You Can't Scare Me! by R. L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page A

the grass, his big pink tongue drooping out.
    â€œOoh, I’m scared! I’m scared!” I cried sarcastically. I dropped my croquet mallet and hugged myself, pretending to shiver in fright.
    Buttercup ignored me. He ran up to Charlene and started licking her hand, making tiny mewing sounds, almost like a cat.
    â€œOoh, he’s tough,” I exclaimed.
    Hat came up beside me, adjusting his baseball cap over his eyes. “He’s a big, lovable Saint Bernard, Charlene,” Hat said, bending to scratch the dog behind the ears. “He’s not too scary. We need a big wolf. Or a six-foot-tall Doberman.”
    Buttercup turned his big head to lick Hat’s hand.
    â€œYuck!” Hat made a disgusted face. “I hate dog slobber.”
    â€œWhere can we get a real attack dog?” I asked, picking up my mallet and leaning on it like a cane. “Do we know anyone who has a guard dog? A big, ugly German shepherd, maybe?”
    Charlene still had that teasing grin on her face, as if she knew something the rest of us didn’t. “Give Buttercup a chance,” she said softly. “You might be surprised.”
    Clouds drifted over the sun again. The air suddenly grew cooler as gray shadows slid over the grass.
    The power mower on the other side of the hedge sputtered to a stop. The backyard suddenly seemed eerily quiet and still.
    Buttercup dropped to the grass and rolled onto his back. His four furry paws kicked the air as he scratched his back on the lawn.
    â€œNot too impressive, Charlene,” Hat said, laughing. The dog looked so stupid.
    â€œI haven’t done our little trick yet,” Charlene replied. “Just watch.”
    She turned to the dog and started to whistle. A tuneless whistle, just a bunch of shrill, flat tones.
    The big Saint Bernard reacted immediately. As soon as he heard Charlene’s whistle, he rolled off his back and climbed to his feet. His tail shot out stiffly behind him. His entire body appeared to go rigid. His ears stood up on his head.
    Charlene continued to whistle. Not loudly. A steady, low whistle of long, shrill notes.
    And as we stared in silent surprise, Buttercup began to growl. The growl started deep in his stomach, angry and menacing.
    He pulled back his dark lips. He bared his big teeth.
    He growled loudly. His growl became a vicious snarl.
    The dog’s eyes glowed angrily. His back stiffened. His head arched back as if preparing to attack.
    Charlene sucked in a deep breath and whistled some more. Her eyes were locked on the growling dog.
    â€œButtercup — get Eddie!” Charlene suddenly screamed. “Get Eddie! Kill!
Kill!”

15
    â€œNo!” I shrieked and fell back toward the hedge.
    The dog growled a warning. Then it leaped to attack.
    I raised my arms in front of me as a shield and waited for the impact.
    And waited.
    When I slowly lowered my arms, I saw that Charlene was hugging the dog around the neck. Charlene had a gleeful grin on her face. Buttercup turned and planted a slobbery dog kiss on her forehead.
    â€œGotcha, Eddie!” Charlene declared. “That was to pay you back for the tarantula.”
    Molly laughed. “Way to go, Charlene.”
    â€œWow,” I exclaimed weakly. My heart was still pounding. The backyard was spinning in front of me.
    â€œThat’s a good trick,” Hat told Charlene. “How did you teach him that?”
    â€œI didn’t,” Charlene said, giving the dog a final hug, then shoving him away from her. “It was sort of an accident. I was whistling one day, and Buttercup went ballistic on me. He started growling and snarling, showing his teeth.”
    â€œI guess he really hates the way you whistle!” I exclaimed, starting to feel a little more normal.
    â€œHe hates
anyone
whistling,” Charlene replied, brushing dog fur off the legs of her denim cutoffs. “Maybe it hurts his ears or something. I don’t know. But you can see what it