“I snuck in,” I said. I could finally talk. “Traci, it … it's hard to explain. But I need those silver pendants back. Right away.”
“I gave them to Phoebe Mullin,” she said. “We’re working together on the necklace.”
My mouth dropped open. “Phoebe has them?”
She nodded. “You can’t take them back. We need them.”
“You—you don’t understand!” I stammered. “They’re dangerous!”
I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t tell her that Morgo, a vicious ghost, was probably melting Phoebe into a puddle of wax right now.
“What's wrong with them?” Traci demanded. “What's so dangerous, Max?”
I didn’t answer. I slid past her and took off. I bolted down the stairs and out the front door. I could hear Traci's dad shouting behind me, “Who's there?” But I couldn’t stop to answer.
It's all my fault.
That's what I kept repeating in my mind.
Phoebe has probably been melted— and it's all my fault!
My boots crunched over the snow as I started to run. I had been to Phoebe's house before. It was three or four blocks away. I knew I had to get there as fast as I could.
I was nearly at the curb when two figures stepped out from behind a tree. They jumped in front of me and grabbed me by the sleeves of my parka.
The Wilbur brothers!
“No time!” I gasped.
“What's up, Maxie?” Willy asked.
“How's it going?” Billy asked.
“Let go,” I said breathlessly. “I—I have to hurry.” I twisted hard, trying to free myself. But those two guys are big —and totally strong.
“No snowmen around to help you this time,” Willy Wilbur said, glancing around the block. “But you’re really into snowmen, right?”
“No. No way,” I said. “Give me a break, guys. I really am in a hurry. I—”
They picked me up and heaved me into a tall snowdrift. Then they held me down and began piling snow over me.
“Let me up!” I tried to scramble to my feet. But I was buried in the high drift. And they were packing it tighter, making it impossible to escape.
“See? Max is really into snow,” Billy said.
“He's really into it,” Willy said.
That made them both giggle like idiots.
How funny are they? Not!
Icy snow pressed against my face. I struggled to breathe. My teeth started to chatter.
Silence now. I waited and listened. Did they leave?
Lying on my back, I swung my shoulder hard, pushing snow away. The cold froze my cheeks. Icy snow dripped down my neck. I swung my shoulder again, making a little more room. Then I twisted my body—pushed and squirmed and twisted—until I was lying on my stomach.
I lowered my hands to the bottom of the snow and pushed up. Yes! Straining every muscle, I hoisted myself up … and out of the snowdrift. My mouth fell open and I gasped for air, sucking in deep cold breaths.
My whole body shook. My jeans were soaked. My parka felt wet and stiff.
With a groan, I freed one leg, then the other, and stepped out of the drift. I shook myself hard, like a dog, sending snow spraying all around me.
Okay. Thank you, Wilbur brothers, for that special treat.
They thought they had played a funny joke on poor Max. They had no way of knowing they could have cost Phoebe Mullin her life.
I pictured her copper-colored ponytail, her freckled face, her red and blue braces that showed when she smiled, the yellow T-shirt she wore that said BOYS STINK in big black letters.
I remembered her swinging in a tire in her backyard. It was some kind of party, and we all climbed on with her and acted like chimpanzees, scratching and grunting and—
Whoa, Max. Get it together, dude.
I shook myself hard again, shaking away the memories. And I started to run over the snow. Shivering, my teeth chattering, I ran in a total panic. The houses, the trees and bushes, the cars that rolled by—I didn’t see any of them. I saw the white snow ahead of me, my breath puffing up against the sky, and a blur of colors and sounds.
By the time I reached Phoebe's block, I was panting hard, my chest aching. My nose and ears were frozen numb, and my cheeks burned from the cold.
Did I get to Phoebe before Morgo?
I stopped across the street from Phoebe's house. Blinked once. Blinked twice.
And stared at the pile of blue trash in the driveway. Why would Phoebe's parents leave that in front of the house?
I crossed the street, and it came into clearer focus. I saw part of a shiny bumper … a bent and twisted license plate.
“Oh nooooo.” A low wail escaped my throat.
It wasn’t a pile of trash. It was the Mullins’ car.
Melted in the driveway.
Was Phoebe inside it?
21
FRANTICALLY, I TRIED TO search for Phoebe inside the car. But it was a big solid puddle—there was no inside!
Heart pounding, I spun away from it, ran up the walk—and burst into the house. I didn’t even ring the bell.
“Who's there?” Mr. Mullin jumped up from his armchair in the den. His newspaper fell out of his hands.
He is tall and very thin, with a face like a field mouse—long nose and tiny gray eyes that always look as if they’re squinting. “What on earth—?” he cried.
“Sorry to break in,” I said breathlessly, gazing around. “Where's Phoebe?”
“She's gone,” he said. “I don’t understand—”
“Gone? What do you mean gone ?” I cried.
“Gone to school. She's rehearsing a play.” He bent to pick up his newspaper. “You’re Max Doyle, right? Listen, Max, you can’t just barge into someone's house and—”
“Can I search her room?” I asked.
He narrowed his little gray eyes at me again. “Excuse me? Search her room? Of course not. Are you crazy?”
“No, I’m not crazy. But I can’t explain,” I said. “Does Phoebe have a bunch of pendants that look like this?” I reached under my sweatshirt, pulled off the silver pendant I always wear, and handed it to Mr. Mullin.
He held it away from him, as if I’d just handed him a bomb. “How should I know, Max? I don’t keep track of her jewelry.”
I glanced around the room in a panic. What should I do? Morgo had definitely been here. Did Morgo find the pendants in Phoebe's room? Or did Phoebe take them to school with her? I had to find out.
“Does she have a cell phone?” I asked Mr. Mullin. “I really have to talk to her.”
He stood tensely, newspaper in one hand, frowning at me. “No. No cell phone.” He pointed to the front door. “Maybe you could come back, Max. Why don’t you come back later? I’m going to pick her up in an hour.”
“Pick her up?” I cried. “Have you looked at your car?”
“My car? What about my car?”
I guess he hadn’t looked out the front window. No way did I want to stay around and explain. “Sorry to bother you,” I said, and I took off.
I had to run to school and hope to get to Phoebe in time. The melted blue car in the Mullins’ driveway made my stomach churn.
I’d never run so much in my life. My legs ached—everything ached—and my cold, wet clothes stuck to my skin.
Slipping and sliding, I turned onto Powell Avenue and continued to jog. Finally, the school came into view.
At the top of the flagpole, the flag flapped hard in the wind. Jefferson Elementary is a kind of old-fashioned-looking three-story brick building.
Snow clung to the roof, and long, fat icicles dripped down from the gutters. Someone had tossed snowballs at the front wall, which was dotted with circles of snow.
I took a deep breath, started to run up the front walk—and stopped.
I stared at the narrow path beside the front walk. A trail of melted snow. The snow had melted completely away, and the green grass showed.
Melted snow … and the path led right to the
front door of the school.
Morgo was here!
Oh no. Poor Phoebe.
I pulled open the front door and slipped inside. My legs trembled as I made my way down the long hall to the auditorium. My mouth suddenly felt so dry, I couldn’t swallow. I could barely breathe.
Morgo was here. Morgo got here first.
I turned the corner and stopped. Oh no … oh no. Heaped on the floor at the end of the hall—a dark melted puddle.
Phoebe?
22
I FROZE.
I stared down the hall at the dark mound spread over the floor. I started to shiver and I couldn’t stop.
Finally, gritting my teeth, I forced myself to move. I staggered down the hall. Trembling, I stepped close to the puddle.
“Phoebe?” The name burst from my lips.
But no. The dark heap came into focus. A coat. Someone's winter coat tossed onto the floor.
I opened my mouth and started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. I felt so relieved.
But I cut my celebration short. Mr. Morgo was here. Phoebe was in major danger.
I stepped around the coat and pushed open the doors to the auditorium. I heard voices on the stage.
As I made my way down the aisle, I saw Mrs. Manola, the drama teacher. She was talking to a bunch of kids in a circle around her. They all stood in front of a painted backdrop of big-city skyscrapers.
My eyes followed the circle, and I saw Phoebe near the front. She wore a baggy blue sweater over dark straight-legged jeans.
Running to the stage, I opened my mouth to call to her. But two kids suddenly appeared in front of me, blocking my path.
Nicky and Tara!
“What are you doing here?” I cried.
Mrs. Manola turned and looked down from the stage. “We’re rehearsing a play, Max,” she said.
The kids all turned and stared at me.
“Maxie, we need to talk to you,” Tara said, pulling my parka sleeve.
“You shouldn’t be here!” I told her.
The kids onstage laughed. Mrs. Manola narrowed her eyes at me. “We shouldn’t be? Well, what are you doing here, Max?”
“We’re going to Doom House,” Tara said.
“Don’t go there!” I said.
The kids laughed again.
Mrs. Manola walked to the edge of the stage and peered down at me. “I have to ask you to leave, Max.”
I turned to Nicky and Tara. “Can’t you see I’m busy now?”
Mrs. Manola's expression turned angry. “ We’re the ones who are busy. You’re interrupting our play rehearsal. Please leave, Max.”
“Listen to me. We have to go to Doom House,” Nicky said. “If the ghosts there are real, maybe they can help us find our parents.”
“No. It's too dangerous,” I said.
Mrs. Manola frowned at me. “Too dangerous to leave the auditorium?”
“We have to take the chance,” Nicky said. “We’re going there. We’re desperate.”
“Max, you don’t belong here. I’m asking you politely to leave,” Mrs. Manola said.
“Please don’t go there!” I said.
Nicky and Tara waved good-bye and vanished.
It took me a few seconds to realize the kids on the stage were all laughing at me.
“Max, you’re being very rude,” Mrs. Manola said.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking to you,” I said.
She glanced around the auditorium. “Well, who were you talking to? Ghosts?”
Big laughter onstage.
“Well … actually …,” I started. But I realized I didn’t have time to waste. I turned away from Mrs. Manola. “Phoebe, I have to talk to you.”
Phoebe let out a cry of surprise. “Me?”
I started to call her down to the auditorium floor. But a loud sizzling sound made me stop.
A wave of heat rolled over me, hot enough to make my skin prickle. “Whoa.” I unzipped my parka.
“It's getting very hot in here,” Mrs. Manola said, shaking her head. She stared at the radiator. “Where is all that heat coming from?”
Kids started to groan and complain as the temperature rose. Sweat poured down their faces. Behind them, I saw the painted backdrop start to droop.
“The furnace must be going berserk,” Mrs. Manola said, fanning herself with her clipboard.
But I knew differently.
I felt another blast of heat on my back. I spun around and saw Mr. Morgo standing behind me. He had a strange tight smile on his face.
“Mr. Morgo—please!” I cried. But he ignored me. He walked right through me, and my body heaved as if on fire.
I knew I was the only one who could see him. But what could I do? I watched helplessly as he floated up to the stage.
“I’m tired of racing around from place to place,” he said. “I’ve been following you, Max. I knew you’d lead me to the stolen life pods. But I’m sick of searching.”
Only I heard him.
And only I saw him raise both hands and point them toward the kids onstage.
And only I knew what he planned to do—melt everyone in sight.
23
“MORGO—STOP!” I SHOUTED.
Kids stared down at me.
“Max, who are you talking to?” Mrs. Manola demanded. Her hair drooped wetly over her face. The front of her turtleneck sweater was stained with sweat.
Several kids dropped to their knees, unable to stand the burning heat. But the stage floor was hot, and they jumped right back up.
Steam hissed on the stage and out over the rows of seats.
Morgo held his hands high. His features were set in an angry scowl. He waved his right hand—and the backdrop started to melt.
Kids screamed and scampered away from it.
The skyscrapers appeared to fold. The backdrop curled wetly to the stage floor.
“What is happening ?” Mrs. Manola screamed. “We’d better leave, people. Use the stage door.”
“Don’t let them leave!” Morgo shouted at me.
At the back of the stage, Mrs. Manola grabbed the doorknob at the exit. She let out a high shriek and jumped back. She shook her hand hard, blowing on it.
“Don’t touch that knob!” she cried to the others. “It's … burning hot!”
Morgo turned to me. “I want those life pods—now,” he said through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to melt your friends, Max.”
“Uh … it would be really great if you didn’t melt them,” I said. “I mean, I’m sure everyone would be really happy not to be melted.”
“Shut up,” Morgo said, shaking his head.
“Oh. Okay. No problem. Really.”
“Shut up and find out who has the stolen pods,” Morgo said. He swung his hand and three folding chairs on the stage melted into dark brown puddles.
Kids screamed. Mrs. Manola had her arms crossed tightly in front of her, as if trying to shield herself.
“Phoebe, I need your help!” I shouted.
Phoebe stared suspiciously at me. “What do you want?”
“You know those metal pendant things that Traci gave you?” I asked. “Do you have them? Could you give them to me?”
Phoebe wiped sweat from her forehead. “No, I couldn’t use them, Max. I don’t have them.”
I saw Morgo tense his hands, preparing to melt everyone.
I turned back to Phoebe. “Well, where are they?” I shouted up to her.
“I returned them to your house,” she said.
24
PHOEBE MUST HAVE RETURNED them on her way to the play rehearsal at school—while I was searching Traci's house.
Now what?
I didn’t have long to think about it. Morgo floated off the stage and landed behind me. He grabbed my right arm and twisted it behind my back.
“Ow!” I let out a cry as his touch burned right through my parka sleeve.
Kids onstage were staring at me in disbelief. Why was I twisting my own arm back?
“Let's
go, Max,” Morgo said. He gave me a hard shove that sent me staggering. Then he pushed me up the aisle toward the exit.
Kids were shouting and laughing. I guess some of them thought I was clowning around.
But it was no joke.
Morgo held on to me all the way to my house. As we walked, we burned a path in the snow. People in cars stopped to stare at me.
“I want those life pods,” Morgo said as we turned onto Bleek Street.
He pushed me toward the two snowmen on the curb. They both melted as we walked past.
“I … I’ve been trying to get them back for you all morning,” I stammered. “Really. I don’t want them. You can have them.”
My skin throbbed and burned, as if I had a really bad sunburn. We melted a path in the snow up my driveway and to the back of the house.
Please don’t melt me, I thought. I’ll give you back your pods.
But please don’t melt me.
I stamped the snow off my boots and pushed open the kitchen door. Was anyone home?
The house was silent.
I walked into the kitchen and started to pull off my wet boots.
“No time for that,” Morgo said. He gave me another hard shove. His touch made the back of my parka sizzle. “Where are the pods?”
I searched the living room quickly, but I didn’t see them. “Mom probably took them up to my room,” I said.
I led the way upstairs. My heart was thudding like a bass drum. My legs suddenly felt rubbery and weak.
What if Colin was home? What if Phoebe gave the pods to Colin and he threw them out? What would Morgo do if the pods weren’t here?
I ran into my room and glanced all around. Not on the bed. Not on the chair. Not on the bed table.
“Yes!” I cried out when I saw the six silver pods on my desk next to the computer. “Yes! They’re right here.”
I scooped them into my hands and handed them to Morgo. “Here. Take them.”
He stared at them, his lips moving as he counted them.
“They’re all there,” I said happily. “The life pods. All six of them.”
Morgo raised his eyes to me. “So they are,” he said softly. “So they are.”
“Well … uh … good-bye,” I said. I waved.