“I … I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m all alone here and—”
“If you bring me some food, I’ll go away.” He raised his right hand. “I swear.”
I studied him, my mind spinning. “It’s not a good idea,” I said. “I’m sorry, Robby, but I don’t think I can trust you.”
He kept his right hand raised. “No. Seriously, I swear,” he said. “Give me a little food, and I promise. I’ll go away and never bother you again.”
I was tempted. Was he telling the truth?
“I’m not a bad guy,” Robby said. “You shouldn’t judge me by what happened at the carnival. That was so freaky. It even creeped me out. But it won’t happen again. No way.”
I took another few seconds to make up my mind. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go to the kitchen. We’ll see what’s in the fridge.”
I led the way down the hall to the kitchen. Robby walked slowly, peering into each room we passed. He stopped in the doorway to Karla’s room and studied it.
“Nice house,” he said quietly. “Everything is so clean.”
“Where do you come from?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
Weird answer.
I motioned to the tall stools at the kitchen counter. “Take a seat,” I said. “I’ll see what’s in the—”
My eyes stopped at a box on the counter beside the fridge. Honey Nut Cheerios. “Robby, do you like cereal?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He was perched on the tall stool at the end. He leaned over the counter and twirled the salt and pepper shakers in his hands. “This is really nice of you, Jordan. You’re a good friend.”
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say to that. “But you’ll keep your promise—yes?”
He nodded solemnly and raised his right hand again.
I poured the cereal into a bowl. Then I added milk and carried the bowl and the cereal box to Robby at the counter.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. He picked up the spoon, slid it around in the Cheerios, and then took a bite. “Mmmmm,” he said, chewing. “This is awesome, Jordan.”
I stood beside the counter watching him eat the cereal. He looked like any kid my age sitting on a stool, eating a bowl of cereal. He dipped the spoon into the bowl slowly, carefully. He had a smile on his face as he downed each spoonful.
I let out a long whoosh of air. I could feel myself starting to relax a little. Watching him eat, I thought about Mr. Ferber.
Should I try to call him as soon as Robby leaves? Should I tell him Robby was here? Or should I let Robby enjoy his freedom?
“I could make you a peanut butter sandwich,” I said. “Would that be good?”
He nodded. “Good.” He had milk running down his chin.
I bent down to the bread drawer and lifted out a loaf of bread. I stood up and started to reach for the peanut butter jar. But I stopped when I saw Robby pick up the Cheerios box.
He raised it above his head, tilted it to his face—and let the Cheerios come sliding out, into his open mouth.
“Hey, uh … Robby?” I said.
An avalanche of Cheerios poured down his throat. Lots of them missed his mouth and sprayed onto the kitchen floor, bouncing all over.
“Robby, you’re spilling—” I started.
I gasped when he ripped the box in two and shoved one half into his mouth. His eyes were wild now as he frantically chewed the cardboard. He swallowed the half with a loud gulp. Then he shoved the other half of the box into his mouth.
“Stop it!” I cried. “Robby—you promised!”
He jumped off the stool and lurched toward the counter.
“Hey—” I cried out as he pushed me out of the way. I stumbled sideways and hit the breakfast table.
I turned to see Robby shoving fistfuls of bread into his mouth. He made loud gurgling and slurping noises as the gobs of bread slid down his throat.
When the bread was all eaten, he tossed the wrapper on the floor. Then he turned to me, his eyes bulging, his face bright red. And a loud, stomach-wrenching “URRRRRRRRRP!” erupted from deep inside him.
“No. Please … Please …” I begged.
He made a few gagging sounds. Then a stream of bright orange vomit spewed from his mouth. It splashed onto the kitchen counter and sprayed the floor.
He exploded in another deafening “URRRRRRP.” He sprayed orange vomit over the front of the fridge and across the stove top.
And as he choked and spewed, his body changed again. And he expanded into the ugly, green fur-covered creature Karla and I had seen at the carnival.
“No—please!” I shouted. I raised my hands in front of me as a wave of vomit shot toward me.
He began to roar—like an angry bear—and swing his arms crazily from side to side. With a terrifying growl, he ripped a cabinet door off its hinges and tossed it down the hall.
I ducked and covered my head as another cabinet door went flying. When I raised my eyes, I gasped in shock. Mom and Dad walked in through the kitchen door with Karla close behind.
“Jordan! What have you DONE?” Mom shrieked.
“It wasn’t me!” I cried. “It wasn’t me. It was HIM!”
I turned and pointed to the monster.
But there was no one there.
Dad groaned. “Ohhh. What’s that smell?” He pinched his fingers over his nose.
“It … it’s vomit,” I stammered.
“Jordan—you’re sick?” Mom cried.
“I told you—it wasn’t me!” I exclaimed.
They still hadn’t moved from the doorway. Karla pushed between them and stepped into the kitchen. She set down the grocery bag she had been carrying.
“Listen to him, Mom. He’s telling the truth,” Karla said.
“But—but—but—” Dad sputtered like a motorboat starting up.
“It was the monster that escaped from the carnival,” I said.
Mom gasped. “A monster? Is that what made everyone panic?”
“His name is Robby,” I said. “He looks like a normal boy, but when you feed him he turns into a monster …”
“A real monster?” Mom cried. “In my kitchen? A monster who throws up orange gunk everywhere and rips the cabinets apart?”
Dad slapped his forehead. “Why didn’t you tell us you saw a monster?”
Mom’s mouth hung open. “That’s why the people in the park were screaming,” she said. “A monster. A real monster.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dad asked again.
“We … we didn’t want to worry you,” Karla said.
“We … never thought we’d see him again,” I said. “But …”
Karla pointed to the floor. “Look. Orange paw prints. Look at them. He must have stepped in his own vomit.”
We walked behind her as she followed the trail of footprints on the floor. The front door stood wide open. The footprints led right out the door.
“Maybe he’s still in the neighborhood,” I said. I peered out to the street. “Maybe he’s still nearby.”
“Quick. Call the police,” Mom said. “Call 911.”
“Are you crazy?” Dad cried. “What are you going to tell the police? That a boy turned into a monster and got sick in our kitchen? Do you honestly think anyone would believe that story?”
“I know someone who would believe it,” I said.
“So do I,” Karla said. “Mr. Ferber. The guy who owns the carnival.”
“We have to tell him,” I insisted. “We have to tell him that his monster is in our neighborhood. That he was here.”
“Unbelievable,” Dad murmured, his eyes on the footprints on the floor. “Unbelievable.”
Mom had tears in her eyes. She kept biting her lips, blinking hard. She covered her face with both hands. “You could have been hurt. You were all alone here with a … with a monster!”
Dad put a hand on her shoulder. “Jordan is fine. It’s okay. But there’s a monster on the loose. We have to find that carnival owner.”
&
nbsp; And that’s what we did. Mom and Dad put the groceries away. They opened all the windows in the house to try to let the smell out.
Then the four of us piled into the car and made the long drive back to Carnival World. It was now chilly with storm clouds low overhead, threatening rain. Gusts of wind blew our little Prius from side to side on the highway.
Dad leaned over the steering wheel, peering straight ahead into the passing darkness, gripping the wheel tightly with both hands. “Nasty night,” he muttered.
We didn’t talk much. I could see Mom shaking her head in the front seat.
Karla moved close to me in the backseat. She swept back her coppery hair and whispered in my ear. “We should have called the police. What can that guy Ferber do?”
“Maybe he knows a way to capture him,” I whispered back. “I mean, he captured Robby in the first place, didn’t he?”
“Do you think Robby is still in our neighborhood?” she whispered. “I’ll bet he took off as soon as he trashed our kitchen. He’s probably miles away.”
“Hope so,” I said. I kept picturing him growing furry, growing huge, turning from a quiet, normal boy into an ugly, roaring beast. Would I ever be able to get that picture from my mind?
Our tires crunched over the gravel as Dad pulled the car into the Carnival World parking lot. The lot was empty. Up ahead, I could see that everything was dark, closed for the night. A single light burned dimly over the entrance.
“Whoa.” A gust of wind blew my hair straight up as I climbed out of the car.
Karla laughed. “You look like a terrified cartoon character!”
“Thanks a bunch,” I muttered. I pushed my hair down with both hands.
The wind swirled through the carnival grounds. Beyond the gate, I saw that most of the rides had been covered in canvas tarps. The tarps shivered and bumped in the gusting winds. The game booths were all dark and shuttered.
We stepped through the turnstiles. No one in sight. A few dim lights dotted the area. Huddled close together, the four of us began to walk slowly down the main aisle.
“What makes you think this guy Ferber stays at his carnival after it’s closed?” Mom asked Dad.
Dad shrugged. “I didn’t really think about it,” he said. “I didn’t know where else to look for him.”
“Yeah. Maybe he has a little house or a trailer in the back,” I said.
“Or maybe this is a wild goose chase,” Mom murmured. She shivered. Dad put an arm around her shoulders.
A shrill screech made me gasp. Karla grabbed my arm.
A creature darted out from the side of a game booth. A scrawny black cat, its head down, tail up stiff behind it, running hard.
I squinted into the dim yellow light and saw what it was chasing. A large rat. The rat crossed the aisle and swung behind an ice cream booth, with the cat close behind.
My heart was pounding in my chest. “I don’t like rats,” I muttered.
Karla let go of my arm. She laughed. “The carnival isn’t so great after dark,” she said.
“We’ll walk to the end of this aisle,” Dad said. “If we don’t find Mr. Ferber, we’ll give up and go home.”
We heard a sharp squeal. I knew what it was, but I didn’t want to think about it. It was the sound the rat made as it was caught by the cat.
“I’m surprised Mr. Ferber doesn’t have a security guard,” Mom said.
“Maybe he has security cameras,” Dad replied.
We walked a little farther. I stopped when I heard a voice. A woman’s voice, muffled by the whoosh of the wind. “Listen,” I said.
Everyone stopped. The wind died down for a moment, and we could hear the woman’s laughter clearly. Cold, cruel laughter, repeating itself endlessly.
“Where is she?” Mom said. “Why is she laughing like that?”
I pointed. “It’s from the Tunnel of Fear,” I said. “Someone must have forgotten to turn it off.”
The Tunnel of Fear stood in front of us. Its entrance doors were shut, and the cars stood still on their track, gleaming dully under a single light on the building roof.
I shuddered, thinking about the frightening time Karla and I had spent in there. And as I thought about it, something moved in the darkness behind the tunnel building. A dark shadow against the gray shadows, moving fast.
“Whoa.” I uttered a cry as the figure moved closer. It took me a few seconds to realize it was Mr. Ferber. He was running fast, waving both arms at us.
“Get out!” he shouted. His long hair flew behind him as he ran, his long legs taking big strides, boots thudding the pavement. “Get out! You are trespassing!”
He stopped a few feet ahead of us, eyes wide with anger. Dad stepped forward, as if to protect us. Ferber swept his hair back off his face. His eyes went from Dad to Mom and then stopped on Karla and me.
“I recognize you,” he said. “What are you doing here? Did you lose something?”
“No,” I answered. “We saw the monster. He was at our house.”
Ferber blinked. “The monster? You mean Robby? The boy from the cage?”
“Yes, of course,” I said.
“How many monsters do you have?” Dad chimed in.
Ferber ignored him. He kept his eyes on me. “He was at your house? You mean he followed you home?”
I nodded. “He followed us home. I … I made a mistake. I gave him food again. He trashed our kitchen and then—”
“We came to find you right away,” Karla said. “He might still be in our neighborhood. He—”
“No, he isn’t,” Ferber interrupted.
I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“He isn’t in your neighborhood,” Ferber replied. “Because I captured him.”
I uttered a startled gasp. “Captured him? You mean you have him back?”
Ferber nodded. “I got him. No problem. He hardly put up a fight.”
He grinned and pointed to a building behind the Tunnel of Fear. “I have him locked up inside. Safe and sound. He won’t be escaping again.”
“That’s great news,” Dad said. He sighed and turned to us. “I guess we made this trip for nothing.”
“You did the right thing,” Ferber told him. “You would have been very helpful if I hadn’t already acted.”
“Well, good night,” Dad said.
“Glad there’s a happy ending to this story,” Mom added.
Ferber nodded. “Sorry for your trouble. Come back to Carnival World anytime, okay? Free admission—for life. I mean it.”
“Wow, thanks!” Karla said. “We can come back every week?”
Ferber laughed. “Sure. Every week.”
“Forget it,” I murmured to her. “I’m not going back in the Tunnel of Fear. I know that’s what you were thinking.”
“Stop reading my mind,” Karla shot back.
The ride back home was a happy one. Dad played his Motown music and we all sang along. Even Mom, although I knew she was thinking about the horrible kitchen cleanup still to be done.
As we pulled up the driveway, Dad patted her arm. “I’m going to hire a professional cleaning service tomorrow for the kitchen,” he said. “I don’t want you to touch anything.”
“But … but how will we explain the gallons of orange vomit?” Mom sputtered.
Dad grinned. “We’ll tell them Jordan drank too much tomato juice.”
That was Dad’s idea of a joke. Karla was the only one who laughed. But of course she would.
I headed straight for my room. What a long day! The smell in the house was pretty gross. I closed my bedroom door and it was a little better.
Yawning, I changed into my pajamas, turned out the light, and climbed into bed. The window was closed.
The wind outside was still gusting. It made the window glass rattle. Gazing out the window from my bed, I could see the pale half-moon high in the sky.
I yawned again. I started to fade into sleep. But a knock on my door startled me, and I sat up, instantly alert.
> The door swung open and Karla came striding into the room in her long nightshirt. “Are you asleep?”
“Well … not anymore,” I said.
Is that the stupidest question you can ask someone—Are you asleep? There can only be one answer.
“I’m totally wired,” she said, dropping down on the edge of my bed. “I’ll never get to sleep.”
“You have to keep trying,” I said. “You’ll be surprised. After a while, you will—”
I stopped talking when I heard a loud tap on the bedroom window. I felt my heart skip a beat. Was it the wind?
Karla jumped to her feet. She heard it, too.
Another tap-tap on the window glass. Louder this time.
We both crossed the room to the window. And we both let out cries as we stared at Robby, lit by the pale moon, peering in at us, his knuckles raised to the glass.
Tap tap.
“Don’t open the window,” I said, taking a step back. “He’s dangerous.”
Robby moved forward and pressed his face against the glass. The moonlight made his brown hair glow. He gazed in at us with pleading eyes and tapped on the window again.
“He’s pretending to be sad,” Karla said. “But he can’t fool us again.” She reached for the window handles.
“What are you doing?” I cried.
“I’m going to open the window and tell him he has to go away.”
I shook my head. “Please—don’t. You saw what he did to the kitchen.”
“I won’t let him in,” Karla said. “We’ll be very careful, okay?”
I knew she was showing off. Showing how much braver she was than me.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Ferber said he captured Robby. He said he had him safe and sound.”
Karla slid the window up. She glared out at Robby. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I just want to talk,” he said. “Can I come in?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed the windowsill with both hands and hoisted himself into the room. He shivered and brushed himself off.
The wind blew the curtains into the room. Karla pushed the window shut. She and I stared at Robby with our arms crossed in front of us.
“How did you get out again?” I asked. “Ferber said he captured you. He said he had you locked away.”