[Goosebumps 12] - Be Careful What You Wish For...

  That was the excuse I’d planned to give Sharon as soon as I entered. I mean, it wasn’t just an excuse. It was the truth.

  But I never got to tell Sharon my reason for being late.

  I pulled open the door to the classroom—and stared in shock.

  Empty. The room was empty.

  No kids. No Sharon.

  The lights hadn’t been turned on. And yesterday’s work was still on the chalkboard.

  Weird, I thought.

  But I didn’t know then how weird things were going to get.

  I froze for a moment, staring into the empty, dark room. Then I decided that everyone must be at an assembly in the auditorium.

  I turned quickly and made my way to the auditorium at the front of the school, jogging down the empty corridor.

  The door to the teachers’ lounge was open. I peered in and was surprised to find it empty, too. Maybe all the teachers are at the assembly, I thought.

  A few seconds later, I pulled open the double doors to the auditorium.

  And peered into the darkness.

  The auditorium was silent and empty.

  I pushed the doors shut and began to run down the hall, stopping to look into every room.

  It didn’t take me long to realize that I was the only person in the building. No kids. No teachers. I even checked the janitors’ room downstairs. No janitors.

  Is it Sunday? Is it a holiday?

  I tried to figure out where everyone had gone, but I couldn’t.

  Feeling the first stirrings of panic in my chest, I dropped a quarter in the pay phone next to the principal’s office and called home.

  I let it ring at least ten times. Still no one home.

  “Where is everyone?” I shouted down the empty corridor. The only reply came from my echoing voice.

  “Can anybody hear me?” I shouted, cupping my hands around my mouth. Silence.

  I suddenly felt very frightened. I had to get out of the creepy school building. I grabbed my coat and started to run. I didn’t even bother to close the locker door.

  Carrying my coat over my shoulder, I ran outside, to the bike rack. My bike was the only bike parked there. I scolded myself for not noticing that when I arrived.

  I pulled on my coat, arranged my backpack, and started for home. Again, I saw no cars on the street. No people.

  “This is so weird!” I cried aloud.

  My legs suddenly felt heavy, as if something was weighing them down. I knew it was my panic. My heart was pounding. I kept searching desperately for someone—anyone—on the street.

  Halfway home, I turned around and headed my bike to town. The small shopping district was just a few blocks north of school.

  I rode in the center of the street. There was no reason not to. No cars or trucks appeared in either direction.

  The bank came into view, followed by the grocery store. As I pedaled as hard as I could, I noticed all the other shops that lined both sides of Montrose Avenue.

  All dark and empty.

  Not a soul in town. Not a person in any store.

  No one.

  I braked the bike in front of Farber’s Hardware and jumped off. The bike fell onto its side. I stepped to the sidewalk and listened. The only sound was the banging of a shutter being blown by the wind above the barbershop.

  “Hello!” I called at the top of my voice. “Hellllooooo!”

  I started running frantically from store to store, pressing my face against the windows, peering inside, searching desperately for another human being.

  Back and forth. I covered both sides of the street, my fear growing heavier inside me with each step. With each dark store.

  “Hellooooo! Helllooooo! Can anybody hear me?”

  But I knew it was a waste of my voice.

  Standing in the center of the street, staring at the dark stores and empty sidewalks, I knew that I was alone.

  Alone in the world.

  I suddenly realized my second wish had been granted.

  Judith had disappeared. And everyone else had disappeared with her.

  Everyone.

  My mom and dad. My brother, Ron. Everyone.

  Would I ever see them again?

  I slumped down on the cement stoop in front of the barbershop and hugged myself, trying to stop my body from trembling.

  Now what? I wondered miserably. Now what?

  20

  I don’t know how long I sat there on the stoop, hugging myself, my head lowered, my mind in a total, spinning panic. I would have sat there forever, listening to the banging shutter, listening to the wind blow through the deserted street—if my stomach hadn’t started to growl and grumble.

  I stood up, suddenly remembering that I had missed my breakfast.

  “Sam, you’re all alone in the world. How can you think about eating?” I asked myself aloud.

  Somehow it was comforting to hear a human voice, even though it was my own.

  “I’m staaaaarving!” I shouted.

  I listened for a response. It was really stupid, but I refused to give up hope.

  “This is all Judith’s fault,” I muttered, picking my bike up from the street.

  I rode home through the empty streets, my eyes searching the deserted yards and houses. As I passed the Carters’ house on the corner of my block, I expected their little white terrier to come yapping after my bike the way he always did.

  But there weren’t even any dogs left in my world. Not even my poor little Punkin.

  There was just me. Samantha Byrd. The last person on earth.

  As soon as I got home, I rushed into the kitchen and made myself a peanut butter sandwich. Gobbling it down, I stared at the open peanut butter jar. It was nearly empty.

  “How am I going to feed myself?” I wondered aloud. “What do I do when the food runs out?”

  I started to fill a glass with orange juice. But I hesitated, and filled it up only halfway.

  Do I rob the grocery store? I asked myself. Do I just take the food I need?

  Is it really robbing if there’s no one there? If there’s no one anywhere?

  Does it matter? Does anything matter?

  “How can I take care of myself? I’m only twelve!” I shouted.

  For the first time, I felt the urge to cry. But I jammed another hunk of peanut butter sandwich into my mouth and forced the urge away.

  Instead, I turned my thoughts to Judith, and my unhappiness and fear quickly gave way to anger.

  If Judith hadn’t made fun of me, hadn’t tried to embarrass me, if Judith hadn’t constantly sneered at me and said, “Byrd, why don’t you just fly away!” and all the other horrible things she’d said to me, then I never would have made any wishes about her, and I wouldn’t be all alone now.

  “I hate you, Judith!” I screamed.

  I jammed the last section of sandwich into my mouth—but I didn’t chew.

  I froze. And listened.

  I heard something.

  Footsteps. Someone walking in the living room.

  21

  I swallowed the sandwich section whole, and went tearing into the living room. “Mom? Dad?”

  Were they back? Were they really back?

  No.

  I stopped in the living room doorway when I saw Clarissa. She was standing in the center of the room, her black hair reflecting the light from the front window, a pleased smile on her face.

  Her bright red shawl was draped loosely over her shoulders. She wore a long black jumper over a white, high-collared blouse.

  “You!” I cried breathlessly. “How did you get in?”

  She shrugged. Her smile grew wider.

  “Why did you do this to me?” I shrieked, my anger bursting out of me. “How could you do this to me?” I demanded, gesturing at the empty room, the empty house.

  “I didn’t,” she replied quietly.

  She walked to the window. In the bright afternoon sunlight, her skin appeared pale and wrinkled. She looked so old.

  “But—bu
t—” I sputtered, too furious to speak.

  “You did it,” she said, her smile fading. “You made the wish. I granted it.”

  “I didn’t wish for my family to disappear!” I screamed, striding into the room, my hands balled into tight fists. “I didn’t wish for everyone in the world to disappear! You did that! You!”

  “You wished for Judith Bellwood to disappear,” Clarissa said, adjusting the shawl on her shoulders. “I granted the wish as best as I knew how.”

  “No. You tricked me,” I insisted angrily.

  She snickered. “Magic is often unpredictable,” she said. “I figured you would not be happy with your last wish. That is why I have returned. You have one more wish. Would you like to make it now?”

  “Yes!” I exclaimed. “I want my family back. I want all the people back. I—”

  “Be careful,” she warned, pulling the red glass ball from the purple bag. “Think carefully before you make your final wish. I am trying to repay your kindness to me. I do not want you to be unhappy with the results of your wish.”

  I started to reply, but stopped.

  She was right. I had to be careful.

  I had to make the right wish this time. And I had to say it the right way.

  “Take your time,” she urged softly. “Since this is your final wish, it shall be permanent. Be very careful.”

  I stared into her eyes as they turned from black to red, reflecting the red glow of the ball in her hand, and I thought as hard as I could.

  What should I wish for?

  22

  The light from the living room window faded as clouds rolled over the sun. As the light dimmed, the old woman’s face darkened. Deep black ruts formed beneath her eyes. Lines creased her forehead. She seemed to sag into the shadows.

  “Here is my wish,” I said in a trembling voice. I spoke slowly, carefully. I wanted to consider each word. I didn’t want to slip up this time.

  I didn’t want to give her a chance to trick me.

  “I am listening,” she whispered, her face completely covered by shadow now. Except for her eyes, glowing as red as fire.

  I cleared my throat. I took a deep breath.

  “Here is my wish,” I repeated carefully. “I wish for everything to return to normal. I want everything to be exactly the way it was—but—”

  I hesitated.

  Should I finish this part of it?

  Yes! I told myself.

  “I want everything to be the way it was—but I want Judith to think that I’m the greatest person who ever lived!”

  “I will grant your third wish,” she said, raising the glass ball high. “Your second wish will be canceled. Time will back up to this morning. Goodbye, Samantha.”

  “Good-bye,” I said.

  I was swallowed up by the radiating red glow. When it faded, Clarissa had vanished.

  “Sam! Sam—rise and shine!”

  My mother’s voice floated up to my room from downstairs.

  I sat straight up in bed, instantly awake. “Mom!” I cried happily.

  I remembered everything. I remembered waking up in an empty house, in an empty world. And I remembered my third wish.

  But time had gone back to this morning. I glanced at the clock. Seven. Mom was waking me up at the usual time.

  “Mom!” I leapt out of bed, ran downstairs in my nightshirt, and joyfully threw my arms around her, hugging her tight. “Mom!”

  “Sam? Are you okay?” She stepped back, a startled expression on her face. “You running a fever?”

  “Good morning!” I cried happily, hugging Punkin, who seemed just as startled. “Is Dad still home?” I was so eager to see him, too, to know that he was back.

  “He left a few minutes ago,” Mom said, still examining me suspiciously with her eyes.

  “Oh, Mom!” I exclaimed. I couldn’t conceal my happiness. I hugged her again.

  “Whoa.” I heard Ron enter the kitchen behind us.

  I turned to see him staring at me, his eyes narrowed in disbelief behind his glasses. I ran over and hugged him, too.

  “Mom—what did you put in her orange juice?” he demanded, struggling to back away from me. “Yuck! Let go of me!”

  Mom shrugged. “Don’t ever ask me to explain your sister,” she replied dryly. She turned to the kitchen cabinets. “Go get dressed, Sam. You don’t want to be late.”

  “What a beautiful morning!” I exclaimed.

  “Yeah. Beautiful,” Ron repeated, yawning. “You must have had some terrific dreams or something, Sam.”

  I laughed and hurried upstairs to get dressed.

  I couldn’t wait to get to school. I couldn’t wait to see my friends, to see the halls filled once again with talking, laughing faces.

  Pedaling my bike as hard as I could, I grinned every time a car passed. I loved seeing people again. I waved at Mrs. Miller across the street, bending to pick up her morning newspaper.

  I didn’t even mind it when the Carters’ terrier came chasing after my bike, barking his high-pitched yips and nipping at my ankles.

  “Good dog!” I cried gleefully.

  Everything is normal, I told myself. Everything is wonderfully normal.

  I opened the front door to school to the sound of crashing locker doors and shouting kids. “Great!” I cried aloud.

  A sixth-grader came tearing around the corner and bumped right into me, practically knocking me over as I made my way to my locker. I didn’t cry out angrily. I just smiled.

  I was so happy to be back in school, back in my crowded noisy school.

  Unable to stop grinning, I unlocked my locker and pulled open the door. I called out a cheerful greeting to some friends across the hall.

  I even said good morning to Mrs. Reynolds, our principal!

  “Hey—Stork!” a seventh-grade boy called to me. He made a funny face, then disappeared around the corner.

  I didn’t care. I didn’t care what anyone called me. The sound of so many voices was so wonderful!

  As I started to take my coat off, I saw Judith and Anna arrive.

  They were busy chatting, both talking at once. But Judith stopped when she saw me.

  “Hi, Judith,” I called warily. I wondered what Judith would be like now. Would she treat me any differently? Would she be nicer to me?

  Would she remember how much she and I used to hate each other?

  Would she be any different at all?

  Judith gave Anna a little wave and came hurrying over to me. “Morning, Sam,” she said, and smiled.

  Then she pulled off her wool ski cap—and I gasped.

  23

  “Judith—your hair!” I cried in astonishment.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, staring at me eagerly.

  She had cut it shorter like mine and had tied a pony tail on the side—just like mine!

  “I—I guess…” I stammered.

  She breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at me. “Oh, I’m so glad you like it, Sam!” she cried gratefully. “It looks just like yours, doesn’t it? Or did I cut it too short? Do you think it should be longer?” She studied my hair. “I think yours might be longer.”

  “No. No. It’s… great, Judith,” I told her, backing toward my locker.

  “Of course, it’s not as good as yours,” Judith continued, staring at my ponytail. “My hair just isn’t as pretty as yours. It isn’t as fine, and the color is too dark.”

  I don’t believe this! I thought.

  “It looks good,” I said softly.

  I pulled my coat off and hung it in my locker. Then I bent to pick up my backpack.

  “Let me carry that,” Judith insisted. She grabbed it out of my hands. “Really. I don’t mind, Sam.”

  I started to protest, but Anna interrupted. “What are you doing?” she asked Judith, flashing me a cold glance. “Let’s get to class.”

  “You go without me,” Judith replied. “I want to carry Sam’s backpack for her.”

  “Huh?” Anna’s mouth dropped open.
“Are you totally losing it, Judith?” she demanded.

  Judith ignored her question and turned back to me. “I love that T-shirt, Sam. It’s ribbed, isn’t it? Did you get it at the Gap? That’s where I got mine. Look. I’m wearing one just like yours.”

  I goggled in surprise. Sure enough, Judith was wearing the same style T-shirt, only hers was gray and mine was pale blue.

  “Judith—what’s your problem?” Anna asked, applying a twentieth layer of bright orange lipstick on her lips. “And what did you do to your hair?” she cried, suddenly noticing the new style.

  “Doesn’t it look just like Sam’s?” Judith asked her, flipping the ponytail with one hand.

  Anna rolled her eyes. “Judith, have you gone psycho or something?”

  “Give me a break, Anna,” Judith replied. “I’d like to talk to Sam—okay?”

  “Huh?” Anna knocked on Judith’s head, as if knocking on a door. “Anyone home?”

  “See you later, okay?” Judith said impatiently.

  Anna sighed, then walked away angrily.

  Judith turned back to me. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “Yeah. Sure,” I replied. “What kind of favor?”

  She hoisted my backpack over her left shoulder. Her own backpack hung on her right shoulder. “Would you help me work on my foul shot at practice this afternoon?”

  I wasn’t sure I had heard Judith correctly. I stared at her, my mouth hanging open.

  “Would you?” she pleaded. “I’d really like to try shooting fouls your way. You know. Underhanded. I bet I’d have a lot more control shooting them underhanded, the way you do.”

  This was too much! Too much!

  As I stared at Judith, I saw absolute worship in her eyes!

  She was the best foul shooter on the team. And here she was, begging me to show her how to shoot the klutzy way I did it!

  “Yeah. Okay. I’ll try to help you,” I told her.

  “Oh, thank you, Sam!” she cried gratefully. “You’re such a pal! And do you think I could borrow your social studies notes later? Mine are such a mess.”

  “Well…” I said thoughtfully. My notes were so bad, even I couldn’t make them out.