Don't Stay Up Late by R. L. Stine Page A

said, smoothing her hand gently over his hair. “No more movies in your mind, okay? Just sleep.”
    â€œOkay.” He settled his head on the pillow. “G’night, Lisa.”
    â€œGoodnight,” I said. “See you soon, Harry.”
    We stepped back into the hall. Brenda closed the bedroom door behind us. “So you’ll take the job?” she asked softly.
    I nodded. “Yes. I can’t imagine anyone saying no to Harry. He’s a total angel.”
    I started to follow her to the stairway. But halfway down the hall, she turned and grabbed my wrist. “Listen,” she said in a whisper. “Don’t let Harry stay up late. Seriously. It’s very bad for him. Don’t ever let Harry stay up late.”

 
    17.
    Nate kissed me lightly. I pressed my lips against his, harder. I wrapped my hands behind his head and held him there and kissed him until we couldn’t breathe. I pulled my face back, my hands lingering in his hair.
    â€œFinish the story,” he said, nuzzling my cheek with his head.
    We were wrapped around each other, on the couch facing the fireplace in my living room.
    â€œSo the mother told you not to let the kid stay up late,” Nate said.
    I nodded. “Yes. She said don’t ever let him. And I said, why not? Does he have some kind of condition?”
    â€œAnd what did she say?” Nate urged.
    â€œShe said no, he doesn’t have a condition. He just needs more sleep than most kids. She said he gets very grouchy and he can’t focus if he doesn’t get eight hours sleep. Weird, right?”
    â€œWish I could get eight hours sleep,” Nate said, sighing. “My brother is an early bird. He jumps on my bed to wake me up at six thirty in the morning for no reason.”
    â€œYou should probably kill him,” I said.
    Nate laughed. He thinks I’m funny. He pulled me against him and we kissed some more. When the front doorbell rang, we both jumped up as if we’d been caught doing something wrong.
    I brushed back my hair and hurried to open the door. Saralynn and Isaac walked in. “Don’t talk to me. I’m in a really bad mood,” Isaac said.
    â€œWell, hello to you, too,” I said. “Did you come over to put us all in a bad mood?”
    â€œDefinitely,” he said. “Why should I be the only one?”
    â€œHe won’t shut up about his band,” Saralynn said. “I’ve begged him to stop talking about it. Begged and pleaded, but—”
    â€œSomebody put me out of my misery,” Isaac wailed. “No. Really. Shoot me now.” He plopped down on the couch beside Nate.
    â€œIsaac, what’s up?” Nate said.
    Isaac raised his fist and punched Nate really hard in the thigh. “Did that hurt?”
    Nate uttered a cry and scooted to the other side of the couch. “Yeah, that hurt. Are you crazy ?”
    â€œThat’s the way my brain feels,” Isaac said.
    Nate rubbed his leg. “Since when did you get a brain?” he growled.
    â€œMy band has a gig Saturday night,” Isaac said, ignoring Nate’s insult. “You know. At the Hothouse. An actual paying job. And guess what? We’re down to two members—me and the dopey kid from across the street who doesn’t know which end of the drumsticks to hold.”
    â€œThat’s bad news,” Nate said. “Remind me not to go see you Saturday night.” Nate kept flashing Isaac angry looks. I wondered if he was thinking about Isaac kissing me in front of his garage.
    I knew Nate had seen us. But he still hadn’t said a word about it to me.
    Isaac growled again and turned away from the three of us. He buried his head in his hands and muttered curses to himself. He likes to be as overdramatic as he can.
    â€œCan we talk about something else?” Saralynn said. “How was your first day back at school, Lisa?”
    â€œNot bad,” I said. “Everyone was