That tall boy walking so confidently into the party is Ross Arthur. This isn't a surprise party, but Ross has a frightening shock in store. You see, standing across the room is Ross's identical twin. The problem Ross doesn't have a twin. It looks as if tonight this party is being held in The Nightmare Room.
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
November 07, 2000
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from The Nightmare Room #4: Liar Liar by R. L. Stine
When I was little, a kid told me that everyone has an exact double somewhere in the world. I told the kid he was crazy.
I'm twelve now. And I just saw my exact double. Of course, I didn't believe my eyes. He didn't just look like me -- he was me!
I wasn't staring into a mirror. I was staring at a boy with my face -- my straight, brown hair, my blue eyes, my sort-of crooked smile. My FACE! My BODY! I was staring at ME! ME!
I know, I know. I sound a little crazed.
But you'd be crazed too if you had an exact double, and you didn't know who he was or where he came from.
I'm going to take a deep breath. That's what my dad always tells me to do. "Take a deep breath, Ross," he says.
My dad is a studio exec -- one of the bosses at Mango Pictures. He spends his day arguing with movie producers, directors, and movie stars. He says he takes about a million deep breaths a day. It helps keep him calm.
So, I'm going to take a deep breath. And I'm going to start my story at the beginning. Or maybe a little before the beginning.
By the way, I lied about the blue eyes.
I don't have blue eyes. Actually, they're dark gray. Which is almost blue -- right?
I guess I'll start my story at school. I go to Beverly Hills Middle School, which is only a few blocks from my house.
I know what you're thinking. I'm so lucky to have a dad in the movie business and live in a big house in Beverly Hills with a swimming pool and a tennis court, and our own screening room in the basement.
You're right. It's lucky. I'm very lucky. But I still have problems. Lots of problems.
The other morning Cindy Matson was my problem. I ran into Cindy in the hall between classes, and I could see she was really steamed. Her face was red, and she kept tugging at her black bangs, then clenching and unclenching her fists. Tense. Extremely tense.
"Ross -- where were you?" she asked, blocking my way.
Cindy is taller than I am. She's at least seven or eight feet tall. And she works out. She could be a stuntwoman for Xena: Warrior Princess. So I try to stay on her good side.
"Uh... where was I?" I thought it might be safe to repeat the question.