Warren & Dragon Scary Sleepover Read online

  VIKING

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  New York

  First published in the United States of America by Viking, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2019

  Text copyright © 2019 by Ariel Bernstein

  Illustrations copyright © 2019 by Mike Malbrough

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  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA IS AVAILABLE.

  Ebook ISBN 9780451481061

  Version_1

  × × ×

  For Mike Malbrough. —A.B.

  For Abe. The best sleepover buddy. —M.M.

  × × ×

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1

  Outrageous Words

  2

  An Invite

  3

  What Are You Scared Of?

  4

  The Sleepover Deal

  5

  Telling Dragon

  6

  The First Plan

  7

  Late Night Research

  8

  The Second Plan

  9

  Getting Ready

  10

  The Fun Part

  11

  The Scary Part

  12

  Whizzaloomp

  About the Authors

  1

  Outrageous Words

  Some people might think that having a dragon for a pet is scary. I guess it sounds like it might be scary, because of the fire breathing and all, but I have a dragon for a pet and most of the time it’s pretty normal. Except when Dragon does his weird little dancing jig. That’s always terrifying.

  But no one else even realizes he’s my pet. They look at him and just see a stuffed animal. They can’t hear him talk or see him move. This might sound weird, but I like that I don’t have to share him with anyone. And I don’t have to explain to anyone why having a dragon for a pet isn’t scary.

  Because when you’re a seven-year-old kid in second grade, there’s plenty of other stuff to be scared about. Like realizing you didn’t do your homework ten minutes before you’re supposed to leave for school. Even scarier than that? When your dad realizes you didn’t do your homework ten minutes before you’re supposed to leave for school.

  “Argh!” my dad groans, looking at my incomplete vocabulary sheet. “Warren, you said you’d work on this after dinner last night.”

  I did tell my dad I’d work on the vocabulary sheet after dinner. But then Dragon and I started a contest over who could think up the most outrageous new word. Extra points for thinking up what the word means. It took an hour until I won with “flubbergitzooper.” I decided it means coughing up goo while you’re at the zoo. So in a way, I did work on vocabulary.

  “It’s not Warren’s fault,” my twin sister, Ellie, says. I look at her, surprised she’s taking my side. “He’s so irresponsible, Dad,” she adds. “You can never believe he’ll do anything he says.”

  I frown at Ellie. I don’t want her to take my side anymore.

  Dad hands me a pencil and points to the vocabulary sheet on the kitchen table. “Finish this,” he says. “Now.”

  “Fine,” I grumble. I take the vocabulary sheet and start working on it. I feel a breath of air over my shoulder and notice Dragon standing over me, looking at my writing. “I gotta finish this,” I tell him, and turn back to the sheet. “Don’t distract me again with any more weird word contests.”

  “I want a rematch,” Dragon insists. “You only won because I was getting hungry and I can’t think properly on an empty stomach. Sneeberleeber. It means a snail race. A slow one.”

  “Not now,” I say, glancing through the kitchen doorway at my dad. He’s helping Ellie reach for her jacket in the hallway closet.

  “I can barely read your handwriting,” Dragon says, and tsks. “Is that an A or a P?”

  I look to where his claw is pointing. “That’s a U,” I say.

  Dragon grimaces. “Your handwriting is scary. Also, wrotbloog. Wait, that’s not outrageous enough. Wrotblooging.”

  “I’m not playing the outrageous word game now,” I tell him. I quickly finish the vocabulary sheet. It’s not perfect—it’s not even good—but it’s finished.

  “Okay, but then you forfeit,” Dragon announces, and crosses his arms.

  I push the vocabulary sheet into my backpack and grab the jacket that Dad is holding out in his hands for me.

  “You finished?” Dad asks.

  “Easy as . . .” I pointedly look back toward Dragon and shout, “a habawablwa!” I rush through the front door before Dragon can think up another word. I zip up my jacket and pull on the gloves I had stuffed into the pockets. It’s cold out, with snow still on the ground from a recent snowfall, but the path to school is clear where people shoveled.

  Ellie runs ahead of Dad to catch up to me. “What’s a habawablwa . . . ?”

  “I haven’t figured it out yet,” I tell her.

  Ellie shakes her head. “I don’t know why I ask.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know why you ask either.”

  Ellie sighs and runs ahead of me. I stop and turn around to see where our dad is, immediately bumping into something.

  2

  An Invite

  “Chitchimoo! It means I win!” Dragon yells into my face. I gasp and jump backward. I accidentally step into a mound of snow. “Ha!” he says, and does his little jig. “I win! Chitchimoo for the win!”

  “Please stop dancing,” I moan with my hands over my eyes. I stomp my shoe against the sidewalk to bang the snow off.

  “Not only did I win the outrageous word contest, but I also scared you,” Dragon proclaims with a huge grin.

  “The only thing you scared me with was your dancing,” I argue.

  Dragon raises an eyebrow. “I totally scared you. You jumped backward and everything.”

  “I was not scared!” I shout. Dragon looks like he doesn’t believe me at all.

  “It’s okay to admit you get scared sometimes,” Dragon tells me. “For example, I am petrified when I open the cupboards in the kitchen and find only two bags of marshmallows left. Those might not even last me a full day. I also get scared at bathtime. My wings get all wrinkly when I’m wet. Plus, you know how I feel about teddy bears.”

  I nod my head. “I know, I know. You think teddy bears go around stealing s’mores.”

  Dragon shudders. “They’re terrifying creatures.”

  “Hey, Warren!” someone calls. My friend Michael, who is also my next-door neighbor, is running to catch up with me. My dad is walking next to Michael’s mom Paula, and Paula is holding the hand of Michael’s little sister, Addie.

  “Hi, Michael,” Dragon and I say at the same time.

  Michael looks a little flushed from running, but his eyes are wide with excitement about something. “Guess what?” he announces.

  “I’ve been elected mayor?” Dragon guesses. I give him a glance. “What?” he says. “It could happen.”

>   “What’s going on?” I ask Michael.

  “Remember how my moms got me a camping tent for Christmas but I thought I’d have to wait a couple of months until spring to use it?” I nod my head. “Well, they said I can set it up in the basement this weekend and have a sleepover!”

  “That’s cool,” I say.

  “So you want to come?” Michael asks.

  “To where?”

  Michael snorts. “To the sleepover on Friday!”

  “A sleepover?” I repeat, thinking about it. I’ve never been to a sleepover before. But if it’s with Michael, it should be fun.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Great!” Michael replies.

  “I can’t wait for the sleepover,” Dragon muses. “There’ll probably be pizza, and treats, and games.” It does sound pretty great. Dragon continues, “Also, because we’ll be in a different house at nighttime, there might be strange noises, dark hallways, and possibly monsters all around just waiting for new victims to terrorize. Should be interesting.”

  Strange noises? Dark hallways? Monsters?

  “Kaplomsky,” I say. It’s a word I just made up. It means I’m confused.

  3

  What Are You Scared Of?

  As we near school, Dragon turns back toward our house. He shouts “barummalot” on his way.

  Michael and I walk into the building together. He’s really excited about the sleepover, as it’ll be his first one, too. He talks about games we’ll play and food we’ll eat. It all sounds fun until Michael tells me his older brother, Jayden, explained that the best part of sleepovers is telling scary stories before bedtime.

  “Jayden told me a whole bunch of really creepy stories he learned from overnight camp,” Michael says happily.

  “You don’t get scared from the stories?” I ask.

  “Nah,” Michael replies, and waves his hand. “They’re all just made up. And it’s fun to get a little scared. Don’t you think?”

  I try to smile in agreement but I think it comes out like a grimace. Luckily, Michael doesn’t seem to notice when we part at the front doors. Michael goes to the first grade classrooms while I walk over to my second grade classroom. About half my class is already there, some in their seats and some playing around.

  My desk is near the back and next to Alison Cohen’s desk. She’s sitting quietly, reading a book just like she always does before the school bell rings.

  I put my jacket and book bag in my cubby before taking out a notebook and pencil. I bring them over to my desk and sit down.

  “Hey, Alison,” I say.

  “Hi, Warren,” she says politely, but doesn’t look up from her book.

  I’m still thinking about the sleepover, and I am starting to get worried. When I look at Alison, she doesn’t seem like she has anything to be scared of. I know it’ll be a couple of minutes before our teacher, Mrs. Tierney, starts the class, so I decide to see if I’m right.

  “Alison, can I ask you a question?”

  Alison stops reading and glances at me with both eyebrows raised. I can see she looks suspicious. It may be because I once asked her at lunch how many mini marshmallows she thought I could put up my nose before anyone noticed. I also once asked her which she thought would be worse, a dragon who burped fire or a dragon who couldn’t burp at all. And in the middle of music class, I might have asked Alison how loud she thought I’d have to sing to break a window.

  Alison puts down her book and sighs. “What do you want to ask me?”

  “What are you scared of?”

  Alison raises her eyebrows again. “You really want to know what I’m afraid of?”

  I nod.

  “Wait,” Alison says slowly. “You’re not going to take my answer and then use it to scare me later, are you?” She’s scrunched her face up so that she looks super serious.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” I say. I do not say that’s actually an interesting idea.

  “Okay,” Alison replies, and seems to relax. She puts her finger to her cheek like she’s thinking hard. But she doesn’t get to answer before our teacher, Mrs. Tierney, calls the class to attention. We stand for the pledge of allegiance and then sit again while the morning announcements are read over the loudspeaker.

  “So what are you scared of?” I whisper to Alison.

  Alison looks pointedly at Mrs. Tierney and then back at me. “I’m scared we’re gonna get in trouble for talking during announcements,” she whispers back.

  “Yeah, but what else?”

  Alison looks straight ahead like she’s ignoring me.

  I try listening to the morning announcements but they’re too boring. I turn back to Alison.

  “Are you afraid of heights? Scary movies?” Alison’s still ignoring me so I start to doodle scary animals like sharks and lions on my notebook to show her. “Terrifying animals?”

  “I love animals,” Alison replies, looking at me with a glare. “All animals.”

  Given that Alison’s home is filled with pets, I believe her.

  “What about being someplace you haven’t been before? Like at night?” I ask, as quietly as I can. “Even if you’re there with a friend, it’s still dark and you don’t know what spooky things are there. And maybe it’s where people tell scary stories.”

  Alison thinks for a moment. “Like a sleepover?”

  “Uh, I guess you could call it that,” I reply, surprised she guessed right away what I was talking about.

  “Oh, definitely.” Alison nods her head in understanding. She seems to have forgotten to ignore me. “I always get scared at sleepovers.”

  “You do?”

  “I’ve been on three, and each time I’ve gotten too scared to stay the whole night so my parents have had to come pick me up.”

  “All right, class,” Mrs. Tierney says. The announcements must have finished. “Let’s start on our writing workshop.”

  Everyone turns their notebook to their writing pages. I write down, “Why do you keep going on sleepovers if you’re scared?” and show it to Alison.

  Alison shrugs. “The only way I’ll get over my fear is to face it,” she tells me in a low voice. “At least, that’s what my parents say. And I always have a good time at the sleepovers until it’s time to tell scary stories. Then I can never fall asleep and have to go home.”

  I try to imagine what it’d be like to be in a sleeping bag in the tent in the basement of Michael’s house. Michael would probably fall asleep easily since he’d be at his own house. Dragon would probably be in a food coma from eating all the great food Michael’s moms always have. I’d be lying awake, listening for any odd noises. Suddenly I’d hear some creaking and hissing. I’d nudge Michael and Dragon, but they wouldn’t notice me. The noises would come closer. Closer.

  I gasp. Mrs. Tierney looks over and raises an eyebrow. Alison waits until she’s turned away before saying, “What’s wrong?”

  “Is it really embarrassing to have your parents come pick you up at a sleepover?” I ask. I can’t imagine waking Michael up to tell him I need to go home because I hear scary noises. Michael’s a good friend, but I’m a year older than him. I don’t want him to think I’m a scaredy-cat.

  “It is kind of embarrassing,” Alison admits. “I try to hold out as long as I can, but I’m never able to fall asleep. I still say yes whenever I’m invited to a sleepover.”

  “Right, to face your fear,” I say.

  “It’s also because if I say no, I worry I won’t get asked on another one. I haven’t been invited to a sleepover in a while. I think I’m ready to stay the whole night now, but I haven’t had the chance lately to try.” Alison looks a little sad when she says that.

  “Alison? Warren?” Mrs. Tierney calls out from her desk. I see that Alison’s face has turned red. “Are you working on your writing?”

  “Yeah, it’s abou
t facing fears and stuff,” I reply. Mrs. Tierney looks surprised but nods her head like we should continue writing.

  I realize that Alison’s a lot more honest about how she feels about sleepovers than I am. I’m not comfortable telling her how I feel, so I just write, “Maybe you’ll get the chance again soon,” and nudge her elbow to look. She writes back, “I hope so.”

  4

  The Sleepover Deal

  Even after talking with Alison, I’m not sure I want to face my fears by going on the sleepover. I wonder if I could somehow get out of it without admitting I’m too scared to go.

  I think about it all afternoon after school, until I finally have an idea right before dinner.

  “Tacos are ready!” my dad calls out from the kitchen.

  “I hope he remembered the jalapeños this time,” Dragon says, scurrying out of my bedroom to head toward, the kitchen. I follow behind.

  My parents and Ellie fill up their plates with taco shells, ground meat, shredded cheese, lettuce, and salsa.

  Dragon searches the fixings. “No jalapeños,” he moans. He dips a claw into the salsa and licks it. “Proofroonunu. That means that this salsa is way too mild.” He looks around the table accusingly. “It’s like you people haven’t lived with a dragon for seven years. Sheesh.”

  I slowly start to make my taco with extra cheese, waiting for an opening.

  “So how was school today?” Mom asks. I smile, knowing this is my chance.

  “Michael got a tent for Christmas,” I say casually.

  “Oh, that’s interesting,” Mom replies, even though I know it’s not that interesting. “It’s too cold to go camping now though.”

  “He wants to set it up in his basement,” I tell her. “And he wants me to come over for a sleepover in the tent on Friday.”

  “That sounds like fun!” Dad says.

  “Sleepovers are the best!” Ellie agrees. Ellie’s already been on a bunch of sleepovers at her friends’ houses. And I know she must not have gotten scared because she’s never called my parents to come pick her up.