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

Lisa.”
    â€œMom, please. I know what I saw.”
    â€œLisa, listen to me,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “If you’re still seeing things, I … I think you should quit.”
    â€œI’m not seeing things!” I shrieked. I leaped to my feet again. My arms swung out. I gasped as I hit the table lamp hard and sent it toppling off the table.
    It crashed to the floor and shattered, sending shards of glass flying.
    â€œOh, noo,” I moaned.
    Mom’s face was twisted in horror. “You’re out of control!” she screamed. “Do you see what I mean? Look what you’ve done. You’re not responsible, Lisa. You’re not responsible. You need more help!”
    My chest was heaving up and down. “It was an accident. A stupid accident!” I cried. “Forget about the lamp. I know what I saw at that house, Mom. Stop trying to make me feel like I’m insane or something.”
    â€œI didn’t say that, Lisa. Take a breath. Try to calm down. It seems clear that you’re still seeing things.”
    â€œMom, Harry saw him, too!” I screamed. “I’m not crazy. I didn’t imagine the intruder. Harry saw him, too.”
    She blinked. I could see she was thinking hard. “The boy saw him, too? He saw a man with a demon face?”
    â€œWell … no,” I said. “I mean, Harry said he heard someone. He didn’t see him. It was too dark. But he heard him. He heard him come into his room.”
    Mom stared at me. She didn’t say anything. But I could read her thoughts. I could see on her face that she didn’t believe me.
    â€œI’m not crazy, Mom!” I screamed. “You’ve got to believe me.”
    â€œBut, Lisa, stop and think,” she said softly. She hates it when I scream. “It doesn’t make sense. It was late. You were tired. And so you saw something that—”
    â€œShut up!” I cried. “Shut up! Just shut up! If you don’t believe me, someone will! Just shut up and leave me alone!”
    I stormed out of the den, swinging my fists, stomping over the glass shards of the broken lamp. I was gritting my teeth so hard, my jaw ached. I felt angry and frustrated—and alone.
    As I reached the stairs to go up to my room, Mom poked her head out of the den. Even from a distance, I could see she had tears in her eyes, tear tracks running down her cheeks.
    â€œLisa, you’re not the only one who’s going through a bad time,” she said, her voice cracking. “We’re all alone now, just the two of us. Your father is gone. We need to stick together.”
    I knew I should apologize. I knew I should try to lose my anger. I knew the right thing to do, but I just couldn’t do it.
    â€œHow can we stick together if you don’t believe anything I say?” I shouted. I didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t want to hear her answer. I turned and bolted up the stairs two at a time.
    I slammed the door to my room. Then I jumped onto the bed and pulled my phone from my bag.
    I need someone to believe me.
    I need someone who doesn’t think I’m a nutcase.
    I punched Nate’s number on the phone. He answered after the second ring. “Lisa? What’s up?”
    I told the whole story again. When I reached the part about the intruder with the demon face, I heard him sigh. “Lisa, you sound terrible. Take a breath. You really need to chill.”
    â€œYou don’t believe me, either, do you, Nate?”
    Silence. Then he said, “Why don’t I come over? Would that be good? Would you like some company? I could come over.”
    â€œYou don’t believe me—do you?” I insisted. “Nate, you think I’m crazy, too. Don’t you, Nate? Don’t you!”

 
    24.
    Dr. Shein usually sat behind her glass desk, tapping her pencil on the desktop or chewing on the eraser while I talked. But today she paced back