Werewolf Skin by R. L. Stine Page B

trees grew over the narrow road, their
leaves blocking the sunlight.
    Watching the blur of red and yellow as the woods swept past, I thought hard.
My aunt and uncle were certainly acting a little strange, I decided. I wondered
why Uncle Colin had snapped at my aunt so angrily when she’d mentioned the
Marlings.
    “Why do they call it Wolf Creek?” I asked.
    “Because the name Chicago was already taken!” Aunt Marta joked.
    “There used to be wolves in the woods,” Uncle Colin explained softly.
    “ Used to be!” my aunt exclaimed. She lowered her voice to a whisper, but
I could still hear her. “Why don’t you tell Alex the truth, Colin?”
    “Be quiet!” he repeated through clenched teeth. “Why do you want to scare
him?”
    Aunt Marta turned to the passenger window. We drove on in silence for a
while.
    The road curved, and a small circle came into view. Three houses stood nearly
side by side on the circle. I could see the woods stretching on behind the
houses.
    “That’s our house—in the middle,” Uncle Colin announced, pointing.
    I gazed out at it. A small, square white house on top of a neat, recently
mowed front lawn. A long, low, ranch-style house—gray with black shutters—stood to the right.
    The house on the left was nearly hidden by overgrown bushes. Tall weeds rose
up over the patchy front yard. A broken tree branch lay in the middle of the
driveway.
    Uncle Colin pulled the van up the driveway to the middle house. “It’s small—but we’re not here that often,” he said.
    Aunt Marta sighed. “Always traveling.”
    She turned to me again. “There’s a nice girl who lives next door.” She pointed to the ranch-style house on the right. “She’s
twelve. Your age, right?”
    I nodded.
    “Her name is Hannah. She’s very cute. You should make friends with her so you
won’t be lonely.”
    Cute?
    “Any boys in the neighborhood?” I asked.
    “I don’t think so,” my aunt replied. “Sorry.”
    My uncle stopped the van at the top of the driveway. We climbed out. I
stretched my arms over my head. All my muscles ached. I’d been sitting for over
six hours!
    I glanced at the gray shingle house on the right. Hannah’s house. I wondered
if she and I would become friends.
    Uncle Colin unloaded my suitcase from the back of the van.
    I turned to the house on the left. What a wreck! The house was totally dark.
Some shutters had fallen off. Part of the front porch had caved in.
    I crossed the driveway and took a few steps closer to the weird, run-down
house. “Who lives there?” I asked my aunt.
    “Stay away from there, Alex!” Uncle Colin screamed. “Don’t ask questions
about them! Just stay away from that house! ”

 
 
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    “Calm down, Colin,” Aunt Marta told my uncle. “Alex isn’t going over there.”
    She turned to me. “The Marlings live in that house,” she said, lowering her
voice to a whisper. She raised a finger to her lips. “No more questions—okay?”
    “Just stay away from there,” Uncle Colin growled. “Come help me unload the
car.”
    I took one last glance at the run-down wreck of a house. Then I trotted over
to help my uncle.
    It didn’t take long to unpack. Aunt Marta helped me in the guest room while
Uncle Colin made us turkey sandwiches in the kitchen.
    My room was small and narrow, about the size of my closet back home. The tiny
closet smelled of mothballs. But Aunt Marta said the odor would go away if we
left the closet door and the window open.
    I crossed the tiny room to open the window. And saw that it faced the
Marlings’ house next door. A rusted wheelbarrow tilted against the Marlings’ side wall. The
windows were dark and coated with dust.
    I squinted into the window across from mine—and thought about Uncle Colin’s
shouted warning.
    Why was he so worried about the Marlings?
    I raised the window and turned back to my aunt. She tucked the last of my
T-shirts into the top dresser drawer. “The room is small. But I