R. Stine: Werewolf Skin

The four of us hurried back to the house. We laughed and joked all the way.

Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta made their way in through the kitchen door. “Homemade doughnuts!” Aunt Marta promised. “And big mugs of hot chocolate! How does that sound?”

“Sounds great!” Hannah and I agreed.

Hannah started to follow them into the house. But I held her back.

“Let’s dump the skins next door,” I said. “No one will ever need them again. Let’s dump them in the abandoned house.”

She hesitated. She seemed afraid to go back into that dark, empty house.

But I went running over to the Marlings’ house. I couldn’t wait to take off the hot, smelly wolfskin.

I pulled myself onto the window ledge, then lowered my legs into the open bedroom window. I stepped into the room. Pale moonlight washed over the bare floorboards.

Hannah dropped into the room behind me. “Alex-?” she called.

I started to tug off the heavy wolf skin.

But something near the closet caught my eye.

I stopped and walked over to it.

A folded-up wolf skin lay on the floor against the wall.

“Huh?”

I let out a startled cry. And turned to Hannah. “How can there be a wolf skin in here?” I asked. “There were only two of them-right? You put one on, and you gave one to me.”

Hannah stepped up beside me. Her eyes locked on mine. “I didn’t wear the one from this house, Alex,” she said softly. “I used my own. I just got it last night.”

“Huh?” I cried. “I don’t get it.”

“You will,” she whispered.

She knocked me to the floor with her heavy forepaws, and sank her teeth into my chest.