28 - The Cuckoo Clock of Doom by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Read Free Book Online

happiness.
    “Man,” Henry whispered to me. “These words are tough. Look how many letters
there are in grandmother !”
    I didn’t know what to say to him. On my last spelling test (when I was still
in the seventh grade), I’d had to spell psychology. Grandmother wasn’t a
big challenge for me anymore.
    I zoned out for most of the day. I’d always wished school were easier, but
not this easy. It was so babyish and boring.
    Lunch and recess were even worse. Josh chewed up a banana and stuck his tongue out at me. Henry painted his face
with chocolate pudding.
    Finally the school day ended. I dragged my little third-grade body home.
    When I opened the front door, I heard a horrible screech. Bubba, just a
kitten now, raced past me and out the door. Tara toddled after him.
    “Don’t tease the cat,” I scolded her.
    “You’re dumb,” she replied.
    I stared at Tara. She was three years old.
    I tried to remember: Had I liked her better when she was three?
    “Give me a piggyback!” she cried, tugging on my backpack.
    “Get off me,” I said.
    My pack dropped to the floor. I stooped to pick it up. She grabbed a hunk of
my hair and yanked it.
    “Ow!” I screamed.
    She laughed and laughed.
    “That hurt!” I yelled, and shoved her—just as Mom stepped into the foyer.
    She rushed to Tara’s side. “Michael, don’t shove your sister. She’s only a
little girl!”
    I stormed off to my room to think.
    No, I hadn’t liked Tara better when she was three. She was as much of
a brat as ever.
    She was born a brat, and she’d never grow out of it, I knew. She’d be a brat for the rest of her life, driving me crazy
even when we’re old.
    If we ever get to be old, I thought with a shudder. We’ll never grow
up at this rate.
    What am I going to do? I worried. I’ve slipped back in time four years! If I
don’t do something fast, I’ll be a baby again.
    And then what?
    A cold shiver ran down my back.
    And then what? I asked myself.
    Will I disappear completely ?

 
 
14
     
     
    I woke up in a panic every morning.
    What day was it? What year was it?
    I had no idea.
    I climbed out of bed—it seemed farther away from the floor than it used to—and padded across the hall to the bathroom.
    I stared in the mirror. How old was I? Younger than I’d been the day before,
I knew that much.
    I went back to my room and began to get dressed. Mom had left my clothes for
the day folded on a chair in my room.
    I examined the jeans I was supposed to wear. They had a picture of a cowboy
on the back pocket.
    Oh, yeah, I remembered. These jeans. The cowboy jeans.
    Second grade.
    That means I must be seven years old now.
    I stepped into the pants, thinking, I can’t believe I have to wear these
stupid jeans again.
    Then I unfolded the shirt Mom had picked out for me.
    My heart sank when I saw it: A cowboy shirt—with fringe and everything.
    This is so embarrassing, I thought. How could I have ever let Mom do this to
me?
    Deep down I knew that I used to like these clothes. I probably picked them
out myself.
    But I couldn’t stand to admit that I’d ever been so stupid.
    Downstairs, Tara was still in her pajamas, watching cartoons. She was now
two.
    When she saw me pass through the living room, she held out her arms to me.
“Kiss! Kiss!” she called.
    She wanted me to kiss her? That didn’t seem like Tara.
    But maybe the two-year-old Tara was still sweet and innocent. Maybe, at two,
Tara was actually likable.
    “Kiss! Kiss!” she begged.
    “Give poor Tara a kiss,” Mom called from the kitchen. “You’re her big
brother, Michael. She looks up to you.”
    I sighed. “Okay.”
    I leaned down to give Tara a kiss on the cheek. With one chubby index finger,
she poked me in the eye.
    “Ow!” I shrieked.
    Tara laughed.
    Same old terrible Tara, I thought as I stumbled into the kitchen, one hand
over my sore eye.
    She was born bad!
    This time, at school, I knew which classroom to go to.
    There sat all my old friends, Mona