The 12 Screams of Christmas

by R. L. Stine

  “Kate will be on the ghost squad,” Courtney chimed in. It wasn’t very funny, but kids started laughing at me all over again.

  “Okay, get off the stage, people,” Mr. P said, shooing us with both hands. “I want you to take seats in the auditorium till I call you up for your tryouts. We’ll do the tryouts for Livvy, the sister, first.”

  We all started to the steps at the side of the stage. Jack stepped up beside me. He patted my shoulder. “Don’t let Courtney get you upset. You’ll do an awesome audition.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever.” I started down the steps.

  Behind us, Mr. P stopped Courtney at the edge of the stage. “I’m very impressed with your costume,” I heard him say. “And the excellent makeup job. I appreciate your extra effort, Courtney. Why don’t you stay up here? You can be the first audition.”

  Another victory for my friend Courtney. It was nothing but win win win for her tonight.

  And for me …

  Suck it up, Kate, I told myself. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Jack is right. You’ll do a killer audition.

  I took a seat in the second row next to Carol Ann. She squeezed my wrist. “Are you nervous? I am.”

  I nodded. “A little.”

  “I have one more announcement,” Mr. P called from the stage. “And it’s important. When you’re up here, don’t bump any controls, and be careful to stay away from the trapdoor at stage right.” He pointed. “It seems to be opening and closing on its own. Someone is coming to fix it tomorrow.”

  He squinted down at me. “Kate, maybe there is a ghost in here.” And then he said, “Would you do me a favor? Would you go downstairs to my office and bring up my clipboard? I left it on my desk.”

  “No problem,” I said, jumping up. I squeezed my way to the aisle past Carol Ann and some other kids and started to the exit at the back of the auditorium.

  I heard Mr. P call Jack to the stage to audition with Courtney. I didn’t want to see Courtney’s tryout. I was glad to have an excuse to miss it.

  I wanted to concentrate on my own. As I walked, I went over Livvy’s lines for the hundredth time.

  It was a little after eight o’clock. Through the school doors, I could see a bright half-moon high in the sky. The moonlight poured across the hall floor, making it glow an eerie blue color.

  The school was deserted. Half the lights in the hall were turned off.

  I walked by the sports honor display case across from the darkened principal’s office. The silver trophies gleamed dully through the glass. I passed posters for the annual school auction and annual coat drive.

  The stairs were at the end of the hall just past the study hall. Most of the lights were off. The stairway was blanketed in deep shadow. I held on to the metal railing and took the stairs slowly.

  Only two ceiling lights were on downstairs, dim as candles. A chill ran down my back as I walked toward Mr. P’s office at the end of the hall. It was cold down here. The air felt heavy and wet.

  Our school is old. The windows all leak cold air from outside. So the rooms and halls are always chilly.

  The floorboards creaked under my shoes as I walked. I stopped when I heard a groan. Very nearby. It took me a few seconds to realize it was the furnace kicking on.

  My footsteps rang out in the silence. The door to Mr. P’s office stood open. The office was totally dark.

  I gasped when I saw someone leaning against the wall.

  Squinting into the shadows, I realized it was a ladder. I laughed out loud. Kate, stop scaring yourself.

  I stepped into Mr. P’s office and fumbled on the wall for the light switch. I felt a chill at the back of my neck. Why was I so tense? Probably because of the tryout.

  The ceiling light flashed on, and I gazed around the office. I saw the clipboard on the side of the desktop. As I leaned to pick it up, something caught my eye.

  It was a sheet of notebook paper with a handwritten list on it. It seemed to be a cast list with the names of all the characters in the play on it. Next to their names, I saw scribbled kids’ names.

  Next to Gerald, the brother in the play, I saw Jack’s name. And next to Livvy …? My hand shook. I brought the paper closer. Next to Livvy, the lead sister, I saw Courtney’s name with a question mark after it.

  Had Mr. P already cast the play? Had he decided who got the parts before the tryouts?

  My eye went down to the bottom of the page. My name was there, along with Carol Ann and three other kids. Did that mean he thought we could possibly win parts? Or did that mean we were out?

  He would never decide everything before we had a chance to try out, I told myself.

  That would be unfair. Mr. P is always the most fair teacher in the school.

  I set the paper down on the desktop. My eyes roamed around the office, looking for anything else that might be interesting. He had a photograph of a yellow-and-black cat framed on his desk. And a stack of sheet music in front of it. The window ledge held several big pots containing prickly-looking cactus plants.

  I realized I was spending too much time here. I picked up the clipboard, started to the door, then stopped. “Hey!”

  The office door was closed.

  I didn’t remember closing it. Squeezing the clipboard in my hand, I stared at the door. Solid wood painted navy blue.

  The hall was very breezy. Did the wind push the door closed?

  I stepped up to the door and wrapped my hand around the brass doorknob. I turned it and pushed. “Whoa.”

  The door didn’t budge.

  I tried it again. Twisted the doorknob the other direction. Pushed hard. Then pulled.

  A chill ran down my back.

  “Hey, somebody!” I shouted. “Somebody!”

  The door was definitely locked. Someone had locked me in.

  I pounded my fist on the door. “Hey — who’s there?” I shouted. “Let me out! Somebody — let me out!”

  I pressed my ear to the door and listened. Silence in the hall.

  The door didn’t lock itself, I knew.

  “Hey — let me out!” I screamed. I dropped the clipboard and pounded the door with both fists.

  No answer.

  I stood there, breathing hard, my heart racing.

  The school was empty. No one else was down here. No one could hear me.

  I crossed my arms in front of me and started to pace back and forth across the small office.

  Who locked me in here?

  I stopped in front of the window. I had an idea. If I moved the cactus plants aside, maybe I could push the window open and escape.

  I picked up the pot in the middle of the window ledge and set it down on the floor. “Whoa.” The tall cactus rested in a bed of stones. The thing weighed a ton.

  I shoved the next cactus plant to the side, careful not to get stuck on its spiky thorns. I’d made enough room to climb out — if I could shove the window open far enough.

  I bent and grabbed the bottom with both hands. I tugged. I let out a groan as all my muscles strained. It didn’t move.

  I tried again. I couldn’t get the window to budge. A lot of the old windows in the school had been painted shut or were just stuck.

  I gave it one more try, then backed away. A sigh escaped my throat. It seemed like a good plan, but the window just wouldn’t move.

  I crossed to the door and pounded some more. “Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?”

  Silence.

  I tried the door one more time. Then I spun away from it and dropped into Mr. P’s brown leather desk chair.

  Someone will come for me soon, I told myself. They’ll miss me. They’ll see that I’m not back, and they’ll come for me.

  I put my elbows on the desk and propped my head in my hands. And waited, staring at the round clock above the door. Five minutes passed. Ten …

  They have to notice that I didn’t come back with the clipboard.

  Fifteen minutes passed. I started to pace back and forth again. “This is ridiculous,” I said
out loud.

  Then I had another idea. “How stupid can you be, Kate?” I cried.

  My cell phone. I’ll text Jack to come get me. I grabbed at my jeans pockets.

  Wait.

  My phone was in my backpack. My backpack was upstairs in the auditorium.

  Standing in the middle of the room, I heard someone jiggle the door.

  I gasped in relief. “Finally!” I cried, and called out, “Get the key. The door is locked.”

  A few seconds later, the door swung open. Jack blinked at me, his face twisted in surprise. “You’re still here?”

  “Of course I’m still here,” I said. “I was locked in. What took you so long to come down here?”

  He squinted at me. “Mr. P sent me down for his clipboard. We thought you left.”

  “Excuse me?” I cried.

  “Courtney told everyone you weren’t feeling well, and you went home.”

  My mouth dropped open. I saw red. I actually saw a curtain of red in front of me. Red anger.

  “Courtney said you texted her and told her you were sick and going home,” Jack repeated. “You missed your audition. They’re doing the mother and father now.”

  “I … I don’t believe this,” I stammered. “That liar!”

  Jack picked the clipboard up from the floor. “She probably —”

  I didn’t give him a chance to say another word. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I opened my mouth and shrieked. Howled in anger.

  “Should I kill her now?” I cried.

  I dove forward, pushed him out of the way, and bolted out of the office. My shoes thudded the floor, the sound echoing like drumbeats. My hands were clenched into tight fists. My whole body throbbed with anger.

  The cheat. The liar.

  Did she really think she could get away with that?

  “Kate — slow down!” I heard Jack far behind me. “Take it easy. Kate — wait up!”

  No way I’d wait up for him. I shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Breathing hard, I ran the short distance to the auditorium and burst through the door.

  I raced down the aisle toward the stage.

  Courtney? Where are you? Where?

  My vision was blurred, still red from my anger. I spotted her onstage. She was acting a scene with the kids who were trying out for the mother and father.

  Heads turned as I thundered to the stage. Carol Ann called out to me, but I ignored her.

  I bolted up the steps at the side of the stage. Mr. P was watching Courtney and the other two kids. But he spun around as I came exploding toward him.

  “Kate? I thought —”

  I ran up to Courtney, my fists tight at my sides. “You … you locked me in — didn’t you!” I gasped. “You locked the door!”

  Her eyes went wide. She started to deny it. But she couldn’t keep a smirk off her face. She couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across that white ghost face.

  “Kate, what is the problem?” Mr. P said, climbing down from his canvas chair.

  I could feel my whole face start to burn as I exploded in rage. I let out a furious scream. I grabbed Courtney around the shoulders and shoved her backward. Then I lowered my hands to her waist and dragged her to the floor.

  “Unh.” She grunted in surprise and tried to push me away.

  But my anger made me strong. I’d never been in a fight in my life. But now I was out of control, a different person, a person in a mad rage.

  “Get off me!” Courtney cried.

  But I rolled on top of her, pressing her back to the floor, and pulled her hair as hard as I could with both hands.

  “Stop this. Stop this at once!” I heard Mr. P cry, his voice shrill and high.

  Kids shouted and screamed.

  Mr. P reached down for me. But I rolled away from his grasp. Held on to Courtney, squeezing her waist.

  “Get off! Kate — are you crazy? Get off!”

  I held on to her, and we rolled over the stage floor, rolled and wrestled, punching at each other.

  I heard the screams grow louder. I heard people crying, “Stop! Stop!”

  But I didn’t see the open trapdoor until it was too late.

  I felt a wave of panic as I realized the floor had given way. Courtney rolled over me, and we fell.

  “Nooooo!” I screamed as we dropped into darkness.

  We fell, holding on to each other. Fell fast and hit the bottom hard. I felt the air leave my body in a whoosh. My chest collapsed. And everything went black.

  Even though I had stopped falling, I could feel myself sinking into a deep blackness. I could feel myself being pulled down, down … as if I was being swallowed, swallowed by the cold darkness.

  Slowly, I forced my eyes open. My head throbbed. Pain shot up and down my whole body.

  I struggled to raise myself up. It felt as if the darkness, so heavy, was pushing me down. I blinked several times, trying to clear my head. But my temples pulsed with pain.

  Finally, I saw Courtney, hunched beside me. Her hair fell over her face.

  “Where are we?” My voice came out in a whisper.

  She brushed the white wig back with both hands. “I don’t know. Somewhere in the basement.”

  Courtney climbed to her feet. She straightened her long white ghost skirt. She brushed back her hair again.

  I raised a hand for her to help pull me up. But she turned away from me. She began walking into the blue-black darkness.

  “Courtney — wait,” I called, still in a whisper. “Where are you going?”

  She didn’t answer. She kept walking, the skirt scraping the floor. She was fading, as if stepping into a thick fog.

  “Courtney — wait up! I can’t see you,” I called, finally finding my voice.

  “You’ve ruined everything, Ghost Girl,” she called back. “You’ve done it again. Just like the gymnastics meet. You’ve ruined everything.”

  “But, Courtney —”

  She vanished.

  I gazed into the blackness all around. Silence.

  I stood up. There’s got to be a way out of this basement.

  I took a step, then another. If I could find the wall, I could follow it till I came to a stairway.

  And then another thought entered my mind: They all saw Courtney and me fall through the trapdoor. Why hasn’t anyone come down to rescue us?

  Stumbling in the darkness, I found the wall. I pressed my palm against it. It felt cool and smooth. Slowly, I began to walk, sliding my hand along the wall.

  I turned a corner. The blackness lifted a little. The basement opened into milky-gray light. I kept my hand on the wall but started to walk a little faster.

  Suddenly, I realized I wasn’t alone.

  I stopped and squinted into the gray glare. Someone stood up ahead in the middle of the hall.

  “Hey!” I called out, my voice echoing down the corridor. “Did you come to help us?”

  No answer.

  I took a few steps forward. Slowly, he came into focus. Paco. The boy from up in the last row of the balcony.

  “Paco?” I cried, walking quickly. “I’m glad to see you. I’m kind of lost and —”

  I stopped with a sharp intake of breath. As he came closer, I saw that he wasn’t standing on the floor. His shoes … They floated three or four inches in the air.

  He stood with his hands at his waist, dark eyes glowing. Floating above the floor without moving.

  “You … you really are a ghost,” I stammered.

  His straight black hair fell over his eyes as he nodded. “Yes, I am, Kate.” His voice was soft, breathy like a whisper of wind. He brushed back his hair. His eyes burned into mine.

  “What are you doing down here? What do you want?” I said. I turned my head to avoid his stare. It felt like a hot beam invading my brain.

  He reached out a hand. “You’ll see. Come with me.”

  I took a step back. His stare was frightening me. But he floated closer and grabbed my hand. “Come with me,” he repeated in tha
t breathy whisper.

  “I don’t want to!” I screamed. I struggled to free my hand. But his grip was too strong.

  “Let go!” I cried. “I don’t want to come with you. Where are you taking me? Let go!”

  I couldn’t pull free. I couldn’t escape. He grasped both of my hands and tugged me through the inky gray light.

  It took me a few seconds to realize he had pulled me off the floor. I was floating, too. Fear choked my throat. I pleaded with him to explain, my voice nearly as hoarse as his.

  “Please — Paco. Stop. Where are we going? Why are you doing this?”

  He didn’t answer.

  I was gripped with fear. My mind leaped from thought to thought. Why didn’t Mr. P and the others come down here to help Courtney and me? Where is Courtney? I saw Paco around school all the time. How did he become a ghost?

  He pulled me around a corner. We floated together six inches off the floor.

  Suddenly, I heard voices. Mumbles. Low whispers. I couldn’t make out the words. The murmurs circled me. I twisted and turned and tried to see who was speaking.

  Bright lights flashed on.

  “Oh!” I cried out as I saw faces. Dozens of faces.

  Paco and I were in the middle of a large room jammed with people. He let go of me. My eyes gazed from face to face.

  I knew at once there was something wrong with them. The faces appeared to shimmer in and out of the light. Their skin was yellow and stretched tight. Their eyes were glassy and rolled crazily in their heads.

  I saw children in tattered clothes, stained rags. Old men, their chins wobbling up and down but no sound coming out. Women with long, scraggly strands of hair falling from bald, rutted heads.

  Ghosts.

  “Paco,” I whispered, huddling close to him. “These people are ghosts.”

  He nodded. He motioned with one hand. “Kate, you stared at them in the cemetery.”

  I swallowed. “I … what?”

  “You stared at them. You disturbed them.” He brought his pale face close to mine. “You disturbed them a lot.”

  His words sent a shiver down my back. “I … don’t understand,” I stammered. “Why are they here? Did they follow me to school? What do they want?”