The Girl Who Cried Monster Page 9

  “Excellent!” Daniel shouted. Carlo is Daniel’s best friend. They’re always together — and always bugging me.

  Daniel is okay — most of the time. But he insists on being right. Dad calls him Mr. Know-It-All.

  And sometimes Dad calls Daniel the Human Tornado, because he runs around like a whirlwind and makes unbelievable messes.

  I’m a lot more like my Dad — sort of calm and quiet. Well, usually calm. And we both have the same favorite foods — lasagna, really sour garlic pickles, and mocha-chip ice cream.

  I even look like my father, tall and thin with a lot of freckles and reddish hair. I usually wear my hair in a ponytail. Dad doesn’t have much hair to worry about.

  Daniel looks more like my mother. Straight, light brown hair that’s always falling in his eyes, and what Mom calls a “sturdy” build. (That means he’s chunky.)

  Today, Daniel was definitely in Human Tornado mode. He ran up onto the big green lawn and began spinning around in a circle. “It’s huge,” he shouted. “It’s gigantic. It’s … it’s … it’s super-house!”

  He collapsed in a heap on the grass. “And this is the super-yard! Hey, Kat, look at me — I’m Super-Daniel!”

  “You’re super-dumb,” I told him, messing up his hair with both hands.

  “Hey, quit it!” Daniel yelped. He pulled out his water gun and squirted the front of my T-shirt. “You’re captured,” he announced. “You are my prisoner!”

  “I don’t think so,” I replied, tugging on the water pistol. “Give up the gun!” I commanded. I pulled harder. “Let go!”

  “Okay!” Daniel grinned. He loosened his grip so suddenly that I staggered backwards — and fell onto the sidewalk.

  “What a klutz!” Daniel snickered.

  I knew how to get him. I zoomed up the porch steps. “Hey, Daniel,” I called, “I’m going to be first in the new house!”

  “No way!” he exclaimed, scrambling up off the lawn. He hurled himself at the steps and grabbed me by the ankle. “Me first! Me first!”

  That’s when Dad walked up the driveway, carrying an overstuffed cardboard box with KITCHEN written on the side. Two moving men followed, hauling our big blue couch.

  “Hey, stop goofing around! Mom and I really need your help today. That’s why we allowed you to miss a school day,” he called. “Daniel, walk Killer — and make sure he has food and water. Kat, keep an eye on Daniel.

  “And Kat, clean the inside of the kitchen cabinets, okay?” Dad added. “Mom wants to start putting the dishes and pots away.”

  “Sure, Dad,” I answered. I saw Daniel rummaging through a box on the lawn. The box was marked CARDS AND COMICS.

  “Hey, where’s the dog?” I yelled to him.

  He shrugged.

  “Daniel!” I frowned. “I don’t see Killer anywhere. Where is he?”

  He dropped a stack of baseball cards. “Okay, okay, I’ll go find him,” he mumbled. He stood up and made his way to the driveway, calling the dog’s name.

  As soon as he disappeared around the side of the house, I hurried to the box marked CARDS AND COMICS and checked through it. Sure enough, the little brat had stolen some of my comics.

  I tucked them under my arm and walked inside to the kitchen to clean out the cabinets. One quick glance made me groan.

  Cabinets filled just about every square inch of the big, bright room! Sighing, I yanked paper towels and a bottle of cleaner out of the CLEANING SUPPLIES box and started scrubbing.

  Spritz, rub, spritz, rub.

  This could take hours!

  After I finished a cabinet, I stepped back to admire my work. Then I knelt down in front of the cabinet under the sink.

  But something — a squeaky noise, like the sound of a footstep on an old wooden stair — made me stop short.

  What is that? I wondered, my heart beating faster.

  I slowly opened the cabinet. Tried to peek inside.

  I opened it a little wider. A little wider.

  I heard the noise again.

  My heart was pounding now.

  I opened the cabinet door another inch.

  And then it grabbed me.

  A dark, hairy claw.

  It wouldn’t let go.

  I screamed.

  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.

  Goosebumps book series created by Parachute Press, Inc.

  Copyright © 1993 by Scholastic

  Cover art by Tim Jacobus

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

  First edition, 1993

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-82069-1

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.