One Night in Doom House

“Going sledding?” I asked.

  “No. Sunbathing,” he said. He tromped over to me in his heavy snow boots and peered down at Benny inside the top hat. “Hey, the inside of my hood is made of rabbit fur.”

  “Shut up,” I said. “Don’t upset Benny.” I pushed Colin back an inch. “Who are you sledding with?”

  “Friends,” Colin said. “You probably don’t know that word, do you, Fat Face?”

  “Don’t call me Fat Face.”

  “Where is your one and only friend today?” Colin asked.

  “Aaron? He's grounded.”

  “Oh, yeah? What did he do? Spit up his strained peas?”

  “He gave his sister's favorite Barbie doll a tan.”

  “A suntan?”

  “Yeah. In the microwave,” I said. “It was a science experiment.”

  Colin snickered. He poked Benny with his gloved finger. “ Aaron is a science experiment,” he said. “A science experiment that went wrong.”

  “Don’t poke Benny,” I said.

  “Okay.” Colin swung his hand and poked me hard in the stomach. I doubled over, gasping.

  He started for the door. “Fat Face, did you eat that chocolate chip muffin for breakfast?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, rubbing my stomach.

  “Well, bad news. Those weren’t chocolate chips. They were rabbit pellets. I switched them before you woke up.”

  I gagged twice. “Thanks for telling me,” I said.

  But he was already out the door.

  I turned back to Benny, who was crouched at the bottom of the top hat, his pink nose twitching like crazy. “Just chill,” I told him. “I do all the hard work. You just sit there.” The rabbit stared up at me as if he was trying to understand what I was telling him.

  “First I show the audience that the hat is empty,” I said. “Benny, you hide under the false bottom. Then I put the hat back on the table and I pull you out like this.”

  Gently, I grabbed Benny by the ears and lifted him from the hat. I held him high so that my imaginary audience could see him. I pictured my audience going wild, clapping, maybe giving me a standing ovation. I took a deep bow.

  Then I started to lower Benny back into the hat.

  Only he wouldn’t go.

  His ears—they were sticky. They stuck to the palm of my hand.

  “Hey—what's up, Benny?” I grabbed the rabbit's middle and gave it a tug. The ears felt soft and hot, like melted candle wax. They stuck to my hand.

  I tugged again. Benny's head stretched. I saw his white fur droop and melt.

  “Oh no!” I let out a cry as the rabbit's head came off in my hand. Melting like hot wax, the white fur dripped as the body sank to the table in a steaming puddle.

  “No—oh, please!” I cried, staring in horror at the melting rabbit head stuck to my hand. “What is happening ?”

  17

  I FELT SICK. MY stomach lurched. I struggled to keep my breakfast down.

  I tugged at the waxy rabbit head. Finally, I pulled it off my hand. But bits of fur and sticky melted flesh clung to my fingers.

  I stared down at the waxy gray puddle on my table. A few seconds ago, that puddle had been Benny.

  Swallowing hard, I took a step back. I realized the whole bedroom had become steamy hot. A hot white mist floated up from the floor. The window was completely fogged.

  “Nicky? Tara? Are you here?” I called. “I … I need help!”

  No answer.

  The steamy mist filled my room. I heard a low hiss, which grew louder … louder … until it sounded like a wild rainstorm. I covered my ears, but I couldn’t block out the shrill sound.

  And then my mouth opened in a silent cry as I realized I was no longer alone.

  A dark figure floated out of the fog—and I recognized him at once. Recognized his blond hair, his long dark overcoat. Recognized his cold blue eyes.

  Mr. Morgo!

  “How did you get in here?” I cried, my voice cracking. “What are you doing here?”

  He smiled and didn’t reply. The fog settled around him. I could see damp puddles on my carpet. Streams of water trailed down my wallpaper.

  Morgo lowered his eyes to the melted rabbit on my table. “That's what I’m going to do to you,” he said, “if you don’t return what you stole.”

  My mouth dropped open. My breath caught in my throat. “S-stole?”

  He nodded. He stepped forward, and I felt a wave of heat move against my body. Morgo stuck a gloved finger into the middle of the melted rabbit. At his touch, it sizzled and hissed.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Morgo said softly.

  “No,” I said, my whole body trembling. “No, I don’t.”

  “I’m not a patient man,” Morgo said. He pointed his finger at me.

  Another wave of heat washed over me. And then my face grew hot. I felt my ears start to burn. My earlobes were sticking to my face.

  “No, please—!” I shouted. “Don’t melt me!”

  “Then return what you stole,” Morgo said, lowering his gloved hand.

  I rubbed my ears. They were still burning hot, but they hadn’t melted.

  “The life pods …,” Morgo said. “Return them to me—now.”

  “Life pods?” I gasped. “I—I didn’t take any life pods.”

  “They’re silver,” Morgo replied through clenched teeth. “They’re shaped like bullets.”

  My mouth dropped open. Those things were life pods ?

  “It isn’t nice to steal,” Morgo said, gazing at me with his cold eyes. “I let you and your friend enjoy my haunted house. I didn’t expect you to steal valuable property. Now, give them back. Give them back now !”

  I panicked. I didn’t think. “But I don’t have them!” I blurted out. “I gave them to Traci!”

  I knew at once that I’d made a terrible mistake.

  But who can think straight with an evil ghost in your bedroom about to melt you?

  “I’ll find this Traci,” Morgo said, shoving his gloved hands into his overcoat pockets. “Time to find Traci.”

  What have I done?

  I can’t let him go after Traci.

  “But … Traci can’t see you!” I cried. “ I’m the only one who can see and hear ghosts.”

  Morgo's smile turned into a sneer. “Don’t worry. She’ll know I’m there,” he said. “It will be the last thing she ever knows!”

  18

  MR. MORGO FLOATED OUT the window. Before he left, he melted my clock radio. I stared at it, swallowing hard. I had a knot in my throat as big as a softball. Maybe it was my heart!

  “Nicky? Tara? Please? I need help!”

  No. No sign of my ghost friends.

  I started to the door. Then I turned and came back. I paced back and forth for a few seconds. I glimpsed the melted rabbit and my whole body shuddered.

  I’d never felt panic like this.

  Was Morgo going to melt Traci?

  No. I can’t let him. It would be my fault! I knew I had to get to Traci first.

  The phone! I grabbed my phone and punched in her number. “Traci—please be there!” I cried.

  One ring. Two … three … four …

  No. No answer. No one home.

  I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to get those pendants back before … before Morgo does something horrible!

  I pulled on my boots, grabbed my parka, and shot out of the house. A blast of cold wind felt good against my hot cheeks. The sky was solid gray, and the strong wind swept snow off the ground and sent it flying in all directions.

  I ran into the middle of the street. The plow had come by, shoving snow to the curbs on both sides. It had made hills of snow nearly as tall as me.

  Across the street, some little kids were building a snow fort. A car skidded in its driveway, tires whining on the ice. Mrs. Murray, our neighbor, drove by, moving slowly on the slippery road.

  My breath puffed up in front of me as I trotted down Bleek Street. With the gray sky above me and t
he white snow all around, I suddenly felt as if I was running through an unreal world. A distant planet where everything was black and white. And cold … chillingly cold.

  I was wishing I was somewhere else. Not running through my snowy neighborhood to Traci's house. Not running in terror from a ghost who could melt a cute bunny rabbit and not even care.

  Running from a ghost who could melt a human.

  I’ll get those pendants back, I told myself.

  Did Morgo call them life pods ?

  I’ll get the pods back from Traci. I’ll return them to Morgo. And then in fifty or sixty years, I’ll be able to forget how frightened I am right now!

  That's what I was thinking when I saw a group of kids at the top of Miller Hill, a block from Traci's house. Some were pulling sleds. Others had plastic disks. Four or five kids were perched on the snow mountain made by the plows, tossing snowballs at kids across the street.

  And was that blond girl in the red down jacket Traci? The one carrying the red snow disk?

  Yes.

  Traci! Thank goodness!

  Gasping for breath, I ran as fast as I could, slipping and stumbling in the deep, slick snow. I reached the top of the hill just as Traci went sliding down.

  Miller Hill is steep and a mile long. You just keep going down forever.

  I watched Traci raise both hands in the air as her sled picked up speed. Her blond hair flew out from under her ski cap, and she screamed all the way to the bottom.

  “Traci!” I shouted.

  The snowball fight grew bigger. Kids were laughing and screaming. Two little boys went down the hill sharing a Flexible Flyer.

  I cupped my hands and shouted again. “Traci! Up here! It's me! Traci—I need those metal things back!”

  She didn’t look up. She was talking to some girls at the bottom of the hill. They had to dodge out of the way as the two little boys came shooting down the hill.

  “Traci—hi!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Traci—come up here!”

  Finally, she heard me. She turned and shouted, “Stay away from me, Max. You’re too weird!”

  Oh, wow. She was still upset about the cookies and milk flying through the air.

  How could I tell her she had a lot more to be upset about?

  “Traci—I have to talk to you! I—I’m coming down!”

  My shouts were cut off by a hard shove at my side. I spun around and saw the Wilbur brothers looming over me.

  Willy had a pair of ice skates dangling around his neck. Billy dropped the plastic garbage bag he was using as a sled and shoved me again. “Get lost, Maxie. You’re ruining our race.”

  “Huh? Race?” I sneered at him. “What race? You two aren’t even in the human race.”

  Why do I always make bad jokes when I’m about to be pounded to a pulp?

  “You’re in the way,” Billy said. He bumped me hard with his chest.

  “Hey, give me a break just once,” I pleaded. “This is important.”

  I turned and called to Traci again. But she was gone. She and the other girls had completely vanished. Did they go to Traci's house?

  A loud hissing sound made me gasp. Morgo!

  No. Just two cats chasing each other through the snow.

  “You want a break? We’ll give you a break, Maxie,” Willy Wilbur said. He pulled back the collar of my coat. Billy scooped up a massive pile of snow—and dropped it down my back.

  The two of them laughed and slapped high fives. They think they’re riots.

  I don’t have time for this, I thought. Any second now, Traci will be a melted puddle, and it will be all my fault.

  I turned and gazed down to the bottom of the hill. To my horror, I saw Traci walking away with two other girls.

  “No! Come back! Traci—come back!” I screamed.

  She didn’t hear me.

  Now what? Now what?

  Suddenly, I had an idea.

  19

  THE DRIVEWAY TO TRACI'S house had been shoveled, but her mom's SUV still had snow on the roof and over the back window. I crouched behind it in the driveway and stared at the house.

  The garage door was open. I could see her dad's Camry inside. Two cars here meant that her parents were probably home.

  This made my job a lot tougher.

  Were they in the front of the house or the back? I made my way along the side of the house to the kitchen. My heart began to thud in my chest. I’d never sneaked into anyone's house before.

  A snowblower stood at the back of the house next to a shovel. I stepped around them and crept toward the kitchen window.

  Anyone in there? The sun covered the window with yellow light. I couldn’t see a thing.

  I’ll try the kitchen door, I thought. If I can get through the kitchen, it’ll be an easy run to the front stairs, then up to Traci's room.

  I heard the TV. Maybe the parents and her little brother were all in the den. I’d only been in Traci's house once, for a birthday party when we were five or six. But I remembered a wood-paneled den with a big TV at the back of the house.

  I crossed my gloved fingers for luck.

  Just let me grab those metal things and get out of here without being seen.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the back stoop. My boot slipped on a patch of ice and I fell forward. My head banged the kitchen door.

  I froze. Did anyone hear that? Was someone coming?

  Hunched over, I waited, not moving or breathing. After a few seconds, I pulled myself up. Okay. No problem. Easy does it, here.

  I reached for the doorknob—and the door swung open.

  I gasped and staggered back. “Hi,” I choked out. “I … I’m a friend of Traci's.”

  Mrs. Wayne gasped too. “I didn’t see you back here. You startled me.”

  She wore a bulky red ski sweater over black leggings and had a red wool cap pulled down over her blond hair. She looked like Traci's twin, only older. She pulled a pair of skis out of the house.

  “I’m meeting some friends,” she said, stepping onto the stoop. “We’re doing some cross-country.” She squinted at me. “What are you doing back here?”

  “Uh … looking for Traci,” I said. “I have to ask her something … about school.”

  Mrs. Wayne started toward her SUV. “Traci is at Miller Hill,” she said. “Didn’t you pass her? She's sledding with a whole bunch of kids from your class.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll go back and find her.”

  But I didn’t do that. I headed to the sidewalk and trudged slowly toward Miller Hill. But as soon as Mrs. Wayne backed down the drive and pulled away, I turned and hurried back to the house.

  Again I listened at the kitchen door. The TV was going in the den. I grabbed the knob, pushed open the door, and sneaked into the kitchen.

  It was warm inside. The house smelled like hot chocolate. I saw three empty cups on the sink. I could hear the TV in the next room. A SpongeBob cartoon. Traci's little brother was probably in there. But where was her father?

  I crept as silently as I could toward the front of the house. I saw that my boots were leaving dirty puddles of water on the kitchen floor. But what could I do?

  I found the front stairs and started to climb. The wooden steps creaked beneath me. Could anyone hear? My skin tingled. I was alert to every sound.

  I reached the top of the stairs. The hall lights were on. I saw four bedrooms, a bathroom, and some closets. If Mr. Wayne was up here, I’d be totally busted.

  Holding my breath, I tiptoed down the hall. It didn’t take long to find Traci's room. I crept inside and carefully closed the door behind me.

  I glanced around as I waited to catch my breath. Traci had two framed posters of ballerinas on the wall over her bed. I kinda remembered she was into dance.

  The room was a cluttered mess. Books and papers and CDs and DVDs tossed everywhere. A big brown basket on the floor overflowed with magazines.

  The bed wasn’t made. Dirty clothes were strewn over it. Stuffed animals,
schoolbooks, backpacks, a boom box, jeans and T-shirts, empty shopping bags—all on the floor.

  Wow. A whole new hidden messy side of Traci!

  But where were the six life pods?

  Her desk was just as messy as the rest of the room. The computer was on, a screen saver of fish floating across the monitor.

  She had a photo of Buddy, her old dog, next to a photo of herself in a ballerina costume at age seven or so.

  I pulled off my gloves and started pushing things around on her desk. I examined a big cup full of pens and pencils. I pulled open the desk drawers, all crammed with stuff, and poked through everything.

  No. No sign of the pendants.

  My legs trembled.

  I jumped at every sound.

  I knew that Morgo would come at any second. If I couldn’t find the pendants and return them to him, he’d melt me—and Traci, too.

  I moved to her makeup table, cluttered with bottles and tubes and soaps and eye pencils and sponges and stuff. But no pendants.

  I was about to turn away when I glimpsed a red box on the corner of her dresser. A jewelry box. Yes! She must have dropped the six pendants into her jewelry box.

  They had to be here. I started toward the dresser. A loud creak made me stop. Morgo?

  I spun to the windows. No. Not here—yet.

  I grabbed Traci's jewelry box and lifted the top. Tiny earrings and a couple of silver chains. No. No pendants.

  I lifted the top shelf of the jewelry box to look underneath.

  And the bedroom door swung open.

  “Oh!” I cried out. And dropped the shelf of earrings as Traci strode into the room.

  “Max? Are you crazy?” she cried. “What are you doing in my room?”

  20

  “T-TRACI—” I SPUTTERED. “I—”

  “How did you get up here?” she demanded. She had her parka on. Her cheeks were still red from the cold. Her hands were balled into tight fists. “Why are you going through my stuff?”

  I was desperate to explain, but my tongue suddenly stuck to the roof of my mouth. The only sound I could make was “Hmmmmma hmmmma.”

  Traci pulled off her parka and tossed it onto the floor. “I don’t get it,” she said, frowning at me. “Did my parents let you up here? Or did you sneak into my house?”