CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
‘Don’t Ever Get Sick at Granny’s’ Excerpt
About R. L. Stine
1
“Kenny, look!” My little sister’s face lit up with a big smile. She held up a ballerina doll for me to see. “Isn’t she beautiful?” She sighed. “This is the one I want for Christmas.”
My mom took Kristi to see the ballet Sleeping Beauty last month. Now that’s all she talks about, all day long. Ballerinas. Ballerinas. Ballerinas.
“Are you sure this is the one you want?” I asked her.
Kristi’s head bobbed up and down. “Oh, yes!” she said.
“Let’s see if she can twirl.” I took the doll from Kristi and spun her around on her head.
“Kenny! Stop. You’re ruining her hair,” Kristi wailed.
The doll spun to a stop. She fell flat on her back and her eyelids jammed shut.
“Look, Kristi. She is the one you want,” I exclaimed. “She can be Sleeping Beauty.”
I tossed the doll on a shelf.
“Kenny! Give her back to me!” Kristi brushed her short blond curls from her face. “I have to show her to Santa—so he’ll know what to bring me for Christmas.”
Christmas.
That’s why I was stuck here—in the middle of Dalby’s Department Store. On Christmas Eve. In the toy department. With Santa and his dumb elves and my six-year-old sister, Kristi.
It’s not that I have anything against Christmas. I mean I like the presents—it’s all the “peace on earth” stuff I hate.
Anyway, Mom said I had to watch Kristi while she finished up her Christmas shopping—which ruined my whole night.
I think Christmas Eve is the best night of the year. It’s when I sneak into our neighbors’ yards—and unscrew all the lightbulbs on their Christmas trees.
Kristi tugged on my sleeve. “Come on, Kenny. We have to get in line to meet Santa. I have to sit on his lap and tell him what I want.”
“Santa had to go back to the North Pole,” I told her. “We can’t see him. He’s not here anymore.”
Someone tapped me on the shoulder.
Uh-oh. I hope it’s not Mom. I hope she didn’t hear me just lie to Kristi. I’ll be in for it big-time.
It wasn’t Mom. It was worse.
Timmy Smathers. A real nerd. And the shortest kid from my class at Shadyside Middle School.
“Hi, Kenny!” Timmy greeted me with his big goofy smile. “Isn’t this toy department awesome?”
I stared at him blankly for a second. Then I glanced down at him and said, “Oh, Timmy—it’s you. For a second I thought you were one of Santa’s elves.
Timmy’s smile faded from his face. He hates when anyone mentions his height. So I do it as much as I can.
“Hi, Kristi!” Timmy turned to my sister. “Did you tell Santa what you want for Christmas?” he asked in his squeaky little voice.
Kristi shook her head. She peered down at her sneakers.
“Santa isn’t here anymore. He had to go back to the North Pole,” she whispered. “Kenny said so.”
Then she glanced up at me. Her lower lip trembled. I spotted a big fat tear slide out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek.
“Hey! Don’t cry, Kristi.” Timmy smiled his goofy smile again. “Kenny made a mistake. Santa is sitting in his village right now. He won’t leave until all the kids get a turn to talk to him.”
Kristi’s face turned beet red. She scrunched up her nose—her angry look.
“You lied to me, Kenny!” she yelled. “Take me to Santa’s Village. Right now!”
“Bye, Kenny. Merry Christmas!” Timmy shouted cheerfully as he strolled away from us.
“Bye, Tiny. I mean Timmy,” I called back. “Merry Christmas!”
“If you don’t take me right now, I’m telling Mom how you lied to me about Santa,” Kristi threatened.
“Okay! We’re going. Come on,” I groaned.
I grabbed Kristi’s hand and tugged her toward the end of the toy department—to Santa’s Village.
Santa’s Village. The stupidest place I ever saw. A big sign at the entrance said: SANTA’S STREET! FILLED WITH TOYS—FOR ALL GOOD LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS!
At each side of the entrance stood two tall wooden soldiers. Big plastic structures, painted to look like gingerbread houses, lined the street inside the entrance. They were dusted with fake snow. Icicles hung from their rooftops.
We walked through a little white gate and stood in line with the other kids.
I craned my neck to see up ahead.
At the very end of Santa Street, I spotted the jolly fat man himself. He sat in a big gold sleigh decorated with thick red satin ribbons and big golden bells.
A little boy sat on Santa’s lap and whispered in the old guy’s ear. “Ho-ho-ho!” Santa boomed. His voice sounded totally fake.
Boy, what a lame Santa. I can’t believe these little kids don’t catch on.
The line crept forward slowly.
Santa’s elves ran up and down Santa Street, ringing their annoying bells and handing out candy canes. They tried to make everyone sing Christmas carols with them.
Kristi sang along in her squeaky little voice, happily sucking on a candy cane.
“How long until we get to the front, Kenny?” she asked between licks on her candy cane. “I can’t wait to see Santa.”
“How old are you now, Kristi?”
“I’m six, Kenny, and you know it!” she exclaimed.
“Well, by the time you get to sit on Santa’s lap, you’ll be about eight,” I told her.
“Ken-nnny,” Kristi groaned. She turned and stared longingly at Santa. Her little blond curls bounced around her face.
Mom says my hair looked just like that when I was six. Yuck! I’m glad I’ve got normal hair now—straight, regular brown hair.
And I’m glad I’m really tall—not short like Tiny Timmy. Or these stupid elves, I thought as one tried to shove a candy cane into my hand.
“Hey, Kristi,” I leaned over and whispered. “I bet I know something about Santa that you don’t know.”
“Leave me alone, Kenny,” she sniffed.
“But it’s about Santa,” I said. “It’s a secret. It’s really important.”
She turned her head and peered up at me through narrowed eyes. I could tell I’d made her curious.
“What about him?” she asked.
“That guy up there is not the real Santa,” I whispered.
“He is too!” she shot back.
“Nope.” I shook my head seriously. “He isn’t.”
“He is!” Kristi insisted. Her eyes grew round and her lower lip quivered.
“He is what?” Mom asked, coming up behind us.
“Kenny says—” Kristi started to say.
One of the elves rang a golden bell. “It’s your turn, little girl.” He smiled brightly at Kristi.
Phew! Saved by the bell, I laughed to myself.
The elf led Kristi up to Santa’s sleigh. Two other elves hoisted her up onto Santa’s lap.
Kristi’s blue eyes sparkled as bright as Christmas-tree lights. I never saw a little kid so happy.
This was going to be great.
&nb
sp; I strolled up to the sleigh and stood behind my mother. She watched Kristi, smiling and waving.
She’d never even notice if I disappeared.
“Ho-ho-ho!” Santa bellowed as Kristi settled on his lap. “What’s your name, little girl?”
I slipped through the crowd to the far end of the sleigh.
I darted past a few elves and stood there, pretending to watch Kristi.
“Kristi Frobisher,” Kristi replied happily. “I live at 27 Fear Street. It’s the fourth house on the left. It has blue shutters and two big chimneys and—”
“That’s okay, Kristi. Santa will find it,” he promised. “And what would you like me to bring you for Christmas, dear?”
I peered around.
Everyone had their eyes glued to Santa.
I dropped down to the floor and slipped under the sleigh.
I slithered along the floor on my belly.
Up above, I heard Kristi chattering away. Kristi and Santa sat directly overhead now.
I stopped and crawled out—behind the sleigh. The fur-trimmed edge of Santa’s red jacket hung inches from my face. The fur tickled my nose. I sucked in a sneeze.
“But what I really want is a ballerina doll,” Kristi droned on. “She’s got blond hair and a pink tutu and satin toe shoes. And when you press a button on her back, she . . .”
Perfect timing!
I jumped up.
Santa turned to face me. His fluffy white eyebrows arched in surprise.
I reached out.
With both hands, I grabbed Santa’s big white beard.
And I pulled with all my might!
2
“Hey!” Santa shouted.
He yanked his head back.
Great! He’s helping me.
While Santa pulled his head one way, I tugged his beard the opposite way.
Before you could say “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa’s hands flew up to hide his pale, bare face.
“He’s a fake!” I yelled out. I waved the long white beard over my head for everyone to see. “A big fake! Now do you believe me, Kristi?”
Kristi stood up in the sleigh and stared at me. Her mouth hung open in shock. “You’re so mean, Kenny!” she wailed.
“Kenny!” Mom cried. “How could you do that!”
All along Santa Street the little kids sobbed and whimpered.
“What happened to Santa?” one little boy cried out.
“I want the real Santa!” another one shrieked.
The grown-ups tried to shush them up. The elves ran around frantically, ringing their bells and doling out handfuls of candy.
What a riot!
“You rotten kid!” Santa yelled at me. “Give me back that beard!”
He grabbed for the beard. But I snatched it out of his reach. He lost his balance and nearly toppled out of the sleigh. When he sat up, he glared at me.
I knew that look. He wanted to wring my neck.
I stared at the beardless Santa. He looked really familiar.
Joe! The custodian at Shadyside Middle School. Sure, it had to be!
“Hey, Joe!” I laughed at him. “How did you get to be Santa Claus?”
“You always were a rotten kid, Frobisher,” he groaned. “And you always will be.”
Scowling, he grabbed his beard back from me. He pressed it to his cheeks, but it didn’t stick.
“Come on, Joe,” I chuckled. “It was just a joke.”
“See anyone laughing, Kenny?” he asked.
“How could anyone do that to these little children?” a salesperson grumbled.
“He should be ashamed of himself,” another man agreed.
“He’s a dreadful boy,” a tall woman muttered as she glared at me. “No—not a boy. A monster.”
A quick-thinking elf stood up on the sleigh and called everyone to attention. “Don’t worry, folks. Santa is just fine. His beard is magic, you know. Sometimes Santa has to take it off—so he won’t be recognized.”
The little kids believed him. They wiped their eyes and stopped crying.
Behind the sleigh, another elf helped Joe glue his beard back in place.
“Now, if you’ll just get back in line, boys and girls,” the elf on the sleigh announced, “you can still tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”
“Kenny!” My mother’s sharp, angry voice rang out from the other side of the sleigh. “Come over here—this instant!”
Kristi grinned for the first time all night.
I gulped.
“Be there in a few minutes, Mom.” I had to slip away. Hide someplace. Until Mom had time to cool off a little. Mom cools off pretty fast.
But where could I go?
I made my way around the back of the sleigh—and spotted a door. A sign hung on it. In big, bold red letters it said: DANGER! KEEP OUT! AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Talk about a lucky break!
I’ll duck in here for ten minutes. When I come out, Mom will be in a hurry to get home. She won’t have time to yell at me—at least not much.
I could hear Santa greeting the crowd again from up on the sleigh.
I glanced over at Mom. She and Kristi were studying a display of ballerina dolls.
Nobody else was looking at me either.
Great! A perfect time for my escape.
I tiptoed over to the door.
I turned the doorknob.
Yes! It was my lucky break! The door wasn’t locked.
I quietly slipped inside the small room.
I quickly pulled the door closed behind me—and gasped.
What a room!
Floor-to-ceiling computers filled each wall—with hundreds of switches and buttons. Every inch of wall space was covered with them—switches, buttons, levers, and dials—all lit with tiny lights in a zillion different colors. Glowing and blinking lights—brighter and better than any Christmas tree I’d ever seen.
I heard a low hum coming from all directions. And through the soles of my sneakers I felt the floor softly vibrate.
Wow! This is like the space-capsule simulator ride at AstroLand. Only this was better.
And here I was. In the middle of it all. By myself.
I was in complete control—but of what? I wondered. What do all these switches do?
I peered closely at the switches.
I searched for writing underneath them—some sign of what they did.
Nothing.
Well, there was only one way to find out!
My fingertips tingled with anticipation.
Santa’s beard? Kid stuff!
Merry Christmas, everyone, I thought with glee. Get ready for some real excitement!
I slowly reached out my hand—to a big red switch in the middle of the control board.
I grasped it between my fingertips.
And flipped it.
I waited.
And waited.
And listened to the shoppers’ voices outside the door. Listened for their shrieks—as the lights went out. Or the sprinkler system went on. Something.
No cries of surprise.
Nothing.
I sighed and flipped a big blue switch right next to the red one. Bam! I jumped.
The door locked—with the sound of a heavy bolt.
I flipped the blue switch again. I listened for the bolt to slide open. It didn’t. I was trapped!
3
I grabbed the doorknob and turned it. The door remained locked.
I jiggled the knob.
Tugged on the door again.
It didn’t budge.
It was bolted shut—from the outside.
A small wave of panic rose up inside me.
I stared around the room.
The lights seemed to blink more wildly. The humming sound seemed to grow louder.
Relax, Kenny, I told myself. If you bang on the door, somebody will hear you and let you out.
I listened.
I heard only the low hum of the control panels.
“Hey, could someone op
en this door?” I shouted. “I’m stuck in here.”
No one answered me.
“Hey, I’m stuck in here!” I yelled, pounding my fist on the door. “Somebody open up!”
No one came to the door.
With all the people out there, why didn’t anyone hear me?
“I’m a kid trapped in this closet!” I yelled as loud as I could. “Help me! Somebody! Get me out of here!”
I banged on the door with my hands. I kicked it hard with my feet.
There! Somebody had to hear that!
Silence.
An uneasy feeling crept into the pit of my stomach. I stood back from the door and took a deep breath.
Then I took a running leap at it, throwing my shoulder against it hard.
Nothing.
I banged on the door until my knuckles hurt.
Still nothing.
Where is everyone?
I glanced at my glow-in-the-dark watch: 8:15!
Dalby’s closes at eight.
Did everyone go home?
How could that be?
How could everyone have gone home and left me in here? My mom must have told someone I was missing. Why weren’t they looking for me?
My hands began to sweat. I had to get out of this place. But how?
I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and checked my watch again: 8:20.
It wasn’t that late. There had to be someone in the store. A manager. A security guard locking up. One of Santa’s stupid elves. Someone.
Oh, I get it! They know I’m in here, I realized. They’re trying to teach me a lesson or something dumb like that.
“Come on, you guys!” I yelled. “Please. Let me out of here! Now!”
No reply.
I grabbed the doorknob and pulled with all my strength.
“Help!” I screamed. “Help!”
I twisted the knob. Then I pulled again, as hard as I could.
“Let me out of here!” I shouted.
No one answered my calls. I backed away from the door, wondering what to do next.
That’s when I heard the sizzling sounds.
I gazed around the room. I couldn’t tell what was making that noise.
Then, suddenly, the hum in the room grew louder.
And the floor began to vibrate.
My legs shook hard.
The humming grew louder. Louder. It filled the room now, shrill and strong. It seemed to come at me from every direction, all at once.