. I saw the little souvenir shop up ahead and the sign over the front door: CHILLER HOUSE.

  Jonathan Chiller pulled open the door and motioned us inside. He peered through his square glasses at the other Meg, then at me. A smile spread slowly over his wrinkled face.

  Before I could say anything, the other Meg spoke up:

  “I’m tired of this game. I really hate it. I just want to go home.”

  “Whoa. Stop!” I cried. “I want to go home. I’m the one who was dragged here to play this crazy game.”

  “You’re not fooling anyone,” the other girl snapped. “Why don’t you just give up?”

  Chris turned from her to me. His face was a blank. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  “Stop this! Stop this!” I cried. I grabbed Chris by the shoulders. “Tell Chiller who I am! Go ahead — tell him!”

  Chiller raised a hand and motioned for me to calm down. “Maybe we can end this game happily,” he said softly.

  I let go of Chris. He took a step away from me.

  My heart was pounding. I could feel the blood pulsing at my temples.

  This whole thing was crazy! I was frantic to end the game — and win!

  Chiller turned to Chris. “You’re the brother. You know everything.” He pointed to the other Meg. “Ask her some questions,” Chiller said.

  Chris nodded. He turned to the other girl. “What street do you and I live on?” he asked.

  The other girl didn’t hesitate. “Rosemont Avenue,” she said.

  “That’s right,” Chris said.

  “Wait a minute!” I cried. “That’s too easy.” I glared at Chris. “Before, you said it wasn’t the right answer. Why did you lie before?”

  Chris didn’t answer me. He looked over my shoulder at Chiller.

  “Be patient,” Chiller said to me. “You’ll have your turn.”

  Chris turned back to the phony Meg. “Who is your Spanish teacher?” he asked.

  Again, the other girl didn’t hesitate. “Mrs. Smith,” she answered.

  “That’s right,” Chris said.

  I stared at her. At her red hair and green eyes and freckled nose. How did she know all these details about my life?

  “I’ll ask her a question,” I said. “Okay if I ask one?”

  “Go ahead,” Chiller said.

  “No way she knows the answer to this one,” I said. I turned to her. “What nickname did my dad call me when I was little?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Nickname?”

  “See?” I cried. “That proves it! She’s a fake!”

  “Nutmeg,” the other girl said. “Dad called me Nutmeg.”

  I gasped. My legs suddenly felt weak. It took me a moment to catch my breath.

  “How … how did you know that?” I stammered.

  “Because she’s the real Meg,” Chris said.

  She tossed back her red hair and flashed me a sick smile. “Why wouldn’t I know what my dad called me when I was little?”

  “Because he called ME Nutmeg!” I screamed.

  And then I couldn’t help it. I totally lost it.

  I grabbed a skull candle from the shelf next to me and heaved it against the wall. I grabbed a handful of Monster Sour Gummis and tossed them at the ceiling.

  “Stop! Please — stop!” Jonathan Chiller cried. He pressed his hands over his ears.

  I didn’t even realize I’d been screaming.

  But I was too furious to stop myself.

  “Chris — you’re my brother!” I cried. “How can you be on her side?”

  And then I stormed up to him. I grabbed him by his big ears.

  I tugged hard —

  — and opened my mouth in a shriek of horror as his ears came off in my hands!

  My hands trembled as I stared down at them. Stared down at the rubbery ears I had pulled off Chris.

  Only it wasn’t Chris. It couldn’t be Chris.

  He had two holes in the sides of his head. And inside the holes I saw wires and gears, computer chips and metal springs.

  “You’re not Chris!” I shouted. “You’re a stupid robot!”

  It was all a game — and it was rigged against me.

  Was the fake Meg a robot, too? Of course. She had to be!

  Jonathan Chiller dreamed the whole thing up. Just to frighten me. Just because he loved to play scary games.

  I didn’t care. I knew the truth now.

  I tossed the ears at Chris. They bounced off his chest.

  Then I stuck my hands in his ear holes and started to twist his head. “Game over! Game over!” I screamed.

  “Stop!” I heard Jonathan Chiller’s cry behind me.

  I turned my eyes toward him. But I kept my hands tightly on the robot’s head.

  “Let go! Don’t break him!” Chiller cried. “He cost a fortune!”

  I pointed at the other Meg. She had frozen stiffly by the counter. Her eyes were blank and glassy.

  “She’s a robot, too — isn’t she!” I shouted at Chiller.

  He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You win. The game is over. Please, Meg — let go of the Chris robot. Don’t damage him.”

  The Chris robot struggled to pull free. I could hear circuits popping inside his head. I held on tightly to the ear holes.

  “How did you do it?” I asked Chiller. “Tell me. How did you give her my memory?”

  He shrugged. “It’s easy,” he said softly.

  “What do you mean?” I demanded.

  “Memory cells are easy to scan,” Chiller explained. He pointed to the front entrance. “See that machine you walk through when you enter the store?”

  “Yes. It looks like a metal detector,” I said. “Like they have at airports.”

  “It isn’t a metal detector,” Chiller said. “It’s a very special scanner I designed. It scans everyone’s total memory. And their DNA.”

  That’s impossible! I thought.

  But no. I’d seen it with my own eyes. The Meg robot had my memory. And she had my looks, every detail.

  “Why did you build these robots?” I asked him.

  “For my special doll collection,” Chiller replied. “You collect dolls, too, Meg. That’s why I thought you’d be perfect for my Halloween game here in the park.”

  His shoulders sagged. His face went pale. He suddenly looked much older.

  “I had a lonely childhood,” he said softly. “I spent day after day in my room, inventing games for myself. Now I like to share my games with others. I’m sorry if you didn’t enjoy it.”

  “Just send me home,” I said. “You promised.”

  I still had hold of the robot Chris’s head. I gave it a twist. It made a pinging sound.

  “Please — let go of it!” Chiller begged. “The game is over. You won, Meg. It’s over. I promise.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. I relaxed my hold on the robot, and it fell back against the wall.

  “Are you going to send me home?” I asked.

  Chiller walked to the front of the shop. He pushed a button on the counter.

  “Hey!” I cried out in surprise as a deafening alarm rang out over the store.

  A second later, the front door swung open.

  The door crashed against the wall. And two big Horrors in orange-and-black guard uniforms burst into the store. They lumbered up to Chiller. Their beefy hands were wrapped around metal clubs at their waists.

  “These are the Robot Guards,” Chiller announced.

  They both nodded. They were tall and broad and mean looking. One of them had a furry yellow mustache. He pulled his black cap lower over his forehead and glared at the three of us.

  “Shall we take the robots to the re programmer?” he asked in a gruff growl.

  “Yes, I’m done with these two robots,” Chiller told them. “Take them away and change their faces. And don’t forget to erase their memories.”

  Thank goodness, I thought. The game really is over.


  The mustached guard grabbed the Chris robot by the waist and lifted it off the floor. “What happened to its ears?” he asked.

  “They came off,” Chiller replied. “These things aren’t as well built as I thought.”

  Shaking his head, Chiller turned and headed toward the back of the shop. “Be right back, Meg,” he said. “I have to get something for you.”

  The Chris robot slumped lifelessly in the guard’s arms. The big Horror started to carry him away.

  The other guard moved quickly toward the Meg robot and me. To my shock, he grabbed me around the waist with one arm and hoisted me off the floor.

  At first, I was too startled to speak.

  He tightened his grip and carried me toward the door.

  “Let go! Let go of me!” I finally found my voice.

  “You’re making a mistake!” I screamed. “I’m not the robot. She is!”

  The Horror acted as if he didn’t hear me.

  I twisted my body and kicked my legs. I tried to bite him. I tried to hit him.

  But he was too strong for me.

  He kept his eyes straight ahead and tightened his arm around me.

  “Sometimes they don’t like to be reprogrammed,” he told his partner.

  “Let go! Let go! I’m not the robot!” I shrieked.

  But he began to take longer strides as he carried me to the door. “Don’t fight,” he said softly. “It doesn’t hurt to have your brain wiped.”

  We were nearly to the door. I turned back and saw the Meg robot standing in the aisle. She didn’t speak or move. Her green eyes were locked on me.

  “Mr. Chiller!” I screamed. “Help me! Help! Mr. Chiller! Where are you?”

  Yellow light poured out from the supply closet on the back wall. But he didn’t come back out.

  “Mr. Chiller — please!”

  Chiller had no way of knowing the mistake the Horror was making. If he didn’t come out of that supply closet, it would be too late for me.

  My brain would be wiped clean.

  “Mr. Chiller! Can’t you hear me?”

  The powerful Horror hoisted me higher off the floor. He bounced as he walked. He paid no attention to my screams or my kicking and thrashing.

  I had to save myself. But — how?