Ghouls Gone Wild (5 page)

“I guess I'll be grounded in my room for the rest of my life,” I said.

“You got that right,” she said through clenched teeth.

I trudged up to my room. “Nicky? Tara? Where are you?” I demanded. “Why did you do that? Why did you get me into so much trouble?”

To my surprise, they appeared in front of my bed.

Tara blinked several times. “We're back,” she said, tugging at her red hat.

“How long have we been gone?” Nicky asked, blinking, gazing around the room.

“Why did you drop that pie on Mr. Marvin?” I screamed. “I know you don't want the Marvins to buy the house. But you can't
do
that!”

Tara got this innocent look on her face. “Pie? We didn't drop any pie on anybody,” she said.

“We've been gone,” Nicky said. “We were asleep or something. You know. Off in Ghost Land. We just got back.”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up,” I said. “Just shut up. I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to stop us from moving. But it won't work!”

“Sit down, Max,” Nicky said. He guided me to the bed and pushed me onto it. “Sit down. Take a breath.”

“We know who's been doing these things to the Marvins,” Tara said. “It isn't us.”

Nicky shook his head. His expression suddenly turned grim. “Max, you have other visitors,” he said.

T
HE TWO GHOSTS SAT
beside me on the edge of the bed. “We have bad news, Max,” Tara said.

I swallowed. I thought about the boy in black with the face that kept changing.
“More
ghosts have come to haunt me?” I asked.

“Worse,” Tara murmured. “Much worse.”

“There are
ghouls
in the house,” Nicky said. “Two of them.”

“We saw them,” Tara said. “I tried to take a photo of them with my cell phone, to show you. But my cell phone is dead.”

“And ghouls don't show up in photos,” Nicky added.

“Very helpful,” I said.

Tara shrugged. “Well, I tried.”

I took a deep breath. “Two ghouls? What are they doing here?” I cried. “What do they want? Why did they pick me?”

“Who knows?” Tara answered.

“They're being ghoulish,” Nicky replied. “That's what ghouls do.”

“But—but—how do we get rid of them?” I asked.

“We can't,” Nicky said.

My heart skipped a beat. “Huh? We can't?”

“Well,
you
can't,” Tara said. “It's too dangerous for you. Because you're alive. Living humans should not mess with ghouls.”

“Tara and I will have to do the dirty job,” Nicky said. “Maybe tonight.” He shivered.

“Is it…dangerous?” I asked.

They both nodded.

“It won't be easy,” Nicky said in a whisper.

“Let me show you something, Maxie,” Tara said. She vanished for a moment. When she returned, she was holding a large book.

She handed it to me. It was very old and dusty. I couldn't read the title on the front. It had been smudged out.

I held it in both hands and flipped through the pages. They were yellowed and crumbling. The book smelled like a dusty old attic.

I handed it back to Tara. “What is it?” I brushed the dust off my hands.

“It's a book of ancient sorcery and magic spells,” Tara said. “I found it in the basement of the big library downtown. Maybe I can find a spell to help us.”

I stared at the old book. “Magic spells? For real?”

Tara dropped the book onto the bed and opened it. It had tiny type up and down the pages, and weird-looking drawings and diagrams.

“I've really gotten into these ancient spells,” Tara said. “Mom and Dad went away to find something that will bring our family back to life. Well, maybe I can find a spell in this old book to help them.”

“It's a mysterious book,” Nicky said, flipping pages. “Tara has found all kinds of spells for bringing objects to life. But maybe there's one in here that can bring
humans
back to life!”

“But…but what about the ghouls?” I said. “Do you think you can find a magic spell to chase the ghouls away?”

Tara bit her bottom lip. “That's what I was hoping…”

I gazed down at the crumbling old book. “You really think the spells in here work?”

“Of course,” Tara said. “Why put them in a book if they don't work?” She turned a few pages. “Hey, I know. Let's try one!”

“Whoa. Hold on.” Nicky backed away. “It could be dangerous, Tara.”

She made a face at him. “Nicky, we're already
dead.
Remember? So how dangerous could it be?” She ran her finger down a column of tiny type.

Nicky tried to take the book from her. “Maybe you should study it more first.”

Tara tugged it back. “You're such a worry-wart, Nicky. I'll do something simple. You don't have to be scared.”

Nicky sighed. “That's what Mom always called me. A worrywart,” he said softly. “I wish we knew when Mom and Dad were coming back. I sure miss them.”

Tara wasn't listening. She was studying the spell book. “Here. I found one,” she said. “Max, you can help me. Hold the book up while I recite the spell.” She shoved it into my hands.

“Listen, guys,” I said. “I know you two want to be alive again. But I'm not sure this spell thing is such a cool idea.”

“No one asked you, Max,” Tara said. “Just hold the book.”

She dragged me over to my bookshelf. “What are these action figures?” She pointed.

“Star Wars
characters,” I said. “That's Darth Vader. That's C-3PO. They're very rare and very valuable.”

“Watch. I'm going to bring them to life,” Tara said.

“Are you
crazy?”
I cried. “I don't want Darth Vader walking around my room! He's totally
evil
—remember?”

“Max, don't worry,” Nicky said. “It won't work. No way. Let Tara have her fun.”

Tara punched Nicky hard in the chest. “Thanks for the support.”

“Support? Oooh, big word for a little girl,” Nicky said. He punched her in the arm.

She punched him in the stomach.

He punched her in the back. Then he grabbed her hat off her head and tossed it across my room.

“Uh…guys,” I said. “Guys…?”

Pushing back her hair, Tara turned to me. “Ignore him, Max. Once I master these spells, I'm going to bring
myself
back to life, and he can stay a ghost. Forever.” She stuck her tongue out at her brother. Then she turned back to the action figures.

“Here. Just do C-3PO,” I said. “He's harmless.” I hid Darth Vader in the top drawer.

Tara bent over the book. “Hold it up higher. I can't see it.”

I held the book higher. It was heavy. My arms started to ache. “Hope it's a short spell,” I muttered.

“Shhh.” Tara gave me a shove. “I have to concentrate.”

“Concentrate on being a moron,” Nicky said.

Tara glanced at him. “If this spell works, who will be the moron?”

“You,” he said.

Tara turned back to the book and started to chant the words of the spell in a low whisper.

I struggled to hold the heavy book steady. I had one eye on Tara and one eye on the little C-3PO.

Tara squinted hard at the tiny type in the old book. Her lips moved rapidly as she whispered the ancient words.

My arms ached so badly, I thought I might drop the book.

Finally, she finished. She took the book from my hands.

All three of us stared at the action figure. I held my breath. And waited.

And after a few seconds, a strange, frightening rumbling sound rose up from the dresser.

“Oh, wow. I don't
believe
it!” I cried.

T
HE RUMBLING SOUND
grew louder.

I jumped back, my heart pounding. I saw the frightened looks on Nicky's and Tara's faces.

Another low rumble.

“Max?” Mom's voice rang out from downstairs. “What's that weird noise up there?”

“Uh…it's my stomach,” I shouted. “Too much pepperoni on my pizza at lunch!”

Another rumble. The floor trembled.

“Well, go to the bathroom!” Mom shouted.

That's Mom's solution for any problem, whether it makes sense or not. If I say, “Mom, I have a headache,” she says go to the bathroom. If I say, “Mom, I broke my arm,” she says go to the bathroom.

“Okay,” I called down.

Another low rumble. And then the dresser started to move.

I saw it shake. It tilted a bit. The C-3PO figure fell onto its side.

“Oh nooo!” I cried out when I saw the wooden legs of the dresser start to move.

The front legs lifted off the floor. The back legs pushed the dresser forward.

“It—it's moving!” I screamed.

Then the four legs shuffled together, moving like dog legs. The dresser was coming after us!

Tara jumped back, dropped the book, and clapped her hands to her cheeks. “But—but—the action figure!” she cried.

“Forget the action figure,” Nicky said. “You brought the
dresser
to life!”

T
HUD.
T
HUD.
T
HUD.

The dresser took slow, steady,
heavy
steps forward.

“Stop it! Stop it! Do something!” I shouted.

“Wh-wh-wh—” For once, Tara was speechless.

“The spell!” Nicky cried. “Read the spell again! Try it! Go ahead!”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The dresser was in the center of the room now. Moving toward the doorway.

“I—I can't believe it worked!” Tara finally found her voice. She grinned. “Hey, am I powerful or what?”

“Just stop it!”
I cried.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

She picked up the book and opened it. She raised it close to her face. Her lips started moving as she whispered the ancient words once again.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The drawers bounced as the dresser made its way to the bedroom door.

Tara finished reading the spell and slammed the book shut. And with the
clap
of the book closing, the dresser stopped.

We stared at it in silence, not breathing.

It didn't move.

It was no longer alive.

Nicky's whole body shook. “Th-that was terrifying!” he said.

“It was horrible!” I cried.

“That was
outstanding!”
Tara exclaimed. “I can't wait to try it again!”

“Max—what's all the racket?” Mom shouted from downstairs. “It sounds like the house is coming down!”

“I…uh…fell!” I said. “I think I hurt my leg.”

“Go to the bathroom!” she shouted.

T
HE NEXT AFTERNOON
was cloudy and cool. A strong breeze blew against Quentin and me as we jogged out to the playground for recess.

“When can I come over to show you some magic tricks?” Quentin asked.

“Maybe tomorrow. I'll ask my mom again,” I said.

Most of the kids in our class joined in a dodge-ball game on the basketball court behind the school. Quentin and I leaned against the wall and watched.

Kids screamed and laughed. They tried to twist and squirm out of the way of the ball. The Wilbur brothers—Willy and Billy—are the champs at dodgeball. That's because they're the meanest kids in school.

They heave the ball into kids’ guts so hard, the poor kids walk bent over for the rest of the day! Usually, a good shot in the stomach from the Wilbur brothers means you don't breathe for at least an hour.

When they knock someone out, Willy and Billy go crazy, laughing and slapping each other high fives. They think dodgeball is all about breaking ribs and collapsing lungs.

Do you get the idea that this is
not
my favorite sport?

That's why Quentin and I were watching from the sidelines. We listened to the screams and cries of pain. And we watched kids get hit and go down and lie on the ground groaning and moaning.

Quentin pulled out his deck of cards. “Here's a new trick you'll like, Max,” he said. But before he could start, Coach Freeley appeared.

Coach Freeley is our coach and gym teacher. He's built like a tank. He's very short and very wide, with bulging muscles everywhere you can have muscles.

The girls all like him because he's young, and he has lots of wavy black hair and a flashy smile.

He wasn't smiling at Quentin and me.

“You two loafers,” he barked, “get in the game!”

“Uh…I'm not allowed to play this sport,” I told him. “I can't be hit by a ball. I'm allergic to rubber. My skin breaks out.”

“Remind me to cry later,” Coach Freeley said. He gave us a shove. “No standing around. Get in the game.”

Quentin and I joined the circle of kids. I tried
to use Quentin as a shield, but he danced away from me.

My hands were sweaty. My heart raced. I
hate
this game. It's as bad as being pounded by Colin.

Willy Wilbur heaved the ball at the kid next to me. The kid tried to leap out of the way. The ball slammed hard into his knee. I heard a loud
crack
, and the kid went down howling.

Billy and Willy laughed and congratulated each other.

The ball bounced twice on the pavement and into my hands.

“Heave it, Max!” Quentin shouted.

I pulled back my arm—aimed at Willy Wilbur's gut—and tossed the ball with all my might.

“Oh noooo!”

Too hard. The ball flew over Willy's head and out toward the playground.

No. No. No.

Traci Wayne came walking by. Traci, the most beautiful, hottest, coolest, most awesome girl in school.

Am I in love with Traci? I don't know. I only know I got all out of breath and almost swallowed my tongue twice the last time I tried to talk to her.

Traci came walking by—and the ball hit her smack in the face.

She let out a startled “Huh?” Blood poured from her perfect nose. And she dropped to her
knees in the grass, shaking her blond hair, totally stunned.

“It was an accident!” I shouted. I took off running toward her.

I had been planning to invite her to my birthday party next month.

But maybe this wasn't the best time.

She was holding her head and howling in pain. Blood flowed from her nose, through her fingers.

“An accident,” I choked out. “I wasn't aiming. Really. I don't know my own strength. I'm just too awesomely powerful. That's why I don't play dodgeball. It isn't fair to the others.”