Scare School (6 page)

I was tense the rest of the day.

Every sound made me jump. Every loud voice sent a chill of fear down my back.

Would the imp come after me?

Was he waiting for me around the next corner? Outside the classroom? Behind the school?

I could see that the other kids were frightened, too.

No one spoke to me. In the lunchroom, kids stayed as far away from me as possible.

I sat at a table in the back all by myself. The lunchroom was a lot quieter than normal. Kids spoke in whispers, glancing at me, then turning away.

“What’s the matter?” I shouted. “Is everyone too chicken to help me?”

No one answered.

I couldn’t eat my lunch. My mouth was dry as sand. My stomach felt all fluttery.

As I walked back to my classroom, I realized a hush had fallen over the entire school. A terrified hush.

Everyone was waiting … waiting for the imp to take his revenge on me.

I guess I’m on my own, I thought.

I guess I’m the only kid in this school brave enough to stand up to that creature.

The next afternoon, I suddenly wasn’t feeling so brave.

We had been working hard all day. And we’d had a really long spelling test. So Mr. Kimpall gave us a free half hour to do whatever we wanted.

I walked over to Simpson and Tonya, who were passing a Game Boy back and forth.

“I need to talk to you two,” I said softly. “I really think you should help me. I—”

“No way,” Simpson replied sharply. “Go away, Sam—please.”

“Stay away from us,” Tonya said.

I could see they weren’t trying to be mean. They were
frightened
.

“If the imp heard what you said yesterday afternoon,” Tonya whispered. “We could all be in major trouble.”

And that’s when things went crazy.

I felt a spray of something cold on my head. Then my shoulders.

Cold water!

Kids started to scream. Chairs scraped.

I gazed up—and saw that the ceiling sprinklers were gushing water.

“Whoa!” In a few seconds, I was drenched.

Kids were screaming, running to the door.

Water splashed over the desks, puddling rapidly over the linoleum floor.

Mr. Kimpall was scrambling around his desk, frantically trying to rescue his books and papers.

I took a few running steps—and slipped in a deep puddle of water.

My feet slid out from under me. I landed hard on my back.

And that’s when I heard the popping sound.

At first, I thought it was popcorn popping.

But then I saw a ceiling light pop and shatter.

Then another. Another.

A whole row of lights exploded.

Jagged shards of glass rained down over the room.

Covering my head, I scrambled to my feet. My shoes slid over broken glass.

POP! POP!

Two more big bulbs exploded. The pieces of glass
sparkled as they fell through the spray of sprinkler water.

Most kids had made it safely out of the room. I could still hear their screams from out in the hall.

Mr. Kimpall had a pile of books under his arms. Ducking the falling glass, he slipped and slid to the door.

“Sam—hurry!” he called, waving frantically to me.

A hard burst of water splashed down on me. I felt a sharp stab of pain as a piece of an exploded lightbulb grazed the shoulder of my drenched T-shirt.

Lowering my head, I struggled toward the door.

I was nearly there, when I heard the buzzing crackle of electricity.

Looking up, I saw a bright yellow-white bolt shoot across the ceiling.

Red and yellow sparks flew everywhere.

ZZZZAAAAPPPPP
.

A jagged bolt of electricity hit the wall in front of me. It bounced off, sending a shower of sparks over the wet floor.

Ducking my head, I heard another explosion of glass. And then another bolt of electricity flashed above me.

Gasping for breath, I stumbled to the classroom door.

I grabbed the metal doorknob.

And opened my mouth in a scream of agony as a powerful jolt of electricity burned through my hand … rattled my teeth … shot through my body.

My hand—I couldn’t remove it from the doorknob.

Shock after shock made my whole body jump and twist.

Dancing … dancing out of control in the white-hot jolts of electricity, I knew the imp had had his victory.

My battle had ended before it had even begun.

ZZZZZZZTTTT
.

A body-shattering bolt of power shot me to the floor in a crumpled heap.

I tried to climb to my feet. But I couldn’t make my muscles work.

Gasping, throbbing in pain, I lay flopping on the wet floor like a dying fish.

“Unnnnh.” A sick groan escaped my open mouth. I saw bright flashes of red and yellow dancing around me.

Then I felt strong arms pulling me, sliding me over the wet floor.

I blinked several times. I let out a strong whoosh of air, forcing myself to start breathing again.

I looked up to see who had rescued me. “Teri?” She let go of my arms. And sank back into the crowd that had formed a circle around me.

I gazed up at Mr. Kimpall, Simpson, and Tim Poster.

“Sam? Can you hear me? Can you speak?” Mr. Kimpall asked, lowering his face to mine.

“Uh … ” I struggled to answer. My face wasn’t working right. I couldn’t get my lips to form words.

“You had a nasty shock,” Mr. Kimpall said. “Lie still. We called for a doctor to come check you out.”

Tim and Simpson stared down at me as if I were some sort of alien creature. Behind them I saw the other kids from my class, all soaked, shaking from the cold.

“I don’t know what set the sprinklers off,” Mr. Kimpall said, still leaning over me. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

I know what set them off
, I thought bitterly. His
name is spelled i-m-p
.

And all that destruction, all that horror had only one target—

Me.

The doctor arrived a few minutes later. She examined me carefully and said I was okay.

Ms. Simpkin offered to drive me home. On the way, she lectured me about the big mistake I’d made at the assembly.

“The whole school had to pay for your little outburst,” she said sternly. “But you were lucky this time, Sam. The imp let you survive.”

She turned to me as she parked in front of my house. “The next time … ” she said. “The next time … ” Her voice trailed off.

I felt a shiver of fear.

I had felt so brave before. So sure of myself.

But I had seen the power of the imp. Thinking about it sent chill after chill down my back.

“Don’t you want to get rid of the imp?” I asked Ms. Simpkin. “Don’t you want to chase it away so the school can be normal?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she waved me out of the car. “See you tomorrow, Sam,” she said softly. “I hope.”

Friday afternoon, we had a long band practice after school. Our last chance to work on our songs before the concert that night.

I sat down next to Teri and started to warm up. “How’s it going?” I asked her. “You nervous about tonight? Are your parents coming?”

My parents were coming to the concert tonight straight from work.

Teri didn’t answer. She moved her music stand so that she could turn her back to me. She started playing scales on her clarinet really loud.

“Okay, okay. I can take a hint,” I said. I grabbed her shoulder and forced her to stop playing.

“The imp isn’t going to hurt you just because you
talk to me,” I said. “I’m the one who challenged the imp—not you. I’m the one who’s in trouble.”

“Sam, you don’t know what you’re saying,” she said. She kept her back to me. “Look at all the trouble you’ve caused. No one feels safe now. Why did you have to stir things up?”

“I … I just want things to be normal,” I said. “I don’t see why everyone in this school—”

“The imp is going to do something horrible at the concert tonight,” Teri said. “I know he is. And it will be all your fault.”

“But if we all join together—” I started to say. “If we find out who it is and stand up to him … ”

She raised her clarinet to her mouth and began playing scales again.

I let out a sigh. Then I started to warm up again.

Usually, playing my saxophone relaxes me. But not today. I had a tight knot in my throat. I could barely blow hard enough to make a sound.

“As you know, the concert begins at eight o’clock,” Mr. Kelly said at the end of practice. “But you should all be here by seven-thirty.”

I glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to five. Not much time.

I had to hurry home, grab some dinner, and change. Mom said she’d leave food for me to warm up in the microwave.

In a way, I was glad Mom and Dad weren’t going
to be home. Things had been a little tense at my house ever since I told them about the imp.

My parents kept watching me all the time, as if trying to decide if I had totally lost it or not.

“Good luck tonight,” Mr. Kelly said. He glanced at me as he said it. “Have a good concert, people.”

Everyone started to pack up. I stayed in my chair, holding on to my sax as if holding on to a life preserver.

I made no attempt to move as Mr. Kelly walked over to me. His eyes locked on mine. “Sam? Are you going to be okay?” he asked softly.

I shrugged. “I guess,” I said.

He cleared his throat. He glanced tensely at the band room door. “If you think you should stay home tonight, I’ll understand,” he said.

I let out an angry cry. “You’re afraid, too?” I screamed. “Well, forget about me staying home. I’ll be here at seven-thirty sharp.”

His mouth dropped open in surprise.

I stomped out of the room without even putting away my horn. My hands were clenched into tight fists. I could feel the anger making my face grow hot.

I made my way down the stairs two at a time.

I hurried down the hall. Turned the corner—and saw the imp standing in front of my locker.

A cold smile spread over his face as he saw me. He uncurled his back until he stood straight up,
all three feet of him. He pressed his hands against his fury waist, tapping his long, snakelike fingers against his sides.

He kept his gaze on me and took a step toward me. Then another.

I took a deep breath. And held it.

This is it, I realized.

Showdown time.

My legs started to shake.

I struggled to breathe. Raising my fists, I prepared for a fight.

But to my surprise, the imp stopped halfway toward me.

His smile faded. His dark eyes burned into mine. Slowly, he raised his right hand. And pointed a long, bony finger at me.

He just stood there, glaring at me. His finger pointed at my throat.

We stood frozen like that for a long, long time.

And then the ratlike creature opened his mouth and whispered one word: “
Later
.”

He spun away—and started to run. His bare feet
made loud slapping noises on the hard floor. His body bounced heavily over his slender, running legs.

“Oh.” A soft cry of surprise escaped my throat.

And then I took off after him.

“You—you’re not getting away!” I tried to shout.

But my voice came out in a muffled whisper.

He whipped around the corner, a flash of green. Gasping for breath, I raced after him.

The school was deserted. The only sounds were the rapid, sharp slap of his bare feet on the floor and my wheezing breaths.

“Help me! Can anyone help me?” I shouted.

My shrill cry rang out through the hall. But there was no one there to reply.

We rounded another corner. And then I saw him flying up the back stairs.

The hall was darker there. The classroom doors were all shut. I realized I had never been in this back hall.

I followed the imp up the stairs. His bouncing body was a dim ball of green against the darkness.

I stopped at the top of the stairs and squinted down the long hall. The ceiling was low. The hall cluttered with stacks of cartons, piles of old books.

The rooms were all empty and dark.

I heard the slap of the imp’s feet up ahead. But I couldn’t see him.

I forced myself to move.

Stumbling over a box of file folders, I lurched after the creature.

I heard a door slam hard.

I turned and found myself in a narrow, short hallway. I saw only two doors against the wall. Two solid black doors.

I stepped up between them.

The imp had to go into one of these rooms, I knew.

But which one?

Had I followed the imp to his home?

My eyes moved from one door to the other.

Which one? Which one?

Finally, I grabbed the handle of the door on the left—and pulled open the door.

“Tim!” I cried.

Tim Poster was curled up in a black desk chair against the back wall of the small room. As I burst into the room, he dropped the book he had been holding and jumped to his feet.

“Sam—?” he called out, blinking in surprise.

The room was some kind of supply closet. Old computers were stacked in front of the window. Several folding chairs and two desks were pushed against one wall.

A single lamp behind Tim’s desk chair provided the only light.

“Tim—it’s you—isn’t it!” I cried. “I—I followed you here! And you—”

His face twisted in confusion. “Huh? What’s
wrong? What are you talking about?”

He bent to pick up the book he had dropped.

“Tim—I saw you run in here,” I said breathlessly. My whole body shook with fear—and excitement. “I—I know your secret.”

“Don’t tell,” he said. He slumped into the desk chair. “Okay, Sam?”

“Don’t tell?” I repeated.

“Please don’t tell,” Tim begged. “I hide up here to read and do my homework after school every day.”

“But—but—” I sputtered. This wasn’t making any sense.

“I can explain,” Tim said. “You see, my house is too noisy and crowded. And my dad thinks I’m on the soccer team. I don’t have the nerve to tell him that I never even tried out.”

My mouth dropped open. “Your dad thinks you’re at soccer practice?”

He nodded. “I found this room,” he said. “It’s just for storage. No one ever comes up here. So I come here after school.”

“You … you hide up here?” I asked. My heartbeat was starting to slow to normal.

Tim nodded again. “I do my homework. Then I read. I love to read. I never have a chance at home.”

I stared hard at him, studying his face.

He was lying. He had to be lying.

I had chased him up here. He was the imp. I
knew he was. There was no other explanation!

He had slammed the door behind him. Changed into his human form. Picked up the book and waited for me to arrive.

“You’re the Imp, Tim,” I said. “I’m not falling for your dumb story. You’re the imp, and I’ve caught you.”

He set down the book and climbed slowly to his feet. “No way, Sam,” he said softly. “I’m not the imp. I’m just me.”

“You were doing something at my locker. I chased you up here,” I insisted. “I heard you slam the door.”

Tim shook his head. “No. It wasn’t me. I heard a door slam, too. But it wasn’t this door, Sam. I’ve been reading up here ever since school let out. Really.”

I continued to stare at him. Should I believe him?

“I’ll help you find him,” Tim said softly. “If you don’t tell anyone about my secret hiding place. If you promise not to tell, I’ll help you search for him, Sam.”

“I opened the wrong door,” I muttered. “He must have run into the room next door.”

Tim suddenly looked very frightened. “The imp? He’s next door? Why would he come up here? No one ever comes up here.”

I didn’t reply. I spun away from him and ran out of the room.

I grabbed the handle to the door on the right and pulled it open.

Was the imp still in there?

No. I stared into a bare room. No furniture of any kind. A totally empty room. Gray light washed in through the dust-caked windows.

“Where did he go?” I muttered.

Was Tim lying? Was Tim really the imp?

But he seemed so surprised to see me. So desperate to keep his hiding place a secret.

My head spinning, I left Tim and made my way back down the hall. I turned a corner and found myself in a familiar hallway.

The band room stood at the end of this hall. I suddenly remembered that I had hurried out without putting my sax in its case.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly five fifteen.

It’s really getting late, I realized.

I stepped up to the band room—and stopped in the doorway.

There he was again–the imp!

He had his back to me. He held my saxophone in his hands.

What was he doing to it?

I stopped myself from crying out.

I gazed in horror as the creature raised the horn to his lips. The sax was nearly as tall as he was! He blew into the horn and made a flat noise, more like a burp than a musical note.

Yuck, I thought.

That
creature
has my horn in his mouth!

What does he plan to do to my new sax? Does he plan to ruin it? Is he going to make it explode when I start to play it later? Or make it stick to me again? My horror quickly turned to anger.

The imp had no right—no right to be ruining my life this way!

My heart pounded. As my anger rose, I could feel the blood pulsing at my temples.

I crept into the room.

The imp still had his back turned. He didn’t see me. He blew another sour note on the horn.

Before he could turn around, I ran up behind him. I made a flying leap.

I wrapped my arms around his waist—and tightened them. Tighter. Tighter.

The sax fell out of his hands and slid to the floor.

He opened his mouth in a shrill, raspy shriek.

He squirmed and twisted hard.

But I held on.

Digging my chin into his back, I tightened my grip around his waist. And held on.

He ducked and tossed. He shrieked again.

His skin felt wet and soft. Slippery.

But I held on. Squeezing him. Squeezing him until he made’ a gasping, choking sound.

His body went limp. His head slumped forward. “Gotcha!” I screamed. “I’ve gotcha!”