The Boy Who Ate Fear Street

  “It’s Sam Kinny,” I said. “Is Kevin there?”

  “Hello? Hello?”

  “It’s Sam Kinny,” I repeated. “Is Kevin there?”

  “Hello. Who is this? I can’t understand you,” Aunt Sylvie said.

  Must be a bad connection, I thought. “It’s Sam Kinny,” I shouted into the phone. “Are Kevin or Lissa there?”

  “I’m sorry. I still can’t understand a word you’re saying,” she replied. “Concentrate hard—I’ll try to read your mind.”

  I hung up the phone.

  I redialed, hoping Kevin would pick up.

  “Hello.” Aunt Sylvie again.

  Maybe she’s hard of hearing, I thought.

  “It’s Sam,” I screamed into the phone. “Is Kevin there?”

  “Owww!” Aunt Sylvie cried. “Now you’ve hurt my ears. How rude!” She hung up on me.

  Okay. This is it. I’ll call once more, then I’m giving up. Aunt Sylvie picked up the phone before the first ring ended.

  “It’s Sam Kinny,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your ears, but I was wondering if I could speak to Kevin. It’s kind of important.”

  “Slower! Slower! Please!” Aunt Sylvie said.

  Slower?

  What did she mean—slower?

  “It’sSamKinny,” I repeated. “Iwanttospeakwith . . .”

  Yikes! Aunt Sylvie was right. I was talking fast. Really fast.

  I inhaled deeply. I counted to five.

  “It’sSamKinny.”

  Oh, no!

  I tried again.

  “IhavetospeaktoKevin.”

  Now I couldn’t even understand what I was saying.

  “I’m not in the mood for jokes, young man,” Aunt Sylvie scolded. “Don’t call back again.” She slammed the phone down with a crash.

  “Tsamny! Tsamny!” I repeated the sentence over and over, trying my hardest to slow down. But it didn’t work.

  I focused on my lips. My tongue. Trying to control them.

  “It’sSamKinnyIwanttospeaktoKevinandLissa.”

  I couldn’t slow down no matter how hard I tried.

  “It’sSamKinnyIwanttospeakKevandLisIt’sSamKinnyIwanttospeaktoKevandLis.”

  Oh, no! Now I couldn’t stop talking!

  I broke out in a cold sweat.

  “Wtmlgningtdo?” I chattered. “Wtmlgningto-do? Wtmlgningtdomlgningtodo?”

  I grabbed my jaw with both hands and clamped it shut.

  I went to my room and stared in the mirror over my dresser.

  Very slowly I relaxed the grip on my jaw.

  “What.”

  Before my mouth could utter another word, I clamped my jaw shut with both hands again.

  Okay. Stay calm, I told myself. That was good. You said only one word.

  I relaxed my grip again.

  “What.”

  I said it again. Then clamped my jaw shut.

  Then I relaxed it.

  “Am.”

  Clamp. Relax.

  “I.”

  Again.

  “Going.”

  Again.

  “To.”

  One more time.

  “Do?”

  12

  “What am I going to do?”

  “What are you going to do about what, Sam?”

  The minute Mom walked through the door, I started to tell her what happened.

  I concentrated on speaking slowly, and this time it worked. I was talking like my old self again. I told her about trying to make the phone call and how I couldn’t slow down. And how I finally had to hold my jaw shut.

  I sat in the kitchen chair, and Mom leaned over me, her brow wrinkled with worry. “When exactly did it start?” she asked.

  “About an hour ago,” I answered.

  “Did it last long?” she asked.

  “No, not too long.” I shook my head.

  “Did you feel hot?” she asked.

  I tried to remember if I had felt hot. “No,” I said. “I didn’t feel hot.”

  Mom touched my forehead. “Hmmm. Not hot. No fever.”

  “What do you think is wrong with me?” I asked nervously.

  Mom sat down next to me and smiled. “I don’t think anything is wrong with you.” She patted my hand. “Maybe something you ate disagreed with you. . . .”

  Something I ate.

  Like paste.

  Or fleas.

  No way, I told myself. Paste or fleas definitely could not make someone talk that way.

  Sponges. What about sponges?

  No. They couldn’t do it either. It would have to be something weirder than that.

  Much weirder . . .

  Like those little black flakes, the ones Aunt Sylvie added to my rice pudding.

  Those black flakes that burned my mouth and made me feel hot all over!

  That’s it! I realized.

  Aunt Sylvie did this to me.

  Why didn’t I think of it before?

  I remembered what she said after Lissa told her I ate only white food. “You must eat more than that,” she said.

  Then she sneaked those horrible flakes into my dessert. The ones she wouldn’t eat. That’s when all this crazy stuff started to happen.

  A chill ran down my spine.

  Aunt Sylvie knows all kinds of weird things about magic spells. Lissa and Kevin told me so.

  Those black flakes must be part of a magic spell!

  An evil magic spell!

  I have to talk to Kevin. I’ll tell him Aunt Sylvie put some kind of curse on me with those flakes! I have to tell him right away!

  I started for the front door, then stopped.

  I couldn’t go over to Kevin’s house. Aunt Sylvie was there—it wasn’t safe. And I didn’t want to call on the phone again.

  I’ll wait until tomorrow to talk to him, I decided. I’ll tell him at lunch.

  * * *

  The next day in school I watched the clock as the seconds ticked by. The morning seemed to drag on forever. I couldn’t concentrate on anything, not even the test on Johnny Tremaine. I probably flunked it bigtime. But I didn’t care.

  All that mattered just then was talking to Kevin—and figuring out a way to make Aunt Sylvie take this curse off me.

  When the lunch bell rang, I jumped up from my seat and grabbed Kevin. “Hurry up! We have to get to the cafeteria fast!”

  “All right!” Kevin threw a fist in the air and cheered. “Potato chips, here we come!”

  I tried to make Kevin sit right down when we reached the cafeteria, but he insisted on getting his chips first.

  I grabbed a seat and waited for him. I opened my lunch, but I couldn’t eat. I was way too nervous. I mean, I was about to tell Kevin that his aunt was evil. That she put a curse on me. Wouldn’t you be nervous if you had to tell your best friend that?

  What’s taking him so long? I wondered. I searched the food line for him, but I spotted Lissa instead. She waved, then came by and sat down next to me.

  Now I’ll have to tell them both about Aunt Sylvie, I realized. That made me even more nervous.

  “How come you’re not eating?” Lissa took a big bite out of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  “I’m not hungry,” I lied as Kevin plopped down next to me with three bags of chips.

  “Listen, guys, I have to tell you something really important.”

  Kevin opened the first bag of chips. “Sure, what?” he said, munching away.

  Telling Kevin and Lissa this was going to be harder than I thought.

  “Well, um, yesterday, after school, something kind of weird happened to me.”

  “Hey!” Lissa peered up from her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Something weird happened to us too.”

  “It did?” I asked.

  Maybe Aunt Sylvie has put some kind of crazy spell on them too. Maybe this was going to be easier than I thought.

  “Yeah,” Kevin said. “Lissa and I changed after school to go hiking in the woods. When we met downstairs, we we
re both wearing the same exact thing. Black sweaters, black ripped jeans, and red socks.”

  “And our jeans were ripped right in the same exact spot. Weird, huh?” Lissa added.

  “Um, yeah,” I said. “Weird. But something even stranger happened to me. It started a couple of days ago—”

  “I need another bag of chips.” Kevin jumped up from his seat and headed back to the food line. “Be right back.”

  I drummed my fingers nervously on the table.

  Come on, Kevin. Hurry up. I have to tell you this.

  We have to figure out what to do before something worse happens.

  Kevin returned with another bag of chips. “Okay, what started a couple of days ago?” he asked.

  I took a deep breath. Here goes, I thought.

  “A couple of days ago, some crazy stuff started happening to me—and it’s all because of—”

  “Aunt Sylvie!” Lissa yelled.

  “Yes!” I cried.

  “Hi, Aunt Sylvie!” Lissa waved to someone behind me.

  A cold hand gripped my shoulder tightly from behind.

  Aunt Sylvie’s cold hand.

  “Hello, children.” Aunt Sylvie smiled warmly at Kevin and Lissa. She shifted her gaze to me—and her eyes narrowed. She stared at me hard.

  “Aunt Sylvie, cool dress,” Lissa exclaimed.

  “Oh, thank you,” Aunt Sylvie replied. She spun around to show off the outfit she was wearing. A short neon-green figure-skating dress with a dark purple rhinestone belt and bright purple tights.

  Pinned into her gray hair, she wore a sparkly crown—made with the same purple rhinestones as in her belt.

  “I was on my way to the ice rink,” she explained. “To practice my scratch spin and my double lutz. I do love figure skating!”

  “Then how come you’re here?” Kevin asked.

  Aunt Sylvie dug her fingers deeper into my shoulder. “I have something for Sam.” She handed me a brown paper bag with the top folded down. “Something to finish the job.”

  “Oh, noooo,” I moaned.

  “What job?” Lissa asked.

  “Oh, Sam knows,” she replied.

  I peered up at Aunt Sylvie.

  An eerie smile spread across her lips.

  “Open the bag, Sam!” Lissa urged. “I want to see what’s inside.”

  “I’ll—I’ll open it later,” I stammered.

  “Aw, come on,” Kevin complained. “I don’t want to wait until later. Open it now.”

  “Okay, okay,” I groaned.

  I set the bag on the table.

  I unfolded the top.

  Then I peeked inside.

  13

  “Ahhhh!” I threw the bag to the floor.

  “Very funny.” Lissa rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah, stop fooling around,” Kevin said. “Show us what’s inside.”

  Before I could stop her, Lissa bent down and snapped the bag off the floor.

  “Don’t look!” I shouted. “You don’t want to see what’s in there!”

  “Sam, calm down.” Aunt Sylvie dug her fingers deep into my shoulder. “You seem to be a bit nervous today.” Then she laughed at me, mockingly.

  Lissa placed the bag on the table. “Let’s see—” she said, opening it.

  “Don’t!” I snatched the bag back. “It’s a pair of eyes. Human eyes!”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.” Aunt Sylvie chuckled. She grabbed the bag from me. “They’re not real eyes at all.”

  She reached into the bag. “See? Stones. Beautiful midnight-blue stones.”

  “What are they for?” Kevin asked.

  “They’re for Sam’s mother,” Aunt Sylvie replied. “I met her in the crafts store yesterday. She told me she was searching for blue eyes for a doll she’s making—”

  “Sam’s mother makes really cool dolls,” Lissa interrupted.

  “Yes. That’s what the owner of the crafts store said too. Well, I told Sam’s mother to search no further! I had the most beautiful blue stones from my last trip to Borneo. Perfect for eyes. And here they are!”

  Aunt Sylvie handed the bag back to me.

  I took it from her with a trembling hand.

  “Sam, are you okay? Why is your hand shaking like that?” Aunt Sylvie asked.

  “I—I haven’t been feeling very well,” I told her. “Since the night I ate the rice pudding.”

  Aunt Sylvie leaned close to me.

  She lowered her face to mine.

  She stared deep into my eyes. Stared and stared, as if she were searching for something.

  “Ah-ha! There it is,” she whispered. “I knew it would be!”

  14

  “What?” What’s there?” I leaped up from my seat.

  “Sit!” She pushed me down.

  She placed her hands on top of my head and began making circles with her fingers. Small ones at first, then larger ones.

  “Ooooom,” she chanted deeply as she pressed her fingers into my skull. “Ooooma, ooooma, ooooma.”

  “What did you see, Aunt Sylvie?” Lissa asked. “What did you see in Sam’s eyes?”

  “Too much yin. Not enough yang,” she replied.

  “What’s that?” Kevin asked.

  “Yin is everything that is dark, cold, and wet in nature.

  “Yang is everything that is light, warm, and dry,” she tried to explain to us.

  “I learned all about it when I visited China. Sam has too much yin. He’s off balance. Not to worry though. I think I’ve cured him. I learned this technique from an old Chinese witch doctor.”

  “A witch doctor!” I jerked away.

  Aunt Sylvie circled my head one last time. “Oh, my!” She glanced up at the clock. “I’m going to be late for my skating lesson.”

  I watched Aunt Sylvie head out the cafeteria door.

  Why didn’t she stop by my house and give the doll eyes to my mother?

  Why did she give them to me in school?

  Weird, I thought. Really weird.

  I had to tell Kevin and Lissa about Aunt Sylvie now!

  “Something is wrong with me,” I started to say. “Something terrible.”

  Kevin and Lissa stared at me, waiting for me to go on.

  I picked up the pepper shaker from the table and unscrewed the lid. “You’re not going to believe me,” I went on. “But you have to.”

  Kevin and Lissa nodded.

  I poured some pepper into my hand.

  “It started the night I ate dinner at your house.”

  “Sam, what are you doing?” Lissa glanced down at my palm.

  I lifted my hand to my mouth.

  I lapped up the pepper in my hand.

  “Sam! That’s disgusting!” Lissa yelled.

  I brought the shaker up to my mouth and began pouring the pepper down my throat.

  “SAM! Stop!” Kevin ordered.

  I wanted to stop.

  I tried to stop.

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried.

  Kevin reached across the table and snatched the shaker from my lips. Pepper spilled everywhere.

  “Give that back to me!” I yelled, trying to grab it from him.

  I had to have that pepper.

  Kevin held it out of my reach.

  I lowered my head and licked the spilled pepper off the table.

  “SAM!” Lissa shrieked. “STOP!”

  “I want to stop, But I can’t!” I yelled. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “Why can’t you stop?” Lissa demanded.

  “Because I’m a little excited.” Why did I say that? I didn’t mean to say that. Did I?

  The pepper burned my throat. I swigged some milk from my container.

  “I need your help! You’re the only ones who can help me.”

  “We’ll help you,” Kevin said. “But you have to tell us what’s wrong.”

  “I know I’ve been acting kind of crazy, and it’s all because I’m under a—”

  “Under a
what?” Lissa asked impatiently.

  “What?” Kevin echoed.

  “I’m under a chow chow poodle German shepherd.”

  Huh?

  Why did I say that?

  I definitely didn’t want to say that!

  Kevin and Lissa laughed.

  “I’m under a terrier Lassie boxer Pekingese,” I declared.

  Oh, no! What’s going on? I know what I want to say! Why are all the wrong words coming out?

  The lunch period warning bell rang.

  “We have to go, Sam.” Kevin and Lissa stood up.

  Tell them! Tell them about the dog food and the fleas!

  My heart began to race.

  I opened my mouth.

  Would the right words come out?

  I concentrated on what I wanted to say—and shouted, “Rin-Tin-Tin!”

  Kevin and Lissa gathered up their books.

  “Pit bull!” I cried out.

  Why couldn’t I say what I meant?

  I had to tell them how Aunt Sylvie put a curse on me with those little black flakes.

  That’s it! I gasped.

  That’s why she came to school!

  She knows I’ve figured out she’s the one doing this to me.

  And she doesn’t want me to tell Kevin and Lissa!

  So she came to school and sang that weird chant over my head—to strengthen the curse.

  To make sure I’d never be able to tell anyone about it—ever!

  15

  “Doberman beagle Newfoundland,” I screamed, trying to tell them about Aunt Sylvie. “Labrador schnauzer Lhasa apso!”

  “Sam,” Lissa said. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I’m trying to tell you why!” I shouted. But all that came out was “Schnauzer mutt Greyhound!”

  “Stop it!” Lissa shook her head impatiently.

  “Collie retriever—”

  “Sam, stop it. I mean it!” Lissa reached over and socked me in the arm hard.

  “Owww!” I yelled. “That really hurt!”

  “I’m sorry,” Lissa apologized. “But I had to make you stop.”

  “You didn’t have to hit me so hard,” I said, rubbing my arm. “You could have broken something.”

  Hey! I’m talking!

  “Okay, quit joking around now,” Kevin said, “and tell us what you wanted to say.”

  “I wasn’t joking around,” I protested. “It’s part of the curse.”