Read Online Don't Forget Me! by R.L. Stine - Free Book Online Page A

frightened you,” he said in that scratchy voice. “I’m a reporter. For the Star-Journal. ”
    â€œHuh? A reporter?”
    I suddenly felt very foolish.
    A newspaper reporter? But why had he been chasing me? And why had he been spying on our house?
    He’s lying, I thought. Why did I open the door without looking first? Why did I let him in the house? Why was I so stupid?
    He glimpsed himself in the hall mirror and pushed back his wavy black hair with one hand. “I’m thinking of doing a story about your house,” he said.
    I studied him, trying to figure out if this was some kind of joke. “Are you selling something?” I asked. “Insurance or something? Because if that’s what you’re trying to do—”
    He raised his right hand. “No. I’m a reporter. Really.” He fumbled in his back pocket and pulled out a worn brown wallet. He flipped it open to show me a card that had his photo on it and said PRESS at the top.
    â€œI found some old articles at the newspaper office. A big stack of yellowed papers hidden away in a corner cabinet. In the old articles, they call this house Forget-Me House .” His eyes burned into mine.
    I stared hard at him. “Huh? Why?”
    He shrugged. “I’m not sure. According to the papers I found, the house makes people forget.”
    My heart started to pound. “Forget what?”
    â€œForget themselves,” he replied. “One by one, one at a time, the people who live here forget everything. And then … then … they are forgotten too. Forgotten forever.”
    I wanted to scream, but I held it in. I pictured Peter up in his room. Peter didn’t remember me. He couldn’t remember his own sister.
    The reporter leaned closer, narrowing his cold eyes at me. “Has anything strange happened to you?”
    My breath caught in my throat. “N-no,” I choked out. I didn’t want to tell him.
    I had to think. Had to figure this out.
    He studied me. “Are you sure? Have you seen anything strange? Heard anything? Is anyone in your family acting weird?”
    â€œNo!” I cried. “No! Please—you have to leave!”
    â€œI’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” the reporter said. “It’s just a bunch of old newspaper stories. Probably not true.”
    He stepped back, shifting his black raincoat on his shoulders. “I see I’ve upset you. I’ll come back. I’ll come back when your parents are home.”
    I heard a noise and turned to the stairs. “Peter—is that you?”
    Silence.
    When I turned back, the reporter was gone.
    I stood staring out at the street, trying to stop my head from spinning. My mind whirred with questions.
    Was he telling the truth? Did those old articles explain what was happening to Peter?
    Was it possible that I never hypnotized my brother? That Peter’s strange behavior wasn’t my fault at all? That it was all the house’s fault?
    Forget-Me House …
    I remembered Peter’s desperate plea. “ Danielle, don’t forget me. Please—don’t forget me! ”
    â€œOne by one, the people who live here forget everything.”
    The reporter’s words repeated in my ears.
    â€œThey forget everything. Then they are forgotten too.”
    â€œBut that’s crazy !” I muttered. “Crazy.” I realized my whole body was shaking. I turned back into the house and closed the front door behind me.
    To my surprise, Peter stood right behind me.
    â€œGet out !” he screamed. His eyes were wild. His red hair stood straight up. His body was tensed, as if ready to attack. “Get out! Get out of my house!”
    I didn’t have time to reply.
    He leaped at me—and wrapped his hands around my throat.
    â€œGet out! Get out!”
    â€œPeter, no!” I shrieked. His hands tightened, cutting off my words.
    â€œPeter, stop! You’re choking