Chicken Chicken by R. L. Stine Page A

Vanessa is like someone from a horror movie. She is kind of pretty,
with long, straight black hair and a pale, white face. She dresses all in black.
She wears black lipstick and black fingernail polish.
    Vanessa is a mystery woman. No one knows if she’s young or old.
    She keeps to herself. I’ve hardly ever seen her in town. She lives in her old
farmhouse right outside of town with her black cat.
    Naturally, everyone says she is some kind of sorceress.
    I’ve heard all kinds of stories about Vanessa. Frightening stories. Most of
the kids in Goshen Falls are scared of her. But that doesn’t stop them from
playing tricks on her.
    Kids are always daring each other to sneak up to Vanessa’s house. It’s kind
of a game everyone plays. Sneak up to her house, tap on the window, make her cat
screech. Then run away before Vanessa sees you.
    “Hey—Cole!” I called in a loud whisper. I ducked my head as I ran along the
hedge. If Vanessa was home, I didn’t want her to see me.
    “Hey, Cole—what’s up?”
    As I came nearer, I saw that Cole and Anthony weren’t alone. Two other kids
huddled behind the hedge. Franny Jowett and Jeremy Garth.
    Cole raised a finger to his lips. “Ssshhhh. Vanessa is in there.”
    “What are you doing?” I demanded. I saw that Franny and Jeremy held plastic
water pitchers in their hands. “Is that lemonade or something?”
    They shook their heads solemnly.
    “Some kids dared them to fill Vanessa’s mailbox with water,” Cole explained.
    “Huh?” I gasped. I stared at Franny and Jeremy. “You’re not going to do it—are you?”
    “They have to,” Cole answered for them. “A dare is a dare.”
    “But that’s so mean!” I protested.
    My brother snickered. “The mailbox is right next to the front door. No way they won’t get caught.”
    Franny and Jeremy are blond and pale. Now they looked even paler than usual.
Jeremy made a soft, choking sound. Franny gripped her pitcher tightly and peered
over the hedge at the black metal mailbox on its tilted pole.
    “You accepted the dare. Are you going to wimp out?” Cole demanded.
    Franny and Jeremy glanced at each other nervously. They didn’t reply.
    “Don’t do it,” Anthony suddenly chimed in.
    We all turned to Anthony. He’s short and chubby and has a round face and very
short black hair. He wears red-framed glasses that are always slipping down his
little pug nose.
    “Don’t do it,” Anthony repeated.
    “Why n-not?” Franny stammered.
    “Didn’t you hear what happened when Vanessa caught Tommy Pottridge?” Anthony
asked in a hushed whisper. “Didn’t you hear what she did to him?”
    “No!” Franny and Jeremy declared together.
    I felt a tremble of fear run down my back. “What did Vanessa do to Tommy?” I
demanded.

 
 
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    I peered over the tall hedge. Did something move in Vanessa’s front window?
    No. Just a glint of sunlight on the windowpane.
    We huddled closer to Anthony. Even though it was a warm spring day, I
suddenly felt chilled. “What did Vanessa do to Tommy?” I repeated in a whisper.
    “She caught him sneaking up to her house,” Anthony reported. “She did some
kind of magic spell on him. She made his head blow up like a balloon.”
    “Oh, come on!” I exclaimed, rolling my eyes.
    “No—really!” Anthony protested. “His head was huge. And it got all soft and
squishy. Like a sponge.”
    Cole laughed.
    Anthony clamped a hand over Cole’s mouth. “It’s true!” he insisted. “Vanessa
gave him a big, soft, spongy head. That’s why we don’t see Tommy around
anymore!”
    “But the Pottridges moved away!” Franny cried.
    “That’s why they moved,” Anthony replied. “Because of Tommy’s head.”
    We all froze for a moment, thinking about Anthony’s story. I tried to picture
Tommy with a big, squishy head.
    Cole broke the silence. “Give me that!” he cried. He grabbed the water
pitcher from Jeremy’s hands. “ I’ll fill up her mailbox. I’m not