R. L. Stine_Mostly Ghostly 03 (8 page)

I FROZE.

I stared down the hall at the dark mound spread over the floor. I started to shiver and I couldn’t stop.

Finally, gritting my teeth, I forced myself to move. I staggered down the hall. Trembling, I stepped close to the puddle.

“Phoebe?” The name burst from my lips.

But no. The dark heap came into focus. A coat. Someone's winter coat tossed onto the floor.

I opened my mouth and started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. I felt so relieved.

But I cut my celebration short. Mr. Morgo was here. Phoebe was in major danger.

I stepped around the coat and pushed open the doors to the auditorium. I heard voices on the stage.

As I made my way down the aisle, I saw Mrs. Manola, the drama teacher. She was talking to a bunch of kids in a circle around her. They all stood in front of a painted backdrop of big-city skyscrapers.

My eyes followed the circle, and I saw Phoebe near the front. She wore a baggy blue sweater over dark straight-legged jeans.

Running to the stage, I opened my mouth to call to her. But two kids suddenly appeared in front of me, blocking my path.

Nicky and Tara!

“What are
you
doing here?” I cried.

Mrs. Manola turned and looked down from the stage. “We’re rehearsing a play, Max,” she said.

The kids all turned and stared at me.

“Maxie, we need to talk to you,” Tara said, pulling my parka sleeve.

“You shouldn’t be here!” I told her.

The kids onstage laughed. Mrs. Manola narrowed her eyes at me. “We shouldn’t be? Well, what are
you
doing here, Max?”

“We’re going to Doom House,” Tara said.

“Don’t go there!” I said.

The kids laughed again.

Mrs. Manola walked to the edge of the stage and peered down at me. “I have to ask you to leave, Max.”

I turned to Nicky and Tara. “Can’t you see I’m busy now?”

Mrs. Manola's expression turned angry. “
We’re
the ones who are busy. You’re interrupting our play rehearsal. Please leave, Max.”

“Listen to me. We have to go to Doom House,”
Nicky said. “If the ghosts there are real, maybe they can help us find our parents.”

“No. It's too dangerous,” I said.

Mrs. Manola frowned at me. “Too dangerous to leave the auditorium?”

“We have to take the chance,” Nicky said. “We’re going there. We’re desperate.”

“Max, you don’t belong here. I’m asking you politely to leave,” Mrs. Manola said.

“Please don’t go there!” I said.

Nicky and Tara waved good-bye and vanished.

It took me a few seconds to realize the kids on the stage were all laughing at me.

“Max, you’re being very rude,” Mrs. Manola said.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking to you,” I said.

She glanced around the auditorium. “Well, who were you talking to? Ghosts?”

Big laughter onstage.

“Well … actually …,” I started. But I realized I didn’t have time to waste. I turned away from Mrs. Manola. “Phoebe, I have to talk to you.”

Phoebe let out a cry of surprise. “Me?”

I started to call her down to the auditorium floor. But a loud sizzling sound made me stop.

A wave of heat rolled over me, hot enough to make my skin prickle. “Whoa.” I unzipped my parka.

“It's getting very hot in here,” Mrs. Manola said, shaking her head. She stared at the radiator. “Where is all that heat coming from?”

Kids started to groan and complain as the temperature rose. Sweat poured down their faces. Behind them, I saw the painted backdrop start to droop.

“The furnace must be going berserk,” Mrs. Manola said, fanning herself with her clipboard.

But I knew differently.

I felt another blast of heat on my back. I spun around and saw Mr. Morgo standing behind me. He had a strange tight smile on his face.

“Mr. Morgo—please!” I cried. But he ignored me. He walked right through me, and my body heaved as if on fire.

I knew I was the only one who could see him. But what could I do? I watched helplessly as he floated up to the stage.

“I’m tired of racing around from place to place,” he said. “I’ve been following you, Max. I knew you’d lead me to the stolen life pods. But I’m sick of searching.”

Only I heard him.

And only I saw him raise both hands and point them toward the kids onstage.

And only I knew what he planned to do—melt everyone in sight.

“MORGO—STOP!” I SHOUTED.

Kids stared down at me.

“Max, who are you talking to?” Mrs. Manola demanded. Her hair drooped wetly over her face. The front of her turtleneck sweater was stained with sweat.

Several kids dropped to their knees, unable to stand the burning heat. But the stage floor was hot, and they jumped right back up.

Steam hissed on the stage and out over the rows of seats.

Morgo held his hands high. His features were set in an angry scowl. He waved his right hand—and the backdrop started to melt.

Kids screamed and scampered away from it.

The skyscrapers appeared to fold. The backdrop curled wetly to the stage floor.

“What is
happening
?” Mrs. Manola screamed. “We’d better leave, people. Use the stage door.”

“Don’t let them leave!” Morgo shouted at me.

At the back of the stage, Mrs. Manola grabbed
the doorknob at the exit. She let out a high shriek and jumped back. She shook her hand hard, blowing on it.

“Don’t touch that knob!” she cried to the others. “It's … burning hot!”

Morgo turned to me. “I want those life pods—now,” he said through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to melt your friends, Max.”

“Uh … it would be really great if you didn’t melt them,” I said. “I mean, I’m sure everyone would be really happy not to be melted.”

“Shut up,” Morgo said, shaking his head.

“Oh. Okay. No problem. Really.”

“Shut up and find out who has the stolen pods,” Morgo said. He swung his hand and three folding chairs on the stage melted into dark brown puddles.

Kids screamed. Mrs. Manola had her arms crossed tightly in front of her, as if trying to shield herself.

“Phoebe, I need your help!” I shouted.

Phoebe stared suspiciously at me. “What do you want?”

“You know those metal pendant things that Traci gave you?” I asked. “Do you have them? Could you give them to me?”

Phoebe wiped sweat from her forehead. “No, I couldn’t use them, Max. I don’t have them.”

I saw Morgo tense his hands, preparing to melt everyone.

I turned back to Phoebe. “Well, where are they?” I shouted up to her.

“I returned them to
your
house,” she said.

PHOEBE MUST HAVE RETURNED
them on her way to the play rehearsal at school—while I was searching Traci's house.

Now
what?

I didn’t have long to think about it. Morgo floated off the stage and landed behind me. He grabbed my right arm and twisted it behind my back.

“Ow!” I let out a cry as his touch burned right through my parka sleeve.

Kids onstage were staring at me in disbelief. Why was I twisting my own arm back?

“Let's go, Max,” Morgo said. He gave me a hard shove that sent me staggering. Then he pushed me up the aisle toward the exit.

Kids were shouting and laughing. I guess some of them thought I was clowning around.

But it was no joke.

Morgo held on to me all the way to my house. As we walked, we burned a path in the snow. People in cars stopped to stare at me.

“I want those life pods,” Morgo said as we turned onto Bleek Street.

He pushed me toward the two snowmen on the curb. They both melted as we walked past.

“I … I’ve been trying to get them back for you all morning,” I stammered. “Really. I don’t want them. You can have them.”

My skin throbbed and burned, as if I had a really bad sunburn. We melted a path in the snow up my driveway and to the back of the house.

Please don’t melt me, I thought. I’ll give you back your pods.

But please don’t melt me.

I stamped the snow off my boots and pushed open the kitchen door. Was anyone home?

The house was silent.

I walked into the kitchen and started to pull off my wet boots.

“No time for that,” Morgo said. He gave me another hard shove. His touch made the back of my parka sizzle. “Where are the pods?”

I searched the living room quickly, but I didn’t see them. “Mom probably took them up to my room,” I said.

I led the way upstairs. My heart was thudding like a bass drum. My legs suddenly felt rubbery and weak.

What if Colin was home? What if Phoebe
gave the pods to Colin and he threw them out? What would Morgo do if the pods weren’t here?

I ran into my room and glanced all around. Not on the bed. Not on the chair. Not on the bed table.

“Yes!” I cried out when I saw the six silver pods on my desk next to the computer. “Yes! They’re right here.”

I scooped them into my hands and handed them to Morgo. “Here. Take them.”

He stared at them, his lips moving as he counted them.

“They’re all there,” I said happily. “The life pods. All six of them.”

Morgo raised his eyes to me. “So they are,” he said softly. “So they are.”

“Well … uh … good-bye,” I said. I waved.

“Not so fast,” Morgo said. “Now I’m going to punish you for being a thief.”

“No, wait,” I pleaded, staggering back as Morgo came toward me. “I’m not a thief. Really. I mean, yes, I did take those things. But that doesn’t mean—”

Morgo raised his right hand and I felt a blast of heat sweep over me.

“Please don’t melt me!” I screamed. “Please!”

A cold smile crossed Morgo's face. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he whispered.

THE ROOM GREW HOT
and wet. I saw the windows steam up.

I shut my eyes. And waited for the pain.

Then I heard the thud of footsteps.

I opened my eyes and saw Colin burst into the room. “Think fast!” he shouted.

He heaved a snowball at me. It hit me in the chest and splattered.

Snow sprayed onto Morgo's face. He let out a startled cry. Morgo turned and sent a wave of heat shooting over Colin.

My brother's eyes bulged wide in surprise. His hands shot out. His clothes started to melt.

Morgo frantically brushed snow off his forehead. His face twisted in pain.

He narrowed his eyes at me, gave me an icy stare—and vanished in a puff of white steam.

I turned back to Colin. He stood there quivering in shock—and totally naked! His melted clothes were a red and blue puddle around his bare feet.

“Max—you creep!” he shouted, shaking his fist at me. “How did you do that?”

“Uh … one of my new magic tricks,” I said. “I’m still working on it.”

Colin flashed me one more horrified look. Then he whirled around and ran to his room.

The room quickly cooled off. I took a few deep breaths. My heartbeat started to return to normal.

Mr. Morgo was gone. He had his precious life pods. Did that mean I was safe? Or would he come back to punish me for taking them?

Maybe I was okay for now. But I knew Nicky and Tara weren’t.

I knew that Doom House wasn’t safe. It wasn’t a fake haunted house. Those ghosts were real. They had to be the ghosts that Phears had helped to escape.

Morgo seemed to be their new leader. And let's not kid around—he was evil. The other ghosts were evil too.
No way
would they help Nicky and Tara.

My two friends were walking into a trap.

Could I rescue them from that haunted house? I knew I had to try.

I still had my parka and boots on. I clumped into the hall. I could hear Colin in his room, slamming his dresser drawers, getting dressed again.

I made my way down the steps and headed to the front door. Before I could open the door, Mom jumped in front of me.

“Sorry, Maxie,” she said, shaking her head. “You can’t go outside. It isn’t safe.”

“TAKE OFF YOUR COAT,”
Mom said. “It isn’t safe out there.”

“Not safe? Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I just talked to Mr. Mullin,” she said. “His car melted. Right in the driveway. It just melted.”

So what
else
is new?

“Things are melting all over the neighborhood,” Mom said. “People think it's sunspots.”

Sunspots?
You’re kidding!

“Mom—look outside,” I said. “It's cloudy now. There won’t be any sunspots.”

She shook her head and pressed her back against the door. “No. You’re not going outside until they say it's okay on TV.”

“Mom, I really have to go. Some friends of mine are waiting for me and—”

She crossed her tiny arms in front of her. She shook her head again. “No way.”

I tried to stare her down. But she wouldn’t blink.

I sighed. “Okay. But this is stupid,” I said. I turned and stomped back upstairs to my room.

I didn’t take off my parka or boots. I started to pace back and forth, curling my hands into fists. Nicky and Tara needed me. Every second counted.

After a minute or two, I stepped to my bedroom door. I could hear Mom in the kitchen, humming to herself as she started to make dinner. My chance to escape.

Sorry, Mom. I’ll watch out for sunspots.

I crept down the stairs, bolted out the front door, and closed it silently behind me.

The sun was going down. The sky was a deep purple. The gusting wind made the snow swirl around me.

I lowered my head against the wind and ran to the bus stop on Powell Avenue. I just missed a bus. I watched it rumble off down the next block. I stood there shivering, waiting for the next one.

Twenty minutes later, the next bus rolled up. I swiped my bus card through the fare machine and took a seat in the back. I was the only passenger.

By the time I reached Doom House on the other side of town, the sky was solid black. Low-hanging clouds covered the moon and stars.