32 - The Barking Ghost by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Page B

swung my legs out of bed. I took a deep breath. Then I lowered myself to
the floor.
    Carefully, I lifted the blanket from the bottom of the bed. Then carefully,
carefully, I lowered my head and peeked under the bed.
    That’s when the hands darted out—and grabbed me. Two strong, cold hands.
Slowly tightening their grip around my throat.

 
 
3
     
     
    I screamed.
    So loudly, I surprised myself.
    My attacker must have been surprised, too. He quickly let go of my neck. I
clutched my throat and sputtered for air.
    “Cooper, will you keep it down?” a voice whispered. “You’ll wake Mom and
Dad!”
    Huh?
    Oh, man.
    It was Mickey. My totally obnoxious older brother.
    “Mickey! You jerk!” I cried. “You scared me to death!”
    Mickey slid out from under the bed and wiped some dust off his pajamas. “No
big challenge,” he muttered.
    “Shut up,” I snapped, rubbing my sore neck. In the mirror I could see where
Mickey’s hands had grabbed my throat. Dark red blotches circled my neck.
    “Look what you did!” I cried. “You know I bruise easily!”
    “Oh, don’t be such a baby! I got you, man!” Mickey cried, grinning.
    I stared furiously at my idiot brother. I wished I could wipe that grin off
his face. And not get in trouble for it.
    “You’re a jerk!” was all I could think to say.
    “Grow up!” Mickey shot back. He headed for the door, then turned around.
“Would Cooper like a little night-light next to his bed?” he asked in a tiny
baby voice.
    That’s when I lost it.
    I leaped on to his back and pounded his head with my fists.
    “Hey!” he screamed, trying to shake me off. “What do you think you’re doing?
Get off me!”
    Mickey’s legs buckled under him, and he fell to the floor. I clung to his
back. I kept pounding him with my fists.
    Mickey is three years older than me, and he’s a lot bigger. But I had him in
the right position, and landed a few good punches.
    Then he shifted to the right.
    And started pounding me back. Luckily, he got in only one really good wallop before Mom and Dad ran in to break it up.
    “Cooper! Mickey! What’s going on in here?”
    “He started it!” I called out, trying to duck Mickey’s fists.
    My father reached down and pulled Mickey off me. “I don’t care who started
it!” he said angrily. “This is no way to act on the first night in your new
house. Mickey, get back to your room!”
    “But, Dad, he—”
    “Never mind who started it. This behavior had better stop—now! Because if
there is a next time, you’ll both start off the new school year
grounded!”
    Grumbling, Mickey stomped out of the room. But not before sticking his tongue
out at me. Mickey was the baby. Not me.
    “Really, Dad, Mickey started it,” I said when he was gone.
    “And you’re totally innocent, right?” my father asked, rolling his eyes.
    “Yes!” I insisted.
    Dad just shook his head. “Go to sleep, Cooper.”
    When my parents left the room, I paced back and forth, rubbing my neck.
    I was so steamed!
    It wasn’t the first time Mickey’s pulled something like this. For as long as
I can remember, Mickey has played tricks on me, trying to terrify me.
    He usually succeeds, too.
    Once, when Mom and Dad went away for a weekend, he hid a tape recorder in my
room. It played horrifying screams all night long.
    And another time, he didn’t come to get me after Little League practice. He
left me standing there, all alone on the playground, while he hid out and
watched me panic.
    But hiding under my bed tonight was the worst. He has to be one of the
biggest jerks alive.
    I climbed back into bed and stared up at the ceiling. I had to think of a way
to get Mickey back.
    What could I do? Hide outside his window and scream?
    Jump out from behind the shower curtain when he’s brushing his teeth?
    No. Too dumb. It would have to be something totally excellent. Something so
creepy it would scare me. Even though I was the one doing it.
    I watched the spooky shadows move