Camp Fear Ghouls (5 page)

I was halfway upstairs when Dad yelled, “Oh, Lizzy, I almost forgot. Caroline called. She said it was really important you call her back.”

I felt as though someone punched me in the stomach.

“Caroline?” I repeated in a shaky voice.

“She said to call no matter how late you got in.”

“Oh, no!” I whispered. My hand gripped the stair railing.

She
knows.

Caroline was slimed . . . and
she knows I did it.

I
stared at the phone in my parents' bedroom.

I have to call Caroline, I thought. I have to say I'm sorry. Or at least try to explain.

I put my hand on the receiver. “Here goes.”

I didn't even have to think about the number. My fingers knew it by heart: 555-4239.

One ring. My stomach did somersaults as I waited for someone to pick up.

Two rings.

Come on, Caroline. Let me get this over with!

“Hurt residence, Caroline speaking.”

It's her. Now what do I do? I thought.

“Hello?” Caroline sounded irritated. “Hel
loooooh.”

It was now or never.

I spoke really fast. “Caroline-it's-me-Lizzy.”

“Lizzy!” Caroline yelled.

I winced.
Oh, no. Here it comes.

But instead of screaming at me, Caroline burst out laughing. “You will not
believe
what just happened at my house.”

I frowned. Why was she laughing?

“I had to call you right away,” Caroline continued. “My brother, Chip, just got . . . oh, it's too funny to even say.” She laughed some more before she could finish her sentence. “Lizzy, Chip just got
slimed!”

“
Chip
got slimed?” I asked. “Your brother Chip?”

“Yes! Oh, Lizzy, you should have seen him. He was covered from head to toe in this disgusting green goop.” Caroline laughed so hard, she snorted. And that made her laugh even harder.

I stood there holding the phone.
Chip?

He must have been wearing a shirt the same color as Caroline's. And they
were
about the same height. And, after all, I had never gotten a look at the person's face. . . .

I collapsed on my parents' bed. Whew! That was close!

I started to giggle along with Caroline. Half from relief. And half from hearing her snort. It felt really good to be talking to her again.

“And boy, did he stink!” she exclaimed when she could speak again. “I don't know what was in that stuff, but—”

“Listen, Caroline,” I cut in. “I'm sorry about how I
yelled at you this afternoon. I'm really glad you got into the Waynesbridge Scouts. I acted like a jerk.”

Caroline paused. Then her tone changed completely. She wasn't laughing anymore. “I'm sorry too. You were so upset. And I didn't help you at all. You should have been picked for the scouts too. It wasn't fair.”

“Let's not fight anymore,” I said earnestly. “You're my best friend. And I want it to stay that way.”

“Me too,” Caroline agreed. Then she giggled again. “Remember the best-friend cheer we made up in second grade?”

“Yup,” I said. I started the cheer.

“We're the very best of friends,

We'll be best friends till the end.”

Caroline joined in and together we shouted the end of the cheer: “B-E-S-T, best friends!”

We both laughed. I suddenly felt lighter. Happier. We were friends again!

“So how was your first meeting of the Waynesbridge Scouts?” I finally asked.

“You really want to hear?” Caroline asked.

“Really,” I replied. I wasn't faking. I wanted to know.

“Well it was kind of—dull,” Caroline admitted. “I guess I wanted to be a scout for so long that I expected it to be a lot more fun.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“We sat around on folding chairs in the Sitwells' living room, sipped little cups of tea, and introduced ourselves.”

“You're kidding!” I gasped.

“No. Can you believe it? We
introduced
ourselves—like we all haven't known each other since preschool.” I could tell by Caroline's tone of voice that she was rolling her eyes.

“Why did you have to introduce yourselves?” I asked.

“Mrs. Sitwell thought we should learn manners. So we each had to stand up and tell a little story about ourselves and our family.” Caroline made a snoring sound. “Bor-ing.”

“Didn't you play any games?”

“No. Arden passed around cookies with pink icing. We sipped our tea. And then we went home.”

I shook my head. “That's amazing. My meeting was the complete opposite.”

“Your meeting? What meeting did you go to?”

I forgot that Caroline didn't know about the Camp Fear Girls. So I quickly filled her in on how I ran into Amy on the way home from school. I also told her about the invitation with the weird, drippy letters that suddenly appeared at the bottom of the page. She thought that was cool too.

Then I told her about the rickety old house on Fear Street with the great club room inside. I mentioned the scary stories and the camp-out, but I didn't tell her about Prank Night.

Caroline giggled excitedly. “Scary stories, weird special effects and a camp-out—it sounds awesome.”

“It's
totally
awesome,” I bluffed. I didn't want to tell Caroline that the Camp Fear Girls
weren't
totally fun. Sometimes they were just plain creepy. I guess I was still hurt about not being in the Waynesbridge Scouts. I couldn't help it—I wanted Caroline to think my troop was better than hers.

“Mrs. Sitwell showed us the badges we would have to earn. Baking and housekeeping and
gardening.
Is that lame or what? I thought this was a cool club, but now it seems completely
uncool,”
Caroline admitted.

I thought about the Camp Fear Girls' badges—and shuddered. Maybe baking cookies wasn't all that boring.

But I didn't let on to Caroline. “That
is
lame,” I agreed.

“I wish I were in
your
troop,” Caroline said wistfully. “You are so lucky. I don't think my troop would ever camp out—unless the campground was called the Holiday Inn.”

I giggled. Caroline was right. It was hard to imagine Shannon, or Arden, or any of those Waynesbridge girls hiking anywhere. Let alone sleeping on the ground!

“Hey, Lizzy,” Caroline said. “Don't you think it would be way cool if we could both be in the same troop?”

“You mean the Waynesbridge Scouts?” I asked.

“No, forget them. I want to join the Camp Fear Girls!”

Uh-oh. Me and my big mouth. My plan to make Caroline jealous had worked
too
well!

“Do you think they'd let me join? They sound totally wild,” Caroline said.

Wild? She didn't know how right she was!

“Uh—gee, Caroline,” I stammered. “I don't know—”

“Why not?” Caroline interrupted.

“Well—uh—” What could I say? “Uh—the Camp Fear Girls won't take just anybody. You have to be asked.”

“What are you trying to say? That they wouldn't
want
me?”

“No, I didn't mean—it's just—”

Caroline cut me off. “Lizzy, I know what's going on here—you're trying to keep me out on purpose. You're still mad, aren't you? And that's why you won't even try to get me in!”

Oh, boy! I wasn't even sure
I
wanted to be in the Camp Fear Girls anymore. But now I was stuck. If I didn't try to get Caroline into the troop, we'd have another fight. In fact, we were headed for one now.

“Okay,” I agreed glumly. “I'll try to get you in.”

*  *  *

I decided to take Caroline to meet Pearl. Pearl's mom was the troop leader, after all. And anyway, I didn't know where Amy or the other girls lived.

The next night after dinner, Caroline met me at the
corner. Together we walked across Mill Bridge to Shadyside.

“Fear Street.” Caroline read the street sign out loud.

I nodded. “We're going to number 333.”

Caroline shivered. “This street is the scariest place in all of Shadyside and Waynesbridge put together. Maybe in the whole world!”

We passed the first house—and heard a strange howl. An animal darted across the lawn and vanished into the darkness.

“Just a cat,” I told Caroline, trying to sound confident.

Caroline jerked her head around, checking the yards in front of us and behind us.

Down the street, a shutter thumped rhythmically against the side of a wooden house.
Whump! Whump! Whump!

How could it be banging like that? I wondered. I didn't feel a breeze.

Caroline grabbed my arm. “How much farther is it?”

“It's just ahead,” I told her. I remembered the last meeting, when the wind pushed me toward the Fear Street Cemetery. Right near the gate stood 333.

Caroline squinted at the numbers on the nearest house. “There's 331.”

“Good,” I said. “That means 333 should be the next one.”

But when we got to the next house, it didn't look
familiar to me. Sheets of plywood were nailed across the front door. The front porch had collapsed at one end.

“Is this it?” Caroline asked with a frown.

“No.” I pointed to the metal numbers nailed beside the front door. “See? That's 335.”

Caroline spun in a circle. “Then where's 333?”

“I'm not sure,” I muttered. I took two steps into the street and peered at the numbers on the house across the way. “That's 332. And that other one is 334.”

Caroline turned to face the boarded-up house. “So this should be 333.”

“But it's not,” I said. “The numbers say 335.”

“Maybe the numbering is off.” Caroline tugged me down the street. “Do any of those houses look familiar?”

I shook my head. None of them did. “There's 337, 339—and then we're at the cemetery.”

“So where's 333?” Caroline demanded.

I shook my head, totally baffled. “It's gone,” I murmured. “Completely vanished!”

C
aroline put her hands on her hips. “Stop kidding around, Lizzy. Houses don't just disappear! Now, which house is it, really?”

“It's 333 Fear Street,” I insisted. “But it isn't here!”

Caroline's face turned that slight shade of red it gets when she's really mad. “You're doing this on purpose!” she shouted. “You're still mad at me. I bet you made up the Camp Fear Girls just so you could drag me down Fear Street!”

“No, I didn't,” I protested. “I was at a meeting in 333 Fear Street just last night.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure you were.”

I raised my right hand. “Caroline, I swear I'm telling the truth.”

Caroline stood on the sidewalk, glaring at me. “I don't believe you.”

“Fine!” I snapped. “Don't.” I retraced my steps down the sidewalk. Maybe 333 Fear Street would magically appear.

It didn't.

“You can't just leave me here,” Caroline complained as she raced to join me.

“I'm not leaving you,” I shot back. “I'm trying to find that house. I spent a whole evening there. My mom saw the invitation. If you don't believe me, ask her.”

Caroline stared down the street at the house with the banging shutter. “Then tell me how the house just disappeared,” she whispered. “Explain that.”

I ran one hand through my hair. “I can't explain it,” I grumbled. “It doesn't make any sense.”

The lone street lamp that had been lighting Fear Street suddenly flickered out.

“Oh, no.” Caroline clutched my arm and squeaked, “Lizzy, why did that happen?”

“I don't know,” I answered stiffly. “But I'm not sticking around to find out.”