Say Cheese - and Die Screaming! by R. L. Stine

to the hospital.”
    Mr. Saur burst out laughing.
    Another first. The first time he’d ever laughed in class!
    “It’s not funny,” I insisted. “Poor Jon was in so much pain. He—”
    “I’ve seen those trick nails,” Mr. Saur said, his eyes on the photo.
    “Huh?” I didn’t understand him.
    He handed the photo back to me. “I used to have a fake arrow,” he said. “When
I slid it on, it looked as if I had an arrow going straight through my head. So
I understand how you made it appear that this boy has a nail through his foot.”
    “No! It’s real! It’s real!” I cried. “Look how much pain Jon is in! Look at
his face!”
    “Your friend is a good actor,” Mr. Saur replied.
    “No!” I shrieked. “He isn’t my friend! I don’t even know him! You’ve got to
believe me! You’ve got to!”
    Mr. Saur glanced up at the clock. “Your minute is up.”
    “But you promised—!” I cried.
    “Greg, go sit down,” he ordered. “You’re not going to fool me with an old
camera and a joke snapshot.”
    “You lose, Greg!” Donny shouted.
    “You’re evil, Greg!” Brian chimed in.
    Everyone laughed. I could feel my face growing hot. I knew I must be
beet-red.
    I felt ready to explode. I was embarrassed and hurt and angry—all at the
same time.
    “I’d give you an A for effort,” Mr. Saur said cruelly. “But I’m still
giving you an F for your report. F for fake!”
    Everyone laughed again.
    I couldn’t take it anymore.
    I let out a cry of fury—and went running for the door.
    At least, I tried to run. But I was too heavy to move fast. I could
only waddle.
    “Greg—where are you going?” I heard Mr. Saur call.
    I pretended I didn’t hear him and lumbered to the door. I had the camera
tucked under one flabby arm. I pulled the door open with the other.
    And bounced out into the silent, empty hall.
    I could hear Mr. Saur calling me from the classroom. And I could hear the
kids laughing and talking excitedly.
    I slammed the door shut behind me and kept moving.
    I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t have a plan. I was so angry. I
wanted to scream and cry and punch the walls.
    I turned the corner—and saw Shari down the hall.
    “Greg!” she called, surprised to see me. “What’s going on?”
    She was wearing a short black skirt over blue tights. She started to run down
the hall toward me.
    She took about four steps—and then cried out as her skirt fell down!

 
 
19
     
     
    “I don’t believe this!” Shari wailed.
    We both stared down at her skirt, which had fallen around her ankles.
    She dropped her books and bent to pull it up.
    Normally, I would have burst out laughing. But she seemed so upset, I just
stood there.
    “I—I’m losing weight,” she stammered, straightening the skirt around her
waist. “I weighed myself this morning. I’ve lost eight pounds!”
    “Oh, wow!” I shook my head. Why was she losing weight?
    I tried to cheer her up. “Uh… eight pounds isn’t so much,” I said. I
knew it was lame. But I couldn’t think of anything else.
    “Greg—I only weighed ninety to start!” she replied sharply. “Now I’m down
to eighty-two. I can’t keep my skirt up. All my clothes hang on me!”
    “Maybe if you eat a really big lunch…” I started.
    “You’re no help!” she snapped.
    “Look at me !” I cried, holding my arms out so she could see my big
stomach. “I think I put on two hundred pounds overnight! A few minutes ago, I
couldn’t get out of my chair!”
    Her eyes checked me out. She was so upset about being skinny, she hadn’t even
looked at me.
    She squinted hard at me. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh, gross. You look
really weird!”
    “Thanks a bunch,” I sighed.
    “What are we going to do?” she demanded. “Why is this happening to us?”
    I started to answer—but I heard footsteps approaching from down the hall.
    Shari heard them, too. “Let’s go,” she urged. “Quick—help me pick up my
books.”
    I bent to pick