Hello again R. L. Stein story club members. I'm Ivy, your ghostly host and keeper of those strange and spooky tales from the hidden vault of R.L. Stein. Today is, you guessed it, another chilling tale. This blood-chilling tale story club members might make you plop down a few quarts of precious

plasma.

It's one I call give blood.

Seth hated needles.

Okay, don't move, please, said the nurse.

This won't hurt a bit.

The shiny needle that was about to be plunged into

Seth's left arm looked huge. It looked like it should be used for knitting, not drawing blood.

Type A-B-negative is a rare blood, Mr. Myers, the nurse said. Her breath smelled of peppermint

breath fresheners. You should count yourself lucky to be such an exceptional young man.

Seth liked being called Mr. and Young Man. It made his age of 11 seem older and more distinguished.

But he still didn't like the needle that was slowly piercing his skin in search of a vein.

The red-haired nurse guided it with the skill of an oil well driller.

Seth tried not to flinch.

He tried to live up to his recently upgraded Mr. Status. But as far as he was concerned, the school

band owed him, big time. This was all part of the school annual blood drive to get money for band

trips. A budding trumpet player, Seth and the band would take the bus all over the state

and play at different school concerts. For his trouble and his blood, Seth would earn 20 bucks

for the cause. It seemed like such a small sum to justify this level of suffering. Just look at

those needles. Suddenly, Seth felt woozy and lightheaded. He closed his eyes. He could not watch his crimson

blood sneak up a plastic tube and into a bag any longer. He would faint for sure. All done,

the nurse suddenly said, sticking a fresh cotton ball on Seth's arm. She placed medical adhesive tape

...