Box of Shocks Read Free

forbidden to go near that place.”
    â€œPlease promise me you won’t go there, Oliver!” Mom says, peering over Dad’s shoulder.
    â€œI’ll be fine, Mom,” I say as I take off down the stairs. At least I didn’t lie.
    I always go trick-or-treating with my friends Reggie, Karl and Grayson. This year, there’s a problem. For my top-secret plan to work, I have to go alone. My friends can’t come with me. All of their parents are friends with Mom and Dad. If one of them blabbed something about what I did on Halloween night, in no time flat, Mom and Dad would know. My secret would be out. It would spoil everything.
    As soon as I’m out of sight of the house, I duck into the back alley and stash my ghost costume behind a garbage can. Next, I run down to the end of the block where my buddies are waiting. This year, Reggie’s an alien vampire, Karl’s wearing an inflatable sumo suit and Grayson’s got on his uncle’s Elvis costume.
    When they see me, Reggie says, “Hey! Where’s your costume?”
    â€œMy parents figure I’m too old to go trick-or-treating, so they’re making me stay home,” I say. I kick at a rock, trying to show I’m all mad about it.
    â€œYou’re kidding!” Karl says. “That’s so stupid!”
    â€œI know,” I say. “But that’s my parents for you.”
    â€œWe’ll go to a few extra places tonight and save some candy for you,” Grayson says.
    â€œSure, that’d be great,” I say. “Anyway, I’d better get going. Mom wants me to wash the floor tonight. Have fun, guys.” I don’t like lying to my friends, but I have no choice.
    I watch my friends head off into the night, and then I turn back to the alley. For a second or two, I kind of wish I was going with them. I’ll miss stuffing my face with candy morning, noon and night for the next week. But then I think of my Box of Shocks. My plan for tonight is so much bigger and so much better than running around and begging for candy. It’s also way more dangerous.
    I dig my ghost costume out from behind the garbage can and put it on. I head over to Lock Drive and hang a left on Ryker Boulevard. I’m not worried about running into my friends. They always do the same route every year, the one where the houses aren’t too far apart and there aren’t any steep hills. That way they get the most candy in the shortest time. Plus, they’d never dare go where I’m going.

    So, here I am, standing on the sidewalk in front of the Milburn house. I’m a little nervous, I’ll admit. But I feel a bit braver knowing that my parents would be freaking out right now if they knew where I was. And they would be double freaking out if they knew what I was about to do.
    I open the twisted wire gate at the end of the walkway and step into the yard. I’ve heard plenty of rumors about the Milburn house. Someone at school told me that most of the kids who go trick-or-treating there never make it out alive. If they do escape, they’re usually missing an arm or a leg. Plus, the treats they get are things like toxic-waste suckers and apples with exploding razor blades. I’ve never talked to anyone who’s actually gone trick-or-treating here, but the stories sound pretty creepy.
    I try to stay calm, but my ghost costume’s quivering because my knees are shaking so hard. I squeeze my fingers tightly around my loot bag, take three deep breaths and start walking up the path toward the front door.
    I’ve ridden past this house on my bike a few times during the day. The front yard is mostly dirt and weeds, with rusty shopping carts shoved into bushes and a mangled barbecue lying on its side. But at night—especially Halloween night—the place seems way more spooky. Give me a graveyard any day over this place!
    The walkway has thistles growing up through cracks in the cement, and the