Free 08 - The Girl Who Cried Monster by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)

clear and sharp.
    Mr. Mortman’s large desk stood in the center in a burst of bright light. I
could see papers on the desk, the pan of turtles at the far corner, a low pile
of books.
    Behind the desk, I could see the top of Mr. Mortman’s tall wooden stool. And
behind the stool, the shelves were in clear focus, even the glass jar of flies
on the lower shelf.
    But there was no monster.
    No Mr. Mortman.
    No one.
    No one in the snapshot at all.
    “He—he was standing right there!” I cried. “Beside the desk!”
    “The room looks empty,” Dad said, staring down over my shoulder at the
snapshot in my quivering hand.
    “There’s no one there,” Mom said, turning her gaze on me.
    “He was there,” I insisted, unable to take my eyes off the photo. “Right
there.” I pointed to where the monster had stood.
    Randy laughed. “Let me see.” He pulled the photo from my hand and examined
it. “I see him!” he declared. “He’s invisible!”
    “It isn’t funny,” I said weakly. I pulled the photo away from him. I sighed
unhappily. I felt so bad. I wanted to sink into a hole in the floor and never
come out.
    “He’s invisible!” Randy repeated gleefully, enjoying his own joke.
    Mom and Dad were staring at me, looks of concern on their faces.
    “Don’t you see?” I cried, waving the photo in one hand. “Don’t you see? This proves it! This proves he’s a monster. He doesn’t show up in
photographs!”
    Dad shook his head and frowned. “Lucy, haven’t you carried this joke far
enough?”
    Mom put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m starting to get worried about you,” she
said softly. “I think you’re really starting to believe in your own monster
joke.”
    “Can we get ice cream?” Randy asked.
     
    * * *
     
    “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Aaron complained.
    “Just shut up. You owe me!” I snapped.
    It was the next evening. We were crouched low, hiding behind the low shrubs
at the side of the library.
    It was a crisp, cool day. The sun was already lowering itself behind the
trees. The shadows stretched long and blue over the library lawn.
    “I owe you?” Aaron protested. “Are you crazy?”
    “You owe me,” I repeated. “You were supposed to come to the library with me
yesterday, remember. You let me down.”
    He brushed a bug off his freckled nose. “Can I help it if I had an
orthodontist appointment?” He sounded funny. His words were coming out all
sticky. He wasn’t used to his new braces yet.
    “Yes,” I insisted. “I counted on you, and you let me down—and you got me in
all kinds of trouble.”
    “What kind of trouble?” He dropped to the ground and sat cross-legged,
keeping his head low behind the evergreen shrub.
    “My parents said I’m never again allowed to mention Mr. Mortman or the fact
that he’s a monster,” I told him.
    “Good,” Aaron said.
    “Not good. It means I really need you, Aaron. I need you to see that I’m
telling the truth, and tell my parents.” My voice broke. “They think I’m crazy. They really do!”
    He started to reply, but he could see I was really upset. So he stopped
himself.
    A cool breeze swept past, making the trees all seem to whisper at us.
    I kept my eyes trained on the library door. It was five-twenty. Past closing
time. Mr. Mortman should be coming out any second.
    “So we’re going to follow Mr. Mortman home?” Aaron asked, scratching the back
of his. neck. “And spy on him at his house? Why don’t we just watch him through
the library window?”
    “The window is too high,” I replied. “We have to follow him. He told me he
walks home every evening. I want you to see him turn into a monster,” I said,
staring straight ahead over the top of the bush. “I want you to believe me.”
    “What if I just say I believe you?” Aaron asked, grinning. “Then could
we just go home?”
    “Ssshhh!” I pressed a hand over Aaron’s mouth.
    The library door was opening. Mr. Mortman appeared on the front