Chicken Chicken by R. L. Stine Read Free Book Online

on her face. I don’t think she had
even seen Cole and me.
    Finally, she stopped. She stared across the street at us as if she didn’t
recognize us.
    “BLUUUUCK BLUUUCK!” my brother clucked angrily.
    That brought a smile to her black-lipsticked lips. She laughed, and her dark
eyes flashed.
    She brushed back her straight, black hair. “Bluck bluck to you, too!” she
called. “Chicken chicken!” Then she turned and hurried along the sidewalk.
    “Bluuuck—wait!” Cole called after her. His head bobbed frantically up and
down.
    “You have to help us!” I cried, my hard lips clicking.
    Vanessa began walking faster. Her black hair flew behind her. She didn’t look
back.
     
    We found Anthony fiddling around with a golf club in his front yard. He had
borrowed one of his dad’s putters. And he had scooped out a hole in the middle
of the grass.
    We watched him sink a long putt as we ran across the front lawn. He flashed us two thumbs up. “Awesome, huh? I’ve been
practicing.”
    “Awesome,” I muttered. I was still thinking about Vanessa, still feeling
really upset and frightened.
    “Bluuck buuck,” Cole said.
    Anthony narrowed his eyes at him. “What’s up, guys? My parents are going to
your barbecue. But I have soccer practice.”
    Anthony pulled the ball from the hole and carried it a few feet away. He set
it down, then leaned over the putter and prepared to putt again.
    “Anthony, has anything weird been happening to you?” I blurted out.
    “Yeah,” Cole chimed in. “In the last two days—anything really weird?”
    Anthony swung the golf club. It made a solid thwock as the club hit
the ball. The ball sailed across the grass and stopped a few inches from the
hole.
    Anthony raised his eyes to us. “Yeah,” he replied. “Something weird has been happening. How did you know?”
    “Because BLUUUCK the same weird thing has been happening to us,” I told him.
    He stared hard at me. “Huh?”
    Cole and I nodded.
    Anthony made a face. He pretended to study his golf club. “You mean you suddenly started putting really well, too?” he
asked.
    It was our turn to be surprised. “Putting? What does putting have to do with
it?” I cried.
    “Well, that’s what’s so weird,” Anthony replied. “Before this weekend, I was
a lousy putter. Really bad news. I couldn’t even play mini-golf!”
    “So what?” Cole chimed in.
    “So this weekend I’m really good at it,” Anthony continued. He twirled the
club in his hand. “All of a sudden, I’m not a bad putter. Don’t you think that’s
weird?”
    “But—but—but—” I sputtered.
    “What about growing feathers?” Cole demanded. “And what about your lips?”
    Anthony’s face filled with confusion. Then he turned to me. “What’s with your
brother? Is he going totally mental or what?”
    “Are you clucking all the time?” Cole asked Anthony.
    Anthony laughed. He cut it short quickly. “I don’t get it. Is this a joke or
something, guys?”
    I pulled my brother to the driveway. “He doesn’t know what we’re talking
about,” I whispered. “For some reason, it isn’t happening to him.”
    Cole’s head bobbed up and down. He let out a low cluck.
    “Let’s go,” I said. “Anthony isn’t going to be any help.”
    “I don’t get the joke,” Anthony repeated.
    “See you BLUUUCK later!” I called to him. I started pulling Cole down the
street. “We’ve got to help out with the barbecue.”
    “Maybe I can come after soccer practice,” Anthony called. “Save me some
chicken!”
    “Yeah. Sure,” I muttered unhappily.
     
    Guests were already arriving for the barbecue. I recognized my aunt Norma’s
red Honda in the driveway. And I saw the Walker family from down the block,
heading around the side of the house to the back.
    I ducked in through the front door and ran up to my room. I wanted to tell
Mom what was happening to Cole and me. But I knew she was too busy. She wouldn’t
listen.
    I closed the bedroom door