The Boy Who Ate Fear Street Read Free Page A

The best rice pudding I ever tasted.
    â€œThis is great!” I said, swallowing a big mouthful.
    I took another spoonful—this one with a few raisins.
    I chewed the raisins—and cried out in horror.
    I felt my face turn bright red.
    My tongue began to burn.
    My mouth was on fire!

4

    â€œH elp!” I cried, leaping up from my chair. “My mouth is on fire!”
    Mrs. Sullivan handed me a glass of milk. I gulped it down. Then I reached over and grabbed Lissa’s glass of milk. I gulped that down too.
    The burning feeling spread across my lips and down my throat. Even my chest felt scorched, and my tongue began to swell.
    I grabbed every glass of milk on the table and gulped it down. Then I snatched the milk container from the kitchen counter and chugged that.
    â€œAre you okay, dear?” Aunt Sylvie asked, patting me on the back.
    â€œWhat . . . did . . . you . . . put . . . in . . . my . . . pudding?” I sputtered, jerking away from her.
    â€œAunt Sylvie didn’t put anything in your rice pudding,” Lissa said. “You probably just swallowed wrong.”
    The Sullivans and Kevin nodded in agreement, but Aunt Sylvie tapped the side of her forehead with her index finger. “Hmmmm, let me think. Let me think,” she repeated over and over again.
    While Aunt Sylvie tried to remember, I poked around the top layer of rice pudding with my spoon.
    I found rice. I found pudding.
    Nothing else.
    I poked around some more.
    Ah-ha! At the bottom of the bowl I found what I was looking for. Little dark flakes. So little that I thought they were specks of cinnamon at first.
    â€œWhat’s this?” I asked Aunt Sylvie, pointing a shaky finger into my bowl.
    â€œGreat-Uncle Henry!” Aunt Sylvie exclaimed.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œNow I remember! While I was making the rice pudding, Great-Uncle Henry visited for a chat,” Aunt Sylvie began to explain. “And he suggested that I use the new spice I brought back from the Orient.”
    Aunt Sylvie held up a bottle of the black flakes.“I enjoyed speaking to Uncle Henry.” She sighed. “We’ve spoken so little since he died.”
    â€œAunt Sylvie,” Mrs. Sullivan chided, “you’re going to scare the children.”
    â€œOh, nonsense!” Aunt Sylvie chuckled. “The children know what an odd creature I am!”
    Everyone at the table laughed. Everyone but me.
    â€œI’m sorry the spice burned your tongue.” Aunt Sylvie turned to me. “It’s supposed to be tangy—not hot.”
    â€œMaybe it turned rotten,” I murmured.
    Aunt Sylvie reached over for my bowl of rice pudding. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed. “It smells okay, but I bet you’re right. It probably has spoiled. I’m going to throw it out—right now.”
    â€œAren’t you going to taste it first?” I asked. “Maybe it’s not spoiled. Maybe it was just too spicy for me.”
    â€œTaste it?” Aunt Sylvie gasped. “Oh, no! I’m not going to taste it.”

5

    â€œW hat?” I shouted. Why aren’t you going to taste it?” I leaped up from my chair.
    Aunt Sylvie didn’t reply.
    She headed toward the sink and emptied the jar of flakes down the drain.
    â€œWhy didn’t you taste it?” I demanded.
    â€œOh, those flakes are much too strong for me!” Aunt Sylvie smiled. “I don’t care for tangy food myself. Now, who would like some vanilla ice cream? I bet you would, Sam. Right?”
    *   *   *
    Everyone ate the ice cream except me. Those black specks in the ice cream were probably vanilla beans—but I wasn’t taking any chances.
    After dinner Kevin, Lissa, and I played Kevin’s LaserBlast video game. I usually win—but not this time. My stomach was upset, and I felt weird. Kind of hot all over.
    â€œSee you guys