Read Online 44 - Say Cheese and Die—Again by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)
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umbrella wouldn’t cover all of me.
I peeked outside. It was only drizzling. Not much of a rain at all.
I tucked the camera under the folds of my arm, pulled open the front door,
and started to step out. But I stopped when I saw the dark-haired boy walking up
the driveway.
Jon!
“Oh, no!” I murmured. I knew why he had come. He wanted his camera back.
But I couldn’t give it back. I needed it to save Shari and me.
I watched him walking slowly, his head down because of the rain.
What am I going to do? I asked myself. I can’t let him take back his camera.
I can’t!
I’ll duck back inside and hide, I decided.
I tried to back up. Tried to back my heavy bulk into the house.
Too late.
Jon saw me.
22
He waved to me and started jogging toward the house.
I had the camera in my hand. I carefully lowered it to the porch and stepped
in front of it. I knew it would be hidden behind my enormous body.
But what was I going to say to Jon? How could I convince him to let me keep
the camera for a while longer?
“Hi!” he called.
“Hi,” I answered, my voice muffled by the thick folds of flab around my face.
“I’m looking for a boy who lives around here,” Jon said, stepping up to the
porch. “His name is Greg, and he’s blond, and he’s about my age. Do you know
him? He has a camera of mine.”
I stared at him. My mouth dropped open. I could feel my chins drop onto my
chest.
“What’s his name?” I choked out.
“Greg,” Jon repeated. “I don’t know his last name. Does he live around here?”
He doesn’t recognize me! I realized. I’m so huge, he doesn’t know that I’m
me!
“Uh… yeah. I think I know who you mean,” I told him. “There’s a kid
named Greg who lives over there.” I pointed up the street.
“Do you know which house?” Jon asked, turning to where I pointed.
“It’s about four blocks that way,” I lied. “A big redbrick house. You can’t
miss it. It’s the only brick house on the block.”
“Hey, thanks,” Jon said. The rain started to come down harder. He turned
quickly and jogged down the driveway.
A close call, I thought.
I felt bad about lying to Jon. But I had to lie. I couldn’t give him back the
camera—ever. It was too dangerous.
I watched him until he disappeared behind some hedges. Then, I reached my
flabby hand down, picked up the camera, and bounced across the front yard to
Shari’s house.
Shari greeted me at her front door. I could see the shock in her eyes when
she saw how huge I had become.
I was shocked, too. I cried out in surprise. She was starting to look like a
stick figure!
As she led the way to her room, she kept tripping over the cuffs of her
jeans, which sagged down over her feet. She had tied a knot in the belt around her tiny waist, an attempt to keep the jeans from falling off.
“If I get any smaller, I’ll have to wear doll clothes!” she wailed.
“Did your parents take you to a doctor?” I asked, huffing and puffing as I
tried to drag my weight after her.
“Of course,” she replied in her tiny, weak voice. “The doctor said to make me
drink milk shakes five times a day!”
“I wish my doctor said that.” I sighed.
I lowered myself carefully onto her bed. I didn’t want the bed to collapse
under me. But as soon as I sat down, I heard a crunching sound. The sound of
wood splintering.
And the bed crashed loudly to the floor.
“Don’t worry about it,” Shari said softly. “I don’t have the strength to
climb up to bed, anyway.”
“If I get any bigger,” I moaned, “I won’t be able to get out of the house. I
really won’t fit through the door.”
She folded her hands in front of her. Her fingers were so skinny, they looked
like bird claws. With her black hair hanging down from her tiny, round head, and
her straight pole of a body, she looked more like a mop than a person!
“What are we going to do?” she wailed.
I patted the camera with a fat, spongy hand. “I
I peeked outside. It was only drizzling. Not much of a rain at all.
I tucked the camera under the folds of my arm, pulled open the front door,
and started to step out. But I stopped when I saw the dark-haired boy walking up
the driveway.
Jon!
“Oh, no!” I murmured. I knew why he had come. He wanted his camera back.
But I couldn’t give it back. I needed it to save Shari and me.
I watched him walking slowly, his head down because of the rain.
What am I going to do? I asked myself. I can’t let him take back his camera.
I can’t!
I’ll duck back inside and hide, I decided.
I tried to back up. Tried to back my heavy bulk into the house.
Too late.
Jon saw me.
22
He waved to me and started jogging toward the house.
I had the camera in my hand. I carefully lowered it to the porch and stepped
in front of it. I knew it would be hidden behind my enormous body.
But what was I going to say to Jon? How could I convince him to let me keep
the camera for a while longer?
“Hi!” he called.
“Hi,” I answered, my voice muffled by the thick folds of flab around my face.
“I’m looking for a boy who lives around here,” Jon said, stepping up to the
porch. “His name is Greg, and he’s blond, and he’s about my age. Do you know
him? He has a camera of mine.”
I stared at him. My mouth dropped open. I could feel my chins drop onto my
chest.
“What’s his name?” I choked out.
“Greg,” Jon repeated. “I don’t know his last name. Does he live around here?”
He doesn’t recognize me! I realized. I’m so huge, he doesn’t know that I’m
me!
“Uh… yeah. I think I know who you mean,” I told him. “There’s a kid
named Greg who lives over there.” I pointed up the street.
“Do you know which house?” Jon asked, turning to where I pointed.
“It’s about four blocks that way,” I lied. “A big redbrick house. You can’t
miss it. It’s the only brick house on the block.”
“Hey, thanks,” Jon said. The rain started to come down harder. He turned
quickly and jogged down the driveway.
A close call, I thought.
I felt bad about lying to Jon. But I had to lie. I couldn’t give him back the
camera—ever. It was too dangerous.
I watched him until he disappeared behind some hedges. Then, I reached my
flabby hand down, picked up the camera, and bounced across the front yard to
Shari’s house.
Shari greeted me at her front door. I could see the shock in her eyes when
she saw how huge I had become.
I was shocked, too. I cried out in surprise. She was starting to look like a
stick figure!
As she led the way to her room, she kept tripping over the cuffs of her
jeans, which sagged down over her feet. She had tied a knot in the belt around her tiny waist, an attempt to keep the jeans from falling off.
“If I get any smaller, I’ll have to wear doll clothes!” she wailed.
“Did your parents take you to a doctor?” I asked, huffing and puffing as I
tried to drag my weight after her.
“Of course,” she replied in her tiny, weak voice. “The doctor said to make me
drink milk shakes five times a day!”
“I wish my doctor said that.” I sighed.
I lowered myself carefully onto her bed. I didn’t want the bed to collapse
under me. But as soon as I sat down, I heard a crunching sound. The sound of
wood splintering.
And the bed crashed loudly to the floor.
“Don’t worry about it,” Shari said softly. “I don’t have the strength to
climb up to bed, anyway.”
“If I get any bigger,” I moaned, “I won’t be able to get out of the house. I
really won’t fit through the door.”
She folded her hands in front of her. Her fingers were so skinny, they looked
like bird claws. With her black hair hanging down from her tiny, round head, and
her straight pole of a body, she looked more like a mop than a person!
“What are we going to do?” she wailed.
I patted the camera with a fat, spongy hand. “I
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