The Nightmare Room #2: Locker 13 by R.L. Stine

Author:R.L. Stine
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061756962
Publisher: HarperCollins

“Luke—loooook out!”

I heard Darnell’s scream. I heard the squeal of tires. Horns honked.

I tossed back my head and laughed. I roared through Miller Street, the blade wheels whistling over the pavement.

Then, as I turned my skates and came to a slow stop, I ripped the scarf away. And saw Darnell standing on the curb on the other side of Miller. His mouth was open. He shook his head.

Stretch came skating around me. “You crazy jerk!” he shouted. “You were almost killed three times!”

I calmly held out my hand. “Money, please.”

“You lucky jerk,” Stretch muttered. He slapped the ten-dollar bill into my gloved hand. “You’re crazy. Really. You’re just plain crazy.”

I laughed. “Thanks for the compliment! And the ten bucks!”

Grumbling to himself, Stretch skated back up to his friends.

Darnell waited for the traffic to clear, then skated over to me. He wiped sweat off his forehead. “You were almost killed,” he said, his voice shaking. “Why did you do it, Luke?”

I grinned at him. “Because I can.”

The weather turned warm for our overnight camp-out. Even though the trees were bare, the woods smelled fresh and sweet, almost like spring. High, white clouds dotted the bright blue afternoon sky. Twigs and dead leaves crackled and crunched under our feet as we hiked through the tall trees to the camping grounds.

I squeezed the small skull in one hand as I walked, weighted down by the heavy pack on my back. Some kids were singing a Beatles song. Behind me, a group of girls were telling really bad knock-knock jokes, laughing shrilly after each one.

Coach Bendix and Ms. Raymond, another gym teacher, led the way along the twisting path through the trees. I was about halfway back in the line of kids.

I turned and found Hannah beside me. She wore her blue windbreaker with the hood pulled up over her head. She was leaning on one crutch as she walked, struggling to keep up. “Do you have any water?” she asked.

I slowed down. “Your parents let you come? Is your ankle better?”

“Not really,” she replied, frowning. “But I told them I had to come anyway. I wouldn’t miss it. Do you have any water? I’m dying!”

“Yeah. Sure.” I reached for the bottle of water in my pack. “Didn’t you bring any?”

Hannah sighed. “My water bottle had a leak or something. It poured out and soaked all the extra clothes in my pack. Now I don’t have a thing to wear.”

I handed her the water bottle.

Leaning on the crutch, she pushed back the windbreaker hood, and I saw her face for the first time.

Her skin was covered with big, red splotches.

“Hannah, what’s that?” I cried. “Your face—”

“Don’t look at me!” she snapped. She turned her back and took a long gulp of water.

“But what is it?” I demanded. “Poison ivy?”

“No. I don’t think so,” she said, still facing away from me. “I woke up with it. Some kind of red rash. All over my body.” She sighed. “I don’t get a break.”

She handed the water bottle back to me and pulled the blue plastic hood over her head.

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