Free Don't Scream! by R. L. Stine

promise.”
    It was a cool, windy night. Low clouds coveredthe moon. The streetlight on our curb was out. The front lawn was covered in darkness.
    I started walking down the driveway. Was I shivering because of the wind or because I didn’t know what Emmy had in mind?
    â€œWh-what are we going to do?” I stammered.
    A car rolled past slowly. Rap music blared from inside it. The headlights blinded me for a moment.
    â€œKeep walking,” Emmy ordered. “To the house on the corner.”
    I walked quickly toward the corner. I had the phone in my jacket pocket. I tried to zip the jacket, but the zipper stuck. I gave up after three or four tugs.
    A few seconds later, I stood on the sidewalk, gazing up at the corner house. The Howells lived there. My parents knew them. They weren’t friends, but sometimes they talked in the front yard.
    The front porch light sent out a pale circle of yellow light. The rest of the house was dark.
    â€œWhy are we here?” I asked Emmy. “What are we doing?”
    â€œYou’re going to break into the house,” she replied.
    â€œHuh? Excuse me?” My voice came out high and shrill.
    â€œYou heard me, Jack.”
    â€œI’m a kid. I’m twelve years old,” I protested. “I don’t break into houses.”
    â€œSure, you do,” she said. “You’d do it for
me
, right?”
    I studied the house. The garage door was open. No car inside. “Looks like no one is home,” I said.
    â€œSee? It will be easy,” Emmy said. “You’ll be in and out of there in a minute or two. And I’ll be right there with you.”
    I laughed. “That’s a big help. No one can see you.”
    Her voice turned angry. “Don’t make fun of me, Jack.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Okay. You want me to break into the Howells’ house. And what am I supposed to do in there?”
    â€œFind a clock radio,” she said. “Find a clock radio and steal it.”
    â€œThat’s crazy,” I said.
    â€œNo, it isn’t. I’m getting a signal, Jack. There’s a digital clock radio in this house. And someone is trapped inside it. I know I’m right. You have to go in there and bring out the clock.”
    I stared at the dark windows. At the tall chimney, black against the black sky. At the dim light from the porch.
    My mind whirred. My stomach churned.
    â€œI … can’t do it,” I told her. “I’m sorry. I can’t break into someone’s house. I just can’t!”
    YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
    I screamed and grabbed my ears as a deafening, high-pitched wail blasted from the cell phone.
    A powerful whistle, it grew higher … higher … more shrill.
    I pressed my hands over my ears, but I couldn’t close out the sound. I shut my eyes against the pain. It felt like my head was about to explode.
    I dropped to my knees. My whole body twisted in pain as the shrill whistle rose … rose higher …
    â€¦ Then it finally stopped.
    I gasped. I was panting hard. My head ached and throbbed.
    I just stayed there on my knees on the driveway, waiting for my body to stop shaking, for my head to stop pounding.
    I glanced around. Did the neighbors hear the whistle?
    No. The houses nearby were dark.
    Where was the cell phone? I spotted it on the grass where I must have dropped it. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I moved to the phone and picked it up.
    â€œHave you learned your lesson, Jack?” Emmy’s voice rose from the little speaker.
    â€œDo I have a choice?” I muttered. My ears were still ringing.
    â€œGo get the clock radio,” she replied.
    â€œOkay, okay.” I tucked the phone back into my jacket pocket. Then I moved up the driveway on shaky legs.
    The windows at the side of the house were all dark. There was no one home.
    I found a kitchen window half open. I pushed it up all the way. Climbed onto the window ledge.