Fear: 13 Stories of Suspense and Horror

Table of Contents
 
 
 
DUTTON CHILDREN'S BOOKS
A division of Penguin Young Readers Group
 
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
“Welcome to the Club” copyright © 2010 by R.L. Stine ▼ “She's Different Tonight” copyright © 2010 by Heather Graham ▼ “Suckers” copyright © 2010 by Suzanne Weyn ▼ “The Perfects” copyright © 2010 by Jennifer Allison ▼ “Shadow Children” copyright © 2010 by Heather Brewer ▼ “The Poison Ring” copyright © 2010 by Peg Kehret ▼ “Dragonfly Eyes” copyright © 2010 by Alane Ferguson ▼ “Jeepers Peepers” copyright © 2010 by Ryan Brown ▼ “Piney Power” copyright © 2010 by F. Paul Wilson ▼ “The Night Hunter” copyright © 2010 by Meg Cabot ▼ “Tuition” copyright © 2010 by Walter Sorrells ▼ “Tagger” copyright © 2010 by James Rollins ▼ “Ray Gun” copyright © 2010 by Tim Maleeny
 
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Published in the United States by Dutton Children's Books,
a division of Penguin Young Readers Group
345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
www.penguin.com/youngreaders
 
 
eISBN : 978-1-101-44265-4

http://us.penguingroup.com

INTRODUCTION
▼ R.L. STINE ▼
A
AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHH!”
I know you couldn't really hear that—but I wanted to start this book with a scream of horror.
That's just the first scream. Don't worry—there will be plenty more. And don't be surprised if
you
are the one doing the screaming!
I love stories with thrills and chills, shocks and twists, and horrifying surprises. If you have opened this book and are reading this introduction, you probably like them, too.
The people at ITW, the International Thriller Writers, asked me to fill a book with heart-pounding adventures and creepy-crawly mysteries, and I found thirteen stories that fill the bill. Lucky thirteen, right?
Well, you'll be lucky if you can make it through these stories without shakes and shudders, chattering teeth, and chills running up and down your back.
Take, for example, Ryan Brown's story, “Jeepers Peepers.” Elizabeth thinks she's going on a normal babysitting job. But why does the baby have to live in total darkness? And why does he keep warning her about mind creepers?
Or, how about Meg Cabot's fast-paced thriller, “The Night Hunter”? Nina has a boring job at the mall—until she sees a bank being robbed. She should have stayed away, but now she finds herself at the mercy of a mysterious young man known as the Night Hunter.
One of my favorites is “The Perfects” by Jennifer Allison. This story grabbed me with its amazing first sentence:
“The chances are pretty good that I'm going to be killed before daylight, and I can't help but think this never would have happened if we hadn't moved to Entrails, Michigan.”
Wow. That made me keep on reading!
Heather Graham provides a chilling Halloween story, “She's Different Tonight.” Of course, it involves a cemetery late at night. I don't want to give anything away. But there might be a vampire or two lurking among the tombstones.
And wait till you meet Soo-ling Choi in James Rollins's thrill-a-minute story, “Tagger.” Soo-ling keeps picturing a disaster that destroys her whole city. Can the mysterious Chinese symbols she paints defeat her horrifying visions?
I'm not telling.
And I'm not going to give away any more secrets of our thirteen stories. Lots of thrills and chills await you. I think you should start reading.
And screaming . . .
WELCOME TO THE CLUB
▼ R.L. STINE ▼
 
 
 
 
 
 
J
J stepped back from the steamy dishwasher, eyes burning. He used his stained apron to wipe sweat off his forehead. His short, black hair felt wet, as if he'd just stepped from a hot shower.
He pulled the apron over his head, tossed down the dish towel, dried his hands on the legs of his jeans, and started to the open kitchen door. “Taking a five-minute break.”
Florian turned and gave him the fish-eye. “Didn't you just take a five-minute break?”
“Yeah. Last night,” JJ said.
“Make sure it's only five minutes.” Florian raised a hairy arm and made a show of checking his watch. He shook his head and slapped his metal spatula on the fry grill.
JJ stepped out onto the gravel parking lot and sucked in a deep breath of cool night air. The air made his hot face tingle. “I hate this restaurant.”
Well, he didn't hate the restaurant. JJ wasn't afraid of work. He'd had jobs since he was twelve, five years now. He hated Florian, the fat hairball manager. Hated his blobby face, his stringy brown hair, his pig-snout nose, his fat mouth with the brown mole poking off one lip.
JJ had known guys like Florian back in Texas. Losers who tried to be big by pushing other losers around. Tough guys always on your case, trying to make you feel smaller than you were.
“All hat and no cattle.” That's what they called blowhards like Florian in Texas.
Well, I'm not a loser
, JJ thought. But I need this crummy busboy job. Mom is working two jobs, and we're just barely getting by. Only time I see her is when she's coming in from one job or heading out to the other. Guess I can put up with Florian for a while. At least he pays in cash.
JJ heard a girl laugh. He raised his eyes to the back of the dark parking lot. Those kids from his school were back there again, sitting on the fenders of an old Pontiac GTO, smoking and giggling and goofing around.
That seemed to be their nightly hangout. JJ knew they could see him in the light from the open doorway. But they ignored him. They ignored him in school, too, which maybe was a break. At least they weren't smirking at his Texas accent or making fun of his hand-me-down flannel shirts and raggedy jeans.
JJ had been the new kid in school lots of times, and it was never a picnic. First time up north, though, and being ignored was definitely a relief.
He was good-looking enough—the dark, serious features he inherited from his dad, and the tall, lanky grace he got from his mom. But Fremont High was big—bigger than some of the towns he'd lived in. And so far, no one had looked at him twice.
A break. JJ hadn't had too many breaks in his seventeen years. His dad lost job after job, moved the three of them from hick town to hick town. Then last fall, he moved them up north—and got himself killed in a stupid truck accident.
Once JJ got over the shock, he decided it was just one more move in his life, one more fresh start.
I just got to stay out of trouble
. Yes, there'd been some trouble back in Texas. Some suspended-from-school-type trouble. And some bad trouble.
But who could blame him?
Behind him, JJ could hear Florian screaming at Julie, the only waitress. “You weren't born that ugly. You had to grow into it!”
Julie isn't ugly
, JJ thought. She was plain. But Florian kept insisting if she did herself up nicer, she'd get bigger tips. JJ and Julie both knew that Florian cheated her out of most of her tip money, anyway.
“Go ahead. Drop another glass!” Florian was shouting. “I'll take a dozen glasses out of your pay! And don't backtalk me, girl. Think I don't know who eats all the breakfast Danish? Think that isn't stealing?”
He liked to make Julie go all pale and start her chin quivering. Too bad she really needed her job.
JJ let out a long sigh. He kicked the gravel with his boot, turned, and slumped back into the steamy kitchen.
“Where you been? On vacation?” Florian snapped. “Think I pay for your vacations? Don't give me no looks, punk. I'll smack you down. No lie!”
 
 
A little before closing time, the kids from the back of the parking lot came ambling into the restaurant. JJ was stacking plates under the counter. He watched them push each other into the blue vinyl booth at the far corner.
He recognized the girl. Maria Valdez. He noticed her at school. She was sexy and dark, with straight black hair and lots of black eye makeup—black fingernails, too. Not a goth. Just trying to be interesting, he guessed. And she was.
He also recognized the dude everyone called Bony. He was good-looking in a tough kind of way—long, wavy hair; a tight smile; steely gray eyes, cold eyes; and a tiny stud in one ear. He dressed tough, too, in black T-shirts with heavy-metal-band logos and straight-legged black denims, a frayed leather jacket with the word KILLERS in red across the back.
JJ saw two other guys he didn't recognize. One of them had his face in a portable game player and was thumbing frantically. The other guy was big, like a football linebacker. He had a Red Sox cap pulled down over his forehead. He was holding the plastic menu upside down, pretending to read it.
JJ grabbed a handful of silverware and started to their table. “Hi.” Maria greeted him with a smile. The others turned to stare at him. “We've seen you in school, right?”
“He's the new kid,” the big dude said.
JJ nodded. “Yeah. I'm the new guy. JJ.”
Bony narrowed his eyes at him. “JJ? Does that stand for anything?”
“No,” JJ replied. “Just initials. It's a Texas thing.”

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