Free Don't Stay Up Late by R. L. Stine Page A

her eyes. Her lipstick had faded. Her hair was tousled. She smiled at me. “I guess you and Harry have bonded already,” she said.
    â€œHe … had a nightmare,” I said. “He came downstairs so I could comfort him.”
    â€œThat’s wonderful, Lisa.” She set down her briefcase. “Harry is usually shy with new people.”
    â€œNo. We had a good time,” I said. “I think we’re going to be pals.”
    Brenda helped lift him off my lap. Harry woke up groggily and eyed his mother without speaking. I climbed off the couch and helped Brenda get him to his feet. Then we half-carried him, half-walked him up the stairs to his room.
    After we deposited him in his bed, we returned to the living room. I picked my bag up off the floor.
    Brenda yawned. She brushed her hair back. “I’m exhausted,” she said, sighing. “Long hours.” She turned to me. “So, everything went fine?”
    My mind spun.
    No. It didn’t go fine. There was an intruder in the house with the face of a demon. He ran into Harry’s room and leaped out of the second-story window.
    Everything wasn’t fine. In fact, it was terrifying—for me and for Harry.
    But if I tell Brenda the truth … If I tell her about the demon-creature in the house … she probably won’t believe me. She’ll think I’m crazy, and I’ll lose this job.
    I need this job. I really need it.
    â€œYes,” I said. “No problems. Everything went fine. Harry is a total sweetheart.”

 
    23.
    My mother waited up for me. I found her in the den in her gray flannel nightshirt, with the TV blasting, an old Denzel Washington movie on the screen. Mom is a Denzel Washington freak. I mean, she watches the same movies with him over and over. She doesn’t care what movie it is.
    â€œMom, why is that so loud?” I said, covering my ears.
    â€œTo keep me awake,” she said. “I wanted to stay up to hear about your first day on the job.”
    Oh, wow.
    She raised the remote and muted the sound. She had a tall glass of light beer on the table next to her chair. Mom doesn’t like wine. She only drinks light beer. She took a long sip of the beer, then adjusted the sling over her other arm.
    â€œSo? Spill,” she ordered. “How did it go?”
    I couldn’t hold back. I knew I shouldn’t tell her the truth. After all, I hadn’t told Brenda Hart the truth. But I dropped down on the couch facing her, and it all just tumbled out of me in a long stream of words. I don’t think I took a breath.
    As I talked, her face became more and more drawn. She raised the glass but didn’t take a drink, just held it in midair as she listened to my horror story.
    When I finished, I sank back against the couch, breathing hard, watching her, waiting for her reaction.
    Mom set the glass down and leaned forward, her good hand gripping the chair arm. She squinted at me, studying me. “He had a monster face?” she said finally. “Like a demon? You mean he was wearing a Halloween mask?”
    â€œI-I don’t know,” I stammered. “It had to be a mask—right? I mean, I know Fear Street is supposed to be this scary place. But give me a break. There aren’t demons running around in the houses there.”
    Mom let out a sigh. “And you say he jumped out a window? You saw him jump out a window?”
    I suddenly realized why she was questioning me like that. “You don’t believe me—do you?” I jumped to my feet. “You think it was another hallucination. You think I was seeing things again, right? Right?”
    â€œSit down, Lisa.” She motioned me down with her one good hand. “Please. Sit down. I thought it might be too soon for you to take a job.”
    â€œMom, don’t start—” I said.
    â€œToo soon,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry,