Young Scrooge

  Lucy said something else about me, and they all laughed.

  They don’t like me. It’s true. They really don’t like me.

  “S-S-Scroogeman makes me f-feel so bad,” Josh said, shaking his head. “I h-h-hate my stutter. I’m t-trying so hard to get rid of it. B-but Scroogeman makes fun of it every t-t-time he sees me. And Miss D-D-Dorrit lets him get away with it.”

  The poor guy had tears in his eyes. Because of me? I didn’t want to hurt him. I was just having fun with him.

  “I’m sorry, Josh,” I shouted. “I didn’t know it made you feel so bad. I guess I just wasn’t thinking. I promise I’ll never do it again.”

  He didn’t hear me.

  I gazed around. “Ghost, where are you? I want to apologize to Josh, but he can’t hear me.”

  No sign of the ghost.

  Billy O’Brian poured himself another cup of punch. “The Christmas play was going to be so much fun,” he said. “I couldn’t wait to play Santa. But now we have no costumes, and Mr. Pickwick had to cancel the play.”

  “It’s like Sick Rick ruined Christmas for everyone,” Lucy said.

  Sick Rick? Did Lucy call me that, too?

  I had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. My friends hated me. They all started telling stories about what a bad dude I am. Even kids I didn’t know very well had bad things to say about me.

  I backed into a corner and dropped cross-legged onto the floor. I felt kind of dizzy. I guess I was in shock. It was like I was struck by lightning or something.

  I didn’t know how to deal with this, the idea that everyone hated me so much. All the fun things I did with them—the dance lessons, my water fountain joke, messing up Lucy’s perfect hair … I thought it was all funny.

  And now, sitting there invisible, listening to them complain about me, calling me Sick Rick and even worse names, I suddenly did feel sick.

  “I don’t have any friends,” I told myself. “No friends at all. No one likes me.” I had to say the words to believe it, I guess.

  I’d never cried in my life. Crying is for babies. That’s what I always believed. Whenever I saw someone cry, it always made me laugh.

  But now my chin was quivering. My whole face was trembling. I could feel teardrops cover my eyes.

  No! I wiped them away. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and watched the party. They held an Ugly Christmas Sweater Contest. Davey won with his awful Rudolph the Reindeer sweater. On one side of the sweater, Rudolph’s nose actually lit up and blinked on and off.

  They had pizza and hot dogs. They sang a few Christmas carols.

  “Lucy, open my present,” Davey insisted.

  It was a big box. Everyone gathered around to watch Lucy tear off the wrapping and open it. She pulled out a big balloonlike thing. No. It was a punching bag. An inflated punching bag. You know. You punch it and it bops right back up.

  Lucy held it up, a look of surprise on her face. “Davey? You bought me a punching bag?”

  “Look at its face,” Davey said. “Don’t you see why I bought it? It looks a lot like Scroogeman!”

  I jumped to my feet and walked closer. Well … it had my dark hair, and the face was a little like mine.

  “Go ahead. Punch Scroogeman out,” Billy O’Brian shouted.

  Lucy gave the thing a hard punch. It tilted back almost to the floor, then bounced up. She punched it again. Harder. “Take that, Scroogeman!”

  “I want a t-t-turn,” Josh Cratchit said. He started punching the bag across the room.

  As I watched in shock, other kids eagerly took their turns punching, punching me. Bopping the bag harder and harder. And laughing. All of them laughing as they hit me.

  Believe me, I felt every punch. I felt them in the pit of my stomach.

  Punch. Punch. Punch.

  I was doubled over in pain. I didn’t really feel their punches. I felt their anger and their hatred.

  Punch. Punchpunchpunch.

  The room filled with shouts and laughter. They were having so much fun punching Scroogeman. “Best present ever!” Lucy shouted over all the voices.

  “But I can change!” I cried. “I can change. Really!”

  I knew they couldn’t hear me. But I shouted anyway. “I can change! I can be a good friend! Do you hear me? Please—hear me. I can change!”

  Someone punched the bag so hard, it flew into the air and crashed into the Christmas tree. Ornaments went flying. Everyone suddenly hushed.

  I took a step back. I remembered where I was. One block from my house. I could get away from this horrible party. I could run home and see Mom and Charlie, people who loved me … People who didn’t hate me.

  I turned and took two steps to the front door. And stopped.

  Whoa. Where was everybody?

  They’d disappeared. The room stood empty. No kids. No one.

  And then the room vanished, too. I was surrounded by nothing. Pale blue nothing. What was I standing on? The sky?

  I spun around. I gazed up, then down. The room was gone. The whole house was gone. If I was floating in the sky, there were no clouds, no sun or moon, just this solid pale blue all around me.

  I raised both hands and tried to fly. But no way. I felt as if I were hanging there, like a puppet, suspended by an invisible string.

  A burst of cold air, and a silvery figure floated up beside me. A robot. A metal robot. “Who are you?” I cried.

  The robot hummed to life. “I am the Ghost of Christmas Future,” it announced in a tinny voice.

  “Another ghost?” I said. “Can’t I just go home? I think I’ve learned my lesson. Seriously.”

  “Come with me,” the robot said in the tinny, metallic voice. “You have more to learn, Scroogeman. You have only begun to learn the truth about yourself.”

  “But my house is only a block away,” I protested. “Please—let me go home. I learned a real lesson at that party. I know what I have to do now. I have to become a better friend.”

  “I am not convinced,” it droned. Its metal hand closed over my hand. It felt cold and hard. “You need to see your future, Scroogeman. Then perhaps you will mean what you say.”

  We began to move, soaring higher into the solid blue.

  “Wait. Stop! Where are you taking me?” I cried.

  “To your future, as I said,” it shouted, and we soared higher. “To the place you deserve. Where you will spend your days … forever.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  “Can we talk about this?” I asked.

  24

  “Another school?” I cried. “You’re dropping me at another school?”

  I stared at the tall black building. It looked like Dracula’s castle, with two tall round towers on the sides. We were on a dirt path that led to the school. The robot ghost and I stood beside a wide flower bed. The flowers were all black.

  “I’m not going to stay here,” I said. I crossed my arms in front of me, trying to look tough. “That first ghost took me to a weird school where the kids were all mean to me. I’ve been there, done that.”

  The ghost locked its glassy eyes on me. “The other two ghosts tried to help you,” it said, pronouncing each word like a computer. “You ruined Christmas for your friends and for your family. The ghosts tried to help you learn how to treat others and what Christmas should mean to you.”

  “I’ve learned a lot!” I cried. “I can change. Really. I’ve learned what I have to do.”

  “Scroogeman, you learned nothing,” the ghost said. “Zero. Zip. Nada. Goose eggs. Nil. Nix. Naught. Zilch. Diddly squat.”

  I squinted at it. “Diddly squat?”

  It nodded. “We robots say that a lot in the future.”

  I gazed at the tall towers of the huge school building. Were those vultures circling the towers?

  “So you’re dropping me at another school to help me learn—what exactly?” I said.

  “I’m not here to help you, Scroogeman. I give up. Your school principal gave up on you, too. I’m not going
to help you. I’m going to leave you here because this is where you belong. This is your future.”

  “But you’re not giving me a chance,” I said, my voice trembling. “Lucy’s party changed me. I saw what my friends think of me and … and…”

  I gazed up at the circling vultures, and a shiver rolled down my back. The black flowers in the big flower bed shivered, too, blown by a sudden cold wind.

  The ghost ignored my pleas. The robot led me up the dirt path toward the school entrance. The double doors in the front were black, the same shade as the whole building. “What is the name of this school?” I asked.

  “It’s called Dead Middle School,” it replied.

  I saw black skulls in a row on a window ledge. I could hear the flap of the vultures’ wings overhead. The wind blew at my back, as if pushing me into this school.

  “Dead Middle School?” I said. “What kind of name is that?”

  “You’ll find this school interesting, Scroogeman. They have a very good afterlife program.”

  I didn’t understand. I just knew I didn’t belong here. I turned to the robot ghost. “Take me home. Please,” I begged. “I’ll change. I’ll be totally different.”

  It vanished in a puff of cold air.

  The black double doors creaked open slowly. I stepped up to the entrance. “Dead Middle School,” I murmured softly to myself. “Catchy name.”

  I took a deep breath and walked inside.

  25

  I blinked. I’d expected a dark dungeon. Black halls with cobwebbed ceilings and skulls over every door. I mean, the outside of the school looked like a castle from a horror movie. But the inside looked like a normal school.

  I gazed down the brightly lit hall. The walls were yellow tile. Two rows of green metal lockers on either side. The classroom doors were bright colors and stood open. But I didn’t hear any voices in the rooms.

  My shoes clattered on the tile floor. I stopped in front of a glass trophy case. Inside, the shelves were filled with gleaming sports trophies. One trophy read: NATIONAL DEAD TENNIS CHAMPIONS, 2095.

  2095? Huh?

  A red-and-black banner was draped across the hall. It had a football painted on one side, and it read: CRUSH THEM, CADAVERS!

  “What kind of animal is a cadaver?” I asked myself. I’d never heard that word.

  I decided I had to find the main office and tell the principal that I’m here. Were they expecting me?

  I strode quickly down the hall. Before I could find the office, a buzzer rang out. Kids came pouring out of the classrooms.

  I stopped and stared. They looked like normal kids. The guys were in jeans and T-shirts. A lot of the girls wore short skirts with black tights underneath.

  “The future looks a lot like my time,” I told myself. “I think I could like this school.”

  I felt kind of excited. I wondered if I could make some new friends here. Maybe I could practice being nicer. Show everyone I could be a good dude.

  Perhaps it wasn’t so bad that the three Christmas ghosts had given up on me. Maybe I could have fun here before it was time to go back home.

  But then I noticed something strange. No noise. No voices. The kids had just been let out of their classrooms, but they were all silent.

  Must be a school rule, I thought. No talking in the halls.

  “We’ll have to change that,” I muttered. The quiet was giving me the creeps.

  “Yo, everyone,” I shouted. “What’s up?”

  Kids stopped walking and turned to me. Their eyes were wide and blank. Their expressions were surprised. I guess no one broke the rule before.

  Three or four kids walked up to me. They appeared to be about my age. They still hadn’t made a sound.

  A girl with pale green eyes studied me. She was very pretty. She wore a short pleated plaid skirt and a red top. Her light brown hair was perfectly smooth. Not a hair out of place.

  I couldn’t resist. “How’s it going?” I said. I reached out and mussed up her hair. You know. Just being friendly.

  Her green eyes went wide. Her mouth formed an O of surprise.

  And then I uttered a cry. Staring down, I saw that a chunk of her hair had come off in my hand!

  A thick tuft of her brown hair was twined in my fingers. She had a bald spot on top of her head. She grabbed her head and backed away from me.

  “No! No way!” I cried.

  A crowd quickly gathered around me. The kids’ faces were cold. Not friendly. “Hey, guys,” I said. “I’m the new kid. This looks like an awesome school.”

  A skinny kid with spiky blond hair stood with his hands on his waist, watching me with narrowed black eyes. “Yo. What’s up?” I said. I reached out and bumped knuckles with him.

  Uh-oh.

  His hand came off with a soft ripping sound, and it fell to the floor with a splat.

  A gasp escaped my throat. I stared at the hand down on the floor.

  “Uh … sorry about that,” I said.

  The crowd had grown bigger and uglier. It was easy to see that I’d made a bad first impression. These kids didn’t like me.

  I sighed. I felt so disappointed. I really wanted to have a fresh start here. Make some new friends.

  But these kids were coming apart. I mean, their hair and hands were falling off. How creepy is that?

  “What’s up with this school?” I said. “Where do you all come from?”

  No one answered.

  A big, fat-faced kid with tiny bird eyes on a broad nose, and straight blond hair falling over his wide forehead, bumped up to me. I saw that his hands were curled into fists. I knew instantly that he wasn’t coming over to welcome me. This guy was trouble.

  I stood my ground. I stared into his little bird eyes. “Would you like a dance lesson?” I said.

  I didn’t wait for his answer. I raised my shoe—and stomped down as hard as I could on top of his left foot.

  You’ll never guess what he did.

  26

  Nothing.

  He didn’t do anything.

  He stood perfectly still. As if it didn’t hurt him at all. As if he didn’t even notice that I’d pounded his foot into the floor.

  I tried again. I gave him another dance lesson. I tromped as hard as I could on his right foot.

  “Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip,” as the Ghost of Christmas Future would say.

  He stood there, hulking over me, his fists curling and uncurling. A low moan rose up from the crowd of kids. They didn’t speak. They only moaned. They had formed a circle and were closing in on me.

  What did they plan to do?

  I didn’t wait to find out. I ducked my head and burst between two girls, shoving them out of my way. My shoes pounded the hard floor as I ran toward the front of the school.

  Their frightening moans followed me. I didn’t turn back. I shoved open the heavy double doors and burst outside. The moans cut off as the doors shut behind me.

  I took off running. I ran to the side of the building and turned the corner. The black tower rose above me. I ran in its shadow. My heart pounded. My legs trembled as if they were made of Jell-O.

  The air felt cold against my burning face. Over the thud of my footsteps, I heard the harsh squawks of the vultures high overhead.

  I followed the black stone wall. It led to a wide courtyard behind the school. I stopped when I saw the gravestones.

  “Whoa.”

  Gravestones? Behind a school?

  They were in neat rows. Low granite stones with rounded tops. All the same size, all tilting straight up in the tall grass of the courtyard.

  A loud screech made me jump. Did the sound come from a grave? No. A black cat darted between the rows of graves, its tail held stiffly high.

  I glanced back. No one had followed me. I was all alone in this strange school cemetery.

  The wind made a shrill whistling sound as it blew through the gravestones. And the ugly squawk of the vultures overhead never stopped.

  I stepped closer. Close enoug
h to read the names engraved on the stones. Of course, I didn’t recognize any of them.

  But I gasped when I read the dates engraved beneath the names. The kids buried here had all died at age ten or eleven or twelve.

  A shiver rolled down my body. A cemetery of kids’ graves … Dead Middle School … Those silent kids I met in the hall with their hair falling off and hands dropping to the floor.

  Zombies!

  I don’t know why it took me so long to put it together. But I finally realized the kids I met in that hallway were all dead. Zombies. Were they buried here in this little graveyard? Probably.

  The Ghost of Christmas Future had dropped me off in a school of zombie kids. “This is where you belong, Scroogeman.” That’s what he had said.

  “This is where you belong.”

  And as I walked along the row of low graves, my whole body shook in shudder after shudder. Was I stuck here with these zombies forever?

  I stopped suddenly. My breath caught in my throat. My knees started to buckle. I nearly fell into the open grave in front of me.

  A fresh, open hole, a deep rectangle cut into the earth. An open grave.

  My eyes bulged and I let out a loud gasp as I read the name engraved on the stone: RICK SCROOGEMAN.

  27

  So the robot Ghost of the Future really did plan to leave me here forever. He really had given up on me.

  But that wasn’t fair. Not fair at all.

  I stumbled back. I wanted to get away from the terrifying gravestone. But something held me there. Something stopped me from turning around and running.

  I heard a whisper. It seemed to come from down in the open grave.

  “Come downnnnnnn.”

  No. I imagined that. In my fright, my brain was playing tricks on me.

  “Come downnnn.”

  “No!” I cried out loud. “I’m not hearing this! Stop! I don’t hear it!”

  “Come downnnn, Scroogeman.”

  And then I saw a dim flash of movement. Just a blur of gray at the bottom of the hole.

  I couldn’t help myself. I was too terrified to run. Too terrified to move. But I leaned forward. Leaned over the grave to see what was moving down there.