The Show Must Go On! (13 page)

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Authors: P.J. Night

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Jenna reached behind her back and whipped out an enormous talon, gleaming in the beams from the flashlights. Once more, everyone screamed, just as she'd hoped.

“Stuck in the tree . . . the claw of the Marked Monster!” she announced.


Ewww!
What is that?” Brittany shrieked.

“Jenna, wow. That was the scariest story, no doubt,” Jenna's best friend, Maggie, said, shivering.

“True,” Laurel chimed in. “Way to go, Jenna.”

Jenna grinned at her friends. For the last three years, they'd been having sleepovers, and this was always her favorite part: telling scary stories. After the girls had eaten pizza and popcorn, after they'd watched movies and given each other pedicures, after everyone else in the house was
asleep, they turned out the lights, lit up their flashlights, and tried to freak each other out. Sometimes Jenna spent the entire week before a slumber party trying to think up a scary story to top the last one she'd told, spending hours searching for creepy tales on the Internet. That's where she had learned all about the Marked Monster. Jenna had even read a description of its haunting shriek.

Brittany's face wrinkled up in disgust as she stared at the claw. “That is too gross. Where did you get it?”

“What do you mean?” Jenna replied. “I just told you. I pulled it out of the tree in the clearing behind my house.”

“Wait—that was
you
?” Brittany asked. “
You
are the girl in that story?”

“Well, duh,” Jenna said. “We've only camped out in that clearing, like, a hundred times.”

Brittany shook her head. “No way. Not true. You probably just got the claw at the Halloween Store.”

“You wish I did,” Jenna shot back. “I mean, yeah, I didn't see the Marked Monster in the woods or anything—that part I made up. But I did find its claw in the tree. Trust me, the claw is the real deal. Here. See for yourself.”

She leaned forward and dropped the claw in Brittany's lap. Brittany jumped up so fast that the claw clattered
across the floor. “Get that nasty bird toenail away from me! It's probably covered in germs!”

Everyone cracked up then, and Brittany's face got all red. “You think it's so funny?” she asked, but when she started laughing, the other girls knew she wasn't really mad. “Here you go. Why don't you spend some quality time with this toenail?” She scooped the claw off the floor and tossed it toward Maggie, who shrieked as she caught it and immediately chucked it toward Laurel.

“Ack! Get it away! I don't want it!” Laurel cried, throwing it wildly toward Jenna. Too wildly.

There was no way for Jenna to catch the talon as it soared toward her; there wasn't even enough time for her to move out of the way. She heard the rip of her sleeve; she felt the burn as the talon sliced through her skin; and they all heard the
thunk
as the talon smacked against the wall behind her and plunged to the floor.

Jenna sucked in her breath sharply and grabbed her arm. She felt something hot and wet soaking through her torn sleeve.

“Oh no, no, no, are you okay?” Laurel asked in a rush. “Oh, Jenna, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—”

“No, it's cool. It was just an accident,” Jenna said,
biting the inside of her cheek as she tried not to cry. It was just a little cut. But it really, really hurt.

“I'll get a clean T-shirt for you to wear,” Maggie said.

“Mags, where's your first-aid kit?” Brittany asked.

“Come with me; I'll show you,” Maggie said.

“What can I do?” Laurel asked, hovering around Jenna. “Do you want some ice or something to drink or—”

Jenna forced a laugh. “Laurel, it's okay.”

“I just feel so, so bad,” Laurel continued. Her hands fluttered nervously in the air.

“Chill,” Brittany ordered as she walked back into the rec room. “It's not Jenna's job to make you feel better.”

Jenna flashed Laurel an extra smile. Brittany could always be counted on to tell it like it was, but sometimes, Jenna secretly thought, Brittany could
try
to be a little nicer. It wouldn't kill her—especially since they'd known Laurel for only a few months. She had moved to Lewisville in the middle of the school year, and even though she'd made friends pretty quickly, Jenna secretly suspected that Laurel still felt like the new kid.

“Here, Jenna,” Maggie said, holding out a T-shirt.

“Thanks,” Jenna said. She changed into Maggie's T-shirt, careful not to get any blood on the sleeve. Yep.
It looks like I'm gonna live,” Jenna joked, and all the girls laughed. “Let's go get some—”

There was a sudden silence.

“Um, what?” asked Maggie. “Let's get some what?”

“Shhhhh.” Jenna whispered as her face went pale. “Did you guys hear that? I swear I just heard, like, a growling sound or something.” Jenna held up her hand. “Just—listen—”

All the girls were quiet, and then it came again, a soft
rrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRR
that grew to a crescendo and made the hair on the back of Jenna's neck stand up. She could tell right away, from the scared expression in her friends' eyes that they had heard it too.

“Uh, Maggie?” Brittany whispered. “You didn't get a dog or anything, did you?”

Her eyes wide, Maggie shook her head.

rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Suddenly a shadow darted across the closed curtains. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Jenna realized:
There was something outside the window.

A lifelong night owl,
P.J. Night
often works furiously into the wee hours of the morning, writing down spooky tales and dreaming up new stories of the supernatural and otherworldly. Although P. J.'s whereabouts are unknown at this time, we suspect the author lives in a drafty, old mansion where the floorboards creak when no one is there and the flickering candlelight creates shadows that creep along the walls. We truly wish we could tell you more, but we've been sworn to keep P. J.'s identity a secret . . . and it's a secret we will take to our graves!

Simon & Schuster, New York

Cover art by Aly Turner

© 2012 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Ages 8–12

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

SIMON SPOTLIGHT

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© 2011 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

SIMON SPOTLIGHT and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

YOU'RE INVITED TO A CREEPOVER is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Text by Michael Teitelbaum

First Edition

ISBN 978-1-4424-2905-5 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-4424-2906-2 (eBook)

This book has been cataloged by the Library of Congress.

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