28 - The Cuckoo Clock of Doom by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)

there? It was Tara’s room now.
    I jumped out of bed. I was wearing Smurf pajamas.
    I swear I don’t remember ever liking Smurfs that much.
    I ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror.
    How old was I now?
    I couldn’t tell. I had to stand on the toilet seat to see my face.
    A bad sign.
    Yikes. I looked about five years old!
    I hopped off the toilet seat and hurried downstairs.
    “Hello, Mikey,” Mom said, squeezing me and giving me a big kiss.
    “Hi, Mommy,” I said. I couldn’t believe how babyish my voice sounded.
    Dad sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. He put down his mug and held
out his arms. “Come give Daddy a good morning kiss,” he said.
    I sighed and forced myself to run into his arms and kiss him on the cheek.
I’d forgotten how many stupid things little kids have to put up with.
    I ran out of the kitchen on my little five-year-old legs, through the living
room, into the den, and back to the kitchen. Something was missing.
    No, someone was missing.
    Tara.
    “Sit still for a minute, sweetie,” Mom said, scooping me up and plopping me
into a chair. “Want some cereal?”
    “Where’s Tara?” I demanded.
    “Who?” Mom replied.
    “Tara,” I repeated.
    Mom glanced at Dad. Dad shrugged.
    “You know,” I persisted. “My little sister.”
    Mom smiled. “Oh, Tara ,” she said, seeming to understand at last.
    She glanced at Dad and mouthed, “Invisible friend.”
    “Huh?” Dad said out loud. “He has an invisible friend?”
    Mom frowned at him and gave me a bowl of cereal. “What does your friend Tara
look like, Mikey?”
    I didn’t answer her. I was too shocked to speak.
    They don’t know who I’m talking about! I realized.
    Tara doesn’t exist. She hasn’t been born yet!
    For a brief moment, I felt a thrill. No Tara! I could go through this whole
day without ever seeing, hearing, or smelling Tara the Terrible! How totally
awesome!
    But then the real meaning of this sank in.
    One Webster kid had disappeared.
    I was next.
     
    After I’d finished my cereal, Mom took me upstairs to get dressed. She put on
my shirt and pants and socks and shoes. She didn’t tie the shoes, though.
    “Okay, Mikey,” she said. “Let’s practice tying your shoes. Remember how we
did it yesterday?”
    She took my shoelaces in her fingers and, as she tied them, chanted, “The bunny hops around the tree and ducks under the bush. Remember?”
    She sat back to watch me try to tie my other shoe. I could tell by the look
on her face she didn’t expect me to get very far.
    I bent over and easily tied the shoe. I didn’t have time to fool around with
this stuff.
    Mom stared at me in amazement.
    “Come on, Mom, let’s get going,” I said, straightening up.
    “Mikey!” Mom cried. “You did it! You tied your shoe for the first time!” She
grabbed me and hugged me hard. “Wait till I tell Daddy!”
    I followed her downstairs, rolling my eyes.
    So I tied my shoe. Big deal!
    “Honey!” Mom called. “Mikey tied his shoe—all by himself!”
    “Hey!” Dad cried happily. He held up one hand so I could slap him five.
“That’s my big boy!”
    This time I saw him mouth to Mom: “Took him long enough!”
    I was too worried to be insulted.
    Mom walked me to kindergarten. She told my teacher that I’d learned to tie my
shoe. Big excitement all around.
    I had to sit around that stupid kindergarten all morning, finger-painting,
and singing the ABC song.
    I knew I had to get back to that antique store. It was all I could think
about.
    I’ve got to change that cuckoo clock, I thought desperately. Who
knows? Tomorrow I might not know how to walk.
    But how would I get there? It had been hard enough to get downtown as a
second-grader. As a kindergartner, it would be nearly impossible.
    And, besides, even if I could get on the bus without anybody asking
questions, I didn’t have any money with me.
    I glanced at the teacher’s purse. Maybe I could steal a couple of quarters
from her. She’d