A Nightmare on Clown Street by R.L. Stine

Author:R.L. Stine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2015-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

A chill of fear ran down my body. I started to step back.

But, whoa. Wait. It wasn’t a knife in her hand. It was her phone.

She smiled. “Hey, how’s it going?” She tucked her phone into her jacket pocket and walked up to me.

I let out a sigh of relief. Was I starting to lose it? Imagining things that weren’t there? “Not bad,” I said.

Her yellow jacket sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. She wore the yellow pleated skirt and white tights that were her costume for the show. “Well, spill,” she said. “How did your first show go? Did you enjoy it?”

I had the urge to tell her about tripping and knocking over Mr. HahaFace. But then I remembered he was her father. And I remembered I’d better be real careful around her.

“Awesome,” I said. “I had a great time. I was surprised. I wasn’t even nervous.”

She nodded. Her eyes studied me for a long moment. Did she already know about how I messed up with her father? Was she waiting for me to tell her about it?

I kind of liked her. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she may have been the most awesome-looking girl I’d ever known. And she was the only one here at the circus who was my age.

But I knew I’d never be comfortable around her. I mean, I knew I’d always have to be on guard.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “I’m always starving after a performance. Want to get some hot dogs?”

I laughed. “You read my mind. Definitely.”

We began to walk side by side between the two rows of booths. It wasn’t very crowded. People had seen the show. Now they were heading home to dinner.

Across from us, a little girl was struggling to hold a gigantic pink stuffed bear her father had won for her. The bear was actually as big as the little girl. People were still lined up at the cotton candy booth. And the pop-pop-pop didn’t let up from the two rifle-firing ranges.

Past a dart-tossing booth, we came to a food cart with a sign: HOT DOGGIES. SO FRESH THEY’RE STILL BARKING.

A short, pudgy man in a white chef’s hat and apron leaned forward to greet us. “Oh, hi, Deanna. How you doing?” he said. “Who’s your big-bellied friend?”

“Hey, Uncle Noah,” she said. She stood on tiptoes and leaned over the cart to kiss his cheek. “This is Ray. He’s Theo’s nephew.”

Noah squinted at me. “Welcome to the circus, Ray. What’ll you have? Two with everything?”

“Two with everything for both of us,” Deanna said.

Noah turned to the grill.

“So do you know everyone who works here?” I asked.

Deanna nodded. “Pretty much. I grew up in the circus. A lot of the workers are my cousins and aunts and uncles.”

“You never lived in a house?”

“No,” she said. “Never. Only circus trailers.”

“Weird,” I said. “I’ve lived in the same house in Tampa my whole life.”

“Well, I think that’s weird,” she said.

“I think you’re both weird,” her uncle Noah said. He handed us our hot dogs on paper plates.

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