Who's Your Mummy? by R.L. Stine

Author:R.L. Stine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2015-12-04T16:00:00+00:00

“NOOOOOOOO!”

I let out a long scream. I jerked my shoulders up. Twisted hard. Tried to squirm out of Jonathan’s grasp.

But Annie hurried over to the table to help hold me down.

“Let me go! You can’t do this!” I shrieked.

Sonja clicked the heavy shears above my head. “You’d better be holding still, girl,” she said. “Faith, you don’t want to be losing an ear.”

“You won’t miss your hair for long,” Annie said. “You’ll have many months to grow a new batch for us.”

“No — stop!” I pleaded.

Above my head, the shears slid open. Sonja lowered them slowly to my hair.

And then I saw Peter move.

He lowered his shoulder — and barreled into Jonathan. He caught Jonathan by surprise. Knocked the wind out of him.

Jonathan uttered a choked gasp. His hands fell away from me as he staggered back. He bent over, hands on his knees, struggling to breathe.

I rolled off the table before he could catch his breath.

Annie made a wild grab for me. Missed.

I dropped to the floor and took off toward the door.

“HAIR! HAIR! HAIR! HAIR!”

The mummies in the back room continued their ugly chant.

Jonathan stood up again, his face bright red, his eyes wild. He waved both arms frantically, signaling Annie and Sonja to chase after me.

Then he dove for Peter. Peter ducked away and raced to the door.

“HAIR! HAIR! HAIR! HAIR!” The weird, low voices rang in my ears.

We were almost out of the white room when the door swung open.

“Oh!” I cried out as a man stepped in and blocked our path.

“You!” Peter shouted.

The big, evil-looking man with the scar across his forehead. He wore a dark trench coat with the collar turned up to his face. His boots were splattered with mud.

He was breathing hard, sweating. His chest heaved up and down. His eyes darted furiously around the room.

Jonathan raised his fists as if preparing for a fight. Annie and Sonja dropped back, shock on their faces.

“How did you get in here?” Jonathan boomed.

The man didn’t answer.

“Out! Get out!” Jonathan screamed.

“No. I’m taking the kids,” the man said.

“You’re not taking them,” Jonathan said, stepping forward. “No way.”

The big man stiffened his back, preparing for a fight.

Peter and I were stuck between them.

“Why are you after us?” I cried. “Who ARE you?”

The man narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m your Uncle Jonathan,” he said.

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