by R. L. Stine
“Thanks,” I muttered. Just what you want to hear your teacher say to you, right?
I slunk down the hall to the nurse's office. After Mrs. Wilpon, the nurse, got through gasping and gagging, she put an ice bag on it. I sat there with the ice bag for the rest of the morning. After that, the ear shrank down to the size of a lemon. Not bad.
I thanked Mrs. Wilpon and headed back to class. I thought the worst part of my day was over.
Was I wrong!
5
I RAN INTO TRACI WAYNE in the lunchroom. Traci is blond and pretty, with olive-colored eyes and a great smile. She's very nice but she doesn't talk to me often. You see, I'm definitely not in her crowd.
She hangs with the cool crowd. And I'm in the crowd known as “Do you go to this school?”
I'm sure Traci thinks of me as a different species. You know. Like a zoo animal you want to stare at for a while but you don't want to get too close to. Because you might catch germs or something.
I don't know if I'm in love with Traci or have a crush on her or what. But every time I see her, my cheeks turn bright red, I have trouble breathing, and my tongue twists up like a knot in my mouth.
Traci wore a red T-shirt and a short plaid pleated skirt over red tights. A salad and a bowl of noodle soup sat on the lunch tray she was holding.
“Hi,” I said, feeling my cheeks start to glow.
“Max, no offense. But please go away,” Traci said. “You'll spoil my lunch.”
“But, Traci—”
“I can't stop thinking about your ear,” she said, making a disgusted face. “I kept gagging all through Spanish class.”
“Thanks for caring,” I muttered.
“It was totally gross,” she continued, gazing over my shoulder to the table where all the cool kids sit. “Like a totally disgusting horror movie.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. I didn't know what else to say.
“Please tell me it wasn't real. Was it one of your magic tricks?”
Traci helped me out when I did my magic act for the whole school last Halloween. Unfortunately, that evil ghost Phears burst onstage inside a giant cockroach. He terrified everyone and sent them all running out of the auditorium. Traci was horrified by the whole thing. But somehow I convinced her it was all a trick of mine.
“It wasn't a magic trick this time. I was stung by a wasp,” I said.
“Well, you really made me sick,” Traci said. She started toward the table. “I'll probably have nightmares for weeks.”
I chased after her. “Does this mean you're not coming to my birthday party?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Birthday party? When is your birthday?”
“Next April,” I said. “Six months from now. I was only checking. Think you'll come?”
She tossed back her blond hair and laughed.
“Was that a yes or a no?” I called.
But she was already sitting at the table, talking to her friends.
Oh, wow. Bad news for me.
What could I do to change her mind?
More horror to come, friends. I completely forgot it was phys ed day. I skulked into the gym, changed into my gym shorts, and looked for Aaron. But of course he was absent, lucky guy.
The rest of the class was there, including Traci. I could see her pointing at my swollen ear and telling other kids about it. And then I turned and let out an unhappy groan.
The climbing rope.
Oh no. Today was the rope-climbing test.
I staggered back, my heart leaping into my throat. I hate the climbing rope. The last time I tried it, I got rope burns all over my body.
I knew I needed to pass the rope-climbing test to pass phys ed. I get all As in everything else. In fact, the kids in my class gave me the nickname Brainimon because I'm so smart.
But my phys ed grade is the only grade my dad cares about. Flunk phys ed and I can say, Goodbye, Jefferson Elementary—and Hello, Plover School.
How could I climb today? I was still shaky from meeting Phears. And I was afraid my big ear might weigh me down. So I ran over to talk to Coach Freeley before the testing began.
Coach Freeley is built like a tank. He's very short and very wide, with bulging muscles everywhere you can have muscles. He has a broad chest that stretches his T-shirts tight over his perfect abs. He's young and the girls all think he's really cute—I guess because of that big chest and all the muscles, and because of his wavy black hair and white-toothed smile.
He doesn't smile at me much. He tries to help me sometimes. But he knows when it comes to sports, I'm totally lame.
I ran up to him as he was about to blow his whistle to get everyone quiet. “Coach, I can't climb today,” I said breathlessly.
He narrowed his dark eyes at me. “What's your problem?”
“Bad ear,” I said. “I was stung by a wasp.” I turned and showed it to him. It was still the size of a lemon.
“Yuck. That's disgusting,” he said. “Can't you cover it up or something?”
“It really hurts,” I said. “I'd better not climb today.”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “No problem, Max. You can make it up any time you feel like it.”
Any time I feel like it? You mean like, never?
I thanked him and trotted off to the bleachers at the side of the gym. I was so happy, I wanted to leap up and pump my fists in the air. I don't have to climb today!
But as I sat down on the bottom bleacher seat, I heard a voice next to me. “Whoa, Max—what are you doing?”
I let out a startled cry as Nicky and Tara appeared at my sides.
“Get up, Max. You've got to do your climbing test,” Nicky said. He pulled me to my feet.
“Let go,” I snapped. “I'm not climbing today. Coach said I don't have to.”
“But we say you do have to,” Tara said, moving behind me and pushing me toward the other kids.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“We don't know,” Nicky said. “Sometimes we just disappear. We can't control it.”
“We're new at this ghost thing, remember?” Tara said.
Coach Freeley blew his whistle. Kids stopped talking and fooling around and began lining up in front of the climbing rope. The gym grew quiet except for the scrape of sneakers on the hardwood floor.
“I have to talk to you two,” I whispered. “Phears stopped me this morning. He wants me to take you to him. If I don't, he says he's going to bring a friend—some kind of ghoul—to break me.”
“Don't worry,” Tara said, squeezing my hand. “We'll protect you.”
Nicky's mouth dropped open. He stared at his sister. “Protect him? How?”
“No time for that now,” Tara said, pushing me toward the line of kids. “Now Max has to climb the rope.”
“You can't make me,” I said, trying to get away from them.
“Don't you want to impress Traci?” Tara asked.
“Don't you want to impress your dad?” Nicky added. “You have to climb the rope to get an A.”
“But I can't climb the rope!” I whined.
“Hel-lo. Of course you can,” Nicky said. “With our help.”
“We'll get you up there. No problem,” Tara said. “Hey, isn't that what we promised you? Didn't we promise to help make you brave and impress your dad, and keep you from that awful boarding school?”
“Come on. Get over there,” Nicky said, helping Tara shove me forward.
“Are there any volunteers to go first?” Coach Freeley called. “Who wants to climb first?”
Tara grabbed my arm and shot it up into the air. Then she waved it frantically.
“Max?” Coach Freeley couldn't hide his surprise.
Everyone turned to stare at me—and my hand waving crazily in the air.
“Max? You changed your mind?” Coach Freeley said. “Okay, dude.” He waved me toward the thick rope. “You're up first. Show 'em how it's done!”
6
NICKY AND TARA GAVE me a hard shove tow
ard the rope. I pushed back. “I can't climb that. Are you nuts?” I cried.
Coach Freeley stared at me. “Did you just call me nuts?”
I glimpsed Traci staring at me. “Uh … No. I said guts. I'm sure I have the guts to climb this.”
My hands were sweaty. My legs felt rubbery and weak. All eyes in the gym class were on me.
“Try not to look so frightened,” Tara said.
“How can I?” I asked, a cold sweat pouring down my forehead.
“How can you what?” Coach Freeley asked.
“How can I make this more challenging?” I replied. “It's too easy.”
“Stop talking to the rope and climb it,” the coach said. Everyone laughed.
My hands shook as I reached up and grabbed the rope. It was thick and coarse, actually several ropes twined together. It scratched my hands as I gripped it.
“Do you have any climbing gloves?” I asked Coach Freeley.
He glared at me. “Are you going to climb it or knit a sweater with it?”
More laughter. I saw Traci shake her head.
“Stop stalling, Max. We're right here with you,” Nicky said.
“Just pretend to climb,” Tara said. “We'll hold on to you and carry you up to the top of the rope. No one else can see us. They'll think you're climbing.”
“Make it look good,” Nicky said.
I took a deep breath. The whole class was watching me. Coach Freeley had his hands on his hips and was tapping one foot impatiently.
I raised my hands. And dug my sneakers into the rope.
“Here goes,” Tara said. “Hold on, Max.”
They grabbed me under the arms. Then they both floated off the floor, carrying me up with them.
I scrabbled my hands over the rope, reaching one hand up over the other. And I pretended to push myself up with my feet.
Glancing down, I saw everyone staring up at me. I hoped I was making it look good. Did they believe I was really climbing?
“This is easy,” I told the two ghosts.
“Easy for you,” Tara said, groaning. “You're heavy!”
I moved higher, making climbing motions with my hands and feet. “This is awesome!” I exclaimed.
Tara groaned again, tugging me up. “You owe us big-time.”
Halfway up the rope, I had a great idea.
I pulled my hands from the rope and held them straight out at my sides. “Hey, look, everyone!” I shouted at the top of my voice. “No hands!”
I could hear the gasps and cries of surprise down below as everyone watched me climb the rope without holding on.
“Show-off,” Nicky muttered.
“I can smell that A in phys ed,” I said.
“Don't worry,” Tara said. “We'll find ways for you to thank us.”
I grabbed the rope again and tucked my sneakers around the big knot. They floated higher and carried me to the top. I heard applause down below.
Glancing down, I saw Traci grinning up at me. Excellent! She's impressed. And I bet the no-hands thing really impressed Coach Freeley, too.
“Okay, guys,” I said. “I'm ready to climb down.”
I turned my head from side to side. No sign of them.
“Nicky? Tara? I'm ready for you to take me down now.”
Silence.
Where were they? Was this their idea of a joke?
“Hey—not funny. Come on, guys. How do I get down?”
Below me, the gym had suddenly grown very quiet.
“Max, get your butt down here, okay?” Coach Freeley's voice broke through the silence. “Other people want a turn.”
Get my butt down there? Okay. I'd love to.
But how? I didn't have a clue.
I clung to the rope. My palms began to sweat and my hands started to slip. My legs began to shake. I was losing my grip. I couldn't hold on much longer.
“Nicky? Tara? Help!”
7
I SWALLOWED. MY THROAT felt as dry as sawdust. I was trembling so hard, my knees were knocking together. Could everyone see that?
How could those two stupid ghosts leave me up here? I really had no idea how to get down. I knew there was no way I could slide down without ripping my whole body to pieces.
And then I realized something else—I'm afraid of heights!
As I gazed down, the gym started to spin. The kids, Coach Freeley, the bleachers, the gym floor—it all became a whirling blur.
Fighting off my dizziness, I raised my eyes to the ceiling. And felt my hands slip a little more. My heart pounded in my chest.
Coach Freeley is going to have to call the fire department, I thought. That's the only way I'll ever get down. But how can I hold on long enough for the firefighters to get here?
Coach Freeley turned and headed across the gym to get his clipboard. That's when I saw the ladder at the side of the gym start to move. It was a tall metal painter's ladder that had been leaning against the far wall. As I stared down, the ladder lifted itself away from the wall and appeared to move on its own—sliding toward me.
Yes—!
Kids let out startled cries as the ladder edged across the gym floor. They scrambled to get out of the way. The ladder moved past them and came to a stop at the wall beneath me.
Okay, okay, Max. This should be a piece of cake. Just hold on to the rope and lower your feet to the ladder. No prob, right?
Well, it sounded easier than it was.
I held on to the rope, lowering my hands inch by inch until my sneakers bumped the top rung of the ladder. Then slowly, slowly I lowered myself. With a final step of courage, I let go of the rope. I quickly grabbed the ladder's sides with my hands. Then I climbed down the rest of the way.
When my shoes hit the gym floor, I let out a triumphant cheer. I stopped when I realized everyone was staring hard at me.
“Max, that ladder,” Traci said, pointing. “It—it walked across the gym on its own!”
Think fast, Max. Think fast.
“Of course,” I said. “It's a step-ladder!”
Groan.
Well … that was the best I could do.
Up in my room that night, I waited for Nicky and Tara to appear. Why didn't they help me down the rope? I wanted to know. Why did they make me flunk the rope test?
But more important than that, I needed to tell them about Phears. I had to tell them about the Berserker Ghoul he was going to send to break me.
Break me.
I don't want to be broken, I thought, shuddering. I want my life to be normal again.
Nicky and Tara had to step up. They had to help protect me from Phears and this ghoul he was sending. After all, whose fault was it that I was in this mess?
I didn't ask to be haunted. I didn't ask for any of this. And if I was going to protect Nicky and Tara, it was only fair for them to protect me.
But where were they?
They didn't show up all night.
I tried to write in my journal. But everything I wrote about my day sounded like some kind of scary novel. No one would believe any of it. I tore out the page and promised myself I'd think of something to write tomorrow.
Finally, I tucked myself into bed, shut my eyes, and tried to forget about this awful day. But just as I started to drift off to sleep, I heard a low howl.
And then a long, shrill cry.
The cat. Again.
“Where is that cat?” I bolted up in bed.
Another low howl. Sounding so sad and lonely.
“Where are you, cat?” My muscles tensed.
Wait a minute. Maybe I'm hearing Edgar, the Swansons' black cat next door. Sometimes Edgar stands in the backyard and howls to be let inside.
I could feel my body relax. That's it, I told myself. It's just Edgar.
“Yeeeeeeeeoooow.”
That sad howl again. No, not Edgar. The cry was too nearby to be the Swansons' cat. “Where are you, cat? What do you want?”
Silence now.
I fell back into bed, turned onto my stomach,
and pulled the blanket up to my neck. I shut my eyes and settled into the pillow.
I heard heavy footsteps. Felt a whoosh of cold air. And something leaped out of the darkness.
I tried to turn over. I tried to see what was there. But I couldn't. Something landed heavily on my back. An animal? A ghoul?
Before I could move, it grabbed my neck with two powerful claws.
8
“NOOO—!” I LET OUT an angry cry and tried to fight it off. Squirming and thrashing, I tugged its heavy claws off me. With a groan, I struggled onto my back.
The bedside lamp flashed on—and I gasped as I saw the creature in all its gruesome horror.
Colin. My brother, Colin.
Colin sat on top of me, fingernails still digging into my throat. Seeing my shock, he tossed back his head and laughed. His blue eyes flashed gleefully in the bright light. “Wahoo!” He let out a victory cry and pounded on my head for a while with both hands. He always thinks it's fun to use my head as a bongo.
“Okay. You scared me,” I said. “Can I go back to sleep now?”
He grinned down at me. “Where'd you get those pajamas, Maxie?”
“What do you mean? They're my Star Wars pajamas. They're my favorites. I've had them forever.”
“But they're torn,” Colin said.
“No, they're not,” I protested.
Colin grabbed my pajama shirt and ripped it down the front. “See? They're torn.”
I tried to shove him off me, but he was too heavy and too strong. He works out about twenty hours a day, watching himself in a mirror the whole time. Colin loves himself, and just about everyone else does too. Because he's such a macho hunk.
Puke.
“Why'd you rip my shirt?”
“To teach you a lesson,” he said.
“Excuse me? A lesson? What lesson?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Beats me.” He climbed off me, leaning all his weight on my ribs, and glanced around the room. “You have a cat in here, don't you, Fat Face?”
“Don't call me Fat Face. I hate that,” I said.
“It's your real name. Fat Face Doyle. I saw your birth certificate.”