Slappy New Year! by R.L. Stine

Author:R.L. Stine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2015-07-11T16:00:00+00:00

A weird sound escaped my throat. Like a choked gulp.

This couldn’t be happening.

I didn’t think. I just shot out my hands — and grabbed the dummy’s head.

He tugged back — and I slid out of bed. As I hit the floor, the head slipped from my hands. I grabbed at the legs. My fingers wrapped around one of his little shoes.

With a loud groan, I forced myself to my feet. I was tangled in the bedcovers. My heart pounded like a bass drum.

I held my grip on the dummy’s shoe. Reached out my other hand — and clicked on the bed-table lamp.

I blinked in the flash of bright light. And then I screamed:

“Brandon!”

Brandon had hold of the dummy’s waist. He was trying to pull Slappy away from me.

Brandon, in his red flannel pajamas, his dark hair down over his face. His mouth twisted in a determined frown.

Brandon holding the dummy tightly, trying to sneak it out of my room.

“You —” I choked out. I swung the dummy’s shoe away from me. I untangled myself from the bedsheet and moved to block Brandon’s path.

“You — you —” I stammered. “What are you doing in here, Brandon? Why did you take Slappy from the closet?”

He didn’t have to reply. All at once, I knew the answers. All at once — mystery solved.

I grabbed my brother’s pajama sleeve. “You did everything — didn’t you?” I said.

He took a step back. He swung the dummy onto his shoulder. Behind him, the window rattled and puffs of blowing snow slid down the glass.

I didn’t let go of Brandon’s sleeve. “You wrecked your own wrapping paper, right?” I said. “You trashed your own room? You put Slappy there to make it look like I did it.”

Brandon kept his eyes on the floor. He didn’t look at me. I saw his big shoulders heave as he let out a sigh.

“Well?” I demanded.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t move his eyes from the floor.

“The whole maple syrup thing,” I said. “That was you, too — wasn’t it!”

I squeezed his arm hard. “Wasn’t it!” I repeated angrily.

“Okay, okay,” he said finally. He pulled his arm away from me. He stuck his chin out as if challenging me. “Okay, okay. You got me.”

“But — why?” I said. “Why, Brandon? I don’t get it. Why did you do all this crazy stuff?”

He stared hard at me. “I just wanted to get the dummy out of the house,” he said. “I wanted Mom and Dad to make you get rid of it.”

“Huh?” I cried. “You’re so scared of it?”

He didn’t answer. “You — you just want to scare me all the time,” he stammered. “That’s why you bought this dummy. So I wanted Mom and Dad to make you get rid of it.”

“But, Brandon —” I started.

His shoulders heaved up and down. “You made fun of me. In front of Elena,” he said. “And she laughed at me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But —”

“I wanted to pay you back,” Brandon said, his voice trembling. “I wanted to get you in major trouble.

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