Field of Screams by R.L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page A

only was I trapped in the past.
    Now I had some crazy Fear Street ghost after me!
    What was next? Plagues? Floods? Other natural disasters?
    I remembered the ghost’s words. It said it was getting stronger. And coming back.
    What was I going to do?
    There was only one answer. I had to get out of there before the thing came back.
    But once again I had a basic problem: How?
    Wishing didn’t work. Neither did hitting my head again, the way I did in the cemetery. Not that I planned that!
    And I knew now that Ernie wasn’t going to help me. He didn’t even know what I was talking about.
    â€œUse your brain, Buddy,” I told myself. “Think.”
    What did I know about time travel?
    Not much! Until yesterday I never even believed it was possible.
    I thought of all the TV shows I’d seen with time travel in them. In most cases, people traveled through time on purpose.
    But then I remembered this one show where the guy couldn’t control his travel. Like me.
    In the show he could move on only if he changed history for the person whose body he was stuck in.
    I thought about that. Change history.
    Maybe I was supposed to change history!
    But change what?
    Then I slapped my forehead. Of course. The answer was obvious!
    â€œThe bus crash!” I said aloud.
    Maybe I was supposed to save Gibson and his teammates from dying!
    Maybe I was supposed to be a hero!
    Cool.
    But how could I do it?
    Hmmm. Maybe if we lost our last game—tomorrow’s game.
    Yeah! I thought. That’s it!
    I paced around the room, excited. “If I throw the game—if I make Shadyside lose—the team won’t make the championships,” I whispered. “Then they won’t be on that bus when the train comes by. Everyone would be saved!”
    And maybe I would get to go back to my time.
    The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I was supposed to change history. That had to be it.
    Okay. It was up to me to see we never played that championship game. One game to go, and all I had to do was make sure we lost it.
    I hated the idea of throwing a game. Whenever I played baseball, I played to win. But really, what was more important—playing your best, or saving about twenty lives?
    The answer was obvious. I knew what I had to do. Tomorrow the Shadyside team would be playing a crucial game.
    And their big star, Buddy Gibson, would be doing his very best—to lose!

14

    T he next day was cloudy and muggy. I broke a sweat just getting out of bed. Why didn’t someone turn on the air-conditioning?
    Oh, yeah, 1948. No air-conditioning.
    Still, the rotten weather had its good points. I lifted the blinds on the bedroom window and cheered on the clouds.
    â€œCome on, guys. Rain us out,” I whispered.
    If we didn’t play the game tonight, it would have to be played tomorrow. When we were supposed to be at the championships. History would change!
    Then I remembered. In the past this game wasn’t called because of rain. Shadyside played as scheduled. The weather was going to clear up—whether I liked it or not.
    I sighed and went down to the kitchen. I began looking through the cabinets for some cereal or a Pop-Tart.
    Mrs. Johnson pushed through the swinging doors from the dining room. “Buddy!” she cried. “How are you feeling?” She held me by the shoulders, studying my face. Her blue eyes were full of concern.
    She was a nice lady. I felt bad for worrying her.
    â€œI’m fine. Really,” I answered. “Sorry I scared you yesterday. I—uh—I guess I was a little confused.”
    â€œDon’t give it another thought, dear,” Mrs. Johnson told me. “Go on into the dining room. Your breakfast is waiting.”
    I slid into a seat in the dining room. The table was covered with platters of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and potatoes. Boog sat there with a full plate, chowing down.
    â€œWow,” I muttered under my breath. It was amazing to me