The Boy Who Ate Fear Street by R.L. Stine

1

    â€œS am, you have to come over right now,” my best friend Kevin pleaded with me over the phone.
    â€œFor the tenth time, Kevin—I’m not coming over if you don’t tell me why. ”
    â€œI already told you,” Kevin replied. “I can’t tell you. Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
    My name is Sam Kinny, and the first thing you should know about me is—I hate surprises. Why? I don’t know why. I just do.
    Another thing I hate is when people pinch my cheeks.
    Mom and Dad’s friends are always pinching my cheeks. Some of my teachers do it too. Maybe it’sbecause I have a totally round face, straight blond hair, big blue eyes, and long eyelashes. And worst of all, my cheeks are really rosy. Everyone says I’m soooo cute. Then they pinch my cheeks.
    Nobody ever pinches Kevin’s cheeks. Kevin looks tough—just the way I want to look.
    Kevin has brown hair and it always looks messy. And he has a little scar on his right cheek, where his sister Lissa scratched him accidentally while they were practicing karate.
    â€œSam, you have to come over,” Kevin begged. “My mom started dinner—and she’s cooking all your favorites.”
    â€œReally?” I asked. “Macaroni and cheese? And rice pudding for dessert with white raisins and marshmallows?”
    â€œYep,” Kevin replied. “All white food. As usual.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, as usual?” I protested. “I don’t always eat white food.”
    â€œOh, yeah?” Kevin challenged me. “Name one food you eat that isn’t white. Come on, name one.”
    â€œCoke,” I said. “I love Coke, and Coke isn’t white. It’s brown.”
    â€œYou never drink Coke,” Kevin reminded me. “You drink Sprite. That’s white, practically.”
    Okay. What can I say? Kevin was right. I eat only white food. Why?
    I know the answer to this one.
    Because that’s what I like.
    Some of my friends think eating only white food is weird. But Lissa doesn’t think so. That’s because she eats the exact same thing for lunch every single day. Peanut butter and jelly. She never eats anything else for lunch—ever.
    â€œSo—you’re coming over. Right?” Kevin asked.
    â€œI guess so,” I gave in. Macaroni and cheese is my favorite food. No way could I pass it up. Even if it meant going to Kevin’s house for a surprise.
    I ran downstairs and grabbed my jacket from the hall closet. Then I went into the kitchen to tell Mom where I was going.
    Mom sat at the kitchen table sewing blond hair on a big doll. Fred, my collie, sat at her feet. Fred loves watching Mom make her dolls.
    Mom makes lots of dolls. And she’s really good at it. She makes them in all sizes—little ones, big ones, some as tall as I am. She sells them all over the country. People really love her dolls.
    â€œMom, I’m going over to the Sullivans’ house for dinner. They’re having macaroni and cheese. Okay?” Mom knows how much I love macaroni and cheese.
    â€œSure.” Mom glanced up and smiled.
    â€œDinner?” Dad walked into the room carrying a screwdriver. “Is it time for dinner already?”
    â€œAlmost,” Mom said. “I’ll start dinner just as soon as you tighten my left elbow.”
    â€œNo problem!” Dad replied.
    He leaned over and tightened the doll’s elbow—not Mom’s. Dad is really handy. He can fix anything.
    â€œSee you!” I called as I walked out the back door.
    I thought about the macaroni and cheese—and ran the four blocks to Kevin’s house. When I arrived, Kevin and Lissa were practicing karate on the front lawn.
    â€œKow! Dar! Fing!” Lissa shouted.
    â€œKwon! Fo! Tow!” Kevin shouted back.
    They moved around each other, making circles in the air with their hands. Then in one swift motion Lissa lunged for Kevin and flipped him onto