28 - The Cuckoo Clock of Doom by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Page B

shoved her away.
    “Michael, don’t push your sister,” Mom said. “You don’t realize how strong
you are. You could hurt her.”
    “Yeah, Michael,” Tara said.
    Dad kept admiring the clock. He could hardly take his eyes off it. “I’m not
surprised the cuckoo startled you,” he said. “There’s something special about this clock. It comes from the Black Forest of Germany. It’s supposed to
be enchanted.”
    “Enchanted?” I echoed. “You mean, magic? How?”
    “Legend has it that the man who built this clock had magical powers. He put a
spell on the clock. They say if you know the secret, you can use the clock to go
back in time.”
    Mom scoffed. “Did Anthony tell you that? What a great way to sell an old
clock. Claim it has magic powers!”
    Dad wouldn’t let her spoil his fun. “You never know,” he said. “It could be
true. Why not?”
    “I think it’s true,” Tara said.
    “Herman, I wish you wouldn’t tell the kids these wild stories,” Mom chided.
“It’s not good for them. And it only encourages Michael. He’s always making
things up, telling fibs and impossible stories. I think he gets it from you.”
    I protested. “I don’t make things up! I always tell the truth!”
    How could Mom say that about me?
    “I don’t think it hurts the kids to use their imaginations once in a while,”
Dad said.
    “Imagination is one thing,” Mom said. “Lies and fibs are something else.”
    I fumed. Mom was so unfair to me. The worst part was the expression of
victory on Tara’s face.
    Making me look bad was her mission in life. I wanted to wipe that smirk off
her face forever.
    “Dinner’s almost ready,” Mom announced, leaving the den. The cat followed
her. “Michael, Tara—go wash up.”
    “And remember,” Dad warned. “No one touches the clock.”
    “Okay, Dad,” I said.
    Dinner smelled good. I started for the bathroom to wash up. As I passed Tara,
she stomped hard on my foot.
    “Ow!” I yelled.
    “Michael!” Dad barked. “Stop making so much noise.”
    “But, Dad, Tara stomped on my foot.”
    “It couldn’t have hurt that much, Michael. She’s a lot smaller than you are.”
    My foot throbbed. I limped to the bathroom. Tara followed me.
    “You’re such a baby,” she taunted.
    “Be quiet, Tara,” I said. How did I get the worst sister in the world?
    We had pasta with broccoli and tomato sauce for dinner. Mom was on a big
no-meat, low-fat kick. I didn’t mind. Pasta was better than what we’d had the
night before—lentil soup.
    “You know, honey,” Dad complained to Mom, “a hamburger now and then never
hurt anybody.”
    “I disagree,” Mom said. She didn’t have to say more. We’d all heard her
lectures about meat and fat and chemicals before.
    Dad covered his pasta with a thick layer of Parmesan cheese.
    “Maybe the den should be off-limits for a while,” Dad suggested. “I hate to
think of you two playing in there and breaking the clock.”
    “But, Dad, I have to do my homework in the den tonight,” I said. “I’m doing a
report on ‘Transportation in Many Lands.’ And I need to use the encyclopedia.”
    “Can’t you take it up to your room?” Dad asked.
    “The whole encyclopedia?”
    Dad sighed. “No, I guess you can’t. Well, all right. You can use the den
tonight.”
    “I need to use the encyclopedia, too,” Tara announced.
    “You do not,” I snapped. She wanted to hang around the den and bug me, that
was all.
    “I do, too. I’m supposed to read about the gold rush.”
    “You’re making that up. You don’t study the gold rush in the second grade.
That’s not until fourth.”
    “What do you know about it? Mrs. Dolin is teaching us the gold rush now. Maybe I’m in a smarter class than you were.”
    Mom said, “Michael, really. If Tara says she needs to use the encyclopedia,
why start a fight about it?”
    I sighed and stuffed a forkful of pasta in my mouth. Tara stuck her tongue
out at me.
    There’s no point in talking, I