Goosebumps: The Curse of Camp Cold Lake by R. L. Stine

 
 
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    I got off to a bad start at Camp Cold Lake.
    I was nervous when I arrived. And I guess I did some dumb things.
    Well, I didn’t want to go to a water sports camp.
    I don’t like to be outdoors. I hate the feeling of grass brushing
against my ankles. I don’t even like to touch trees. And I certainly don’t like
getting wet.
    Sure, I like to go swimming once in a while. But not every day! What’s
the point of that?
    I like to swim in a nice, clean pool. I took one look at the lake here—and
I was sick. I knew there had to be horrible things swimming around
in that water.
    Ugly creatures, waiting below the surface. Thinking to themselves: “Sarah
Maas, we’re waiting for you. Sarah, we’re going to rub our slimy bodies on your
legs when you swim. And we’re going to chew off your toes, one by one.”
    Yuck. Why do I have to swim in slime ?
    Of course, Aaron was so excited, he nearly exploded.
    When we climbed off the camp bus, he was jumping up and down and talking a
mile a minute. He was so crazed. I thought he was going to burst out of his
clothes and go running into the lake!
    My brother likes camp. He likes sports and the outdoors. He likes just about
everything and everyone.
    And everyone always likes Aaron. He’s so enthusiastic. He’s so much fun.
    Hey—I like to have fun too. But how can you have fun when there are no
malls, no movie theaters, no restaurants to get a slice of pizza or a bag of
french fries?
    How can you have fun up to your neck in a freezing cold lake every day? In a
camp miles from any town? Surrounded on all sides by thick woods?
    “This is going to be awesome!” Aaron declared. Dragging his duffel bag, he
hurried off to find his cabin.
    “Yeah. Awesome,” I muttered glumly. The bright sun was already making me
sweat.
    Do I like to sweat? Of course not.
    So why did I come to Camp Cold Lake? I can answer that in three words: Mom
and Dad.
    They said that a water sports camp would give me confidence. They said it
would help make me more comfortable with the outdoors.
    And they said it would give me a chance to make new friends.
    Okay, I admit it. I don’t make friends easily. I’m not like Aaron. I can’t
just walk up to someone and start talking and kidding around.
    I’m a little shy. Maybe it’s because I’m so much taller than everyone else.
I’m a whole head taller than Aaron. And he’s only a year younger than I am. He’s
eleven.
    I’m tall and very skinny. Sometimes Dad calls me “Grasshopper”.
    Guess how much I like that.
    About as much as I like swimming in a cold lake filled with hidden creatures.
    “Be a good sport about it, Sarah,” Mom said.
    I rolled my eyes.
    “Give camp a chance,” Dad added. “You might surprise yourself and have a good
time.”
    I rolled my eyes again.
    “When you come home at the end of summer, you’ll probably beg us to take you
camping!” Dad joked.
    I wanted to roll my eyes again—but they were getting tired from all that
rolling.
    I gave my parents a glum sigh. Quick hugs. Then I followed Aaron onto the
camp bus.
    He grinned the whole way to camp. He was really excited about learning how to
water-ski. And he kept asking everyone if the camp had a high diving board over
the lake.
    Aaron made three or four good friends on the bus ride to camp.
    I stared out the window, watching the endless blur of trees and farms.
Thinking about my lucky friends who got to stay home and hang out at the mall.
    Then here we were at Camp Cold Lake. Kids pulling their bags off the bus.
Laughing and joking. Counselors in dark green T-shirts greeting everyone,
pointing them in the right direction.
    I began to cheer up a little bit.
    Maybe I will make some new friends, I thought. Maybe I’ll meet some
kids who are a lot like me—and we’ll have a great summer.
    But then I stepped into my cabin. I saw my three bunk mates. I looked around.
    And I let out a cry. “Oh, no! No way!”

 
 
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    I guess I shouldn’t