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

off the tile walls.
    â€œI just got a signal,” Emmy said from the phone. “A strong signal.”
    â€œYou mean that flash of light?” I asked.
    â€œFind it. Hurry,” she replied.
    It didn’t take long to find out what made that flash. I turned the corner, and I saw Mick holding a little camera up to his face. He was taking Darryl’s picture against a locker. He flashed the camera again.
    The phone buzzed in my hand. “That’s it,” Emmy said excitedly. “There’s someone in there. I’m getting a strong vibe. Go get it, Jack!”
    I gasped. “Huh? Are you kidding me? That’s Mick’s camera. Do you really think I’m going to steal Mick’s camera?”
    â€œGo get it — now!” The phone vibrated wildly in my hand. “I mean it, Jack. Go get it.”
    â€œNo way,” I said. “Mick will pound me into cat food.”
    â€œI can hurt you too, Jack,” she said.
    â€œNot if I put you away,” I replied.
    I spun my backpack around and jammed the phone deep inside it.
    â€œI’ll find you a friend,” I called into the backpack. “But I won’t steal Mick’s camera. You can’t do anything to make me.”
    And then I opened my mouth in a horrified scream as my backpack burst into flames!

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    Other kids screamed. Mick and his friends backed away.
    I hoisted the backpack — and slammed it against the wall until the flames were smothered.
    I shook it hard. Smoke rose up from the canvas. I turned it in my hands, examining it.
    Only slightly scorched. The bottom was all black. It smelled terrible.
    â€œI can take a hint,” I called in to Emmy.
    â€œGo steal the camera,” she said.
    I sighed. “I’ll try.”
    My legs were trembling. My stomach did flip-flops as I followed Mick and Darryl into the lunchroom.
    I stayed far back in the food line. I definitely didn’t feel like eating. But I put some things on my tray. I didn’t even look to see what I was choosing.
    Mick and Darryl and some other guys took a table in the corner. I saw Mick set his camera down and begin to paw through his food.
    Mick eats with his hands. Even mac and cheese and Jell-O. No one has the nerve to tell him he eats like a pig. Probably, his parents are also afraid to tell him.
    The camera sat on the edge of the table. Mick was talking to Darryl, who sat across from him. Mick was stuffing his mouth with both hands.
    I took a deep breath. I started toward their table. I was going to end up with Mick’s camera. Or I was going to end up dead.
    Was I a little tense?
    I don’t have to answer that question.
    â€œHey, Jacko!” Mick shouted with a mouthful of food.
    I pretended to be startled by his shout. And I faked a big fall. I tripped right at the side of the table. I stumbled forward. And dropped my tray onto Mick’s tray.
    â€œHey! Klutz!” Mick shot back as my food bounced off the tray.
    In one quick motion, I slid the little camera off the table and shoved it into my jeans pocket.
    Did anyone see?
    I grabbed the edge of the table and caught my balance. “S-sorry,” I stammered. “I tripped.”
    â€œNo problem,” Mick said. He grabbed a plateof French fries off my tray and began gobbling them up.
    Darryl took my ham-and-cheese sandwich and shoved it into his mouth. He giggled. “No problem, dude.”
    I lifted my tray and started away. “Sorry,” I repeated.
    I got away from them as fast as I could. I couldn’t breathe. My legs felt like rubber bands.
    I knew any second Mick would shout: “Come back! Bring back my camera!”
    But no.
    I set the tray down and ran into the hall. The camera felt heavy in my jeans pocket.
    â€œSuccess!” I told Emmy. “I took the camera — and I’m still alive!”
    I pulled the camera from my pocket and jammed it into the burned backpack. “Is there a digital person in