Have You Met My Ghoulfriend? (6 page)

“Jabba gubba jabba gubba!”

He picked himself up, slammed himself into the front of the oven, bounced off, and then ran around the kitchen counter, flapping his arms like a bird.

“Do something!” Mom screamed. “He's gone crazy!
Do
something!”

F
INALLY,
D
AD GRABBED
C
OLIN
around the chest and forced him to stop. Dad is built like a truck. He has big, powerful arms, and he held on to Colin, held him in place and wouldn't let him take another step.

“Jabba,” Colin said. But it came out in a weak whisper. “Jabba.”

And then my brother seemed to collapse. He just folded up with Dad holding him. And I thought I saw the yellow glow fade from Colin's eyes. A sound floated from his throat like air escaping a balloon.

I felt a whoosh of air over me. It fluttered my hair. And I felt a breeze pushing lightly against the side of my face, like someone blowing into my ear.

Weird.

“Colin?” Dad asked breathlessly. His face was bright red. His muscles bulged as he held on to my brother. “Colin? Are you finished?”

Mom stood next to me, trembling. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Colin? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fine,” he said in his normal voice. “What's up?”

Dad slowly let go of him. “At least he's speaking again,” he said to Mom.

“Speaking? Why wouldn't I speak?” Colin asked, confused. He raised his eyes to me. “What's up with this, Maxie? What did you do to me?”

“Hey—no way,” I said. “No way you're blaming me.”

“Blaming you for what?” Colin asked, scratching his head. I don't think he remembered anything.

“You just went totally berserk,” I told him. “Look at this kitchen. You did all that.”

Blinking as if he was just waking up, Colin gazed around the room. “Wow. What a mess.”

“You were running around the room, acting totally wacko,” I said.

Colin squinted at me. “Yes. I kinda remember now. I wasn't in control. I couldn't stop myself. Did you hypnotize me? Is that what made me do it? You and your crazy magic tricks. Did you hypnotize me?”

Mom and Dad turned their eyes on me.

“Hel-lo. Did I go near you this morning?” I said. “I don't think so.” They were always ready to blame me. “I just do simple tricks,” I said. “I don't know how to hypnotize anyone.”

“I think we need to get Colin to Dr. Welles'
office,” Mom said. She felt his forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

“No, Mom.” Colin pulled away. “I feel fine now. I don't need a doctor.”

“But how do you explain your behavior?” Dad asked, scratching his bald head.

Colin shrugged. “I just felt strange. Like I was sleepwalking or something.”

That answer seemed okay to Mom and Dad. Mom bent down and started to pick up the broken glass from the coffeemaker. “Better hurry to school, boys. It's very late.”

I picked up my backpack and ran to the front closet to get my jacket. As I slid into the jacket, I glimpsed myself in the mirror on the closet door.

That wasn't a yellow glow in my eyes—
was
it?

No. It must have been sunlight reflecting from the living room window.

I
MET
A
ARON IN
the hall at school. Aaron has long curly red hair and freckles. Teachers always tell him he looks like Huck Finn. But we don't know if that's good or bad.

Aaron wears baggy brown cargo shorts to school every day. He even wears shorts on the coldest, snowiest days of the winter.

Why?

He says, “No reason.”

But I know the reason—it's because he thinks he has great-looking legs.

One of the other weird things about Aaron is that he never does his schoolwork. He says he comes to school to learn things, not to do a lot of work.

Mom and Dad don't want me to hang around with Aaron. They say he's a bad influence. But I don't think he's an influence at all. I think he's just a good friend.

“What are you doing for after-school?” Aaron asked.

After-school? I totally forgot. We have a new program at Jefferson Elementary. Twice a week we have to stay after school and do some activity.

I sighed. “I got signed up for soccer.”

Aaron shook his head. “You'll get creamed.”

“I know,” I said. “Colin makes me practice soccer with him in the backyard. Mainly, he uses me for target practice. He just keeps kicking the ball at me until I'm a five-foot-four bruise.”

Aaron patted me on the shoulder. “Dude. This afternoon. Bring a lot of Band-Aids.”

We started toward Ms. McDonald's class. “What are you doing for after-school?” I asked.

“Internet chess.”

“Excuse me?” I stopped him. “You don't play chess, remember?”

“I know. But I can just pretend I'm planning my next move and stare at the screen till it's time to go home.”

See? Aaron's got it all worked out.

We stepped into the classroom. Traci Wayne looked up when I walked in. She quickly lowered her eyes to the book she was reading.

I glanced toward the front. Ms. McDonald wasn't there. Kids were perched on the windowsills, laughing and talking. A couple of guys were heaving a lunch box back and forth across the room, playing keep-away from another boy. Robby Marx was showing off some new kind of
dance move, making hip-hop beats with his mouth.

Giggling, two girls chased a boy, pinned him to the chalkboard, and grabbed a notebook from his hand. “Give it back!” he screamed, and chased them to the back of the room.

Justin Freed, the kid who sits next to me in the back row, slapped me a hard high five. “What's up, Max?”

Before I could answer, Ms. McDonald stepped into the room. She is my favorite teacher of all time. She is very young and very cool-looking. She always wears sweaters and faded jeans to school. She has bright blue eyes, long, curly black hair, and an awesome smile.

But she wasn't smiling this morning. She was holding her head with both hands. “Quiet, please!” she shouted. “Quiet! I mean it. Quiet!”

The two boys gave the lunch box one last toss. The kids on the windowsills jumped off and slid into their seats. The girls gave the boy his notebook back and hurried to sit down.

“I have a splitting headache this morning,” Ms. McDonald said, groaning. Still holding her head, she dropped into her desk chair. “I don't want to hear a cough or a whisper or a pin drop. I need total silence.”

Traci raised her hand. “Aren't we going to read our book reports?”

Ms. McDonald shook her head. “We're not going to do anything out loud. We're going to have quiet reading—
very
quiet reading until my headache goes away. Everyone understand? Don't say yes. Just nod.”

We all nodded. Then there was a lot of soft chair scraping and backpack rustling as we all pulled out books for quiet reading.

Holding her head, Ms. McDonald stared down at her desk. Everyone started to read. The room grew silent, so silent I could hear birds chirping outside.

“Very good, class,” Ms. McDonald said. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

And that's when I suddenly went berserk.

B
EFORE
I
EVEN REALIZED
it, I jumped from my seat. I pumped my fists in the air and let out a deafening cry.

Ms. McDonald gasped and squinted across the room at me. “Max? What are you doing?”

I let out another high scream.

I couldn't answer her question. I didn't know
what
I was doing.

I only knew I wasn't in control.

“Sit down, Max. That's not funny,” the teacher groaned, holding her head.

“Gubba hubbba?” I said. “Gubbba gubbba hubbba!”

Why was I jabbering like that?

I wanted to sit down. But I couldn't. I took off, running around the room, flapping my arms like a bird.

“Whoooooeeeee!”
I opened my mouth in an endless scream.

When I reached the front of the room, I did a high cartwheel. (I'd never done a cartwheel in my
life!) As I came down, I kicked over the trash can with both feet. It banged noisily against the wall and rolled into Ms. McDonald's desk.

“Max—control yourself!” she screamed.

But I couldn't. I turned another cartwheel. Then I cut the air with a few karate kicks. I circled the room twice, running wildly. As I ran, I grabbed the paintings and posters off the walls and tossed them behind me on the floor.

Kids were gasping and screaming. I saw Traci gaping at me in horror, her mouth dropped open to her knees! Aaron looked a bit confused too.

“Ohhh, my headache …,” Ms. McDonald groaned. “Somebody—stop him!”

I banged my head on the chalkboard. I spun away, up to Ms. McDonald's desk.

I can't stop! Help me! I can't stop!

That's what I
wanted
to scream. But instead, it came out, “Jabba jabbba gummma!”

And then, to my horror, I turned my back to Ms. McDonald. I stuck out my butt and started to shimmy and shake it like a dancer in an MTV hiphop video.

That got everyone laughing and screaming.

Ms. McDonald shot around her desk and grabbed me by the arms. “Stop it, Max. Stop it!”

But I was still shimmying and shaking my butt when Mrs. Wright, the principal, stepped into the room.

Her mouth dropped open, and a loud gurgling noise came from her throat. Her face turned purple with anger. “Are we having dancing lessons?” she finally choked out. “What is all the uproar in this room?”

“I … uh … I'm just practicing for the homecoming dance,” I said.

Hey!
I could talk again!

And I had stopped shimmying. My heart pounded like a drum in my chest. Sweat poured down my face. I felt dizzy. But at least I had stopped going crazy.

“Max is having a problem this morning,” Ms. McDonald explained. She turned to me. “Max, what on earth—?”

“I … I can explain,” I stammered.

Everyone in the room stared at me. I wiped sweat off my forehead with my T-shirt sleeve.

“You'd better have a good explanation for going wild like that,” Mrs. Wright said.

“Yes. I have a very good explanation,” I said, still catching my breath.

And I did. I knew exactly what my problem was. I was possessed.

I didn't forget the threat that Phears had made. He promised to bring a Berserker Ghoul to ruin my life. He said the ghoul would drive me crazy. Phears said I would beg him to get rid of it, even if it meant becoming Phears' slave.

Well, Phears had kept his promise.

Now I also knew what was wrong with Colin this morning. The ghoul possessed Colin first because he was sleeping in my bed. Then it probably realized its mistake.

But it was inside me now. I could feel it in there, making my arms and legs heavy. Making my muscles twitch. Putting a yellow tint on everything I saw.

What should I do?

I decided to tell the truth.

“Mrs. Wright, please let me explain,” I said in a shaky voice. “I'm really sorry I freaked out. But I can't help it. I'm possessed by some kind of ghoul. It's called a Berserker Ghoul, and it took over my body and made me go berserk. I had no control at all.”

Breathing hard, I stared at her. “Do you believe me? Please say you believe me.”

Mrs. Wright stared back at me. Holding her head, Ms. McDonald stared at her. The kids were all staring at me too. Except for Aaron, who stared out the window.

“Do you believe me?
Do
you?”

“Of course I believe you,” Mrs. Wright said. “It makes perfect sense to me.”

“I
ALSO BELIEVE THAT
SpongeBob can really talk underwater,” Mrs. Wright said. “And of course I believe that Superman can fly in real life.”

I swallowed. “Oh. I get it.”

“Yes, you
are
going to get it,” Mrs. Wright said, taking me by the arm. “Unless you have a better explanation.”

“Uh … would you believe too many Cocoa Puffs for breakfast? You know. All that sugar.”

“Sorry. Come with me.”

She half pulled, half dragged me to her office. “Max, are you back again?” Ms. Harold, the assistant principal, asked.

“It's all a big mistake,” I said.

Mrs. Wright led me into her office and pointed to the couch at the far wall. “Have a seat, Max. In a moment, you and I will have a nice long chat.”

I dropped down onto the couch. Mrs. Wright stood at her desk, sifting through a stack of pink phone messages.

My mind raced. What could I tell her?

I needed a better explanation. Something better than the truth. Of course she didn't believe I was possessed by a ghoul. Who would believe
that
? I needed something simpler.

And at that instant, Nicky and Tara appeared. “Hi, Max.” They both waved and sat down on the edges of Mrs. Wright's desk.

“What are
you
doing here?” I asked.

“It's my office,” Mrs. Wright said. “Why wouldn't I be here?”

“Sorry we haven't been around,” Nicky said. “We've been out searching for clues about Mom and Dad.”

“We need your help, Max,” Tara said.

“I can't help you now,” I said.

“I don't need help,” Mrs. Wright said. “I'm just looking through all these phone messages.”

Tara slid off the desk and tugged my hand. “Come on, Max. Nicky and I want to show you something.”

“Let go of me!” I said.

Mrs. Wright looked up from her messages. “Excuse me?”

“Uh … a very big mosquito,” I said. “It wouldn't let go of my hand.” I gave my hand a hard slap. “There. Got it.”

“We found a note from our mother,” Nicky said. “You've got to help us figure out what it means.”

“Can't you see I'm a little busy?” I said.

Mrs. Wright slammed the messages onto her desktop and glared at me. “Max, I'm being very patient with you, but—”

“Come on. Come on.” Tara tugged me again. “We need you more than she does.”

“Come with us, Max. Hurry.” Nicky pulled me by my other hand.

“Please—just shut up!” I cried.

“Okay, that does it,” Mrs. Wright said through gritted teeth. “I'm calling your parents.”

Mrs. Wright and I then had a very long chat. She did most of the talking. She wanted to know why I went berserk in class, and I couldn't think of anything to tell her.