Camp Fear Ghouls Read Free Page A

forward, past house after house. Farther and farther down the awful, dark street.
    I clutched at a rickety fence and held on tight. The wind whipped around my hands. It pried my fingers off the wooden post, one by one.
    Then it continued to shove me down the street.
    I clawed at the hair in front of my face, trying to see what lay ahead.
    I could just make out a brick wall and big iron bars.
    A gate! With letters arched across the top of it.
    I squinted, struggling to read it.
    â€œNo!” I shrieked when I finally read the words. “Not in there! Please don’t make me go in there!”

5

    â€œN ooo! .” I yelled at the top of my lungs. Not the Fear Street Cemetery!
    As if it heard me, the wind stopped. Just like that.
    And the night was quiet again.
    I stood there for a moment while my heartbeat slowed down.
    What was that wind? Where did it come from? Where did it go? Could I have imagined the way it shoved me?
    Of course I imagined it.
    Fear Street had given me the creeps. That’s all.
    I pushed my hair out of my eyes and gazed around.
    I stood a few yards to the side of the cemetery gate. One rickety old house stood directly in front of me. It had lots of carved wooden decorations around theporch. From the walkway I could see the huge spiderwebs that hung off them.
    The front steps were splintered and sagging. The screen on the front door hung open on one twisted hinge. The weeds sprouting from the lawn were nearly as tall as me.
    I read the address out loud: “333.”
    I thought the invitation said 333. But that couldn’t be right.
    I thought we would be meeting at one of the members’ houses. But no one could possibly live here. This place was a wreck!
    I dug into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out my invitation. Even in the dim light, it was easy to read the big bold numbers: 333.
    Yes. This was definitely the right address.
    â€œWeird,” I murmured, making my way up the broken steps.
    Creak!
    A board bent under my foot. It began to splinter and crack. I jumped forward.
    CRRRACK! The board snapped in half.
    Whoa! This is dangerous, I realized. My foot could have gone right through!
    I stepped carefully over to a nearby window and peered inside. I couldn’t see anything. The glass was caked with dust and cobwebs, inside and out.
    Then I moved to the door. I knocked gently.
    Tap. Tap. Tap.
    Strange laughter floated from inside the old house.It sounded warped. Slowed down. Like a tape recorder with its batteries running low.
    I shivered. Who—or what—could laugh like that?
    I froze, listening. I couldn’t hear anyone coming to the door.
    I took a shaky breath. I slowly reached out and rapped on the door again. This time harder. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
    I shuddered. That creepy laughter again! And still no one came to the door.
    Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
    I had to be in the wrong place.
    â€œI’m out of here,” I declared loudly. “Who needs the Camp—”
    My words died in my throat. An icy cold hand gripped my shoulder!

6

    I spun around. And saw Amy!
    â€œYou scared me!” I gasped.
    â€œThat was the idea,” Amy told me, wiggling her eyebrows.
    She was dressed in a dark blue pleated skirt and white blouse with a red bandanna around her neck. A matching red sash with several rows of badges sewn to it hung across her chest.
    â€œWhy are you standing out here?” Amy asked. “Wouldn’t they let you in?”
    I shook my head. “I wasn’t sure I was in the right place. I could hear people laughing inside, but nobody answered when I knocked.”
    Amy slapped her forehead with the palm of herhand. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t know the secret knock.”
    She crossed to the door and tapped three times, slowly. Then two times fast, and then three more times slowly.
    The front door creaked open.
    â€œSee?” Amy shrugged. “Nothing to it.”
    I followed Amy through the darkened