Read Online Don't Stay Up Late by R. L. Stine - Free Book Online

hadn’t yet opened their buds.
    Across the street, a boy kept throwing a tennis ball onto the slanted roof of his house, then catching it as it rolled off. I saw a red kite caught in the high limbs of a tree at the neighbors’ driveway.
    I stepped onto the front stoop and the front door swung open. Alice greeted me with a smile and waved me inside. She looked like an older version of Brenda. Her cheeks and forehead were lined. Her hair was cut short, streaks of gray with the black. She wore maroon sweats and carried a Harry Potter book in one hand.
    â€œLisa, it’s so nice to meet you.” We shook hands. Her hand was warm and soft. “Brenda told me all about you. I understand you’ve already met Harry.”
    Harry ran up to me and tugged at my arm. “Can we stay up late tonight? Can we?”
    I laughed. Alice frowned and shook her head. “How about saying hello first, Harry?”
    â€œHello,” Harry said. “Can we stay up late?”
    â€œNo, you cannot,” Alice said firmly. “Don’t try to take advantage of Lisa because she’s new. Remember, Lisa is the boss. Can you remember that?”
    â€œMaybe,” Harry replied.
    Alice waved the book in front of her. “I’ve started to read him his first Harry Potter book. You’re enjoying it, aren’t you, Harry?”
    He nodded. “I like him because his name is Harry.”
    â€œThat’s a good name,” I said. “Would you like me to borrow the book from Alice and read you a few chapters tonight?”
    â€œNo,” he replied quickly. “I want to watch cartoons.”
    Alice rubbed a hand through his hair. “Don’t forget you have homework to do first.”
    â€œI already forgot,” Harry said. He laughed. He was making a joke. His blue eyes twinkled.
    â€œGo get your backpack,” Alice told him. “It’s in my bedroom.”
    When Harry left the room, she pulled me aside and spoke in a confidential tone. “He stayed up late last night. That’s very bad for him. He’s a beast when he doesn’t get his sleep. Be sure to get him to bed early.”
    â€œNo problem,” I said. “He seems very sweet.”
    â€œHe is,” Alice said, her eyes on the hallway, watching for Harry to return. “He’s a good student, too. He learns quickly, and he really likes to learn new things.”
    â€œThat’s awesome,” I whispered back.
    Alice placed a hand on my shoulder. “Eight-year-olds can be a challenge, though, even if they’re as sweet as Harry. If you have any problems at all, just call me.” She reached into the pocket of her sweatpants and handed me a slip of paper with her phone number on it.
    â€œThanks,” I said.
    â€œI don’t think you’ll have problems with him. But just in case…”
    I started to thank her again. But I stopped when I heard a shrill cry. A tiny voice. Was it coming from the basement?
    Startled, I listened hard. It sounded like a sob.
    â€œMister Puffball—be quiet!” Alice shouted. She laughed and shook her head. “My cat is very good at letting me know when he’s hungry.”
    â€œOh, wow,” I said. “It didn’t sound like a cat.”
    Alice laughed again. “Mister Puffball can communicate really well —especially at dinnertime.”
    I smiled. But the cry I heard didn’t sound at all like a cat. It sounded human.

 
    19.
    â€œCan I sit on your lap?”
    Harry had to be the sweetest, friendliest eight-year-old in the world. By the time he finished his mac and cheese dinner, he and I were already BFF’s. He was funny and smart. He whipped through his homework, about six pages of math problems.
    His big joke of the night: He’d tug at my hair and make a different sound effect each time. For some reason, he thought that was a riot. But when I tugged his hair and made an oink oink sound, he said it