The Haunting Hour (8 page)

My parents went out to visit friends. When I went to bed, I left my desk lamp on. I thought it might keep the whisperer away.

But I was wrong.

I had just settled into bed when I felt a gust of cold wind chill the room. “
Take me with you…please….
”

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

The air grew colder. A strange stillness fell over the room. And in the hush I heard the whispered words one more time.

“
Take…me…with…you
.”

Then a cloudy figure floated out of the open trunk. A girl. An old-fashioned-looking girl with long, dark ringlets framing her face.
Dressed in black. Her eyes big and dark and deep.

“No! No—please! Go away! Wh-what do you want?” I gazed up at her in horror as she floated above me.

The light formed a ring around her dark, pretty face. The eyes gazed down at me…such sad, empty eyes.

“
Thank you
,” she whispered. “
Thank you for letting me out of my trunk. I've been locked in there so long
.”

“You're a ghost? You're really a ghost?” I gasped. “Go away! Please—don't hurt me!”

She floated closer. “
Take me with you
,” she repeated. Her eyes grew even wider. They appeared to sink deep into her head. Her dark hair floated around her face as if she were swimming underwater.

“Go away!” I said again. “Please—go away!”

“
Take me. You must take me with you
.”

“NO!” I cried. “I can't! Go away!”

I raised both hands to bat her away. My hand grazed her arm. She felt so cold. Her skin was freezing cold!

“Please—don't hurt me!” I pleaded again. “Don't hurt me!”

Her eyes glowed. “
I hope I don't have to
,” she said.

I tried to jump out of bed. To run. But she floated close. And the cold air around her…it held me in place.

“
I never got to go on my journey
,” she whispered. “
So long ago…I was going to visit my grandparents in Scotland. I started to pack the trunk. But then I fell ill. And I died. Poor me. I died before the ship sailed
.”

“I—I'm sorry,” I replied, still shivering. “But, please—I can't help you. Please—”

“
Take me with you. You MUST take me! Take me in the trunk! I can't stay out of the trunk for long—or I will disappear forever. Take me! Take me with you!
”

“No!” I opened my mouth and tried to scream. But a heavy blast
of sour air muffled my shout. The ghostly girl floated low over my bed.

“I won't take you! I won't!” I insisted, my voice trembling.

Her expression turned angry. Her pale lips curled in a sneer. “
You WILL take me
,” she rasped. “
Because I'll be YOU!
”

“What do you mean?” I gasped.

But already I felt her pressing down on me. Felt a cold, heavy sensation that began at the top of my head. A frozen weight sliding into my brain.

I couldn't keep my eyes open. Suddenly it took an effort to breathe. I felt the cold weight of her, pressing into my brain, my body.

“
I'm possessing you, Amber
,” she whispered. “
I'm taking over now. And I will go on the cruise in your place
.”

“No…”

The room filled with clouds. Heavy gray clouds. I couldn't see the light from the desk.

“
I'm going on the cruise, Amber
,” the girl said. “
In a few seconds you won't feel anything. You won't feel anything at all. You'll be gone
.”

Nooooooo.

I thought I screamed the word, but I heard it only in my mind.

I have to fight her off. I have to push her away.

Gathering all my strength, I heaved myself up from the bed—and staggered to my feet.

I'm still in control, I realized. I'm still in control of my own body.

“
Don't fight me, Amber
,” the ghost warned. “
You can't win
.”

Yes, I can, I decided. Yes…yes…

Battling her, battling the weight that pushed down on me, I lurched blindly across the bedroom.

I reached out both arms, and through the cold, deep blackness I grabbed on to something. I grabbed a doll in each hand. Grabbed them off the top of the cabinet and clutched them to my chest.

“These are mine!” I cried, finding my voice. “These are mine—and they prove I'm still me!”

To my surprise the darkness lifted, like clouds floating out of the sky, and I saw the ghost girl beside me. Back in her old clothes. Back in her ghostly body. A startled, angry look on her face.

Angry because I had pushed her out.

I saw her stagger back a step. Saw the flash of fear in her eyes. And I dove forward. Forced my body—
my
body!—to leap. I slammed into her with all my strength.

She opened her mouth in a gasp as she fell back into the trunk with a startled groan.

Her dark hair flew over her face. Her body appeared to fold up. I heaved the trunk lid shut and snapped the latch.

Then I threw myself on top of the trunk. Wheezing, panting, my heart racing, my entire body dripping with sweat.

I held on to the trunk as if it were a life raft. And waited. Waited to see if the ghost girl would rise up howling from the trunk.

Waited…struggling to breathe…forcing my heartbeats to slow.

No. She couldn't escape. I had locked her in. I had defeated her. I had sent her back to the darkness of the trunk forever.

Wearily I climbed to my feet and staggered to my bed.

“Amber? What's all the noise up there?”

Mom and Dad had returned. I let out a long sigh. “Nothing, Dad,” I called down. “Everything is okay now.”

 

Sunday morning the sunlight poured into my room. I peered out
at a solid blue sky. Birds sang in the trees.

“Beautiful morning to start a cruise,” Mom said.

She and I left for the pier after breakfast. Dad and Kat stayed behind to deal with the luggage.

As Mom and I boarded the enormous, white ship, I suddenly felt excited. I don't believe it, I thought. This ship is so cool. And there are other kids my age. This is going to be awesome!

Kat and I were going to share a cabin. It was next door to Mom and Dad's. When the white-uniformed steward showed me inside, I gasped.

It was totally beautiful. Luxurious leather furniture. A TV and VCR. And our own private deck where Kat and I could sit and watch the ocean go by.

Wow!

A short while later I was checking out the candy bars in the mini bar. I heard a knock on my cabin door. It swung open, and Dad and Kat walked in.

Dad beamed at me. “Like the cabin, Amber?”

“I love it!” I cried. “It's truly amazing, Dad! I think I was wrong about this cruise.”

That made his smile grow even wider.

“Surprise!” Kat cried. “Guess what I brought.”

Dad motioned to a steward outside the door.

“You didn't want it,” Kat said, “so I got it! I got the great old trunk!”

My mouth dropped open. “What?”

The porter slid the trunk into the center of the cabin.

Dad bent down in front of it. He grabbed the latch and popped it up.

“Here, Kat,” he said. “Let me open it for you.”

INTRODUCTION

ILLUSTRATED BY
C
LAY
P
ATRICK
M
C
B
RIDE

G
o away, Max. I don't have time to talk now.

No, really. Max, give me a break. Go away and let me write. I'll talk to you when I'm finished, okay?

Max—please!

Sorry, readers. Max is my imaginary friend, and he's driving me crazy today.

Do you think I'm too old to have an imaginary friend? Yes. So do I. But someone should tell that to Max!

Max—get away from my keyboard. I'm going to write a story about a boy who has an imaginary friend—a very
dangerous
imaginary friend.

No. You can't help me. Go away. I mean it, Max.

Get away from the computer! Go away.
GO AWAY!

D
avid turned away
from his computer and stared across the bedroom at Shawn. “Why are you lying there like a dead fish?” he asked. “Come over here. We'll play a game.”

Shawn groaned and pulled the blankets up to his chin. “I don't feel well.”

“Boo-hoo,” David said. “Get over here, Shawn, or else—”

The bedroom door swung open and David's mom stepped in. She was short and a little chubby, like David, with tight ringlets of black hair that bobbed on her head when she walked.

“Hey, Mom. How's it going?” David asked.

She didn't answer. She leaned down and spread her palm over Shawn's narrow forehead. Shawn didn't look anything like David. He was very thin, with a mop of straight blond hair that always hung in his eyes. “Your head is cool,” she said softly. “I don't think you have a fever.”

“Feel Travis's head,” Shawn said. “He's sick too.”

Mom groaned and rolled her eyes. But she reached across the bed and spread her hand out again. “No temperature. He's fine,” she said.

“Shawn isn't that sick,” David said. “He's probably faking. You know. He always wants attention.”

His mom straightened the blankets. She turned to the window. “Why on earth did you open that?” she asked. “It's freezing cold in here.”

“Travis said he was hot,” Shawn replied. “Travis made me do it.”

Mom frowned at Shawn. “I'm a little worried about you,” she said, pressing her hands to her waist. “You're twelve years old, Shawn. It's really time you got rid of your imaginary friend.”

She crossed the room and shut the window. She straightened some books on David's bookcase. Then she fluffed Shawn's pillow.

“Hey, Mom, what's for dinner?” David asked.

But she was out the bedroom door, closing it behind her.

“Why did she say that about me?” Travis demanded as soon as the door was shut. “Why did she say I have to go?”

“Don't worry,” Shawn replied. “I won't get rid of you.”

David stood up and crossed to the foot of Shawn's bed. “You
should
get rid of Travis. You're worrying Mom with all that invisible-friend stuff,” he said.

“Why don't you mind your own business?” Shawn snapped. “You're not the boss. You can't tell me what to do.”

Travis let out a long, loud yawn. “Bor-ring!” he said. “It's totally boring lying around doing nothing. Let's sneak out.”

Shawn sat up in bed. He brushed his hair away from his eyes. “Sneak out? But it's late. We could get in major trouble.”

Travis grinned at him. “Only if we're caught.”

David watched Shawn pull on jeans and a sweatshirt. “Don't listen to Travis. He always gets you into a mess. You're making a big mistake,” he said.

“Your
face
is a big mistake,” Shawn replied. He pulled open the window, threw his leg over the sill, and climbed out into the night.

David didn't want to go out, but he pulled on his coat and followed Shawn. Maybe I can help keep him out of trouble, he thought.

They stepped into a cold, moonless night. The wind swirled around the houses and howled through the trees. Somewhere down the block a dog barked. Dead leaves scuttled around their legs and crackled beneath their shoes.

“I don't like being out this late,” David said, shivering. “I think we should go back.”

“Travis doesn't want to go back,” Shawn replied. “Travis is bored.”

They stopped in front of the Harpers' house on the next block.
The driveway light sent a rectangle of yellow over the side of the garage.

They saw a tall ladder and a stack of paint cans. Half the garage wall had been painted yellow.

“Let's help paint the garage,” Travis said.

“No way!” Shawn protested. “If Mr. Harper catches us…”

“Why are you always so scared?” Travis sneered. “Poor little
Shawny Baby
is frightened? Don't you ever want to have any fun?”

Shawn turned and started up the driveway. “Okay. Let's paint,” he said.

David ran after Shawn. “No—please!” he begged. “Please stop!”

But Shawn pried open the paint cans. He picked up a brush and dipped it into the can of black paint. Then he painted a big smiley face on the garage wall.

He and Travis played tic-tac-toe on the wall in green paint. Then Shawn wrote Travis's name in big red letters. They giggled and danced as they painted.

But they stopped giggling when a car pulled up the driveway and the twin beams of the headlights rolled over them.

Shawn and Travis froze for just a second. Then they tossed the paintbrushes to the ground and took off—vanishing through the hedge at the side of the yard.

David's dad jumped out of the car and stormed toward the garage. Even in the dark David could see the angry look on his face.

“It's not my fault!” David cried. “Really, Dad. Shawn did all the painting. I—I just followed him. I begged him to stop.”

Dad glared furiously at David. His dark mustache flared up and down as he gritted his teeth. “This has got to stop, David. Your mother will be so disappointed in you.”

“But it wasn't my idea!” David protested. “You've got to believe
me. It was Shawn. Why don't you ever blame
him?
”

 

After school the next day David followed Shawn out of the building. Low clouds hung overhead, threatening snow. The ground was hard and frosty.

David pulled his parka hood down over his head. “I have to go straight home,” David grumbled. “I've been grounded—because of last night.”

“Travis wants to go home a different way today,” Shawn said. “Just for fun.”

David squinted at him suspiciously. “Which different way?” he asked.

“He wants to go over the old railroad trestle,” Shawn said, stepping ahead.

“No way!” David cried.

“It
is
kind of dangerous,” Shawn agreed. “The wood planks are all rotting. That trestle could collapse at any time.”

Travis glared at Shawn and shook his head. “Why are you always the biggest chicken on earth? Don't you ever get tired of being such a wimp?”

“I'm not a wimp. I'll show you,” Shawn replied.

Fat snowflakes started to fall as they stepped up to the old wooden trestle. It had once been a railroad bridge over a wide creek. But the creek had dried up. And no trains had come through town in many years.

Many of the boards were cracked and broken. Others had fallen away, leaving huge gaping holes. The whole trestle trembled in the wind.

David's hood had fallen back. He brushed snow from his bushy black hair. “You can't do this,” he told Shawn. “No one is allowed on
this bridge. It's too dangerous.”

“But Travis says—” Shawn started.

“Travis is
imaginary
!” David screamed. “Please—just this once—don't listen to him!”

He grabbed Shawn by the shoulder. “Shape up!” he cried. “You can't keep listening to Travis. He's going to kill you! He's going to kill us both!”

Shawn shook himself free and ran to follow Travis onto the wooden trestle. As he started to make his way across, the planks creaked and squeaked. A piece of the wooden railing broke off in Shawn's hand.

The bridge trembled in a strong gust of wind. The fat snowflakes had already left a powdery cover on the wooden planks.

I can't watch, David told himself. His whole body was trembling. He shut his eyes. And then opened them with a gasp when he heard a long, cracking sound.

Shawn was nearly to the other side. But David could see the trestle shaking hard, see the planks giving way on both sides.

It's collapsing! he realized.

Waving his arms, David leaped onto the trestle. “Hurry!” he shouted. “Shawn—hurry! Move!” David chased after him, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Crack crack crack crack
.

The planks were popping off, dropping to the snowy ground below.

Shawn dove to the other side. He slid on the slippery grass. Safe.

David stumbled on the trembling wooden trestle. His foot caught in a hole where a plank had fallen away.

Crack crack craaaaack
.

More planks fell away. David gripped the railing. He struggled
to stay on his feet as the old bridge swayed wildly from side to side.

Two more planks dropped out—nearly under his feet. He jumped back, gripping the shaking rail.

“I'm trapped!” he called. “Help! Get help! I'm trapped here—and it's going down!”

He squinted through the falling snow to the far side of the trestle. “Shawn? Where are you? Shawn? I need help!”

A few seconds later David heard the sirens. Three red fire trucks squealed to a stop at one end of the trestle. Yellow-uniformed fire-fighters, their faces grim, jumped down from the trucks. Some of them began to make a rope harness to pull David to safety.

Gripping the rail, David listened in panic to the trestle creaking and cracking. Hurry! Please—hurry! he thought, watching the fire-fighters work.

Then he saw his dad jogging over the snow. His face was red. Puffs of steam floated from his mouth as he ran. “David!” he shouted over the voices of the firefighters. “I don't believe this!”

“Dad—it's not what you think!” David shouted back. “It wasn't my idea at all. I was trying to rescue Shawn. You've got to believe me this time. You've
got
to!”

 

David paced angrily back and forth in his room. He kicked the wall. He pounded his fist against his closet door. “I may spend the rest of my life in this room,” he complained to Shawn. “I'm grounded forever—and it's all your fault.”

Shawn didn't reply.

David bumped up to him and shoved his face into Shawn's. “Travis is the troublemaker. This is all his fault. He has to go, Shawn. Do you hear me? He's dangerous. He's really dangerous. Your imaginary friend has to go—now!”

Shawn sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “You're probably right. But what can I do?”

Shawn turned to Travis, who was sitting on the windowsill, staring out the open window at the moon. “Let's get out of here,” Travis said.

 

A few minutes later they were out in the frosty night, their breath misting in front of them. They gazed at the fishing pond behind the park where Travis had led them.

A thin layer of ice gleamed under the yellow moonlight. A thousand little cracks stretched over the silvery surface. Water splashed where the delicate ice had broken apart.

“What are we doing here?” David asked, zipping his parka as high as it would go. “This is crazy!”

Then he caught the frightened look on Shawn's face.

What was happening? Shawn was backing up, backing toward the pond.

“Travis—stop it!” Shawn cried. He turned to David. “Stop him, David. Travis—he's forcing me onto the ice!”

“Stop!” David cried, panic choking his throat. “The ice is too thin. It can't hold anyone.”