Stay Out of the Basement (Classic Goosebumps #22) by R.L. Stine

Author:R.L. Stine [Stine, R.L.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780545388030
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2011-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

11

Casey didn’t come downstairs until ten thirty. Before his arrival, Margaret had made herself breakfast, managed to pull on jeans and a T-shirt, had talked to Diane on the phone for half an hour, and had spent the rest of the time pacing back and forth in the living room, trying to decide what to do.

Desperate to talk to her dad, she had banged a few times on the basement door, timidly at first and then loudly. But he either couldn’t hear her or chose not to. He didn’t respond.

When Casey finally emerged, she poured him a tall glass of orange juice and led him out to the backyard to talk. It was a hazy day, the sky mostly yellow, the air already stifling hot even though the sun was still hovering low over the hills.

Walking toward the block of green shade cast by the hedges, she told her brother about their dad’s green blood and about the insect-filled dirt in his bed.

Casey stood openmouthed, holding the glass of orange juice in front of him, untouched. He stared at Margaret and didn’t say anything for a very long time.

Finally, he set the orange juice down on the lawn and said, “What should we do?” in a voice just above a whisper.

Margaret shrugged. “I wish Mom would call.”

“Would you tell her everything?” Casey asked, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his baggy shorts.

“I guess,” Margaret said. “I don’t know if she’d believe it, but —”

“It’s so scary,” Casey said. “I mean, he’s our dad. We’ve known him our whole lives. I mean —”

“I know,” Margaret said. “But he’s not the same. He’s —”

“Maybe he can explain it all,” Casey said thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s a good reason for everything. You know. Like the leaves on his head.”

“We asked him about that,” Margaret reminded her brother. “He just said it was a side effect. Not much of an explanation.” Casey nodded but didn’t reply.

“I told some of it to Diane,” Margaret admitted.

Casey looked up at her in surprise.

“Well, I had to tell somebody,” she snapped edgily. “Diane thought I should call the police.”

“Huh?” Casey shook his head. “Dad hasn’t done anything wrong — has he? What would the police do?”

“I know,” Margaret replied. “That’s what I told Diane. But she said there’s got to be some kind of law against being a mad scientist.”

“Dad isn’t a mad scientist,” Casey said angrily. “That’s stupid. He’s just — He’s just —”

Just what? Margaret thought. What is he?

A few hours later, they were still in the backyard, trying to figure out what to do, when the kitchen door opened and their father called them to come in.

Margaret looked at Casey in surprise. “I don’t believe it. He came upstairs.”

“Maybe we can talk to him,” Casey said.

They both raced into the kitchen. Dr. Brewer, his Dodgers cap in place, flashed them a smile as he set two soup bowls down on the table. “Hi,” he said brightly. “Lunchtime.”

“Huh? You made lunch?” Casey exclaimed, unable to conceal his astonishment.

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