“Yuck!” Evan cried, laughing. “Trigger—how did you get here?”
Evan pulled the cocker spaniel off him and lowered it to the ground. Its stubby tail wagging furiously, Trigger started jumping on Andy.
“Your dumb dog scared me to death,” she moaned.
“Me, too,” Evan admitted. “I didn’t hear him following us, did you?”
Andy squatted down and gave Trigger a few quick pats. Then she glanced down the street. “Let’s get inside,” she said. “Conan or his parents could be back any minute.”
Trigger pranced along as they made their way over the grass to the front door. The house loomed much bigger and darker as they crept onto the stoop.
“Down, Trigger. Stay down,” Evan whispered. “You can’t come in with us.”
Andy tried the front door. “Locked.”
Evan groaned. “Now what?”
“We try the back door, of course,” Andy replied. She had already jumped down off the stoop and was heading around the side of the house.
“You’ve done this before—haven’t you?” Evan demanded, following her.
“Maybe,” she replied, grinning at him in the dark.
A loud howl somewhere nearby made them both stop.
“What was that?” Evan cried.
“A werewolf,” Andy told him calmly. “Or maybe a cat.”
They both laughed. Nervous laughter.
The back door was locked, too. But the kitchen window was open a crack. Evan pushed it open wider, and they crept into the dark kitchen.
Holding his breath, Evan could hear every sound. Their sneakers scraped noisily against the linoleum. The refrigerator hummed. Water swirled in the dishwasher.
I can even hear the pounding of my heart, Evan thought. What am I doing? Have I really broken into Conan’s house?
“This way,” Andy whispered. “His room is probably upstairs.”
Evan kept against the wall as he followed Andy to the front stairs. They passed the small living room, bathed in orange light. The floorboards creaked under their shoes. Evan stumbled over a pile of old newspapers stacked in the narrow hallway.
Up the wooden stairs. The banister squeaked under Evan’s hand. A venetian blind rattled against an open window, startling him.
“Sure is dark,” Andy muttered as they reached the top of the stairs.
Evan tried to reply, but his breath caught in his throat.
Holding onto the wall, he followed Andy to the first bedroom. She fumbled until she found a light switch, then clicked it on. The ceiling light revealed that they had found Conan’s room.
They both stood in the doorway, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the light. Then they quickly glanced around.
The walls of the small, square room were filled with posters of sports stars. The biggest poster, above Conan’s bed, showed a basketball player jumping about ten feet in the air. A bookshelf against one wall held very few books—but was loaded with sports trophies that Conan had won on various teams.
Suddenly, Andy started to laugh.
Evan turned to her, startled. “What’s so funny?”
She pointed to Conan’s bed. “Look—he still has a teddy bear!”
Evan turned his eyes to the bed, where a forlorn-looking, nearly flat, one-eyed teddy bear rested on the pillow. “Conan the Barbarian?” he cried, laughing. “He sleeps with a teddy bear?”
A loud creak made them cut their laughter short.
They listened hard, their eyes wide with fear. “Just the house,” Evan whispered.
Andy shivered. “Enough fooling around. Let’s find the Monster Blood and get out of here.”
They moved into the center of the room. “Where do you think he hid it?” Evan asked, pulling open the closet door.
“He didn’t,” Andy replied.
“Huh?” Evan spun around.
Andy had the blue can of Monster Blood in her hand. Grinning, she held it up to show Evan.
Evan let out a surprised cry. “You found it? Where?”
“Right on this shelf,” she replied, pointing. “He put it next to his tennis trophies.”
