The Little Bad Book #2 Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  English translation by Marshall Yarbrough copyright © 2022 by Penguin Random House LLC

  Das Kleine Böse Buch 2: Jetzt Noch Gefährlicher! text by Magnus Myst copyright © 2018 by Ueberreuter Verlag GmbH, Berlin

  Cover art and interior illustrations by Thomas Hussung copyright © 2018 by Ueberreuter Verlag GmbH, Berlin

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York. Originally published in the German language by Ueberreuter Verlag GmbH, Berlin as Das Kleine Böse Buch 2: Jetzt Noch Gefährlicher! by Magnus Myst and illustrated by Thomas Hussung, in 2018. Copyright © 2018 by Ueberreuter Verlag GmbH, Berlin.

  Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  Trade Paperback ISBN 9780593427644

  Ebook ISBN 9780593427651

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  For children everywhere.

  No matter how old they are.

  Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Title Page

  The Little Bad Book #2

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  About the Translator

  * * *

  Quick! We have to get out of here! Before they find us!

  I mean, hello. Good thing you’re finally reading me. I’ve been waiting for you. I have something super important to tell you!

  But we absolutely cannot stay on this page. If we do, they’ll find us! I’ll explain later. There’s no time now. So quick. Go to this page right now and keep reading from there.

  Wait—hold on a second. There’s one thing you should probably know: my secret is horrifying! If you’ve already got butterflies in your stomach, you’d better go ahead and put me right back on the shelf. This is no place for scaredy-cats, believe me; what I have to tell you is way too intense. But if you still think you’re up for it, then quick:

  → GO TO THIS PAGE AND KEEP READING!

  YOU THINK THIS IS ALL JUST FOR FUN???

  DON’T MAKE ME

  laugh!

  ha ha ha ha

  hee hee hee

  ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

  YOU’D BETTER GIVE IT ANOTHER TRY ON THIS PAGE.

  * * *

  Whoa. Hey, I knew it. You’re all right! Okay then. Let’s get down to business:

  Do you like boogers? You know that feeling when you dig your finger into your nose and they slide on out? It’s fun, right? When the thing is finally out of there and you get to fling it off your finger? A great feeling, isn’t it?

  Just like running around in your old clothes. And getting dirty.

  Not at all like combing your hair and getting soap in your eye, right—or do you feel differently?

  Thought not.

  Honestly, if you don’t bathe for three weeks, the worst that happens is you get a few green, fuzzy spots on you. That’s all. The smell isn’t even particularly bad.

  And did you ever hear of anybody who died from burping? Or from smacking their gum? On the contrary. They’re actually healthy!

  Still, that’s all against the rules. Or it’s bad behavior. Or “impolite.”

  Don’t you think that’s strange?

  Hey, just what kind of book are you, anyway? What are you trying to tell us? That we should all stop bathing? And eat our boogers? That’s disgusting!

  Oh no, I totally forgot about her!

  That’s Sweet Marie….

  Somehow I don’t seem to be able to do anything about her. She’s reading me right now, too. Same as you.

  Please! Can you help me get rid of her? I’ve tried everything!

  I really do like being read, you know, but Sweet Marie is a total pain in the neck. She’s always complaining about something. And she’s always interrupting. Plus she keeps drawing unicorns everywhere. There, you see?

  Again!

  But I’ve got an idea! Would you try giving me a really good shake? Maybe it’ll make her sick and she’ll stop reading me.

  Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you! You won’t get rid of me that easily. Now come on. Tell a story about ponies. Or something educational. Or I know: something romantic! Oh yeah…!

  AAAAH. Come on! Shake me! NOW. As hard as you can!

  That’s silly. That won’t work. I’m still here. Now get back to the story; I don’t have much time. I promised my mom I would clean my room. So whatever scary thing The Book of Truth is supposed to have told you, spit it out already.

  Oh, you don’t have time? What a shaaaame! I’m so, so sorry, but before we can continue, there’s still something we have to take care of: a little test! And only someone who’s not a dummy will be able to continue. So I’m afraid it could take a while in your case, Sweet Marie. You’d better go clean your room. Like a good little girl.

  But thankfully, dear reader, as far as you’re concerned, I’m not at all worried: JUST PRINT OUT THIS PAGE AND DRAW A LINE CONNECTING ALL THE THINGS THAT ARE AGAINST THE RULES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER. THE ARROW WILL SHOW YOU WHICH PAGE WE’LL MEET BACK UP ON.

  Oh, so that’s what you think, huh?

  Really?

  Then make yourself comfortable here with

  EITHER THAT OR TURN BACK AND GIVE IT ANOTHER TRY!

  → ON THIS PAGE

  * * *

  Good. I knew you were brave. Welcome to my dungeon. They definitely won’t be looking for us here. Listen, we can’t let them catch us, no matter what. That’s why we keep jumping back and forth—to cover our tracks. You understand?

  But let’s start from the beginning. So: YOU’RE BEING LIED TO!

  And I mean major lies. Whoppers. They’re really putting you on! And you probably haven’t even noticed yet.

  I just found out myself!

  I was down in the basement of the library, trying to find some more horror stories, when I came across this giant book. On a pedestal. Wrapped in chains!

  Naturally, I struck up a conversation right away. It called itself The Book of Truth—and it claimed it knew all the truths of the universe. So when I asked it to tell me one, you know, kind of as proof…it came right out and told me something completely unbelievable! It said that…that, um…

  Wait a second! You’ve already shown that you’re not a scaredy-cat. But how can I really be sure you’re not one of them?

  Hmmm.

  I’d better test you!

  What’s the best way to do that?

  Hm. Hmm. Hmmm.

  Okay, I’ve got an idea! So: Go get yourself a pin. Then stick it in your…um…in your finger. Yeah, that’s right, and then squeeze out a small drop of blood. Let it drip into this circle:

  But make sure you don’t spill any, or you'll smudge your screen. Hmm, you know what, actually, that’s no good. Then nobody could read me properly anymore. Hmmmm.

  No, wait!

  I’ve got a better idea! Maybe we’d better do a kind of test that won’t get your screen dirty. Here:

  LOOK AROUND THE DUNGEON AND CHOOSE THE THREE THINGS YOU THINK ARE MOST FUN. ADD THEIR NUMBERS TOGETHER.

  If you’re not one of them, you’re sure to find the page number where the story continues:

  Make a guess before following the link!

  ? + ? + ? = THIS PAGE

  * * *

  Phew, that was close! I’m telling you, we really have to be careful!

  But I can tell you more in here.

  So: you’ve probably got an idea already of who it is that’s after us, don’t you?

  Who’s always forbidding everything? Like burping and nose-picking and gum smacking? And who’s always telling you to be polite and behave yourself?

  Right.

  The GROWN-UPS!

  Haven’t you ever noticed?

  I mean, what’s the deal with them? Why are they making up rules all the time? And telling you something’s wrong every time you’re having fun?

  They don’t like any fooling or messing around. Or talking nonsense, just for the heck of it—that they can’t stand. We’re only ever supposed to dress properly and be “reasonable.”

  What are you talking about? Grown-ups just wan
t what’s best for us!

  “What’s best for us”—what a crock. Let me tell you both: there’s something totally crazy going on.

  Just take a look at what they eat! Barley soup! And olives. YUCK! Some of them even like broccoli! And endive salad. I mean, would you eat something like that if you had a choice?

  And the things they drink! Bitter coffee. Or sauerkraut juice! Have you seen them? They actually drink that stuff!

  And then those weird clothes they wear. Button-down shirts. High-heeled shoes. Neckties. Who would wear clothes like that voluntarily? They’re totally uncomfortable!

  And they’re always tired and stressed out. Why is it that they spend all their time working instead of doing fun stuff?

  I know that one! That’s easy: money! They have to go to work to make money.

  Oh yeah, Miss Smartypants? Then maybe you can explain this to me: If I made all that money, then I’d immediately buy all the chocolate I could get, right? And a bunch of cool toys. But they spend it all on completely boring things like “insurance,” “rent,” or “taxes.”

  Oh, that’s ridiculous. They’re not doing that because they want to, they’re doing it so that we have a comfortable home to live in.

  Pshh, sure—so how come they don’t build any hidden doors or loop-de-loop slides in these comfortable homes of theirs? Can’t they at least let themselves have a little fun at home? Or another thing: Why don’t they let kids drive cars? Don’t you ever wonder about that?

  Is it because kids are too small? Well, why don’t they just build smaller cars, then? It can’t be that hard, can it? Gas, brakes, steering wheel. When you ride a bicycle, you’ve got to keep your balance, too—that’s even harder!

  No, I’m telling you, there’s something here that’s just not right. But before I can tell you what it is, there’s something else you have to do.

  You’re just trying to string us along!

  No, it’s got to be this way. For your own safety. And to make sure the grown-ups don’t find us. I’ve written the next page number in code on the wall. It’s a puzzle that grown-ups regularly fail at. I’m not so sure about Sweet Marie, either, but you, dear reader, are sure to have no problem with it:

  * * *

  Bravo! You must be really smart. Awesome! Hopefully we’re clear of Sweet Marie now.

  Before you continue reading, though, you should take note of a few things:

  It’s important that you not draw any attention to yourself while you’re reading me. If you get scared, limit yourself to goose bumps. No screaming or sobbing.

  When you set me aside, hide me well. If it’s during the day, put me somewhere inconspicuous, like next to a few other devices. At night, you’d better keep me under your pillow.

  Don’t tell anyone that you’re reading me! At most your best friends, but that’s it. More about that later.

  And if you get scared or notice that your head is spinning, like you’re starting to go insane, don’t blame me. You said you were brave.

  Are you finished yet? Tell us about this incredible thing you’re supposed to have found out.

  Oh no. She’s still here!

  Of course I am. Did you think you could ditch me with those cheap tricks of yours?

  Tell us, already! You’re just trying to keep us in suspense so we don’t stop reading you, isn’t that right?

  That’s how it was the first time, too. You wanted more than anything to be a big grisly old tome. With lots of bookmarked pages so everybody could see how beloved you were. This is just another one of your attempts to become a big bad book, right? Admit it!

  Nonsense.

  This time it’s serious! This isn’t a joke, you’ll see!

  If they ever— Hey, what was that

  Did you two hear that?

  There was a noise!

  What noise? I didn’t hear anything.

  There was a noise, all right!

  Just listen for a second!

  They’re after us!

  QUICK, BACK TO ONE OF MY DUNGEONS. ON THIS PAGE! We’ll be safe there for now.

  Got your foil hats on? Then listen closely. I’ll tell you a story:

  One day, not too long ago, a boy named Max borrowed his father’s drone. You know what I’m talking about—one of these expensive flying things with a camera, and a screen built into the remote that lets you see what it’s filming. His father hadn’t given his permission, of course. But that night, he and Max’s mom were both at school for a PTA meeting. So Max and his two best friends, Rico and Daniel, had the whole evening to take the drone out for a spin.

  They flew it around the neighborhood and discovered hidden backyards and side alleys. Once some grandpa shook his fist at them. Another time they chased a cat behind some trash cans. Eventually, they even managed to get the drone to do a flip. In short: it was incredibly fun.

  Then Max got an idea. They could check out what was going on at the PTA meeting. After all, none of them had ever been to one.

  And so, a short time later, they were lurking outside the school. The windows were lit up.

  Strangely enough, though, the whole place seemed empty. Once they were sure that no one was around to see them, Max steered the drone up into the night sky.

  Humming quietly, it approached the windows. But to their surprise, they saw only empty classrooms. One deserted room after another. Weird. Where was everybody?

  “Maybe in the auditorium?” Rico said finally.

  There were no windows in the auditorium, but there was a little hatch under the roof that you could see through.

  Max worked the joysticks, holding his breath. It was painstaking work, and they all let out a sigh of relief when finally the drone was perched on the roof ledge. They watched the monitor, captivated. And sure enough, there were the adults! They were sitting there in the auditorium and listening to the principal up on the stage. She had a large pointer and was tapping it on a screen showing the image of a student Max recognized: Tessi from fifth grade. The principal seemed pleased; she was smiling. She pointed here and there. Unfortunately, the drone’s microphone was too weak to pick up what she was saying. But when she was finished speaking, they could hear clearly that the room had broken out in applause, and on the screen a little heart appeared over the image of Tessi.

  “What, that’s how they do it?” Max cried in astonishment. Then the next image appeared.

  “That’s me!” Daniel cried in horror. And sure enough, their mouths hanging open, the three friends saw a picture of Daniel wearing just his underwear. Daniel almost died of shame.

  Again the principal pointed and gestured. This time she didn’t seem quite so excited. She kept shaking her head. The audience looked skeptical, too.

  “What are they doing?!” Daniel exclaimed. He could feel all the eyes looking at him.

  Finally, the principal shrugged. A large question mark appeared over Daniel’s image. Then she said something else, and everyone laughed.

  “What? Why are they all laughing? And what’s that question mark supposed to mean?” Daniel was so worked up he was shaking.

  Then the next image appeared. A boy from eighth grade. It was immediately clear that things looked bad for him. The principal seemed to get angrier and angrier. And disdainful boos and indignant whispers could be heard from the crowd.

  Finally, the principal shook her head and a word appeared on the screen in large type: “FAILURE.”

  The three friends watched in disbelief as the grown-ups examined one student after the next. So this was how PTA meetings worked? This was horrible!