out
Goosebumps ®
Hall of Horrors
SPECIAL EDITION
THE FIVE MASKS OF
DR. SCREEM
Take a peek at the all new,
all-terrifying thrill ride from R.L. Stine
1
My brother, Peter, tightened the belt around his white karate uniform. “Monica,” he said, “if you get more Snickers bars than me, can we trade?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer.
“Mom, are we allowed to eat unwrapped candy?” he shouted. Mom was downstairs. How did he expect her to hear him?
He did a little dance and gave me a hard karate chop on the shoulder.
“Ow.
Stop it, Peter,” I groaned. I rubbed my shoulder.
He laughed. “You’re such a wimp.” He pretended to chop me again. I ducked away.
“Can you get dizzy from eating chocolate?” Peter asked. “Freddy Milner says if you eat enough chocolate, you get so dizzy, you can’t walk straight.”
“Don’t try it tonight,” I said.
He staggered around the room till he crashed into the wall. Then he leaped in the air and did a high karate kick. “Look out!” I screamed. He almost kicked my laptop off the desk.
“Why don’t you get out of my room and wait downstairs?” I said.
“Why don’t you make me?” he said. He grinned his toothy grin as he raised both fists.
Peter thinks he’s cute, but he isn’t. For one thing, he’s too tall to be cute. He’s ten — two years younger than me — but he’s nearly a foot taller than I am. He has stringy blond hair and a long, bent nose and funny teeth. He’s my brother but let’s face facts — he’s a beast.
He picked up a postage stamp from my desk. Licked it — and stuck it to my forehead. Then he collapsed laughing on my bed.
“Why did you do that?” I growled.
He shrugged. “Why not?”
Guess you can understand why I spell Peter’s name P-A-I-N.
He talks too much. He can’t stand still. He’s always dancing and chopping and kicking. And he thinks he’s funny, but he isn’t.
My friends can’t stand him.
Some kids take pills to slow them down to normal speed. But my parents make excuses for Peter. They say he’s just high energy.
Like I’m some kind of lazy slob. I’m only captain of the gymnastics team and star sprinter of the Hillcrest Middle School track team.
“What kind of costume is that?” Peter asked with a sneer. “A pair of black shorts over purple tights?”
“It’s my gymnastics uniform,” I said.
He laughed. “You look like a freak.”
“Mom!” I shouted down the stairs. “Do I have to take him?”
I heard her footsteps on the stairs. I stepped out into the hall. She stopped halfway up and leaned on the banister.
“Monica, are you still complaining?” She blew back a strand of her curly copper-colored hair.
She and I have the same color hair. Actually, we kind of look like sisters. We’re both small and thin. Unlike Peter and Dad, who are both gangly hulks.
I sighed. “I just want to meet up with Caroline and Regina and hang out with them.”
“Well, you can’t,” Mom said. “You have to take Peter trick-or-treating.”
I rolled my eyes. “But, Mom, all he does is practice karate on us till we’re black-and-blue.”
That made Peter laugh. Behind me in my room, he picked up one of my stuffed pandas and gave it some hard chops.
“You girls can defend yourselves,” Mom said. “Kick him back.”
Peter dropped the panda to the floor. “Huh?”
“Besides, he’ll be too busy collecting candy,”
Mom said. “You know he’s a total candy nut. He won’t have time to pester you and your friends.”
She shouted to Peter. “Am I right?”
“Whatever,” Peter replied.
I sighed again. “Okay, let’s get it over with,” I said.
I returned to my room and pulled a silvery mask over my eyes. Maybe people wouldn’t recognize me. The elastic band caught in my hair. As if being with my brother wasn’t enough pain.
I turned and saw Peter pull a black mask down over his eyes. It matched the black belt around his uniform. Peter is nowhere near a black belt. But
Goosebumps ®
Hall of Horrors
SPECIAL EDITION
THE FIVE MASKS OF
DR. SCREEM
Take a peek at the all new,
all-terrifying thrill ride from R.L. Stine
1
My brother, Peter, tightened the belt around his white karate uniform. “Monica,” he said, “if you get more Snickers bars than me, can we trade?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer.
“Mom, are we allowed to eat unwrapped candy?” he shouted. Mom was downstairs. How did he expect her to hear him?
He did a little dance and gave me a hard karate chop on the shoulder.
“Ow.
Stop it, Peter,” I groaned. I rubbed my shoulder.
He laughed. “You’re such a wimp.” He pretended to chop me again. I ducked away.
“Can you get dizzy from eating chocolate?” Peter asked. “Freddy Milner says if you eat enough chocolate, you get so dizzy, you can’t walk straight.”
“Don’t try it tonight,” I said.
He staggered around the room till he crashed into the wall. Then he leaped in the air and did a high karate kick. “Look out!” I screamed. He almost kicked my laptop off the desk.
“Why don’t you get out of my room and wait downstairs?” I said.
“Why don’t you make me?” he said. He grinned his toothy grin as he raised both fists.
Peter thinks he’s cute, but he isn’t. For one thing, he’s too tall to be cute. He’s ten — two years younger than me — but he’s nearly a foot taller than I am. He has stringy blond hair and a long, bent nose and funny teeth. He’s my brother but let’s face facts — he’s a beast.
He picked up a postage stamp from my desk. Licked it — and stuck it to my forehead. Then he collapsed laughing on my bed.
“Why did you do that?” I growled.
He shrugged. “Why not?”
Guess you can understand why I spell Peter’s name P-A-I-N.
He talks too much. He can’t stand still. He’s always dancing and chopping and kicking. And he thinks he’s funny, but he isn’t.
My friends can’t stand him.
Some kids take pills to slow them down to normal speed. But my parents make excuses for Peter. They say he’s just high energy.
Like I’m some kind of lazy slob. I’m only captain of the gymnastics team and star sprinter of the Hillcrest Middle School track team.
“What kind of costume is that?” Peter asked with a sneer. “A pair of black shorts over purple tights?”
“It’s my gymnastics uniform,” I said.
He laughed. “You look like a freak.”
“Mom!” I shouted down the stairs. “Do I have to take him?”
I heard her footsteps on the stairs. I stepped out into the hall. She stopped halfway up and leaned on the banister.
“Monica, are you still complaining?” She blew back a strand of her curly copper-colored hair.
She and I have the same color hair. Actually, we kind of look like sisters. We’re both small and thin. Unlike Peter and Dad, who are both gangly hulks.
I sighed. “I just want to meet up with Caroline and Regina and hang out with them.”
“Well, you can’t,” Mom said. “You have to take Peter trick-or-treating.”
I rolled my eyes. “But, Mom, all he does is practice karate on us till we’re black-and-blue.”
That made Peter laugh. Behind me in my room, he picked up one of my stuffed pandas and gave it some hard chops.
“You girls can defend yourselves,” Mom said. “Kick him back.”
Peter dropped the panda to the floor. “Huh?”
“Besides, he’ll be too busy collecting candy,”
Mom said. “You know he’s a total candy nut. He won’t have time to pester you and your friends.”
She shouted to Peter. “Am I right?”
“Whatever,” Peter replied.
I sighed again. “Okay, let’s get it over with,” I said.
I returned to my room and pulled a silvery mask over my eyes. Maybe people wouldn’t recognize me. The elastic band caught in my hair. As if being with my brother wasn’t enough pain.
I turned and saw Peter pull a black mask down over his eyes. It matched the black belt around his uniform. Peter is nowhere near a black belt. But
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