Say Cheese - And Die Screaming! Page 3

  Weird.

  I crossed the rest of the way. I started to walk faster since I could see the house. Almost there!

  But I stopped again when I heard the scrape of footsteps. Soft thuds on the sidewalk.

  Again, I turned. The street was lined with slender young trees.

  Did someone slip behind one of them?

  I turned and took a few more steps. I was almost to the woman’s driveway. I heard more soft footsteps behind me.

  A chill shot down my back.

  I’m being followed.

  Rain started to fall. I spun around. My eyes darted from tree to tree.

  “Who’s there?” I called. My voice sounded muffled by the rain.

  No answer.

  “I know you’re there!” I shouted. “Who is it?”

  No reply.

  I shivered. I lowered my head against the rain and ran up the pebble driveway.

  The garage door was closed. Someone had scrawled a big red X on the front. I turned and saw the stuffed monkey staring out the front window. Behind the stuffed animal, the house was dark.

  Raindrops pattered the window. They sounded like soft drumbeats.

  I glanced behind me. I didn’t see anyone. But I knew someone was there, watching me. It wasn’t my imagination.

  With another shiver, I rang the doorbell. I could hear it echo inside the house.

  I waited a few seconds. Then rang it again. No answer.

  I pulled open the torn screen door. Then I raised my fist and knocked hard on the front door.

  The door swung open.

  I peeked inside. “Hello?” I shouted. “Anyone home? Hello?”

  Silence. Just the patter of rain behind me.

  I stepped inside into the small, square living room. I squinted into the darkness — and gasped.

  The room was totally bare. No furniture at all. The stuffed monkey sat on the windowsill. Nothing else in the room. Not even a rug on the floor.

  “Hello?” I shouted. “Anybody here?”

  My voice echoed in the empty room. I jogged into the kitchen. Nothing in there, either. A single pot stood on the stove, its insides burned black. Even the sink faucet had been taken away.

  With a sigh, I leaned against the wall. Rainwater dripped down my forehead. I brushed it off with the back of one hand.

  They moved away, I realized.

  The woman and her daughter had a garage sale and then cleared out.

  “Now what?” I asked myself out loud.

  I gripped the evil camera in both hands. No way I could return it to them now.

  So what should I do with it?

  I can’t take it home, I told myself.

  It didn’t take me long to decide to leave it there. I started to feel better as soon as I made the decision.

  Back in the living room, I turned the stuffed monkey around. And I lowered the camera to its lap.

  I backed away. I had a smile on my face. It felt so good to leave the camera. The monkey’s stare seemed to follow me as I backed out the door.

  I closed the front door and then the screen door. The rain had stopped. The sun was breaking out through the clouds.

  Things were looking better already!

  * * *

  Back home, I had a couple of hours before dinnertime. I felt too restless to sit down and do my homework.

  I grabbed my digital camera, my extra lens, and headed to school. I needed to take some interesting shots for the yearbook. No way was I going to let David win our contest!

  I found some kids Rollerblading to loud hip-hop music in the teachers’ parking lot. I took some good shots of them. I tried to capture how much fun they were having.

  Then I photographed a bunch of seventh-graders playing a kickball game on the soccer field. It was a pretty out-of-control game. The grass was still wet from the rain, and they kept slipping and sliding and falling on their butts.

  Some good snaps.

  “David, you’re toast,” I muttered to myself as I headed home.

  I couldn’t wait to download the photos onto my computer. Then I’d print them and bring the best ones to Mr. Webb tomorrow.

  Mom and Dad were in the kitchen. Dad was at the sink, peeling carrots. Mom was stirring something on the stove.

  “What’s up?” Dad asked. Then he let out a shout. “Ouch! Can’t they make a carrot peeler that doesn’t scrape your fingers to shreds?” He raised his hand. “Look! I’m bleeding!”

  Dad isn’t real good in the kitchen. I don’t know why he keeps volunteering to help.

  “About ten minutes till dinnertime,” Mom said.

  “No problem,” I said. “Dad, do you need a Band-Aid?”

  “I need ten!” he cried. But he kept scraping away.

  I hurried up to my room. I carried the digital camera to my desk and set it down next to my computer.

  Something caught my eye. I spun around — and uttered a shocked cry. “Nooooo — !”

  The stuffed monkey! It sat on my dresser with the evil camera on its lap!

  “But … that’s impossible!” I cried.

  I shut my eyes tight, then opened them again. The monkey and the camera were still there.

  How did they get there? How?

  My chest felt fluttery. My heart was racing. I grabbed the camera and bolted down the stairs with it.

  I burst into the kitchen, breathing hard. “Mom? Dad? Was someone here?” I cried.

  They both looked up from the counter. “Someone?”

  “In my room,” I said. “Was someone in my room?”

  Sammy poked his head out from under the table. “Yeah. The Silver Skull was there!” he exclaimed. “The Silver Skull goes everywhere!”

  “Give me a break,” I snapped. “I’m serious!”

  Mom shook her head. “I’ve been here all afternoon, Julie. I didn’t see or hear anyone. Were you expecting someone?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s … hard to explain. I —”

  No way I could expect them to believe me about the camera. They’re both accountants for an insurance company.

  Know what that means? It means they’re the kind of people who don’t believe in evil cameras.

  Sammy jumped out from under the table. He dropped the two action figures he’d been playing with. He tore over to me and tried to grab the camera out of my hands.

  “Give it,” he said. “Give it up. I want to try it.”

  I used the camera to push him away. “Here’s a new concept for you,” I said. “It’s called mine and yours. Do you know the difference between mine and yours? Did they ever teach that to you on Sesame Street?”

  “You’re a jerkface baboon,” Sammy said.

  “Don’t call names,” Dad told him.

  “Why won’t you let Sammy try your camera?” Mom asked. “He isn’t going to break it.”

  “Yes, I am!” Sammy said. Talk about a jerkface baboon!

  I didn’t answer Mom. I spun around and ran back up to my room with it.

  I hid it again under the pile of dirty clothes. But I knew that wasn’t good enough. My little brother is a terrible snoop. I knew he’d find it. I knew that sooner or later, he’d get into terrible trouble with it.

  I had to get the evil thing out of the house. I had to put it someplace where it couldn’t magically return.

  But … where would that be?

  Where?

  It was nearly bedtime, but I wasn’t tired. I kept picturing the camera on the floor of my closet. I couldn’t stop thinking about Reena and Karla. About the horrible pain the camera had given me.

  I knew I wouldn’t sleep until the evil thing was removed from the house.

  I tiptoed to the closet. I didn’t want Mom or Dad to hear me.

  The floor creaked under my feet. The only sound except for the swish of the filmy white curtains fluttering at my open window.

  I peered out at a purple sky with no moon or stars. A soft breeze made the dark trees shiver. Somewhere down the block, a cat cried. A mou
rnful sound. Poor kitty probably wanted to go inside.

  I didn’t want to be outside, either. But I knew what I had to do. I had a plan.

  I crossed the room in the dark, got down on my knees in the closet, and grabbed the evil camera. My hands were trembling, and my knees felt weak as I sneaked down the stairs.

  A few seconds later, I silently closed the kitchen door behind me. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark. The cool, damp air felt good on my face.

  The neighbors’ houses were all dark. Down the block, the cat continued its sad cry. Again, I searched the sky for the moon. But it was hidden behind a heavy blanket of clouds.

  I crossed my backyard and followed the narrow dirt alley behind the houses. The ground was soft and muddy from the rain. My shoes splashed into shallow mud puddles.

  I pressed the camera against my chest and kept walking. A few minutes later, I stopped in front of Alley Pond.

  That’s what everyone calls it. It doesn’t really have a name. It’s a small, round pond at the end of the alley.

  Some kids say it used to be a fishpond. Not anymore. It’s a big, round hole filled with muddy water.

  I raised the camera and prepared to toss it into the pond.

  But I stopped when I heard a sound.

  A scraping sound. From behind a thorny hedge at the side of the alley.

  I spun around quickly.

  Did I hear breathing from behind the hedge? Or just the wind?

  A chill tightened the back of my neck. Again, I had the feeling that someone was there. Someone was watching me.

  “Hello?” I called out in a whisper. “Who’s there?”

  No answer.

  Another chill shook my body. I could feel all my muscles tighten.

  Was someone watching me? I was really afraid now. But I had to finish my mission.

  I raised my arm again — and heaved the old camera into the pond.

  It made a big, thudding splash. Then it sank below the muddy surface instantly.

  I stared at the pond for a few seconds. It didn’t float back up.

  I glanced one more time at the low hedge. No one there. Silence.

  Was it my imagination?

  I ran back to the house, splashing up mud with my sneakers. I silently let myself into the kitchen. Then crept back upstairs.

  I stopped halfway down the hall. I saw yellow light seeping from my half-closed bedroom door.

  There was someone in my room!

  My heart thudded in my chest. I tiptoed to the door. Slowly, carefully, I tilted my head forward to peek into my room.

  “Sammy!” I gasped.

  Sammy spun around at the sound of my voice. He was in his pajamas. On his knees in front of my dresser. He had the bottom dresser drawer pulled out.

  I stepped into the room. “What are you doing in here?” I cried.

  “I heard you go out,” he replied. “I wanted to look at your camera.”

  I slammed the dresser drawer shut. Then I pulled him to his feet. “You little sneak,” I muttered. I gave him a push to the door.

  “I just wanted to try it,” he whined.

  “Forget about that camera,” I said. “It’s gone, Sammy. It’s gone forever.” I gave him another push.

  He tried to kick me. But his bare foot caught on the edge of the carpet. “If you didn’t want it, why didn’t you give it to me?” he asked.

  “It was broken,” I told him. “I had to throw it away.”

  He started to argue. But I closed the bedroom door in his face.

  I yawned. I suddenly felt totally exhausted. All my muscles ached. My head felt like a heavy rock.

  It still took a long time to fall asleep. And when I finally did, I had a disturbing dream.

  I dreamed I was on the high diving board at the new swimming pool. Everyone in school was jammed into the pool, staring up at me. I was ready to take the big yearbook photo.

  I raised the evil camera in both hands. It didn’t feel like a camera. It felt soft and warm.

  As I gripped it, I could feel it moving in my hands … throbbing … breathing!

  The camera was ALIVE!

  I held it in front of my face. I tried to look through the viewfinder. The camera began breathing harder. In and out …

  Something splattered onto my shoes. I glanced down. I saw drops of blood.

  The camera lens was bleeding. Bright red blood. Drip after drip.

  But I still kept taking pictures. I aimed the camera down at the kids below. And I clicked the shutter.

  I held the film in my hand and watched as the picture developed. It took a long, long time.

  I gasped when the shot finally came into focus. In the picture, the kids’ skin had vanished. Their skulls gleamed in the sunlight. They were all skeletons.

  “What have I done?” I screamed. “Have I killed everyone in my entire school?”

  I woke up drenched in sweat. I tried to blink the dream away. But the grinning, glowing skeletons stayed in my mind.

  “Only a dream,” I muttered. “Take a deep breath, Julie. It was only a dream.”

  I shut my eyes and settled back on the pillow. I couldn’t stop shivering. I knew I wouldn’t fall back to sleep.

  I just lay there staring up at the ceiling. After a while, the sun started to rise outside my window. It sent a warm, rosy color over the room.

  I climbed out of bed and crossed to the window. I watched the sunrise, letting the warmth flow over me. I started to feel better.

  I got dressed for school. Then I made my way downstairs for breakfast.

  I was the first one in the kitchen. I started for the fridge to pull out the orange juice.

  But I stopped halfway across the floor. And stared.

  Stared at the evil camera, sitting by my place at the breakfast table.

  The camera was dripping wet. The lens was covered in mud.

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to heave the thing against the wall again and again. Jump up and down on it. Crush it with a hammer.

  But I knew it was no use.

  I left it in that house way across town. I tossed it into the pond.

  But here it was. No way. No way to get rid of it.

  I snatched it off the table. Then I ran upstairs and hid it in my closet before anyone came down to breakfast.

  I couldn’t think of anything else all day.

  At noon, the Sneer Sisters — Becka and Greta — tripped me and made me spill my lunch tray on the floor. Laughter rang out in the lunchroom.

  “Watch where you’re going,” Becka said with a sneer.

  I didn’t pay any attention. I didn’t even look at the two of them. I just walked out of the lunchroom without eating.

  I kept picturing the camera on the breakfast table. My stomach felt tight, as if it were twisted into a dozen knots. I could barely swallow. How could I eat?

  I knew I had to get help.

  After school, I loaded the camera into my backpack. I rode my bike to the mall. I parked it in a bike rack and trotted to the Camera World store on the second floor.

  The bell over the door chimed as I stepped in. I saw David’s dad standing behind the glass display counter. He wore a blue-and-white-striped shirt and khakis. He was polishing a big camera lens with a soft white cloth.

  He smiled when he recognized me. “Julie? How’s it going?”

  Mr. Blank is short and thin. He has a narrow, almost bald head with a fringe of black hair at his ears. He has brown eyes, a nice smile, and a black mustache that looks like two tiny straight lines under his nose.

  “I want to show you something,” I said. I tugged the camera from my backpack and set it down on the glass counter. “Can you tell me anything about this weird old camera?”

  He set the lens down carefully. Then he folded the cloth and tucked it into a drawer. “Let me see this thing,” he said.

  He picked it up in one hand and twirled it slowly in front of his face. “Weird old camera is right,” he muttered. “Where did you get it,
Julie? Did you find it on eBay?”

  “Garage sale,” I said.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen one like it before,” he said. He turned it over and studied the bottom. “No brand name,” he said. “No ID numbers anywhere.”

  He looked through the viewfinder. Then he studied the lens. “It’s self-developing,” he said. “That’s very unusual in a camera this old.”

  “It’s … a very unusual camera,” I said.

  Mr. Blank stroked his mustache. “I have some books and old catalogs in the office,” he said. “Let’s look it up.”

  I followed him into the little office in back. It was the size of a broom closet. It had a desk with a computer on it, a chair, and stacks and stacks of camera books and magazines.

  Mr. Blank pulled some fat old books from the bottom of a pile and started thumbing through them. “No name on the camera makes it a lot harder to find,” he said.

  He cracked open another old book and began sifting through it. “I’m an expert on old cameras,” he said. “People say I have a photographic memory. Ha-ha. That’s a bad joke, isn’t it? But I’ve never seen … oh, wait!”

  He squinted at a photo on the page of the old book. “I think maybe …” His eyes darted back and forth as he read the tiny type.

  Finally, he gazed up at me. “Julie, I think you’ve found something very rare,” he said. He raised the camera and compared it to the photo. “Yes. Yes …”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It says that only one of these cameras was ever built,” Mr. Blank said. “It was actually made for a horror movie that was being filmed in the 1950s.”

  I swallowed. “A horror movie?”

  He nodded. “The camera was made for a movie called Say Cheese — and Die Screaming!” He read the tiny text again. “But the movie was never finished. There were a lot of strange accidents on the set, and they had to close down the production.”

  I felt a chill. “Bad things?”

  Mr. Blank shrugged. “That’s all it says. The movie was never finished. And the camera disappeared.”

  He closed the book. “Lucky you,” he said. “I think you found a piece of movie history.” He started to hand the camera back to me.

  “No. P-please,” I stammered. I backed away. “Can you keep it?”