Camp Fear Ghouls by R.L. Stine

1

    â€œL izzy, I’m scared!” Caroline Hurt whispered. She dug her fingers into my arm. “My hands are shaking!”
    We pushed through the crowded school hallway. “Caroline, relax!” I ordered my best friend. “We’re going to get in. Everybody says so.”
    I wished I felt as sure as I sounded. For two days I had barely been able to eat. Or sleep.
    Why? Because today was the day the Waynesbridge Scouts—the coolest scout troop in Waynesbridge Middle School—picked their new members.
    â€œI heard they slipped the invitations into the lockers last period. They’re in pink envelopes,” Caroline whispered. She ran her fingers through her short blond hair. Then she tugged down her favorite navyblue T-shirt. I knew she wanted to make sure she looked good for the big moment.
    I tightened the scrunchie holding my straight brown hair. I might as well look good too, I thought. Even if it was just to open my locker and look for a pink envelope.
    â€œIt’s not that big a deal,” I told Caroline, trying to sound like I didn’t really care.
    But of course, I did. At Waynesbridge Middle School, every girl who’s anybody is a Waynesbridge Scout. It’s like a popularity contest. If you’re picked, you’re cool. If you’re not picked—well, then you’re a loser.
    That’s why we were so nervous.
    Usually, I’m not that into the kinds of things the Waynesbridge Scouts do. You know. Fixing each other’s hair and talking about boys. Caroline likes that stuff. I prefer softball. Camping. Climbing trees.
    Most of all, I’m into scary stuff. Like ghost stories and monsters and horror movies.
    But I’m definitely not into being a loser. So I was ready to do whatever it took to be a good Waynesbridge Scout.
    Caroline clutched my arm. We shoved toward our lockers.
    â€œOh, Lizzy, what if we didn’t make it? We’ll be total losers! No one will ever talk to us again!” Caroline moaned and grabbed her stomach. “Ohhhh! I think I’m going to throw up!”
    â€œDon’t,” I ordered.
    Caroline and I have been best friends since the first grade. She’s older than me. Nine whole months older. And taller by three inches. But she can be a total wimp. Whenever she’s nervous, she threatens to throw up.
    People tease me about being the shortest kid in the whole seventh grade. It makes me mad. But that’s why Caroline and I are best friends. She has always stuck up for me.
    Finally, we stopped in front of our lockers. They stood right next to each other.
    â€œI can’t go first,” Caroline whimpered. “You do it, Lizzy.”
    â€œWhy don’t we open them at the same time?” I suggested.
    â€œGood idea,” Caroline agreed. “On the count of three.”
    We spun the combinations on our locks.
    This is it, I thought. My heart thudded in my chest. I squeezed my eyes closed and counted in a shaky voice. “One, two—”
    â€œThree!” we said together.
    We flung our doors open and stared in.
    â€œYes!” Caroline shrieked. She pumped her fist in the air. “It’s here! It’s here!”
    I searched through my locker. My backpack, my baseball cap, a couple of overdue library books, and my gym suit sat inside.
    But nothing else.
    No pink envelope.
    No invitation to the Waynesbridge Scouts.
    â€œI didn’t make it,” I whispered. I stared blankly into my locker.
    Caroline clutched her pastel pink invitation to her chest. “Oh, Lizzy, it has to be there.” She got down on her knees and tossed all my stuff out of the locker. She used only one hand. She held her own invitation tightly in the other.
    In seconds, my locker was completely empty. But still—no pink envelope.
    â€œNo way. This has to be a mistake,” Caroline insisted.
    But I knew the awful truth. “It’s no mistake,” I said. “I wasn’t asked to