THE HAUNTED MASK
Goosebumps - 11
R.L. Stine
(An Undead Scan v1.5)
1
“What are you going to be for Halloween?” Sabrina Mason asked. She moved her fork around in the bright yellow macaroni on her lunch tray, but didn’t take a bite.
Carly Beth Caldwell sighed and shook her head. The overhead light on the lunchroom ceiling made her straight brown hair gleam. “I don’t know. A witch, maybe.”
Sabrina’s mouth dropped open. “You? A witch?”
“Well, why not?” Carly Beth demanded, staring across the long table at her friend.
“I thought you were afraid of witches,” Sabrina replied. She raised a forkful of macaroni to her mouth and started to chew. “This macaroni is made of rubber,” she complained, chewing hard. “Remind me to start packing a lunch.”
“I am not afraid of witches!” Carly Beth insisted, her dark eyes flashing angrily. “You just think I’m a big scaredy-cat, don’t you?”
Sabrina giggled. “Yes.” She flipped her black ponytail behind her shoulders with a quick toss of her head. “Hey, don’t eat the macaroni. Really, Carly Beth. It’s gross.” She reached across the table to keep Carly Beth from raising her fork.
“But I’m starving!” Carly Beth complained.
The lunchroom grew crowded and noisy. At the next table, a group of fifth-grade boys were tossing a half-full milk carton back and forth. Carly Beth saw Chuck Greene ball up a bright red fruit rollup and shove the whole sticky thing in his mouth.
“Yuck!” She made a disgusted face at him. Then she turned back to Sabrina. “I am not a scaredy-cat, Sabrina. Just because everyone picks on me and—”
“Carly Beth, what about last week? Remember? At my house?” Sabrina ripped open a bag of tortilla chips and offered some across the table to her friend.
“You mean the ghost thing?” Carly Beth replied, frowning. “That was really stupid.”
“But you believed it,” Sabrina said with a mouthful of chips. “You really believed my attic was haunted. You should have seen the look on your face when the ceiling started to creak, and we heard the footsteps up there.”
“That was so mean,” Carly Beth complained, rolling her eyes.
“Then when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs, your face went all white and you screamed,” Sabrina recalled. “It was only Chuck and Steve.”
“You know I’m afraid of ghosts,” Carly Beth said, blushing.
“And snakes and bugs and loud noises and dark rooms and—and witches!” Sabrina declared.
“I don’t see why you have to make fun of me,” Carly Beth pouted. She shoved her lunch tray away. “I don’t see why everyone always thinks it’s so much fun to try to scare me. Even you, my best friend.”
“I’m sorry,” Sabrina said sincerely. She reached across the table and squeezed Carly Beth’s wrist reassuringly. “You’re just so easy to scare. It’s hard to resist. Here. Want some more chips?” She shoved the bag toward Carly Beth.
“Maybe I’ll scare you some day,” Carly Beth threatened.
Her friend laughed. “No way!”
Carly Beth continued to pout. She was eleven. But she was tiny. And with her round face and short stub of a nose (which she hated and wished would grow longer), she looked much younger.
Sabrina, on the other hand, was tall, dark, and sophisticated-looking. She had straight black hair tied behind her head in a ponytail, and enormous, dark eyes. Everyone who saw them together assumed that Sabrina was twelve or thirteen. But, actually, Carly Beth was a month older than her friend.
“Maybe I won’t be a witch,” Carly Beth said thoughtfully, resting her chin on her hands. “Maybe I’ll be a disgusting monster with hanging eyeballs and green slime dripping down my face and—”
A loud crash made Carly Beth scream.
It took her a few seconds to realize that it was just a lunch tray hitting the floor. She turned to see Gabe Moser, his face bright red, drop to his knees and start scooping his lunch off the floor. The lunchroom rang out with cheers and applause.
Carly Beth hunched down in her seat, embarrassed that she had screamed.
Her breathing had just returned to normal when a strong hand grabbed her shoulder from behind.
Carly Beth’s shriek echoed through the room.
2
She heard laughter. At another table, someone yelled, “Way to go, Steve!”
She whipped her head around to see her friend Steve Boswell standing behind her, a mischievous grin on his face. “Gotcha,” he said, letting go of her shoulder.
Steve pulled out the chair next to Carly Beth’s and lowered himself over its back. His best friend, Chuck Greene, slammed his bookbag onto the table and then sat down next to Sabrina.
Steve and Chuck looked so much alike, they could have been brothers. Both were tall and thin, with straight brown hair, which they usually hid under baseball caps. Both had dark brown eyes and goofy grins. Both wore faded blue jeans and dark-colored, long-sleeved T-shirts.
And both of them loved to scare Carly Beth. They loved to startle her, to make her jump and shriek.
They spent hours dreaming up new ways to frighten her.
She vowed every time that she would never—never—fall for one of their stupid tricks again.
But so far, they had won every time.
Carly Beth always threatened to pay them back. But in all the time they’d been friends, she hadn’t been able to think of anything good enough.
Chuck reached for the few remaining chips in Sabrina’s bag. She playfully slapped his hand away. “Get your own.”
Steve held a crinkled hunk of aluminum foil under Carly Beth’s nose. “Want a sandwich? I don’t want it.”
Carly Beth sniffed it suspiciously. “What kind is it? I’m starving!”
“It’s a turkey sandwich. Here,” Steve said, handing it to Carly Beth. “It’s too dry. My mom forgot the mayo. You want it?”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks!” Carly Beth exclaimed. She took the sandwich from him and peeled back the aluminum foil. Then she took a big bite of the sandwich.
As she started to chew, she realized that both Steve and Chuck were staring at her with big grins on their faces.
Something tasted funny. Kind of sticky and sour.
Carly Beth stopped chewing.
Chuck and Steve were laughing now. Sabrina looked confused.
Carly Beth uttered a disgusted groan and spit the chewed-up sandwich hunk into a napkin. Then she pulled the bread apart—and saw a big brown worm resting on top of the turkey.
“Ohh!” With a moan, she covered her face with her hands.
The room erupted with laughter. Cruel laughter.
“I ate a worm. I-I’m going to be sick!” Carly Beth groaned. She jumped to her feet and stared angrily at Steve. “How could you?” she demanded. “It isn’t funny. It’s—it’s—”
“It isn’t a real worm,” Chuck said. Steve was laughing too hard to talk.
“Huh?” Carly Beth gazed down at it and felt a wave of nausea rise up from her stomach.
“It isn’t real. It’s rubber. Pick it up,” Chuck urged.
Carly Beth hesitated.
Kids all through the vast room were whispering and pointing at her. And laughing.
“Go ahead. It isn’t real. Pick it up,” Chuck said, grinning.
Carly Beth reached down with two fingers and reluctantly picked the brown worm from the sandwich. It felt warm and sticky.
“Gotcha again!” Chuck said with a laugh.
It was real! A real worm!
With a horrified cry, Carly Beth tossed the worm at Chuck, who was laughing wildly. Then she leapt away from the table, knocking the chair over. As th
e chair clattered noisily against the hard floor, Carly Beth covered her mouth and ran gagging from the lunchroom.
I can still taste it! she thought.
I can still taste the worm in my mouth!
I’ll pay them back for this, Carly Beth thought bitterly as she ran.
I’ll pay them back. I really will.
As she pushed through the double doors and hurtled toward the girls’ room, the cruel laughter followed her across the hall.
3
After school, Carly Beth hurried through the halls without talking to anyone. She heard kids laughing and whispering. She knew they were laughing at her.
Word had spread all over school that Carly Beth Caldwell had eaten a worm at lunch.
Carly Beth, the scaredy-cat. Carly Beth, who was frightened of her own shadow. Carly Beth, who was so easy to trick.
Chuck and Steve had sneaked a real worm, a fat brown worm, into a sandwich. And Carly Beth had taken a big bite.
What a jerk!
Carly Beth ran all the way home, three long blocks. Her anger grew with every step.
How could they do that to me? They’re supposed to be my friends!
Why do they think it’s so funny to scare me?
She burst into the house, breathing hard. “Anybody home?” she called, stopping in the hallway and leaning against the banister to catch her breath.
Her mother hurried out from the kitchen. “Carly Beth! Hi! What’s wrong?”
“I ran all the way,” Carly Beth told her, pulling off her blue windbreaker.
“Why?” Mrs. Caldwell asked.
“Just felt like it,” Carly Beth replied moodily.
Her mother took Carly Beth’s windbreaker and hung it in the front closet for her. Then she brushed a hand affectionately through Carly Beth’s soft brown hair. “Where’d you get the straight hair?” she muttered. Her mother was always saying that.
We don’t look like mother and daughter at all, Carly Beth realized. Her mother was a tall, chubby woman with thick curls of coppery hair, and lively gray-green eyes. She was extremely energetic, seldom stood still, and talked as rapidly as she moved.
Today she was wearing a paint-stained gray sweatshirt over black Lycra tights. “Why so grumpy?” Mrs. Caldwell asked. “Anything you’d care to talk about?”
Carly Beth shook her head. “Not really.” She didn’t feel like telling her mother that she had become the laughingstock of Walnut Avenue Middle School.
“Come here. I have something to show you,”
Mrs. Caldwell said, tugging Carly Beth toward the living room.
“I—I’m really not in the mood, Mom,” Carly Beth told her, hanging back. “I just—”
“Come on!” her mother insisted, and pulled her across the hallway. Carly Beth always found it impossible to argue with her mother. She was like a hurricane, sweeping everything in her direction.
“Look!” Mrs. Caldwell declared, grinning and gesturing to the mantelpiece.
Carly Beth followed her mother’s gaze to the mantel—and cried out in surprise. “It’s—a head!”
“Not just any head,” Mrs. Caldwell said, beaming. “Go on. Take a closer look.”
Carly Beth took a few steps toward the mantelpiece, her eyes on the head staring back at her. It took her a few moments to recognize the straight, brown hair, the brown eyes, the short snip of a nose, the round cheeks. “It’s me!” she cried, walking up to it.
“Yes. Life size!” Mrs. Caldwell declared. “I just came from my art class at the museum. I finished it today. What do you think?”
Carly Beth picked it up and studied it closely. “It looks just like me, Mom. Really. What’s it made of?”
“Plaster of Paris,” her mother replied, taking it from Carly Beth and holding it up so that Carly Beth was face to face, eye to eye with herself. “You have to be careful. It’s delicate. It’s hollow, see?”
Carly Beth stared intently at the head, peering into her own eyes. “It—it’s kind of creepy,” she muttered.
“You mean because I did such a good job?” her mother demanded.
“It’s just creepy, that’s all,” Carly Beth said. She forced herself to look away from the replica of herself, and saw that her mother’s smile had faded.
Mrs. Caldwell looked hurt. “Don’t you like it?”
“Yeah. Sure. It’s really good, Mom,” Carly Beth answered quickly. “But, I mean, why on earth did you make it?”
“Because I love you,” Mrs. Caldwell replied curtly. “Why else? Honestly, Carly Beth, you have the strangest reactions to things. I worked really hard on this sculpture. I thought—”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I like it. Really, I do,” Carly Beth insisted. “It was just a surprise, that’s all. It’s great. It looks just like me. I—I had a bad day, that’s all.”
Carly Beth took another long look at the sculpture. Its brown eyes—her brown eyes—stared back at her. The brown hair shimmered in the afternoon sunlight through the window.
It smiled at me! Carly Beth thought, her mouth dropping open. I saw it! I just saw it smile!
No. It had to be a trick of the light.
It was a plaster of Paris head, she reminded herself.
Don’t go scaring yourself over nothing, Carly Beth. Haven’t you made a big enough fool of yourself today?
“Thanks for showing it to me, Mom,” she said awkwardly, pulling her eyes away. She forced a smile. “Two heads are better than one, right?”
“Right,” Mrs. Caldwell agreed brightly. “Incidentally, Carly Beth, your duck costume is all ready. I put it on your bed.”
“Huh? Duck costume?”
“You saw a duck costume at the mall, remember?” Mrs. Caldwell carefully placed the sculpted head on the mantel. “The one with all the feathers and everything. You thought it would be funny to be a duck this Halloween? So I made you a duck costume.”
“Oh. Right,” Carly Beth said, her mind spinning. Do I really want to be a stupid duck this Halloween? she thought. “I’ll go up and take a look at it, Mom. Thanks.”
Carly Beth had forgotten all about the duck costume. I don’t want to be cute this Halloween, she thought as she climbed the stairs to her room. I want to be scary.
She had seen some really scary-looking masks in the window of a new party store that had opened a few blocks from school. One of them, she knew, would be perfect.
But now she’d have to walk around in feathers and have everyone quack at her and make fun of her.
It wasn’t fair. Why did her mother have to listen to every word she said?
Just because Carly Beth had admired a duck costume in a store didn’t mean she wanted to be a stupid duck for Halloween!
Carly Beth hesitated outside her bedroom. The door had been pulled closed for some reason. She never closed the door.
She listened carefully. She thought she heard someone breathing on the other side of the door. Someone or something.
The breathing grew louder.
Carly Beth pressed an ear to the door.
What was in her room?
There was only one way to find out.
Carly Beth pulled open the door—and uttered a startled cry.
4
“QUAAAAAAACCCK!”
With a hideous cry, an enormous white-feathered duck, its eyes wild and frenzied, leapt at Carly Beth.
As she staggered backwards in astonishment, the duck knocked her over and pinned her to the hallway floor.
“QUAAACCCK! QUAAAACK!”
The costume has come alive!
That was Carly Beth’s first frightened thought.
Then she quickly realized the truth. “Noah—get off me!” she demanded, trying to push the big duck off her chest.
The white feathers brushed against her nose. “Hey—that tickles!”
She sneezed.
“Noah—come on!”
“QUAAAAACCCK!”
“Noah, I mean it!” she told her eight-year-old brother. “What are you doing in m
y costume? It’s supposed to be my costume.”
“I was just trying it on,” Noah said, his blue eyes staring down at her through the white-and-yellow duck mask. “Did I scare you?”
“Not a bit,” Carly Beth lied. “Now get up! You’re heavy!”
He refused to budge.
“Why do you always want everything that’s mine?” Carly Beth demanded angrily.
“I don’t,” he replied.
“And why do you think it’s so funny to try to scare me all the time?” she asked.
“I can’t help it if you get scared every time I say boo,” he replied nastily.
“Get up! Get up!”
He quacked a few more times, flapping the feathery wings. Then he climbed to his feet. “Can I have this costume? It’s really neat.”
Carly Beth frowned and shook her head. “You got feathers all over me. You’re molting!”
“Molting? What’s that mean?” Noah demanded. He pulled off the mask. His blond hair was damp from sweat and matted against his head.
“It means you’re going to be a bald duck!” Carly Beth told him.
“I don’t care. Can I have this costume?” Noah asked, examining the mask. “It fits me. Really!”
“I don’t know,” Carly Beth told him. “Maybe.”
The phone rang in her room. “Get lost, okay? Go fly south for the winter or something,” she said, and hurried to answer the phone.
As she ran to her desk, she saw white feathers all over her bed. That costume will never survive till Halloween! she thought.
She picked up the receiver. “Hello? Oh, hi, Sabrina. Yeah. I’m okay.”
Sabrina had called to remind Carly Beth that the school Science Fair was tomorrow. They had to finish their project, a model of the solar system constructed with Ping-Pong balls.
“Come over after dinner,” Carly Beth told her. “It’s almost finished. We just have to paint it. My mom said she’d help us take it to school tomorrow.”
They chatted for a while. Then Carly Beth confided, “I was so mad, Sabrina. At lunch today. Why do Chuck and Steve think it’s so funny to do things like that to me?”