Camp Fear Ghouls Read online

  I tried to break my gaze, but Pearl’s eyes held mine. The yellow candle flicker seemed to grow into a burning glow.

  My eyes narrowed to little slits, and a wicked smile curled the corners of my lips.

  And then, as if someone were controlling my thoughts, I whispered, “Caroline. Let’s get Caroline!”

  9

  “Caroline is Lizzy’s ex-friend,” Amy told the troop.

  Pearl raised her eyebrows. “Ex-friend? Excellent!”

  Amy rubbed her hands together. “Let’s send her a message—with slime!”

  She led everyone into the kitchen. Big metal buckets sat on the counter. They were filled with a white, pasty goo.

  “What’s in there?” I whispered to Amy.

  “Flour, cornstarch, and water. Now we’re going to mix in this green food coloring,” Amy said, holding up a bottle. She poured the green dye into the bucket.

  “Don’t forget the secret slime ingredient!” Trudy shouted. She rushed over and dropped some powder into the bucket. The muck inside began to bubble and fizz.

  “Wow! What is that stuff?” I asked.

  Pearl pressed a wooden spatula into my hand. “Just trust us. Stir this up, and we’ll give your friend Caroline—”

  “My ex-friend,” I corrected her.

  “—your ex-friend Caroline a big surprise,” she finished.

  I dipped the spoon into the sticky goop and stirred it hard. The more I stirred, the more it bubbled and hissed. And it smelled awful. Like a skunk dipped in vinegar.

  Evil thoughts of pouring that green gunk all over Caroline’s head flashed through my mind.

  I stopped in mid-stir. Whoa! I never had a thought that mean in my life. Where did it come from?

  Pearl patted me on the shoulder. “Keep stirring,” she instructed. “When it’s done, we’ll go over to Caroline’s and give her a little present.”

  “We’ll send her a message,” Trudy added as she stirred her own bucket. “One she’ll never forget.”

  That evil feeling washed over me again. I’d write something rotten on Caroline’s porch with the slime. And then I’d run! It would take forever to get that green dye off the porch, I thought. Good!

  Priscilla and Violet had been working on their bucket of slime across the kitchen. “We’ve got goop!” they called.

  “All right, everybody,” Pearl announced. “Let’s head ’em up and move ’em out.”

  There were three buckets of slime in all. Amy and I carried ours between us as the troop marched down Fear Street.

  “Caroline lives on Pine Ridge Road,” I told them. “About two blocks from my house.”

  We crossed Mill Bridge and slipped silently through Waynesbridge. We took side streets so no one would see us.

  Caroline’s two-story gray-and-white house sat in the middle of the block. Light glowed from the kitchen in back and the upstairs bedroom windows. I knew Caroline was home.

  “When we reach the house,” Amy whispered, “you go up to the porch. We’ll be right behind you.”

  I nodded, and gave Amy a thumbs-up.

  My heart thumped with excitement. In a few seconds Caroline would get her slimy message—and I would have my revenge.

  We reached the lawn. Carrying my bucket, I led the way to the front porch. The troop followed.

  That dark, evil feeling grew inside me again. I could feel it clouding my brain. Taking over. All I could think was “Get Caroline. Get her!”

  I knelt on the porch. I spooned out a glop of the bubbling slime. What should I write? I wanted to find the perfect nasty words that would make Caroline feel truly awful!

  Trudy marched past me to the front door.

  “Wait!” I whispered. “What are you doing?”

  Without answering me, Trudy pressed the doorbell.

  I scrambled to my feet. “Are you nuts? Caroline’s dad will come to the door. We’ll get caught!”

  All at once the troop scattered. Several of the girls hid in the bushes. Amy ducked behind Caroline’s dad’s car.

  I barely had enough time to dive into the shadow of a weeping willow tree.

  The front door creaked open. I peeked out from under the trailing branches. Someone stood in the doorway.

  From my hiding place I couldn’t see the person’s face. But I could make out a navy blue T-shirt.

  Caroline!

  She took two steps onto the dark porch. Probably searching for whoever rang the bell.

  What’s going on? I wondered. What are the Camp Fear Girls planning?

  Suddenly, I saw movement in the bushes. The whole troop stood up in their hiding places.

  Trudy raised her head above the hedge. Pearl stood by the porch, her purple sash catching the light from inside the house.

  Amy stepped silently from behind the car. She held a bucket in her hands.

  All at once it hit me.

  They weren’t going to write a message. They really were going to dump their buckets of bubbling ooze on Caroline! Just the way I had imagined it!

  The dark feeling inside my brain totally cleared.

  They can’t do that, I thought. What if the bubbling ooze does something horrible to her? I don’t want to hurt her.

  I leaped out from my hiding place to cry, “Stop!”

  But before I could say it—

  Splat!

  10

  Slime flew through the air from three different directions. It hit Caroline dead-on.

  Green goo dripped from her head. Her arms. Her favorite blue T-shirt.

  I was glad I couldn’t see her face. I knew she must be furious. And scared.

  “Run!” Amy yelled.

  I pounded away from Caroline’s house as fast as my feet would carry me. The rest of the Camp Fear Girls were right behind me. They laughed loudly as they ran.

  I put my head down and pumped my legs furiously. I had to get away fast—before Caroline saw me! If she did, she’d never, ever speak to me again!

  We clattered across Mill Bridge. When I glanced up again, we were back at the house on Fear Street.

  I climbed the rickety porch stairs. Then I bent over to catch my breath.

  I felt terrible. That prank was supposed to be fun, but it wasn’t. I felt like a total jerk.

  I wanted to say something about it. To tell the girls I didn’t really like Prank Night—and I never wanted to do it again. But Pearl didn’t give me the chance.

  “Hurry and join the troop in the living room,” Pearl ordered, adjusting her purple sash. “It’s time to bring tonight’s meeting to a close.”

  The twelve girls waited in a circle, in silence. They clasped each other’s hands.

  Then Pearl started to sing in a low, spooky voice.

  “Thirteen girls went off to camp.

  The woods were dark, the ground was damp.”

  The other girls joined in.

  “Thirteen families dressed in black.

  Thirteen girls who never came back.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. They were singing about that camp-out a hundred years ago! Creepy! They ended the song with a warning.

  “So if you camp in the Fear Street Woods,

  Thirteen girls will get you good!”

  Finally, everyone unclasped their hands. And the meeting was over.

  I sighed with relief.

  What a totally weird experience!

  Amy didn’t walk with me back toward Waynesbridge. She said she was spending the night in Shadyside—at Trudy’s. I had to go back down Fear Street by myself again. At ten o’clock at night.

  I reached the bridge in record time. I began to jog across it—and was suddenly blinded by headlights.

  The van! It stopped right in front of me. The same weird lady sat behind the wheel.

  She didn’t look at me. But she gestured with her thumb to the backseat. “Get in,” she ordered.

  I hesitated.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” the old woman barked. “I said, get in.”

&
nbsp; I climbed into the backseat and slid the door shut. We rumbled across Mill Bridge.

  I didn’t even try to talk to the driver this time. I just wanted to go home and get into bed. I needed time to think about the Camp Fear Girls.

  After what happened, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be a part of their troop anymore. Sure, I liked scary things. But maybe these girls were too scary. Too weird. Too mean.

  When the van dropped me in front of my house, I leaped out and raced inside. Home!

  My parents sat on the couch, watching the late news in the living room. They watched me turn the dead bolt and slip the chain lock in place.

  Dad raised his eyebrows. “Locking the monsters out for the night, Lizzy?” he asked.

  “Uh—yeah. You could say that,” I answered.

  “How was the meeting?” Mom asked.

  “Fine,” I mumbled, hanging up my jean jacket.

  Mom frowned. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

  “I’m a little tired,” I replied, heading straight for the stairs.

  I didn’t want to talk about the meeting with them. I was afraid I might blab and tell them all about Prank Night. Then I’d get in big trouble.

  I was halfway upstairs when Dad yelled, “Oh, Lizzy, I almost forgot. Caroline called. She said it was really important you call her back.”

  I felt as though someone punched me in the stomach.

  “Caroline?” I repeated in a shaky voice.

  “She said to call no matter how late you got in.”

  “Oh, no!” I whispered. My hand gripped the stair railing.

  She knows.

  Caroline was slimed . . . and she knows I did it.

  11

  I stared at the phone in my parents’ bedroom.

  I have to call Caroline, I thought. I have to say I’m sorry. Or at least try to explain.

  I put my hand on the receiver. “Here goes.”

  I didn’t even have to think about the number. My fingers knew it by heart: 555-4239.

  One ring. My stomach did somersaults as I waited for someone to pick up.

  Two rings.

  Come on, Caroline. Let me get this over with!

  “Hurt residence, Caroline speaking.”

  It’s her. Now what do I do? I thought.

  “Hello?” Caroline sounded irritated. “Helloooooh.”

  It was now or never.

  I spoke really fast. “Caroline-it’s-me-Lizzy.”

  “Lizzy!” Caroline yelled.

  I winced. Oh, no. Here it comes.

  But instead of screaming at me, Caroline burst out laughing. “You will not believe what just happened at my house.”

  I frowned. Why was she laughing?

  “I had to call you right away,” Caroline continued. “My brother, Chip, just got . . . oh, it’s too funny to even say.” She laughed some more before she could finish her sentence. “Lizzy, Chip just got slimed!”

  “Chip got slimed?” I asked. “Your brother Chip?”

  “Yes! Oh, Lizzy, you should have seen him. He was covered from head to toe in this disgusting green goop.” Caroline laughed so hard, she snorted. And that made her laugh even harder.

  I stood there holding the phone. Chip?

  He must have been wearing a shirt the same color as Caroline’s. And they were about the same height. And, after all, I had never gotten a look at the person’s face. . . .

  I collapsed on my parents’ bed. Whew! That was close!

  I started to giggle along with Caroline. Half from relief. And half from hearing her snort. It felt really good to be talking to her again.

  “And boy, did he stink!” she exclaimed when she could speak again. “I don’t know what was in that stuff, but—”

  “Listen, Caroline,” I cut in. “I’m sorry about how I yelled at you this afternoon. I’m really glad you got into the Waynesbridge Scouts. I acted like a jerk.”

  Caroline paused. Then her tone changed completely. She wasn’t laughing anymore. “I’m sorry too. You were so upset. And I didn’t help you at all. You should have been picked for the scouts too. It wasn’t fair.”

  “Let’s not fight anymore,” I said earnestly. “You’re my best friend. And I want it to stay that way.”

  “Me too,” Caroline agreed. Then she giggled again. “Remember the best-friend cheer we made up in second grade?”

  “Yup,” I said. I started the cheer.

  “We’re the very best of friends,

  We’ll be best friends till the end.”

  Caroline joined in and together we shouted the end of the cheer: “B-E-S-T, best friends!”

  We both laughed. I suddenly felt lighter. Happier. We were friends again!

  “So how was your first meeting of the Waynesbridge Scouts?” I finally asked.

  “You really want to hear?” Caroline asked.

  “Really,” I replied. I wasn’t faking. I wanted to know.

  “Well it was kind of—dull,” Caroline admitted. “I guess I wanted to be a scout for so long that I expected it to be a lot more fun.”

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “We sat around on folding chairs in the Sitwells’ living room, sipped little cups of tea, and introduced ourselves.”

  “You’re kidding!” I gasped.

  “No. Can you believe it? We introduced ourselves—like we all haven’t known each other since preschool.” I could tell by Caroline’s tone of voice that she was rolling her eyes.

  “Why did you have to introduce yourselves?” I asked.

  “Mrs. Sitwell thought we should learn manners. So we each had to stand up and tell a little story about ourselves and our family.” Caroline made a snoring sound. “Bor-ing.”

  “Didn’t you play any games?”

  “No. Arden passed around cookies with pink icing. We sipped our tea. And then we went home.”

  I shook my head. “That’s amazing. My meeting was the complete opposite.”

  “Your meeting? What meeting did you go to?”

  I forgot that Caroline didn’t know about the Camp Fear Girls. So I quickly filled her in on how I ran into Amy on the way home from school. I also told her about the invitation with the weird, drippy letters that suddenly appeared at the bottom of the page. She thought that was cool too.

  Then I told her about the rickety old house on Fear Street with the great club room inside. I mentioned the scary stories and the camp-out, but I didn’t tell her about Prank Night.

  Caroline giggled excitedly. “Scary stories, weird special effects and a camp-out—it sounds awesome.”

  “It’s totally awesome,” I bluffed. I didn’t want to tell Caroline that the Camp Fear Girls weren’t totally fun. Sometimes they were just plain creepy. I guess I was still hurt about not being in the Waynesbridge Scouts. I couldn’t help it—I wanted Caroline to think my troop was better than hers.

  “Mrs. Sitwell showed us the badges we would have to earn. Baking and housekeeping and gardening. Is that lame or what? I thought this was a cool club, but now it seems completely uncool,” Caroline admitted.

  I thought about the Camp Fear Girls’ badges—and shuddered. Maybe baking cookies wasn’t all that boring.

  But I didn’t let on to Caroline. “That is lame,” I agreed.

  “I wish I were in your troop,” Caroline said wistfully. “You are so lucky. I don’t think my troop would ever camp out—unless the campground was called the Holiday Inn.”

  I giggled. Caroline was right. It was hard to imagine Shannon, or Arden, or any of those Waynesbridge girls hiking anywhere. Let alone sleeping on the ground!

  “Hey, Lizzy,” Caroline said. “Don’t you think it would be way cool if we could both be in the same troop?”

  “You mean the Waynesbridge Scouts?” I asked.

  “No, forget them. I want to join the Camp Fear Girls!”

  Uh-oh. Me and my big mouth. My plan to make Caroline jealous had worked too well!

  “Do you think they’d let me join? They sound
totally wild,” Caroline said.

  Wild? She didn’t know how right she was!

  “Uh—gee, Caroline,” I stammered. “I don’t know—”

  “Why not?” Caroline interrupted.

  “Well—uh—” What could I say? “Uh—the Camp Fear Girls won’t take just anybody. You have to be asked.”

  “What are you trying to say? That they wouldn’t want me?”

  “No, I didn’t mean—it’s just—”

  Caroline cut me off. “Lizzy, I know what’s going on here—you’re trying to keep me out on purpose. You’re still mad, aren’t you? And that’s why you won’t even try to get me in!”

  Oh, boy! I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be in the Camp Fear Girls anymore. But now I was stuck. If I didn’t try to get Caroline into the troop, we’d have another fight. In fact, we were headed for one now.

  “Okay,” I agreed glumly. “I’ll try to get you in.”

  * * *

  I decided to take Caroline to meet Pearl. Pearl’s mom was the troop leader, after all. And anyway, I didn’t know where Amy or the other girls lived.

  The next night after dinner, Caroline met me at the corner. Together we walked across Mill Bridge to Shadyside.

  “Fear Street.” Caroline read the street sign out loud.

  I nodded. “We’re going to number 333.”

  Caroline shivered. “This street is the scariest place in all of Shadyside and Waynesbridge put together. Maybe in the whole world!”

  We passed the first house—and heard a strange howl. An animal darted across the lawn and vanished into the darkness.

  “Just a cat,” I told Caroline, trying to sound confident.

  Caroline jerked her head around, checking the yards in front of us and behind us.

  Down the street, a shutter thumped rhythmically against the side of a wooden house. Whump! Whump! Whump!

  How could it be banging like that? I wondered. I didn’t feel a breeze.

  Caroline grabbed my arm. “How much farther is it?”

  “It’s just ahead,” I told her. I remembered the last meeting, when the wind pushed me toward the Fear Street Cemetery. Right near the gate stood 333.

  Caroline squinted at the numbers on the nearest house. “There’s 331.”

  “Good,” I said. “That means 333 should be the next one.”