38 - The Abominable Snowman of Pasadena by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Page A

bottles.
    “Perfect,” I declared. “No one will ever find the snowballs there.”
    Nicole hurried to the garage and grabbed a shovel. We crossed the street, glancing around to make sure no one saw us.
    “The coast is clear,” I said.
    I grabbed the shovel and dug a deep hole in the sand. It took longer than I
thought. Sand kept falling back into the hole.
    Finally, the hole was deep enough.
    Nicole dropped the trash bag into the hole. “Good-bye, snowballs,” she said.
“Good-bye, Alaska.”
    I covered the hole with sand. Lauren smoothed it out so you couldn’t tell the
sand had been dug up.
    “Whew,” I groaned, wiping the sweat from my face. “I’m glad that’s over.
Let’s go inside and cool off.”
    I put away the shovel. Then Nicole, Lauren, and I got ourselves some cold
apple juice and collapsed in front of the TV.
    A short while later, we heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway.
    “Uh-oh,” Lauren gasped. “I think I’d better go home now. See you guys later.”
She hurried out the back door. “Good luck!” she called. The door slammed behind
her.
    I gave Nicole a nervous glance. “How angry will Dad be? He finds an amazing,
rare creature, brings it home—we let it loose, and it runs away. That’s not so
bad— is it?”
    Nicole shuddered. “Maybe if we tell him the whole story, he’ll be so
glad we’re not hurt that he won’t be angry.”
    “Uh-huh. Yeah. Maybe.”
    The front door swung open. “Hey, kids!” Dad called. “I’m home! How’s our
snowman doing?”

 
 
29
     
     
    We ate supper early that evening. Things were pretty quiet around the dinner
table.
    “I’m glad you kids are safe and sound,” Dad said for the fifth time. “That’s
what counts.”
    “Yeah,” Nicole said, chewing her pizza.
    “Uh-huh,” I added quietly. I usually had three slices. Tonight I could barely
manage one. And I left the crust on the plate.
    Poor Dad. He was trying so hard not to get upset about losing the Abominable
Snowman. But Nicole and I knew how bad he felt.
    Dad dropped his half-eaten slice of pizza on his plate. “I’ll tell the Museum
of Natural History that they’ll have to make do with the photographs.”
    “Photographs are better than nothing,” I said.
    “Better than nothing? Are you crazy?” Nicole cried. “Those pictures are going
to amaze the whole world!”
    Dad perked up. “That’s true. I mentioned them to some TV producers. They went
wild.”
    He stood and carried his plate to the sink. “I think I’ll go out to the
darkroom and develop that film right now. These pictures are going to cheer me
up. I mean, they’re historic. Historic!”
    I was glad to see Dad snap out of his disappointment. Nicole and I followed
him, eager to see the photos.
    We sat quietly under the red light while Dad developed the negatives. At last
he pulled the first set of contact sheets out of the chemical baths.
    Nicole and I leaned close to see the pictures.
    “Huh?” Dad uttered an astonished cry.
    Snow. Nothing but snow. Ten pictures of snow.
    “That’s strange,” Dad choked out. “I don’t remember taking those shots.”
    Nicole flashed me an evil stare. I knew what she was thinking.
    I held my hands up innocently. “I’m not playing any tricks. I swear!”
    “You’d better not be, Jordan,” Dad warned sternly. “I’m in no mood for
kidding around.”
    Dad turned back to the chemical trays and developed another set of photos. As
he pulled them up, dripping wet, we all squinted at them.
    More snow. Nothing but snow.
    “This can’t be happening!” Dad screamed. “The Abominable Snowman—he should be standing right there !” He pointed.
    His hands shook as he grabbed the rest of the negatives and held them up to
the red light. “The tundra shots came out fine,” he declared. “The dogs, the
sled, the elk herd—all there. All perfect. All of them. But the shots in the
monster’s cave—”
    His voice trailed off. He shook his head sadly. “I don’t