by Robert Gray
“Who did you say you are?” Steve asked, now for the third time.
“I call this outfit Old School New Student,” I said.
“You should’ve been the Queen of Hearts,” Steve argued. “OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!”
“Don’t bother.” Lucy shook her head, then added, “You look awesome, Eve.”
The bells above the door rang.
“Guess who’s here … and on time, no less,” Carly Beth whispered.
Warren. He wore a pirate outfit, and though the costume was ridiculous—with a black bandana, a toy parrot perched on his shoulder, a big plastic belt and plastic boots—he still looked amazing. He walked up to me with a big, goofy grin on his face. “Wow! You look … stunning.”
If I still had my fairy heart necklace on, those hearts would’ve exploded from the wave of emotions that threatened to upend me. “Thanks. I like your costume, too.” Though for a brief moment, I did wonder why he chose to wear a pirate costume, of all things.
The bells above the door jingled again, knocking the thought from my head.
“C’mon, we haven’t got all day. Hurry up. This bus is leaving with or without you.”
Hey, what could I do? We needed a driver on short notice, and Hal the angry iGor was the only one I could find.
We gathered onto the school bus with the help of Hal’s shoving and barking. Once we were all on, Hal went over some safety rules: “First, don’t call me by my real name. If you have to talk to me, use … Lester. Oh, and if you ever run into a guy named Fast Fingers Tony, you never heard of me. Turns out he’s not giving away free money after all.”
And with that covered, the bus doors hissed closed, and we set off to the Dance Macabre.
TWENTY-EIGHT
DANCE MACABRE
We arrived at the gym an hour before the dance started. Besides a few volunteers and teachers scattered around, the place was empty. But that didn’t stop Steve from making a grand entrance.
“I have arrived,” he declared and strutted in with Carly Beth and Lucy escorting arm. We all laughed, and Steve said, “What?” He actually thought he was being cool, which made us laugh even harder.
Warren and I followed with our arms entwined, and let me tell you, it’s not easy walking when connected to someone else. It reminded me of my conjoined cousins Millie and Lillie (though Lillie’s also the evil twin and always tries to kill Millie when she’s not paying attention, which, I guess, adds to the difficulty of walking).
And that got me thinking about Warren. Not that I thought he wanted to kill me or anything, but he was going to be a big distraction. Every time I glanced at him, everything would get fuzzy in my mind. I had to busy myself with silly tasks in order to stay focused, so I pulled Carly Beth away, and we did some last minute checks around the gym to make sure everything was ready for the dance.
“This place looks amazing,” Carly Beth said as she gazed around the room. “You did it, Eve. You really did it.”
“We did it,” I said. “All of us.”
Carly Beth and I marveled at our handiwork. The details were pretty good, I had to admit. The graveyard looked awesome with its painted foam tombstones, fog-pumping machine, and pulsing strobe lights. The cardboard haunted house entrance, which took up the whole front of the gym, was a nice touch—everyone having to step through as if crossing into another world. From the bat streamers, to the skull glasses, to the chicken fingers that resembled real fingers, we didn’t overlook any detail.
Some of the other volunteers gathered around us, too, and we all congratulated each other, because it was a group effort. I told them all that much, and we each high-fived and bumped fists, and it kind of made me feel sad, you know, because I’d been so busy hating humans that I hadn’t realized many of them were good and decent creatures, not much different from the monsters of Gravesville in many ways.
Little by little, couples began filing in through the haunted house. A photographer waited on the inside and snapped pictures of each couple as they entered. I made a mental note that I needed to take a picture with Warren, blow it up, and hang it over my bed.
Carly Beth headed over to the DJ area, where a girl dressed in a red glow-in-the-dark skeleton costume prepared the evening’s music list.
The overhead lights shut off one by one, until the gym and its occupants pulsed and swirled, bathing in the graveyard’s strobe lights and fog machines. All of a sudden, the music kicked up like a thousand notches and colorful lights fired all over the place.
And the Dance Macabre had begun.
People dressed in every costume imaginable—werewolves, vampires, aliens, zombies, princesses, demons, and so many more I couldn’t recognize—moved around to the music, some performing all sorts of flips and kicks, others with costumes so big and bulky they couldn’t do much more than tap their feet, and many more nervously bopping their heads and sipping their fruit punches, waiting for the right moment—perhaps during a slow song—to ask a dance from the person they’d longed to get close to.
The Halloween spirit still filled me with all sorts of good feelings, and I wished I could enjoy the party, too, because more than anything, I wanted to spend the night with Warren, lost in his arms as we twirled around the dance floor.
But that thought shattered when I saw my mother and brother enter, both of them wearing costumes. Ridiculous costumes. Mom dressed like a gypsy with long golden nails, lots of jewelry, her special sunglasses, and a purple, beaded veil that covered her snakes. Sam wore an oversized silver clown costume with a big red ball covering his hooked nose and pasty white makeup covering his scales. I guess his wallpaper had finally rubbed off on him.
“Why did you guys wear costumes?” I asked, rushing them as they entered.
“We didn’t want to look too suspicious,” Mom responded.
“Way to blend,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Warren came up behind me and put his arm around my waist. “Great costumes … Who are they?” he whispered to me.
“Just some friends,” I said, and then mouthed the words my date to Mom.
Sam squeezed between Warren and me. “Hmm. I expected someone taller.” He lifted up Warren’s arm and poked at his bicep. “And with a little more muscle.”
“Don’t you two have somewhere else to be?” I said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, yes, right.” Mom tugged on Sam’s arm. “C’mon. Let’s go see the graveyard.”
A whistle passed Warren’s lips. “And I thought I had some strange friends.”
I sank my head in my hand and shook my head. “You don’t know the half of it.”
The lights and music and costumes flowed together in an enchanting merger of space and time. Every costume seemed so real, I kept forgetting I wasn’t home.
People were forever coming up to me and telling me how amazing everything looked and that I did an awesome job. Some even declared this the best Bash ever. What a difference from my first day of school, when everyone laughed and pointed at me, and whispered adorable things behind my back.
The lights dimmed, and the music slowed, and the creatures on the dance floor got up close to their partners and circled the floor slowly and smoothly. Oh, how horrible!
A hand reached out to me, and I turned, startled.
“May I have this dance?” Warren asked.
“Yes, you may,” I said, giving him my shaky hand.
Warren led me onto the dance floor. I gazed into his eyes and forgot about everything: The Source, the book, even my dad. He pulled me close, and I felt so fragile in his arms as we swayed around the dance floor, the only two creatures in the world, our heartbeats the only conversation between us.
Only when Warren dipped me did I come back to reality. From my upside-down view, I saw Stacey Maxwell and her minions enter the party. They were all dressed like witches, but of course, Stacey’s costume stood out the most, like a bright star between two dull ones.
Stacey bore onto me and Warren with lethal eyes. I searched aroun
d for Carly Beth, Lucy, and Steve. I didn’t see them. I couldn’t find my mom or Sam, either. Stacey advanced on us.
“May I cut in?” She said this to Warren as if I wasn’t even there.
I could tell he didn’t want to say yes, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no, either.
“Sure, Stacey,” I said. “We were having too much fun, any way.”
She snarled and bumped me from Warren’s arms, and then they disappeared into a sea of dancers before I could say another word.
While I poured myself a drink from the punch bowl, I noticed a rustling behind the curtain. Three rustlings behind the curtain, actually. Then, three heads poked out, one on top of the other. “Psst!”
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be at the graveyard.”
“We followed … them … here,” Three Petes whispered.
“Who?”
“John Wart … and … Captain Mossbeard.”
“They’re here!”
“Yes, and … they’ve got … your dad.”
I dropped my skull mug full of punch on the floor. “Where is he?”
TWENTY-NINE
THE AUDIENCE GETS A REAL SHOW
A very cold and clammy hand grabbed my shoulder. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. I could smell his salty, spoiled flesh.
“Hello, Eve.”
“Hey, John Wart. Good to see you. How’s the, er, Dead Lady?” I tried to act casual as I smoothed out the three lumps in the curtain with my foot.
He didn’t reply.
“Are you here for the party?” I asked, nodding my head to the bass in the song. “We have plenty of food and drinks … And the music is great, isn’t it?”
“It does look like a grand time,” he said without taking his eyes off me. “But I’m sorry to say, I’m here on business.”
“Oh? Anything I can help you with?”
John Wart smiled. It wasn’t a nice expression at all, and I suddenly felt really, really cold. “There’s a rumor going around that you know the whereabouts of a certain book that the captain would love to read.”
“A book? Oh, of course. I know exactly what you’re talking about. If you go down the hall and make your second right, and then go down like another ten steps and make a left. Right there is the school library. There’s a ton of great books. I’m sure Captain Mossbeard can find plenty to read.”
“Oh, Eve, it’s good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. But I believe you know what book I’m talking about.”
I shrugged. “Sorry, wish I did.”
The music stopped. The overhead lights snapped on, flooding the room with brilliant brightness, and everyone in the room gazed around, as if just waking up from an enchanted sleep.
In place of the DJ, I saw Captain Mossbeard. And my dad—unconscious, tied up, gagged and still in Principal McDougal form.
“You let him go!” I beat on John Wart’s chest. “Let my dad go!”
He seized both my fists with one of his decayed hands and squeezed so hard I thought my fingers would break. I fell to my knees with tears in my eyes.
“Give us The Book of Shrieks,” John Wart said. “Don’t let your dad die for your mistakes.”
I searched John Wart’s dead eyes and could tell he wasn’t bluffing.
“You were supposed to be my friend,” I said, glaring at the captain as John Wart shoved me onto the stage.
He shrugged. “Sorry, lass, it’s nothing personal. I do like you. I just like money and brains better.”
“If that’s all you care about, fine. I’ll give you the stupid book. Just promise you’ll let my dad go.”
“Cross my heart.”
It hadn’t dawned on me at the time that Captain Mossbeard didn’t have a working heart worth crossing.
Everyone in the gymnasium gathered to see the onstage spectacle. To them, it was all just an act, and they cheered the zombie pirate on to cut off my dad’s head. The captain enjoyed the attention, and he started prancing around the stage like some old rock star.
“The book’s in the graveyard,” I said. “Buried in the grass. Behind the tombstone. The one shaped like a cross.”
John Wart pulled a sword from his side and aimed the blade at my chest. “Get it. And remember, no tricks.”
I shuffled toward the graveyard. John Wart followed with the point of the blade pressed into my back. The crowd opened a path to allow me through—no way were they letting this show end. I searched around but still didn’t see Carly Beth or Mom or Sam. Where was everyone?
I pulled up the fake grass next to the tombstone and stuck my arm into the hole. No, no, no, no. It had to be here. I tore away the grass and stared down at the hole in disbelief.
The book was gone. Someone had taken it.
I whirled around. “I put it right here! I swear!”
John Wart’s sword bit deeper into my back, and I winced at the pain.
“A shame you and your dad have to die. I did like you, even though you’re a stinking human.”
The blade sliced down at me but stopped inches from my nose. The shrill chirp of steel against steel rang in my ears, and it took me a moment to realize three swords had blocked John Wart’s from reaching me.
“Hello … John … Wart,” Three Petes said. They shoved their swords against John Wart, throwing him back a few feet.
John Wart growled and thrust his sword at the Pete in the middle. The Pete to the right blocked the attack, while the one on the left drove his blade through John Wart’s hand, forcing him to drop his weapon.
Zombies don’t feel pain, and their wounds don’t bleed, but by John Wart’s terrified expression, I would’ve thought just the opposite.
“Get to … your … father. We’ll take … care of … him.”
I charged toward the stage and found my dad, still unconscious—perhaps under some kind of spell—and dangling from Captain Mossbeard’s hands.
“Let him go, Mossbeard!”
“As you wish.” The captain dropped Dad and pulled out his sword, a black scimitar as big as me. He leveled the blade over Dad’s neck.
“No!” I yelled. The harder I tried to run, the more I realized I’d never reach my dad in time. “Dad!”
The captain raised the sword over his head with both hands, and—
“AAAARRRGGGHHH!”
—Sam dropped from the ceiling and landed on Mossbeard’s back, sending the sword spinning off the stage.
“Get off my dad, you stupid brain eater!” Sam screamed as he tore at Mossbeard’s face.
Everyone in the audience applauded, even me. And I knew this was real!
Mossbeard flung Sam off his back. “You little ghoul.” He pulled a fillet knife from his boot, ready to carve up my little brother.
Overhead, a purple veil slipped through the air and fell by my feet. And then I saw Mom at the front of the stage. She stood as still as one of her “accidents,” except for her snakes, which thrashed around her head, determined to tear off at the root to get at the zombie.
“You don’t mess with my family,” Mom said evenly.
“And you don’t tell me what to do.” Mossbeard lunged off the stage at Mom, his knife aimed right at her heart.
Mom casually slipped her glasses from her face, and in an instant, golden light bore down on Mossbeard. His skin went from ocean blue to stony gray as he crashed to the floor, shattering at Mom’s feet.
The crowd roared with approval.
Mom put her sunglasses back on and rushed onto the stage. She cradled Dad in her arms, as Sam and I hovered over them.
“Oh, Jack, please be okay,” Mom whispered.
“He can’t be dead. He’s just—” I started, but at last, Dad opened his mouth, and we froze, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
Instead, he let out a loud snore.
Good enough.
It made me miserable to think my friends had taken the spell book and abandoned me, but I couldn’t get the th
ought out of my head. Carly Beth knew where I’d hidden the book, and she disappeared along with Lucy and Steve. Maybe they were working against me. Maybe they were only pretending to be my friends.
No!
I refused to let those thoughts linger in my head. Carly Beth, Lucy, and Steve were my friends. They’ve done more to help me than I’ve ever done for them. If they did take the book, it was to protect it, not to steal it.
But why?
I didn’t need to worry about Dad and Sam under Mom’s—er—watchful eyes, so I ran through the haunted house entrance and warped into the darkened hallway where I immediately heard muffled voices from somewhere deeper within.
“Hello?” I called out. “Carly Beth? Steve? Lucy?”
More frantically the voices responded, and I sprinted as fast as I could, and, reaching the end of the hall, I found Steve and Lucy tied up to each other and gagged with orange and black paper streamers.
I tore away the paper from their mouths. “What happened? Who did this?”
“Becca and Jasper,” Lucy said. “We saw Carly Beth chasing after Stacey, but when we ran out into the hallway—”
“I tried to fight them off with my Judo moves, but those girls are tough,” Steve interrupted.
“Yeah, Steve’s Judo is about as useful as a feather in a knife fight.”