Night of the Giant Everything Page 8

  For once, Peter stopped dancing. “Oh. Sorry,” he said. “That was an accident.”

  “This is an accident, too!” Caroline cried. She lowered her shoulder and plowed right into Peter.

  The two of them went rolling into a pile of dry leaves. Peter held on to his trick-or-treat bag for dear life. He swung it at Caroline, and she rolled away from him.

  Regina rubbed her throat. “I’m okay,” she said.

  “It was an accident. Really,” Peter insisted. He jumped up and trotted over to Regina. He held up his shopping bag. “Take a candy. Go ahead. Take any one.”

  Regina eyed him suspiciously.

  He shook the bag in front of her. She reached in and pulled out a big Snickers bar.

  “Not that one!” Peter cried. He grabbed it out of her hand and backed away with it.

  Regina let out a groan. “You creep!”

  Caroline took Regina by the arm and started to pull her away. “Catch you later, Monica,” she called.

  “Hey, wait —” I started after them. “Where are you going?”

  “Away from the Karate Monster,” Caroline said. “Far away.”

  My two friends took off, running hand in hand down the sidewalk. I watched them appear and disappear in the circles of light from the streetlamps.

  Then I turned angrily to my brother. “Thanks for chasing my friends away,” I snapped.

  He shrugged. “Can I help it if they’re losers?”

  I wanted to punch his lights out. But we’re a nonviolent family. I mean, everyone but Peter.

  So I just swung my fists in the air and counted to ten.

  “Okay.” I felt a little less angry. “Let’s go home.” I started to walk, but Peter grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

  “We can’t go home, Monica. It’s too early. And look —” He shook his big shopping bag so I could hear the candy rattling around inside it. “My bag is only half full.”

  I laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You really think you’re going to fill that huge bag? No way. That would take all night.”

  “Okay, okay,” Peter replied. “Just one more block. Two more blocks. Three —”

  I rolled my eyes. “One more block, Peter. But you can do both sides of the street.”

  “Okay. Stand back. Here goes.” He ran full speed up the front lawn to a brightly lit house with a big grinning jack-o'-lantern in the front window. A flickering candle inside it made its jagged eyes glow.

  I stayed at the curb and watched him ring the doorbell. A girl in a Dora the Explorer costume appeared at the door.

  Shivering, I hugged myself. The wind had grown colder. It felt heavy and damp, as if it might snow. The half-moon had disappeared behind dark clouds.

  It was getting late. I glanced up and down the street. I didn’t see any other trick-or-treaters. Peter is such a candy freak. I knew he’d stay out all night if he could.

  But I wanted to get home and warm up. And call Regina and Caroline and apologize for Peter for the ten-thousandth time this month.

  I stayed down by the curb and watched him run from house to house. This was his biggest night of the year. Bigger than Christmas.

  When he got home, he’d turn the shopping bag over on his rug and dump out all the candy. Then he’d sort it for hours, making piles of one candy bar and then another.

  He’s so totally mental. Sometimes when he was smaller he’d actually roll on his back in his Halloween candy, like a dog.

  Of course, that was when he was still cute. Now, he only thinks he’s cute.

  I watched him run up to the last house on the block. It was a tiny square house with two bikes lying on their sides in the front yard. A young woman answered the door and started to hand Peter an apple.

  “No way!” he cried. “No apples!” He spun away before she could drop it in his bag. Then he leaped off her front stoop and came running toward me.

  “Monica, we have to do one more block,” he said breathlessly.

  I crossed my arms in front of me. “Peter, you promised,” I said. “One last block. That was it.”

  “But — but —” he sputtered. “Did you see what happened up there? She tried to give me an apple! No candy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Big tragedy,” I said.

  “Come on, Monica. Give me a break.” He started to pull me across the street.

  “It’s late,” I said. “Mom and Dad will be worried. Do you see anyone else still out here?”

  He didn’t answer. He tore across the street and started to run along a tall hedge at the corner.

  “Peter? Come back here!” I called after him.

  But he disappeared into the deep shadow of the hedge.

  Where were we? I couldn’t read the street sign. The streetlight was really dim. Without any moonlight, it was too dark to see anything.

  Tall hedges rose up like black walls. Behind them, high trees whispered and shook.

  We never go this far, I told myself. I don’t know this block.

  As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, houses came into focus. Big houses on top of steep, sloping lawns. No lights in the windows. No one moving. No cars on the street.

  A sudden howl made my skin prickle.

  Was that a cat? Or just the strong wind through the old trees?

  I realized my heart was suddenly thudding in my chest. I turned and chased after Peter.

  He was halfway up a long driveway that led to an enormous house nearly hidden behind hedges and tall shrubs. The house looked like an old castle, with pointed towers on both sides.

  “Peter?” My voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

  I trotted to catch up to him. “Let’s go home,” I said. “This house is totally dark. The whole block is totally dark. We’ve wandered into a weird neighborhood.”

  He laughed. “You’re afraid? Ha-ha. Look at you. Shaking like a baby.”

  “I — I’m not afraid. But it’s creepy,” I said. “Let’s go. Now. No one is going to answer the door here.”

  He adjusted the belt on his karate uniform. Then he straightened the black mask over his eyes. “Let’s see,” he said.

  He pushed the doorbell. I could hear loud chimes inside the house.

  Silence.

  “See? No one’s coming,” I said. “Come on, Peter. I’m freezing. And you have plenty of candy. Let’s go home.”

  He ignored me, as usual. He pushed the doorbell again and held it in.

  Again, I heard the chimes on the other side of the tall wooden door.

  The trees shook in a strong wind gust. Dead leaves blew up against the front stoop, as if trying to get to us.

  I heard another howl. Far away. It sounded almost human.

  “Peter, please —” I whispered.

  And then I heard footsteps. A clicking sound inside the house.

  The door squeaked and then slowly slid open. A dark-haired woman in a long dress peered out at us.

  Gray light shone behind her. I couldn’t see her face clearly. It was hidden in shadow.

  “Trick or treat,” Peter said.

  The woman took a step toward us. I could see her dark eyes go wide.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” she cried. “You’re here. I knew you would come!”

  3

  She pulled us into her house. I blinked in the shimmering gray light.

  We stood in a narrow front entryway. The ceiling was high above our heads. The light came from a huge glass ball dangling on a thick chain above us.

  “We — we’re just trick-or-treating,” Peter stammered.

  The woman nodded. Her straight black hair fell over her face. She brushed it back with a pale hand.

  I couldn’t tell how old she was. Maybe in her thirties, like our parents.

  She was pretty, with round, dark eyes, high cheekbones, and a warm smile. Her black dress fell to her ankles, soft and flowy like a nightgown.

  “I knew you would come,” she repeated.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  She
didn’t answer. She turned quickly, her long dress swirling around her. And led the way into an enormous, dimly lit front room.

  A low fire flickered in a wide stone fireplace on the far wall. It sent long shadows dancing into the room.

  Antique black leather couches and armchairs filled the big room.

  A tall painting hung over the mantel. It was a portrait of a sad-looking woman in old-fashioned lacy clothes, a single teardrop on one cheek.

  Despite the fire, the room was cold. The air felt damp and heavy.

  What a totally depressing place, I thought. Everything is so dark and creepy.

  “My name is Bella,” the woman said. She tossed her hair off her forehead with a snap of her head. She stood facing us with her hands at her waist. Her dark eyes moved from Peter to me.

  “You are Monica, aren’t you?” she said. “And your brother is named Peter.”

  I felt my throat tighten. “How did you know?” I asked.

  “Who are you?” Peter demanded. “Do you know our parents?”

  She shook her head. A thin smile spread over her pale, slender face. “You’re in the book,” she said softly. Her eyes stayed locked on us, as if studying us.

  “Book?” I said. “I don’t understand.”

  She leaned a hand against the back of one of the big armchairs. “The book says you would come. It says you will help me tonight.”

  I glanced at Peter. He rolled his eyes.

  Is this woman crazy? I thought.

  “We’re in a book?” I asked. “You mean, like a phone book?”

  Bella shook her head. She motioned for us to follow her. She led us to a library at the back of the living room.

  Bookshelves climbed to the ceiling on all four walls. The shelves were filled with old-looking books. The covers were cracked and faded.

  Two lamps that looked like torches poked out from high on the walls. The lamps threw yellow light over a long wooden table. Four straight-backed chairs stood around the table.

  Blue-black shadows stretched everywhere. I shivered. I had the strange thought that the shadows were alive.

  Bella reached down to a lower shelf and tugged out a large book. She raised it in both hands and blew dust off the cover.

  As she brought it to the table, I saw that the cover was cracked and stained. She held it up so that Peter and I could read the title etched in curly brown letters on the front: The Hallows Book.

  “Hallows?” I said. “It’s … like a Halloween book?”

  She didn’t answer. With a groan, she set the heavy book down on the table. Then she leaned over it, turning the yellowed pages carefully.

  “I … don’t understand,” I said. “What is this book?”

  “We just came for candy,” Peter said. His voice trembled. I could see he didn’t like this.

  “Read,” Bella said. She ran a slender finger down a page. “Come closer, you two. Read what the book says.”

  Peter and I leaned over the book. It smelled kind of musty, like the closets at Grandma Alice’s house. I squinted at the tiny, faded type, and read:

  On Halloween night, the doorbell will ring. Two young people will come to Bella’s aid. Their names will be Monica and Peter Anderson.

  They will be celebrating the rituals of All Hallow’s Eve. But Peter and Monica will give up their celebrations. And they will help Bella in her time of need.

  I tried to swallow. My throat suddenly felt dry as cotton.

  Peter and I stared down at the faded page of the old book. The writing ended there. The rest of the page was blank.

  I raised my eyes to Bella.

  “This is impossible,” I said. “How can this be?”

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  About the Author

  R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street and the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at www.RLStine.com.

  Copyright

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  Copyright © 2011 by Scholastic Inc.

  Cover art by Brandon Dorman

  Cover design by Steve Scott

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, GOOSEBUMPS, GOOSEBUMPS HORRORLAND, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  First printing, May 2011

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  eISBN 978-0-545-38860-3

 

 

 
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