Authors: R.L. Stine

Don't Forget Me! (14 page)

Everyone leaned forward, preparing to dive. Stretch lined up next to me. He elbowed me hard in the side. “Give me some room, Champ. Don't crowd me.”

The whistle blew. All down the row, bodies tensed, then plunged forward.

I started my diveâand slipped.

The pool floorâso wet â¦

My feet slid on the tile.

Oh â¦ no!

I hit the water with a loud
smack
.

A belly flop! No kind of dive. I raised my head, struggling to recover, And saw everyone way ahead of me.

One unlucky slip â¦

I lowered my head, determined to catch up. I started stroking easily, forcing myself to be calm. I remembered the slow, steady, straight-legged kick my instructor had taught me.

I sped up. I passed some guys. Hit the wall and started back.

I can do this, I told myself. I can still make the team.

Faster â¦

At the end of the second lap, the finish was a furious blur. Blue water. Thrashing arms. Loud breaths. Bobbing heads.

I tried to shut out everything and concentrate on my stroke â¦ ignore everyone elseâ¦ and SWIM!

At last, my hand hit the pool wall. I ducked under, then surfaced, blowing out water. I wiped my hair away from my eyes. The taste of chlorine was in my mouth. Water running down my face, I glanced around.

I didn't finish last. Some guys were still swimming. I squinted down the line of swimmers who had finished. How many? How many were ahead of me?

“Lukeâyou're seventh,” Coach Swanson announced. He made a large check on his clipboard. “First alternate. See you at practice.”

I was still too out-of-breath to reply.

Seventh.

I let out a long sigh. I felt so disappointed. I could do better than seventh, I knew. If only I hadn't slipped.

I trudged back to the locker room and got dressed quickly, standing in a corner by myself. A few guys came over to say congratulations. But I didn't feel I deserved it.

I tossed my towel in the basket. Then I stepped up to the mirror over the sinks to comb my hair. A ceiling lightbulb was out, and I had to lean over the sink to see.

I had just started to comb my wet hair backâwhen I saw the jagged crack along the length of the glass.

“Whoa.” I stopped combing and stepped back.

A broken mirror. Seven years bad luck for someone.

I reached into my khakis pocket and squeezed my rabbit's foot three times. Then I turned back to the mirror and began combing my hair again.

Something was wrong.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

A red light? Some kind of red glare in the mirror glass.

I squinted into the glassâand let out a cry.

The red glare was coming from a pair of eyesâtwo red eyes, glowing like hot coals.

Two angry red eyes, floating in the glass. Floating beside my reflection.

I could see my confused expression as I stared at the frightening red eyes â¦ as I watched the eyes slide across the glass â¦ slide â¦ slide closer â¦ until their red glow covered MY eyes!

My horrified reflection stared out at me with the fiery, glowing eyes.

And I opened my mouth and let out a long, terrified scream.

Credits

Cover illustration by Vince Natale

Cover design by John Fontana

Copyright

THE NIGHTMARE ROOM: DON'T FORGET ME

Go Deeper Into This Nightmareâ¦
& Â© 2000 Parachute Publishing, L.L.C.

R.L. Stine asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

EPub Â© Edition v 1. MARCH 2001 ISBN: 9780061756955

First print edition, 2000. ISBN 0-06-440899-X.