Free The Creature from Club Lagoona by R.L. Stine Page B

pool now. I didn’t feel tired. I felt happy, excited.
    From the corner of my eye I noticed the swimmer in the next lane. Gaining on me as we neared the deep end.
    I had to do something to keep my lead.
    I ducked my head down and held my breath, and stroked as hard as I could.
    Suddenly a noise met my ears.
    A whirring noise.
    A hideous whirring noise that sent shivers up my spine.
    I peered through the water and saw a flash of green.
    And I knew what was there.
    I knew exactly what I would discover down in the deep end.
    The giant drain at the bottom of the pool.
    Sliding open.
    And a slimy green tentacle slithering out. . . .
    Only this time it was real.
    This time I would really be face-to-face with the creature of Club Lagoona.

Are you ready for another walk
    down Fear Street?
    Turn the page for a terrifying
    sneak preview.

T he pitcher wound up. I tightened my grip on the bat. Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the abandoned house on Fear Street. The one who scared me the day before. He stood at the fence. Watching me.
    His eyes burned into mine. I felt as if I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him.
    What did he want?
    â€œDuck!” someone yelled.
    My head whipped around. Oh, man!
    The ball was speeding straight toward me!
    WHACK!
    Pain exploded in my head. I saw a huge flash of white light. Little stars danced in front of my eyes.
    I staggered. Dropped to the ground by home plate. When I hit the dirt, the thud echoed strangely in my ears.
    Then everything went black.
    * * *
    The next thing I heard was someone calling my name.
    â€œBuddy. Buddy, talk to me, son! Are you okay?”
    I opened my eyes slowly. Man, did my head hurt!
    My vision was blurry for a second. As it cleared, I made out faces peering down at me. Strangers.
    â€œAre you okay, Buddy? That pitch hit you square in the head.”
    The man speaking was tall, with dark hair that he wore slicked back with some kind of shiny oil.
    How does he know my name? I wondered fuzzily. I’ve never seen him before.
    â€œOoooh.” I groaned and sat up slowly. My head throbbed where the ball had struck me. I felt dizzy.
    â€œThatta boy. Can you get up?”
    Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet. I stood, wobbling for a second.
    â€œFeeling steadier? Good. Shake it off,” the man with the slicked-back hair told me.
    Shake it off? I thought. I just got clobbered in the head with a fastball! Why aren’t they rushing me to the hospital for a brain scan or something?
    â€œUh—I—” I started to say.
    â€œCome on, tough guy!” he interrupted. “Take your base.”
    â€œBut I—”
    â€œYou’re fine. Take your base.” The strange man tucked his hand under my elbow and hustled me to first base. “Good, good,” he muttered, and trotted away.
    Who was that guy, anyway?
    I stood at first base and screwed my eyes shut, trying to get over my feeling of confusion.
    â€œBatter up!” the umpire called.
    I opened my eyes to see who was next at bat.
    Then I stared.
    Wait just one second! I thought. Who is that guy? He doesn’t play on my team! And what’s with his uniform?
    The pants were baggy. The shirt was loose. The whole outfit looked like a sack. And instead of the red, white and blue colors of my team, it was white with black pinstripes.
    Come to think of it, my own uniform felt weirdly heavy and loose. I plucked at the fabric with my fingers.
    Black and white pinstripes!
    My team didn’t wear pinstripes!
    Before I could think, the batter hit a grounder toward the shortstop. I took off from first base as the ball skipped past the shortstop and into the outfield.
    I rounded second at full speed, really runningnow. I slid into the bag and barely beat the throw to third.
    I stood and brushed myself off. A rough hand clapped me on the shoulder.
    â€œWay to go, Gibson,” a deep voice