R. L. Stine_Mostly Ghostly 06 (2 page)

I grasped the windowsill and pushed my head out. I stared down into the wooded lot.

No one there.

I shielded my eyes from the sun with one hand and scanned the area. A fat blue jay on a low tree
limb squawked at me. The trees all shimmered with fresh spring-green leaves.

But no sign of the two ghosts. Or of the boy in black.

A cold feeling swept down my body. What had happened to them?

And then, from behind me out in the hall, I heard a low moan.

A groan.

Another long moan —of pain!

Nicky and Tara!

“Help me …I can't walk!” I heard Tara whisper.

Another groan. And then Nicky called, “Help us! Somebody —help us!”

M
Y HEART SKIPPED
A
beat. What have I done? I thought. Why did I send them out there?

I stumbled to the doorway and jumped into the hall.

Nicky and Tara stood there side by side. They looked fine to me. They both were grinning.

“April Fools',” Tara said.

“You —you —you —” I sputtered. “You scared me to death! That was totally mean!”

“Maxie, you really
do
care about us!” Tara said, wrapping her arm around mine.

“Sorry, Max,” Nicky said. “It was Tara's idea. She has a cold sense of humor.”

Tara turned to her brother. “At least I
have
a sense of humor!”

“Please —don't start fighting,” I begged.

Nicky slapped Tara on the shoulder. “Touched you last,” he said.

She spun away from me, chased him down the hall, and smacked his back. “Touched you last.”

She ducked away, but he touched the top of her head. “Touched you last.”

“Stop it! Stop it!” I screamed.

Sometimes their “touched you last” games went on for
hours.
“Guys, please. What about the boy in black? What did he say? What did you do?”

Tara slapped Nicky's cheek. “Touched you last!” she shouted.

“The boy wasn't there,” Nicky told me. He took off after Tara, who ran into my room. A few seconds later, I heard “Touched you last.”

Shaking my head, I followed them inside.

“The guy had totally vanished by the time we got there,” Tara said. She grabbed Nicky around the waist and tackled him to the floor. “Touched you last.”

“Truce! Truce!” Nicky begged.

“I win,” Tara said. She climbed off him and helped him to his feet.

Then she turned to me. “He vanished into thin air. That guy must be a ghost, Max.”

Nicky's expression turned serious. “A dangerous ghost,” he said softly.

“D-dangerous?” I stammered.

They both nodded. “Don't worry,” Nicky said. “We'll protect you.”

“Yes,” Tara said, taking my arm again. “We'll stick with you, Maxie. Day and night. We'll be here when he comes back. We won't let you out of our sight.”

“Uh … day and night?” I said.

“We'll be watching your every move,” Nicky said.

I knew they were trying to be nice. But I really didn't need two ghosts at my side every minute of the day. Especially
these
two ghosts.

They were always trying to help me. But sometimes I needed help from
their
help!

“I've gotta get out of here,” I said. “A little fresh air. I'll see you guys later, okay?”

They looked hurt that I didn't want them to come with me. But I needed some time to think — away from all the ghosts in my life!

I pulled my bike from the garage, jumped on it, and pedaled away. The sun felt good on my face. And the warm spring air smelled fresh and sweet.

It felt great to be pedaling hard, getting some exercise, enjoying the day without any ghosts around. Ever since Nicky and Tara had arrived, my life had been totally weird. Other ghosts and
ghouls and evil creatures started popping up every time I blinked, it seemed.

Sure, I care a lot about Nicky and Tara. I'm the only one who can see and hear them. So I have to help them. But sometimes I'd like to live like a normal kid.

Whatever that means …

I rode to the end of my street —Bleek Street — then turned onto Powell and glided down the hill, past my school. Some kids had a softball game going on the playground. And I spotted my two
least
favorite kids from my class —the Wilbur brothers, Billy and Willy —on the basketball court. They were taking the ball away from a bunch of little kids, ruining their game and making them cry.

Typical.

I rode past the playground, swerved around a tall, skinny kid coming at me on a skateboard — and hit the brakes when I saw a girl standing at the bus stop on the corner.

Traci Wayne!

Yes! She was standing by herself, waiting for the Powell Avenue bus. The perfect time to ask her to my birthday party.

Would she say
yes,
she'd come? She had to.
Had
to!

“Hannh hannh.” My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

Why does that happen every time I see her?

“Hannnnh. Hannnnh.”

I poked two fingers into my mouth and pulled my tongue free. Then I took a deep breath, worked up my courage, and started pedaling toward Traci.

I W
AVED TO TRACI
,
but she was looking the other way, watching for the bus. As I pedaled closer, I heard a shout behind me.

I turned —and saw Nicky and Tara riding toward me on bikes. “Oh noooo,” I groaned.

I put on the brakes. They rode in circles around me. “What are you doing here?” I cried. “Where did you get the bikes?”

“Borrowed them,” Nicky said. “We'll return them. Really.”

“We'll help you impress Traci,” Tara said.

“No. Please —” I said.

“Show her how cool you are,” Tara said. “Do a few X Games moves on your bike. Some awesome wheelies. She'll
beg
you to let her come to your party!”

“No. No way,” I said. “I'm
begging
you two:
go away.
Don't try to help me.”

“Of
course
we'll help you,” Tara said. “What are friends for, Maxie?”

“Hannnnh. Hannnnnh.” My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth again. I turned and saw Traci staring at me, her eyes bulging.

She let out a scream. “Max! Those bikes — they're moving by themselves!”

Think fast, Max.

“Yes,” I said. “They're dirt bikes.”

Traci's mouth dropped open. “Huh?”

“They're looking for some dirt,” I explained.

She squinted at me, confused.

“Let's really impress her,” Tara said.

“Yeah. Let's give her something to scream about!” Nicky said.

The two ghosts were off their bikes now. Tara grabbed my handlebars. Nicky grabbed the back of the seat.

“No. Wait —” I begged. “Please —don't do this!”

“Don't do
what
?” Traci asked.

“I'm not talking to you,” I said. “I'm talking to my bike.”

“Here we go, Max,” Tara said. “Hold on tight.”

“Max, you're totally weird. Why are you talking to your bike?” Traci asked.

“Y-you'll see,” I stammered.

And then the two ghosts f loated into the air, carrying me and my bike with them.

I heard Traci gasp as she watched me f ly off
the ground. I sailed across two parked cars, just barely making it over their roofs.

Tara flew higher, pulling up my top wheel so it looked like I was doing an awesome wheelie in midair.

Traci squealed in shock.

So did I.

“She loves it, Max. This is really impressing her,” Tara said. “Hold on!”

The two ghosts spun the bike around.

“I … I'm getting dizzy up here,” I moaned.

“Don't worry. We're bringing you down now,” Nicky said.

I felt the bike start to dive. My stomach lurched into my throat. I took a deep breath, leaned forward, and gripped the handlebars tighter.

“Traci will
love
this perfect landing,” Tara said.

The front of the bike dipped hard.

“Hey, Tara! Watch
out
!” I heard Nicky scream. “Watch where you're
going
!”

“Oops,” Tara replied.

I felt a hard bump. It took me a second to realize my front wheel had smashed onto a car roof.

In the next second, I went flying off the bike, sailing through the air. Screaming all the way.

“Oof!” I landed hard —
on top of Traci
!

She let out a cry as we both collapsed in a heap
on the ground. I couldn't move. There I was, sprawled on her back.

She was stuck under me, her face in the dirt. “Get off! Get off me!” she sputtered.

“Uh … would you like to come to my birthday party?” I asked.

T
HE NEXT NIGHT, MY
friend Quentin came over to rehearse our magic act. Quentin has straight blond hair and shiny blue eyes. He has dimples in both cheeks when he smiles. Girls at school think he's cute.

Tonight he wore a long-sleeved black T-shirt over baggy khaki cargo pants, torn at one knee.

I juggled three duckpins. For once, I didn't drop any. Quentin watched with a smile on his face. His eyes were so round and blue, they looked like they were made of glass.

He took the duckpins from me and pulled three red rubber balls from his magic kit. Then he juggled the duckpins
and
the red balls at the same time.

“That's excellent!” I said, touching knuckles with him and slapping a high five. I liked having Quentin over. It took my mind off the creepy guy in black.

“It's not so hard,” Quentin replied, dropping
the balls back into his black suitcase. “I'll teach you how.”

“Cool,” I said. “Did you work up some new tricks for the party?”

He nodded. His smile faded. “Too bad about Traci Wayne,” he said. “She really said she wouldn't come?”

“Well, I probably asked her at a bad time,” I replied. “I mean, I fell on top of her, and her face was buried in dirt.”

“Too bad,” Quentin murmured. “If she doesn't come, none of the cool kids will come.” He started pawing through his magic kit.

“Tell me something I
don't
know,” I said, sighing. “Hey, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you.”

He let go of the suitcase and turned to me.

“Remember a few weeks ago when my brother came in here while we were doing magic? He was giving me a hard time, and you wanted to get him out of here? So you pulled out your eyeball and held it out to him? And he totally freaked and heaved up his lunch?”

Quentin grinned at me. “An awesome moment!” he said. “You probably wonder how I did it.”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “It looked so real. I —”

“Watch,” Quentin said. He raised his hand to his left eye, plucked it out, and held it up
in the palm of his hand. The blue eye stared at me.

“Yikes!” I said. “It totally looks real.”

Quentin nodded. He opened his left eye. The eyeball was still in there. He'd only pretended to pluck it out.

“This is why magicians always wear long sleeves,” he said, raising his arm and tugging at the shirt cuff. “I always carry an extra eyeball with me. You never know when it will come in handy.”

We both laughed.

“Now I'll show you my newest trick,” he said. “We'll need a real rabbit for the night of the party. But for now I brought a stuffed rabbit.”

He put the stuffed bunny rabbit into a shiny black top hat. “This trick is called the Flying Rabbit,” he said. “Watch carefully, Max.”

He set the top hat upside down on my computer table. Then he began to wave his hands slowly back and forth over the hat.

“Whoa, dude!” I cried out as the bunny slowly rose up from the hat.

Quentin waved his hands in the air, and the bunny floated up … higher … higher …The bunny rose up to the ceiling and just hung there. Then Quentin gave a fast signal with one hand — and it came shooting back down. It dropped with a
thump
back into the top hat.

“Wow,” I said. “I mean, wow. That's totally awesome, Quentin.”

He grinned at me. “You liked it?”

“I'm pretty good with basic hand stuff,” I said. “But your tricks are like …
amazing
!”

His grin grew wider. He brushed his blond hair off his forehead. “It isn't that hard, really.”

“Let me show you a water trick I've been practicing,” I said. I started toward the bathroom to get a glass of water —but Colin stepped into the doorway and blocked my path.

“Let me out,” I said. “Quentin and I are practicing for my party.”

Of course my brother didn't step out of the way. Instead, he bumped me backward with his chest. Then bumped me again until I fell onto my bed.

“Hey, Blubber Butt, what's the theme of your party?” he asked, pinning me on my back.

“Theme?”

“Every cool party has a theme,” Colin said. “Oh, I know. I've got the perfect one for you. How about‘armpits’?”

“I don't think so —” I started.

“Yeah. Armpits. It's perfect,” Colin said. He grabbed me, dug both hands deep into my armpits, and started tickling.

“Unh unh unh!” A horrible choking sound came out of my mouth. He was tickling me so hard, I couldn't
breathe.

“Ow! Stop! Owwww!” I pleaded and begged. But Colin kept tickling, digging his fingers in deeper and deeper.

“Owwwwww!” I shrieked in pain.

Finally, he stopped. “Maxie, you don't like that party theme?”

I glanced over at Quentin. There was something wrong with him.

He stood beside the desk, totally frozen. Not moving. Not blinking. Arms straight down. Face straight forward. Frozen still, as if he was in a trance.

I pushed Colin away and leaped off the bed. My heart pounding, I ran to my friend. “Quentin?” I cried. “Quentin? What's wrong?”

I G
RABBED HIS SHOULDERS
and shook him. “Quentin? Hey —Quentin?”

Colin came up to me and bumped me from behind. “What's up with your friend?”

“Something is wrong,” I said. I shook him some more. “Quentin?”

Finally, Quentin blinked. He wrinkled his nose. He squinted at me.

I let go of his shoulders, and he staggered back a few steps.

“Quentin? What happened?” I asked.