Scare School

by R. L. Stine

  “Tim—I saw you run in here,” I said breathlessly. My whole body shook with fear—and excitement. “I—I know your secret.”

  “Don’t tell,” he said. He slumped into the desk chair. “Okay, Sam?”

  “Don’t tell?” I repeated.

  “Please don’t tell,” Tim begged. “I hide up here to read and do my homework after school every day.”

  “But—but—” I sputtered. This wasn’t making any sense.

  “I can explain,” Tim said. “You see, my house is too noisy and crowded. And my dad thinks I’m on the soccer team. I don’t have the nerve to tell him that I never even tried out.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Your dad thinks you’re at soccer practice?”

  He nodded. “I found this room,” he said. “It’s just for storage. No one ever comes up here. So I come here after school.”

  “You … you hide up here?” I asked. My heartbeat was starting to slow to normal.

  Tim nodded again. “I do my homework. Then I read. I love to read. I never have a chance at home.”

  I stared hard at him, studying his face.

  He was lying. He had to be lying.

  I had chased him up here. He was the imp. I knew he was. There was no other explanation!

  He had slammed the door behind him. Changed into his human form. Picked up the book and waited for me to arrive.

  “You’re the Imp, Tim,” I said. “I’m not falling for your dumb story. You’re the imp, and I’ve caught you.”

  He set down the book and climbed slowly to his feet. “No way, Sam,” he said softly. “I’m not the imp. I’m just me.”

  “You were doing something at my locker. I chased you up here,” I insisted. “I heard you slam the door.”

  Tim shook his head. “No. It wasn’t me. I heard a door slam, too. But it wasn’t this door, Sam. I’ve been reading up here ever since school let out. Really.”

  I continued to stare at him. Should I believe him?

  “I’ll help you find him,” Tim said softly. “If you don’t tell anyone about my secret hiding place. If you promise not to tell, I’ll help you search for him, Sam.”

  “I opened the wrong door,” I muttered. “He must have run into the room next door.”

  Tim suddenly looked very frightened. “The imp? He’s next door? Why would he come up here? No one ever comes up here.”

  I didn’t reply. I spun away from him and ran out of the room.

  I grabbed the handle to the door on the right and pulled it open.

  Was the imp still in there?

  No. I stared into a bare room. No furniture of any kind. A totally empty room. Gray light washed in through the dust-caked windows.

  “Where did he go?” I muttered.

  Was Tim lying? Was Tim really the imp?

  But he seemed so surprised to see me. So desperate to keep his hiding place a secret.

  My head spinning, I left Tim and made my way back down the hall. I turned a corner and found myself in a familiar hallway.

  The band room stood at the end of this hall. I suddenly remembered that I had hurried out without putting my sax in its case.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly five fifteen.

  It’s really getting late, I realized.

  I stepped up to the band room—and stopped in the doorway.

  There he was again–the imp!

  He had his back to me. He held my saxophone in his hands.

  What was he doing to it?

  I stopped myself from crying out.

  I gazed in horror as the creature raised the horn to his lips. The sax was nearly as tall as he was! He blew into the horn and made a flat noise, more like a burp than a musical note.

  Yuck, I thought.

  That creature has my horn in his mouth!

  What does he plan to do to my new sax? Does he plan to ruin it? Is he going to make it explode when I start to play it later? Or make it stick to me again? My horror quickly turned to anger.

  The imp had no right—no right to be ruining my life this way!

  My heart pounded. As my anger rose, I could feel the blood pulsing at my temples.

  I crept into the room.

  The imp still had his back turned. He didn’t see me. He blew another sour note on the horn.

  Before he could turn around, I ran up behind him. I made a flying leap.

  I wrapped my arms around his waist—and tightened them. Tighter. Tighter.

  The sax fell out of his hands and slid to the floor.

  He opened his mouth in a shrill, raspy shriek.

  He squirmed and twisted hard.

  But I held on.

  Digging my chin into his back, I tightened my grip around his waist. And held on.

  He ducked and tossed. He shrieked again.

  His skin felt wet and soft. Slippery.

  But I held on. Squeezing him. Squeezing him until he made’ a gasping, choking sound.

  His body went limp. His head slumped forward. “Gotcha!” I screamed. “I’ve gotcha!”

  24

  He let out one more grunt.

  Then his eyes slowly lowered and shut. His head bounced on his chest. All the air seemed to go out of his body, like a balloon deflating.

  Was it a trick?

  Had I killed him?

  No. I could feel him breathing.

  But his arms and legs dangled as if they had no bones.

  I’ve got him, I thought. Now what do I do with him?

  I stumbled to the door.

  If only someone were still in the school. Someone who could help me.

  I needed to put him somewhere safe, I knew. Somewhere he couldn’t escape.

  Everyone would be back here in a few hours.

  I thought of how shocked everyone would be when they saw that I had captured the imp. Shocked—and thrilled!

  But in the meantime, I needed something to keep him in.

  The imp uttered a weak groan. His arms twitched. Was he coming back to life?

  Holding him tightly in front of me, I turned back to the band room.

  And had an idea.

  The imp twitched again. He snapped his head back. His eyelids opened, and I could see his dark eyes rolling in his head.

  I knew I had only seconds before he came to life again.

  I kicked open my saxophone case. Bent quickly. Lowered the imp into the case.

  One spindly green leg dangled over the side. I tucked it in. Slammed the case shut. And with trembling hands fastened the clasps.

  “Gotcha,” I muttered again.

  I felt so dizzy, I had to sit down. I dropped beside the sax case and struggled to catch my breath.

  The floor tilted up in front of me. I shut my eyes tight and waited for the dizziness to pass.

  I’ve done it! I told myself happily.

  I’ve captured the imp! In a few hours, everyone will know what I’ve done!

  I could hear the imp banging inside the case. He gave the case several hard thumps. But the metal clasps held.

  No way he could pop open the lid.

  When I opened my eyes, my gaze fell on a white slip of paper attached to the case.

  It took me a few seconds to realize it was the imp’s note from the day before.

  READ MY LETTER: WHO WILL DROP FIRST? From inside the case, the imp gave the lid another hard thump.

  I stared at the note. Stared at the words one by one.

  In my excitement, my brain jumped from thought to thought.

  I remembered what I had read about imps. I remembered how they like games and tricks. How they like wordplay.

  Wordplay.

  READ MY LETTER.

  LETTER. DROP FIRST.

  The imp thumped against the case again, trying hard to escape.

  But I ignored him as these thoughts flew through my mind.

  The imp’s messages had been a game, I decided.

  A trick.

  The imp wanted everyone to guess. He wanted everyone to figure
out who he was.

  I stared hard at the scrawled letters on the note.

  MY LETTER. DROP FIRST.

  DROP MY FIRST LETTER.

  And suddenly, I had the answer. It all made sense.

  I knew. I knew!

  I turned to the saxophone case. I gripped it with both hands.

  “I know who you are!” I shouted.

  25

  The imp stopped banging on the case. A heavy silence fell over the room.

  “I figured out your little word game,” I said. “I know who you are.”

  The imp remained quiet.

  I shook the case. “Hey, did you hear me?” I called. “I won! I beat you!”

  Still no sound from inside the case. Had I suffocated him? Should I risk opening the lid to see if he was okay?

  I grabbed the clasps on the sax case and flipped them up. My hands trembling, I raised the lid and gazed down at the small green creature. He had pressed himself into the folds of the case. He stared up at me with wet black eyes and didn’t move.

  I reached down and wrapped my hands around his narrow waist. Then I lifted him out of the case.

  “Simpson, I know it’s you,” I said. “So snap out of it. Playing dead isn’t going to help you.”

  He blinked. And ran a pointed purple tongue over his green lips. “Put me down,” he whispered.

  I continued to hold him in front of me. “If I put you down, you won’t run away?”

  He shook his head. His shoulders slumped. He gazed at me sadly with those wet black eyes. “I can’t run away. You have defeated me. By guessing my identity, you have taken away my powers.”

  I set him down on the floor. He stretched his skinny arms above his head. Then he let out a long, sad sigh.

  “Oh—!” I cried out as he began to grow.

  His body inflated like a balloon. His bones made loud cracking noises as he changed into a human.

  Into Simpson.

  Simpson, fully dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt.

  “How did you know it was me?” he asked in a muffled whisper.

  I moved between him and the door in case he planned to try an escape. I kept my muscles tensed.

  No way I would let him get away.

  “I figured out your word game,” I replied. “The word imp—it’s hidden right in your name. Drop the first letter. Drop the first letter of Simpson—and you get impson. Imp is the hidden word.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re smarter than I thought,” he muttered. He sighed again. “I had a good thing going here, but now it’s over.”

  He shook his head. “Imps have to play word games. We have to tease humans with them. It’s our nature. But I never thought anyone would guess … ”

  “I’m going to tell everyone,” I said. “Your days of terrifying the school are over.”

  “I know,” he said, shaking his head again. “You’ve defeated me, Sam.” He shrugged. “I’m finished here.”

  He gazed at me with a pleading expression. “Can we make a deal?” he asked.

  I tensed, studying him. “What kind of deal?”

  “Can we make a trade?” he asked softly. “I’ll give you back your jacket if you give me my tail.”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “Why should I trust you? It might be some kind of a trick.”

  He raised his right hand as if swearing an oath. “No tricks. You give me my tail, Sam. I return your jacket. Then I promise I’ll go away, and no one at this school will ever see me again.”

  I squinted hard at him. “You’ll go away before the band concert? And you’ll never come back to this school?”

  He raised his right hand again. “Promise.”

  I kept staring at him. Had I really defeated him? Had I really freed the school from his terror?

  What did the article online say? Did it say what would happen if you guessed an imp’s real identity? Did It say that guessing his identity would take away all his powers? I couldn’t remember.

  “Is it a deal?” he asked eagerly. “Have we got a deal?” He reached out his right hand for me to shake.

  I stared hard at him, studying his sad, defeated face.

  Could I trust him?

  Could I?

  26

  Yes, I decided. I shook his hand.

  “Go get my tail,” Simpson said. “I’ll bring your jacket. We’ll meet back here in two minutes—okay?”

  I hoped I wasn’t making a big mistake. “You won’t run away and hide?” I asked. “You won’t go back to your old tricks at the concert tonight?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t go back to my old tricks, Sam. You’ve defeated me.”

  He seemed so sad and sincere. I had to believe him.

  I turned and ran out of the band room. I made my way downstairs and hurried to my locker.

  I heard voices down the hall. I saw people heading to the auditorium. The audience had started to arrive for the concert.

  I saw two teachers go through the auditorium doors. A couple of kids followed them.

  I wanted to run up to them all. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs: “I did it! I defeated the imp!”

  I grabbed the green tail from my locker shelf. I wrapped it around my hand and slammed the locker door shut.

  I was running up the steps, on my way back to the band room, when I saw a familiar figure heading down toward me.

  “Hey, Tim,” I called.

  Tim stopped. He lowered his eyes to the tail wrapped around my hand.

  “Are you still here? Are you going to the concert?” I asked.

  He kept his gaze on the tail. “What are you going to do with that?” he asked.

  I hesitated.

  Should I tell him?

  Yes. I couldn’t keep my news to myself any longer. I had to tell someone!

  “I did it, Tim!” I exclaimed. “I captured the imp. I captured him, and I figured out who he is!”

  Tim’s mouth dropped open. “You—?”

  “Yes! It’s Simpson! I watched the imp change into Simpson! I defeated him! The imp is finished!” I cried. “As soon as I give him back his tail, he’s history! He’s going away forever!”

  “Wow,” Tim muttered, his eyes wide with amazement. “Wow, Sam. I can’t believe it!”

  “Is that cool, or what?” I said. I raised my free hand to slap him a high five.

  But instead, he reached for the tail. “Can I hold it for a second?” he asked. “I just want to hold it.”

  “Oh. Well … ” I started to hand it to him. Then I stopped with a gasp.

  And jerked my hand back.

  Tim Poster.

  Drop the first letter.

  IM Poster.

  Imp oster.

  Imposter!

  “Not” I screamed. “You tool You’re an imp!”

  Tim leaped forward and grabbed the tail. “Give me my brother’s tail!”

  I let out a gasp. “Huh? Your brother?”

  He struggled to grab the tail from my hand.

  I swung away from him and slammed hard into the wall.

  He tackled me around the waist and sent me toppling to the floor. The tail began to unravel.

  “Owwww!”

  I cried out as he drove an elbow into my ribs. As I struggled to breathe, he grabbed the tail with both hands.

  I made a wild swipe at it—too late.

  Tim pulled the tail away from me—and tossed it to someone running toward us fast.

  Simpson!

  “Give it back!” I screamed. “We made a deal—!” The two imps tossed back their heads and laughed.

  As I pulled myself to my feet, they both changed. They shrank quickly, their clothes disappearing under green skin.

  Back to their creature bodies, they scampered up the steps, cackling to each other.

  “Come back—!” I lurched after them.

  I let out a roar of anger. I was so angry at myself for believing Simpson, for letting him escape.

  “I know who you are!�
�� I screamed. “You’re both finished here! Do you hear me? I know who you are!”

  I reached the top of the staircase—and practically knocked Mr. Kimpall over.

  “Sam?” He jumped back in surprise.

  “Help me!” I gasped. “There are two of them! Two imps!”

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “Calm down, Sam. Take a deep breath, okay?”

  “But—but—” I sputtered.

  I pulled away from him. “You don’t understand! You’re letting them get away!”

  “Sam, listen to me,” he said softly.

  Mr. Kimpall.

  I stared at him, my chest heaving, heart thudding.

  Drop the first letter.

  Impall.

  Imp all.

  “Oh, nooooo!” I moaned. “Mr. Kimpall? You too?”

  He nodded coldly. “I’m their dad.” And grabbed me by the shoulders. And pressed me against the wall.

  “I’m sorry, Sam,” he whispered. “But I can’t have you ruining things for my whole family. Now you know too much.”

  “Wh-what are you going to do to me?” I stammered.

  27

  “This is our school,” Mr. Kimpall rasped. “My family has a good thing going here. A nice, easy life. And a new group of victims every school year. This school is the perfect place for an imp family to hide. And we’re not going to let you ruin it for us l”

  He pressed me harder against the wall. He was breathing rapidly, wheezing, his face bright red.

  I braced myself against the wall—and gave him a hard kick in the knee.

  He uttered a cry and stumbled back.

  I took off, running down the hall.

  But I didn’t get far. The other two imps darted to block my path.

  “Hold him there!” Mr. Kimpall ordered, rubbing his knee. “Don’t let him get away.”

  And then he quickly changed into a green imp creature.

  “Look out!” I screamed at the top of my lungs at the other two imps.

  I dove between them and kept running.

  I ran down the stairs and headed to the auditorium. People were still arriving for the concert. The seats were nearly filled.

  I’ll be safe there, I decided.

  The imps won’t follow me inside.

  I heard a woman’s voice calling me. Ms. Simpkin made her way out of a crowd of parents.