The Boy Who Ate Fear Street Read Free

continued, “but I’ve heard that many people in Shadyside have. Oh, it would be so exciting to meet one!”
    â€œI hope you won’t be too disappointed,” Mr. Sullivan said, chuckling. “We live here—and we’ve never seen a ghost. And Sam actually lives on Fear Street.”
    â€œReally, Sam?” Aunt Sylvie shifted her gaze to me. “You live on Fear Street?”
    I nodded.
    â€œWell?” Aunt Sylvie stared hard into my eyes.
    â€œWell, what?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably in my chair.
    â€œHave you ever seen a ghost?” she demanded.
    â€œUm, no,” I replied. “Everyone says weird thingshappen to you if you live on Fear Street. But I’ve lived there my whole life, and nothing weird has ever happened to me.”
    â€œThat’s right, Sam,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “I’m afraid they’re just stories. Silly stories.”
    â€œI’m starving!” Lissa shouted. “Let’s eat!”
    Mrs. Sullivan removed the cover from a large, steaming bowl of squid stew.
    â€œI—I’m not really hungry,” I said, pushing my chair away from the table. “Can I be excused?”
    â€œOf course you’re hungry!” Aunt Sylvie exclaimed. “Don’t worry, dear. This is not for you. Here is your dinner.”
    Aunt Sylvie began to remove the lid from a dish in front of her.
    I held my breath.
    I didn’t want to look.
    â€œMacaroni and cheese,” Kevin announced when the lid was lifted. “See—I told you my mom was making it for you!”
    â€œWe warned Aunt Sylvie that you wouldn’t eat her stew,” Lissa said. “We explained to her that you’re a picky eater.”
    As I ate my macaroni and cheese, I could feel Aunt Sylvie’s eyes on me.
    â€œSometimes it’s smart to be a picky eater,” she said thoughtfully.
    â€œWhat do you mean, Aunt Sylvie?” Lissa asked.
    â€œI read a Middle Eastern folktale once about a boy who ate the same thing for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—white rice and beets. That’s all he would eat.
    â€œOne day he and two boys from his village took a walk in the woods—where they discovered a most unusual berry bush. It had bright red leaves. And on each leaf hung a tiny black berry. Smaller than a pea.
    â€œHis friends quickly gobbled a handful of the small berries. They had never tasted anything so sweet, so delicious. They ate and ate until the berry bush was bare.
    â€œThen they headed home—and ate everything in their kitchen cupboards. They wandered through the village, day after day, searching for food. They grew fatter and fatter, but they couldn’t stop eating.
    â€œThe picky eater couldn’t believe what was happening to his friends. He watched in terror as they devoured every last crumb in the village.
    â€œThe boys grew so fat that their skin just couldn’t take the strain. It couldn’t stretch another inch. But that didn’t stop them from eating. They traveled to the next village and devoured all the food there. And that’s when it happened.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Lissa’s eyebrows shot up.
    â€œThose poor boys exploded.” Aunt Sylvie noddedknowingly. “Spilled their insides all over everything.”
    A piece of macaroni stuck in my throat and I started to choke. Mrs. Sullivan patted me on the back. “What a terrible story!” she exclaimed.
    â€œYes, I thought so too,” Aunt Sylvie agreed. “Now, who wants dessert? I bet you can’t wait for dessert, Sam. Right?”
    â€œNO! I mean no, thank you,” I replied. “I’m full.”
    â€œNonsense!” Aunt Sylvie said. “I made it especially for you. Rice pudding. Your favorite!”
    Aunt Sylvie spooned some rice pudding into a bowl and set it in front of me. Then she stared at me, waiting for me to try it.
    I scooped up a tiny bit and ate it. It was delicious.