Who Let the Ghosts Out?

by R. L. Stine

  “I don't play it,” I said.

  She tossed her backpack over her shoulder. “Then why are you talking about it? Never mind. We're going to be late.” She turned and started to jog away.

  “Traci? Would you like to help me with my magic act?” I called after her.

  She didn't hear me. She just kept running down the sidewalk.

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for your help,” I muttered to Nicky and Tara.

  But of course the two troublemakers had disappeared.

  I ran into Ms. McDonald's classroom just as the bell rang. I spotted Traci, already in her seat in the front row. I could feel my face growing hot again.

  She didn't see me. She was talking to one of her cool friends, Monica Wendt, who sat beside her.

  I knew Traci would never speak to me again.

  Can you imagine the horror of having a crush on a girl and then falling on top of her? Of course it wasn't my fault. But could I explain to Traci that a ghost named Tara had shoved me into her?

  Yeah, sure.

  I slunk to my seat in the back. I had grass stains on the knees of my cargo pants. And in my rush to get out of the house and away from the ghosts, I'd forgotten to bring my backpack with all my homework in it.

  I froze in panic. I didn't have my homework— for the first time in my life!

  At the chalkboard, Ms. McDonald was busy writing an endless algebra equation. Algebra is one of my best subjects. I can solve any equation forward and backward.

  Ms. McDonald turned to the class. She's a nice teacher, very young and very pretty. She has curly black hair down past her shoulders, and bright blue eyes. She always wears faded jeans and bright-colored sweaters.

  She also has a good sense of humor. Sometimes kids call her Ms. Mickey D, and she doesn't mind it at all.

  “Who can solve this equation?” she asked, her eyes shifting from face to face.

  I raised my hand.

  “I know you can do it, Max,” Ms. McDonald said. “Does anyone else want to try?”

  No hands went up. “Okay, Max. Come up and show us how to solve it,” Ms. McDonald said.

  I walked to the front of the room. I was careful not to look at Traci. “Go, Brainimon!” a boy yelled from the back. A few kids laughed.

  “Make it hard. Do it blindfolded,” Monica Wendt called out.

  “Brainimon can do it!” another boy shouted.

  I felt good. This was the only time in school I felt like a real winner. I took the chalk from Ms. McDonald and turned to the board. I started to factor for X, writing quickly, the chalk squeaking in my hand.

  “Hey, I know how to do this one,” I heard Nicky say. “Give me the chalk.”

  “No. Go away!” I said.

  Ms. McDonald took a few steps back. “Sorry, Max. Was I standing in your light?”

  “You're messing up. You should do the fractions first,” Nicky said. “Give me the chalk. I'll show you.” I felt him grab my hand. He tried to pull the chalk away. I struggled to hold on, and we battled for it.

  Some kids started to laugh.

  “What's wrong, Max? Do you have a cramp?” Ms. McDonald asked.

  Nicky wrapped his hand around mine. “Let me help you, Max. I'm an ace at this.” He forced me to write a string of numbers on the board.

  “Stop! Don't help me!” I cried.

  “I won't help you,” Ms. McDonald said. “I know you never need help, Max.”

  “Let go of me,” I whispered to Nicky. But he gripped my hand and wrote out more letters and numbers.

  “Am I getting it right?” he asked Tara.

  “How should I know?” Tara answered. “I'm only in fourth grade. I never had algebra.”

  “Go away,” I whispered. My hand was writing out of control. Nicky wouldn't stop—and he was getting it totally wrong!

  I turned and saw Mrs. Wright, the principal, enter the room. She and Ms. McDonald began talking at the side of the chalkboard.

  “Do you know how to do this?” Nicky asked Tara.

  Tara tugged at her floppy red hat with both hands. “No way.”

  “I think I messed up,” Nicky said. He moved my hand and forced me to erase half the equation.

  Kids were mumbling to themselves in shock. They knew I'd never messed up an equation in my life.

  “Now what?” Nicky said to Tara.

  “Why are you asking me?” Tara snapped.

  I couldn't take it anymore. “Shut up!” I screamed. “Both of you—shut up!”

  Ms. McDonald and Mrs. Wright both gasped.

  “Max—I am shocked at you. That's no way to talk to the principal and me!” Ms. McDonald exclaimed.

  Mrs. Wright glared at me angrily. “Max, you and I need to have a long talk about politeness. I'll see you right now. In my office.”

  14

  MRS. WRIGHT AND I had a very long talk about politeness. Only, she did all the talking. I didn't get out of her office until lunchtime.

  Kids were laughing and shouting in the halls. Lockers slammed. The line was already a mile long in the lunchroom. I looked for Aaron, but I couldn't find him.

  “Hey, Max—shut up!” a kid from my class named Wilson Grant shouted across the hall at me. A bunch of kids laughed.

  “Yeah, shut up, Brainimon!” another kid echoed. They all laughed again.

  So, I was the joke of the day. The Shut Up Kid. Ha, ha. Remind me to laugh someday.

  I picked up a tray in the lunchroom and chose a bowl of the tomato soup and a slice of pizza, and a carton of chocolate milk. I was paying for my lunch when Nicky and Tara appeared.

  “Sorry about this morning,” Nicky said. “I thought I knew how to do that equation.” He scratched his spikey brown hair. “Maybe I knew it when I was alive.”

  “Go away,” I said, looking for an empty chair. “You got me into major trouble. Let me eat my lunch—alone.”

  “There's your girlfriend,” Tara said. She pointed to Traci, seated at the cool kids' table on the side.

  “She's not my girlfriend,” I said. “Please—go away.”

  “Go talk to her,” Tara said. “There's an empty seat across from her.”

  “I can't sit there. That's the cool kids' table,” I said.

  Some kids turned to stare at me. I'm sure they wondered why I was standing in the middle of the lunchroom talking to myself.

  “You know you want to talk to Traci,” Nicky said. “Come on. You've got to be brave, Max—if you're ever going to help us find our mom and dad.”

  “Let go of me!” I shouted.

  More kids turned to stare.

  Nicky and Tara grabbed me under the arms and moved me toward Traci's table. I gripped the tray tightly in both hands. I tried to pull free.

  Despite my struggle to get loose, the two ghosts carried me all the way to Traci. They let go without warning. I lost my balance and tumbled forward. The tray flew from my hands—and sailed upside down onto Traci.

  Traci's hands flew up and she let out a scream as the tomato soup poured down the front of her T-shirt and vest. The pizza slice landed in her lap.

  Kids gasped. The other kids at Traci's table leaped away.

  I stared at her as she pulled the pizza off her legs. Long strands of cheese stuck to her jeans.

  My whole body was trembling. I took a deep breath. I figured I didn't have anything to lose. “Traci, will you be my assistant in my magic show?” I blurted out.

  Her mouth dropped open. She squinted at me. “Okay, fine,” she said, tugging cheese from her jeans. “If you promise never to come near me again.”

  “Awesome!” I said. I staggered away. Was I hearing right? Did she really say yes?

  “See?” Tara said, back at my side, a big grin under the red flap of her hat. “Nicky and I are improving your life already!”

  “Shut up!” I cried.

  I didn't see Mrs. Wright standing beside me. She shook her head angrily. “Max, I guess we didn't have a long enough chat this morning. See you in my office after sch
ool. And maybe we should have your parents in too.”

  15

  AS I SLUNK DOWN the long hall to the principal's office, Nicky and Tara appeared beside me. “Go away,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “We're sorry,” Nicky said. “We only tried to help.”

  “Yes, we're sorry. We'll do a better job this afternoon,” Tara said. “You'll see.”

  “No, I won't see,” I said. Two kids from my class turned to see who I was talking to. “Go home,” I told the two ghosts. “Everyone is staring at me. Please—wait for me in my room. Don't go anywhere. I mean it. Wait for me there. We have to have a long talk.”

  They both had hurt expressions on their faces. “You don't want us to help you in gym class?” Nicky asked.

  “Just wait for me in my room,” I snapped. I spun away and strode into the principal's office for my second lecture of the day.

  By the time Mrs. Wright let me go home, the sun was setting. A cold October wind whistled down from the hills above school.

  I zipped up my purple and gray Jefferson Middle School jacket, a hand-me-down from Colin. And hunching into the wind, I started to climb the hill toward home.

  I really am hamburger meat now, I thought bitterly. When Mom and Dad find out they have to come to school for a talk with the principal, I'm totally busted.

  They might even ground me for Halloween. I won't get to perform my magic act, which I've been practicing day and night for at least a year. And I won't have Traci as my assistant.

  And then they'll send me to the Plover School, where I'll have to wear an ugly starched uniform and do sit-ups every morning till I barf.

  And is it my fault?

  No way.

  Can I help it if I'm being haunted by two stupid ghosts?

  A shiver ran down my body. From the wind? Or from knowing that I was being haunted by two dead kids? Two dead kids who followed me everywhere and wouldn't leave me alone. Two dead kids who wanted me to help them.

  I didn't want to help them. I didn't want to be haunted.

  Why was I the only one who could see and hear them? How could I be so unlucky?

  How could I get rid of them?

  A red SUV rumbled past. The back window rolled down. A kid stuck out his head and shouted, “Shut up! Shut up!” Laughing, he rolled up the window.

  That's me. Mr. Shut Up.

  The bare trees rattled over my head. The ground was crunchy from an early frost.

  Almost Halloween, I thought. My favorite holiday. But … it won't be any fun for me this year.

  I didn't see the squirrel until I turned onto Bleek Street.

  It was a scrawny brown squirrel, and it seemed to be following me. It gazed up at me with its black eyes, twitching its nose as it kept in step with me.

  I stopped and waved both hands in a shooing motion. “Scat. Get lost!” I shouted.

  To my surprise, the squirrel hopped even closer. It stood right at my feet.

  “Go away! Get lost!”

  But the squirrel wasn't afraid of me. It stood its ground.

  And then the squirrel's jaws opened wide. I stared in amazement as a sticky black goo came spewing out of its mouth—onto my shoes. I tried to jump back. But the goo was as thick as tar and held me in place.

  The squirrel spewed up more black tar, covering my feet completely. And then, to my horror, the little animal exploded. It blew apart—fur and bones and squirrel guts flying all around me. The two little eyeballs bounced and rolled down the hill.

  I felt sick. I doubled over and grabbed my churning stomach—and saw a big blob of the black goo at my feet begin to move. It floated up and dissolved into a heavy gray fog.

  And in the fog, I saw a ghostly figure—a man in a long black cloak. He moved forward quickly, a black shadow against the billowing gray mist.

  “Remember me, Max?” he shouted in a booming voice that made the trees rattle even harder.

  Huh? I was too terrified to speak. I just stood there gaping up at him.

  “Of course you don't remember me. I clouded your memory,” he said, floating closer. “Well, let me give you a little reminder of what I can do. Ever go to the dentist, Max? Ever had all your teeth drilled at once?”

  “Who are you?” I shrieked. I tried to run, but the black goo over my shoes held me in place. “Leave me alone!”

  He smiled an ugly smile. Then, with a wave of his hand, the pain began.

  It felt like dentist drills, whirring and whistling, digging deep, digging into all my teeth at once.

  “Ow! Please—stop! Oh no! It hurts! It hurts! Stop!”

  16

  MY HEAD EXPLODED IN pain.

  No way to escape it … the hot, sharp drilling … in all my teeth! The horrifying sound rose like a shrill siren. Steam poured from my open mouth.

  “Ohhhhh.” I shut my eyes and grabbed the sides of my face.

  “Stop—please!” The raging pain seared through my head, into my brain. I could feel my face swell up like a balloon. I opened my mouth to scream, but the whistle of the invisible drills drowned out all sound.

  I fell to the ground, pulled free of the black goo, and began rolling in the grass, still holding the sides of my face.

  Finally, the drilling stopped.

  The sudden silence seemed so loud.

  My face pounded and ached. I tried to blink away the dizziness.

  “Now let me introduce myself,” the ghostly figure's voice boomed from inside his dark storm cloud. “My name is Phears, and I am the Animal-Traveler.”

  I buried my face under my arms, wishing him away, wishing the pain would stop.

  “Where are they?” Phears demanded, hovering over me. “I know they are with you. Don't lie to me.”

  I kept my face covered and my eyes shut. My mind whirred. Phears. He said his name is Phears. He's the guy Nicky and Tara are looking for.

  And he must be looking for them.

  But he's terrifying. He's totally evil. Should I tell him Nicky and Tara are looking for him? Should I tell him they're in my room?

  “I…I…” My voice came out in a faint whisper. I opened my eyes and peeked up at him through my hands. I couldn't see his face. It was covered in swirls of fog. But I could see two pale eyes glowing angrily at me.

  My ears still whistled from the roar of the drills. I slid my tongue back and forth over my teeth. Were they full of holes?

  “I must see Nicky and Tara Roland,” Phears said. “Can you help me find them, Max? I only want to talk with them.”

  “I…I…”

  “Stop stammering, Max!” Phears boomed. “I'm tired of playing nice with you.”

  Playing nice?

  “You know where they are!” Phears shouted. “Tell me where they're hiding.”

  Should I tell him?

  No. He didn't want to help them. He wanted to hurt them. I knew it.

  “No,” I said. “I … can't help you. I …”

  “Let me help you remember,” Phears said. He raised a shadowy hand. The shrill siren whirred to life inside my head. The drills bore down again.

  My mouth shot open in pain. Gobs of saliva poured down my chin.

  Choking, I buried my head in my hands. I tried to hold my head together. But I knew it was about to explode—just like that poor squirrel!

  “Okay. Okay!” I screamed, holding my head. “I know them! I know where they are! Please— make it stop!”

  Everything went bright red, then black. I may have fainted. I'm not sure. When I opened my eyes, my mouth ached but the drilling had stopped.

  Phears hovered over me, floating in his dark storm cloud. “Now we're getting somewhere. Where are they hiding?”

  He raised his hand, ready to start the drills again.

  “No. Please—” I said. “They're looking for you. They're in my bedroom right now.”

  “Liar!” Phears cried. “I've already searched your bedroom. I didn't find any sign of them.” He raised his hand menacingly.

  “Sometimes they'
re invisible. But they're both in my bedroom right now!” I screamed. “They want to see you. I promise. You'll find them there.”

  Phears stared at me for a long moment. “They want to see me? How bizarre.” He turned away quickly. Then his body melted into a heavy gray mist.

  I saw a brown and black chipmunk scampering down the hill toward me. It darted one way, then the other as it came near. It ran right into the mist. And with a loud whoooosh, the gray fog shot into the little creature's mouth as if the chipmunk was drinking up the fog.

  I climbed slowly to my feet. I watched the chip-munk's whole body shudder. I knew Phears was inside it now. And I knew where he was heading.

  To my house. To my bedroom.

  The two ghosts would soon be gone. My life would return to normal.

  Did I feel good about it?

  Not exactly. I felt like a rat.

  I clicked my teeth together. They seemed to be okay. But just remembering the pain of those invisible drills made my stomach tighten and my heart start to pound.

  I had no choice. Phears was going to destroy me. I had to tell him where Nicky and Tara were hiding. Besides, they couldn't wait to see Phears. Maybe I helped them after all. Maybe I did a goodthing. Maybe …

  I took my time getting home. I walked as slowly as I could. I didn't want Phears to still be there when I arrived.

  One of our neighbors had raked his leaves down to the street. I walked slowly through the pile, kicking up leaves as I walked.

  Then I stopped to wave to Edgar. The Swansons' black cat sat on his usual perch in their front window. I waved and called his name. I think he was glad to see me. It's hard to tell with cats.

  Finally, I let myself into the house through the kitchen door. “Anyone home?” I called.

  No reply.

  Too early for Mom and Dad to be home. Colin was probably at school practicing with the basketball team.

  I made my way to the stairs. “Anyone up there?” I called, cupping my hands around my mouth.

  Again, no answer.

  I climbed the stairs slowly. My legs felt a little shaky, and my mouth suddenly got dry. “Hey— anyone?” I shouted.

  I stepped into my room—and let out a horrified cry.