Don't Forget Me! by R.L. Stine Page A

first stampede of kids, I felt my neck muscles tense. Where was he?
    I knew that Mrs. Andersen’s class was second from the door. Peter was always one of the first ones out of the building.
    Relax, Danielle! I scolded myself. It’s not even ten after three yet. Don’t hit the panic button too soon.
    Car doors slammed. Bike chains clattered as kids pulled them free of the bike racks. A bright silver Frisbee whirred past my head.
    The school doors banged open again, and a group of girls in Scout uniforms stepped out. They were followed by several little kids, being led by parents or nannies.
    I checked my watch. Three-fifteen.
    â€œOkay, Peter,” I muttered. “Let’s get going.”
    What was he doing in there? Probably hanging out with friends, forgetting all about me.
    The laughter and shouts had faded. Most of the cars and school buses had pulled away with kids inside. A few more kids straggled out. Two boys hopped down the stairs, tossing a small plastic football back and forth.
    â€œHey—!” I called out. One of them looked a lot like Peter. But it wasn’t.
    I let out a long sigh and checked my watch again. Three twenty-three.
    â€œCome on, Peter. Give me a break!” I groaned.
    I couldn’t help it. Fear started to tighten my throat. My stomach suddenly felt like lead again.
    Where is he? I told him to meet me on these steps.
    Very quiet now. The doors were closed. One last kid came wandering out, holding a Game Boy up in front of his face. He was concentrating so hard on the game, he tripped and fell down the stairs.
    â€œPeter … Peter … ” I repeated his name under my breath.
    I didn’t know whether to feel frightened or angry. I decided I had no choice. I couldn’t stand out here all afternoon. I had to go in and get him.
    My legs trembled as I climbed the stairs.
    Stay calm, Danielle, I scolded myself again as I pulled open the door. He’s either goofing with his friends. Or else he’s talking with Mrs. Andersen, probably showing off, trying to impress her.
    Mrs. Andersen was Peter’s favorite teacher ever. He never stopped mentioning her. It was always “Mrs. Andersen said this,” and “Mrs. Andersen said that.” I think Mom has actually been getting a little jealous that Peter is so crazy about Mrs. Andersen.
    The long front hall was empty. My shoes made a hollow sound as I walked toward Peter’s classroom.
    It’s always strange going back to your old school. When I went here, the place seemed enormous. But now, the classrooms all appeared so tiny, the desks and tables so low to the ground. The water fountain was practically down at my knees!
    I turned the first corner, and Mrs. Andersen’s room came into view. I stepped up to the door, my heart pounding a little harder, and poked my head in. “Peter—?” No.
    I uttered a disappointed sigh.
    Mrs. Andersen sat at her desk, her head bowed, writing rapidly on a stack of papers. She looked up as I stepped into the room and narrowed her eyes at me. “Yes?”
    She was a young woman with wavy blond hair, round, blue eyes, and a nice smile. She wore a pale blue sweater-vest over a white top. As I came closer, I could see why Peter liked her so much. She was really awesome looking!
    She kept her pen poised over the papers as she watched me approach.
    â€œI’m Danielle Warner,” I said.
    She didn’t appear to recognize the name. “Can I help you, Danielle?” she asked. She had a soft, little-girl voice. She sounded more like a kid than a teacher.
    â€œI was hoping to find my brother, Peter, in here,” I said.
    Her smile faded. “Peter?”
    I nodded. “But I guess he already left. Did you see him leave? Was he with some of his friends?”
    Mrs. Andersen lowered the pen to the desk. She squinted at me. “What is your brother’s name? Did you say Peter?”
    â€œYes. Peter Warner. He was supposed