59 - The Haunted School (6 page)

“We all gathered in the library to take the photo,” Seth continued. “All
twenty-five of us. The photographer lined us up.”

“I recognized him right away,” Eddie broke in. “He was an angry man. An evil
man. He hated kids.”

“We were all in a crazy mood,” Mona added. “We were laughing and joking
around a lot and pretending to wrestle. And the photographer became furious
because we wouldn’t stand still for him.”

“We all hated him,” Eddie chimed in. “The whole town knew he was evil. But he
was the only photographer around.”

“I’ll never forget his name,” Eloise said sadly. “Mr. Chameleon. I’ll never
forget it. Because… because a chameleon changes colors—and we can’t.”

“Mr. Chameleon?” Ben snickered. “Didn’t he used to hang out with Mr. Lizard?”

“Ben, stop—” I pleaded.

I could see that Ben didn’t believe a word of Seth’s story. He kept making
jokes. But Seth and the others looked so solemn, so bitter.

Staring at their old-fashioned clothes and haircuts, at their sad, gray
faces, I believed them. They were the vanished kids, I realized. The lost class
of 1947.

“The photographer lined us up in three rows,” Seth continued, pacing back and
forth, hands shoved in his gray pants pockets. “He stood behind his big box
camera. It had a drape on the back that he stuck his head under. Then he raised
the flash high.

“He told us to say ‘cheese’. Then the flash went off with a loud
CRACK!
”

“But it wasn’t a normal flash,” Mary broke in. “It was so bright… so
bright…” Her voice trailed off.

“So bright, we couldn’t see,” Seth continued, shaking his head. “The room—the library—it disappeared in the flash. And when we could open our eyes, when
we could see again… we were here.”

Ben opened his mouth. Probably to make another lame joke. But I guess he
changed his mind. He closed his mouth without saying anything.

“We were here,” Seth repeated, his voice shaking with emotion. He slammed the
desk with his fist. “We weren’t in the library anymore. We weren’t in the real
school anymore. We were here. Here in this black-and-white world.”

“As if we were trapped inside a photograph,” Mona broke in. “Trapped forever
inside a black-and-white photograph.”

“Trapped in Grayworld,” Eddie said bitterly. “That’s what we call it.
Grayworld.”

“We’ve tried everything,” Eloise added. “We’ve tried every way to get back.
We still call out for help. We still think maybe someone will come….”

“I heard you,” I murmured. “I was in class. And I heard you calling.”

“But—but—” Ben sputtered. “I don’t get it. Where exactly
are
we?”

No one answered for a long moment. Then Seth walked up to Ben. Pressing his
hands on the desktop, he lowered his face close to Ben’s, staring Ben in the
eyes.

“Ben,” he said, “did you ever see a wall and wonder what was on the other
side?”

Ben glanced uncomfortably at me. “Yeah. I guess,” he replied.

“Well,
we’re
on the other side!” Seth cried. “
We’re
on the
other side of your world. And now, you are too.”

“Soon you will be one of us!” Eddie said.

“No—!” Ben cried.

He said more, but I didn’t hear him.

I glanced down at my hands—and opened my mouth in a high scream of horror.

“My—my
fingers
!” I shrieked.

I held both hands up to show them. My fingers had turned gray. The gray was
spreading onto my palms.

Ben grabbed my hand and pulled it close to examine it. “Oh no,” he murmured.
“No…”

“Ben—yours too!” I cried.

He dropped my hand and studied his hands. His right hand was almost entirely
gray. The fingers on his left hand were gray, and the color in his palm was
starting to fade.

“No… no…” he repeated, shaking his head.

I raised my eyes to the five gray kids. “You—you weren’t joking,” I choked
out.

They stared back at us with blank expressions.

Mary stared at my hands. “It moves quickly,” she said finally. “You’ll see.”

“No!” I cried, jumping to my feet. “What can we do? We can’t turn gray! We
can’t
!”

“You have no choice,” Eloise said sadly. “You are in Grayworld now. All color fades so quickly here.”

“You are one of us now,” Seth repeated. “Once you turn completely gray, you
will never be able to turn back.”

“No!” Ben and I both protested.

“We’re getting out!” I cried. I kicked my chair aside and ran back to the
classroom door. I turned the knob and struggled to pull it open.

Ben stepped up beside me, and we both pulled until we were groaning and our
faces were bright red.

“It’s bolted shut from the other side,” Seth called. “You’re wasting your
time.”

“No—” I insisted. “We’re getting out. We’re getting out
now
!”

With a desperate cry, I raised both fists and started pounding on the wall.
“Help us!” I screamed. “Somebody—help us! Can you hear me? Please—help!”

I pounded until my fists hurt. Then I lowered my hands with a sigh.

“Don’t you think we already tried that?” Mary asked bitterly. “We pound on
the walls and call for help all the time.”

“But no one ever answers,” Eloise added. “And no one ever comes to help.”

I gazed down at my hands. They were completely gray to the wrists. I pulled
up my sleeves. The color of my arms was starting to fade.

“Ben—!” I started. He was staring at his graying skin too.

My mind whirred. I suddenly felt dizzy.

“How do we escape from here? How do we get back to our world?”

“Maybe the elevator?” Ben suggested.

“It’s no use,” Seth warned.

But we ignored him and bolted through the aisle between the desks. To the
alcove in back of the big gray classroom. The narrow alcove that held the
elevator.

“There’s no elevator button,” Mary called after us. “No way to call the
elevator.”

“It never runs,” Seth added. “It hasn’t run in fifty years. When we heard it
moving tonight, we couldn’t believe it.”

“There’s
got
to be a way!” I cried.

I smoothed my hand over the wall beside the elevator doors. “There’s got to
be a hidden button.” The wall felt warm and smooth.

I pounded it with my fist until my whole hand ached.

Ben pressed his hands along the crack between the two doors. With a groan, he
struggled to pry the elevator doors open.

No luck.

“A screwdriver?” he called over his shoulder. “Does anyone have a
screwdriver?”

“Or maybe a knife, or a stick, or something?” I added. “To pry the doors
apart?”

“We tried it,” Eloise moaned in her hoarse, scratchy voice. “We tried
everything.
Everything
!”

I kicked the metal doors hard. I felt so frustrated, and angry, and
frightened—all at the same time.

Pain shot up my foot and leg. I hobbled back against the wall, breathing
hard.

My shirtsleeves were graying. I pulled up one sleeve. The gray on my skin had
moved past my wrist.

“Sit down with us,” Mary called. “Sit down and wait. It really isn’t that
bad.”

“You get used to it,” Seth added softly.

“Used to it?” I cried shrilly, still breathing hard. “Used to a world without
any color? Used to being totally in black and white? And not being able to go
home? Or go anywhere?”

Mary lowered her head. The others gazed back at Ben and me, their gray faces
solemn and sad.

“I—I’m not going to get used to it!” I stammered. “Ben and I are getting
out of here.”

I raised one hand and rubbed it with the other. I guess I thought maybe I
could rub the gray off. My skin felt warm and soft as ever. It didn’t
feel
any different.

But the color was gone. And the gray was creeping up, creeping up fast.

“What are we going to do?” Ben cried. His eyes were wild. His voice came out
high and shrill.

“The window!” I shouted, pointing. “Come on. Out the window!”

“No!” Seth shouted. He moved quickly to block our path. “No—don’t! I’m
warning you—”

“Don’t go out there!” Eddie cried.

Why are they trying to stop us? I wondered. They don’t want us to escape!
They want to keep us here! They want us to be as gray as they are!

“Out of the way, Seth!” I cried.

Ben dodged one way. I dodged the other.

Seth made a grab for me. But I slid away from him.

And dove to the window ledge.

Staring out into the gray night, I shoved up the window.

“Stay away from the kids!”

“They’re crazy! They’ve all gone crazy!”

“They’ll take you to the pit!”

We heard their cries and warnings behind us. But they didn’t make any sense
to us. So we ignored them.

Ben and I climbed onto the window ledge—and scrambled out.

Ben dropped onto the ground with a hard
THUD.
I followed him, landing
on my feet on soft grass.

The night sky spread overhead, a solid black. No stars. No moon.

Seth and the others appeared at the window, shouting and signaling for us to
come back. But we both took off, jogging over the dark grass.

We crossed the street and saw low, dark houses set far back on gray lawns. No
lights shone in the windows. No cars came by. No one was out walking.

“Is this Bell Valley?” Ben asked as we crossed another street and kept
jogging. “Why doesn’t it look familiar?”

“These aren’t the same houses across from the school,” I said.

A chill of fear made me stop running.

How could there be a whole different town out here? And where were the people
who lived here?

Was it deserted? Was it like a movie set? I suddenly wondered. Not a real
neighborhood at all?

The kids’ warnings repeated in my ears. Maybe Ben and I made a mistake, I
thought. Maybe we should have listened to them.

I turned back toward the school. Wisps of fog came floating up from the
ground. The school rose darkly behind the spreading gray mist.

Startled, I squinted hard at it. “Whoa—Ben,” I gasped. “Check out the
school.”

He was studying it too. “That’s not our school!” he exclaimed.

We were staring at a low, square building with a flat roof. Only one story
high. Gray light flooded from the only window facing the street.

The light fell on a slender, bare flagpole planted near the street. And a
small set of swings, silvery gray in the dim wash of light.

“We’re in a different world,” I said, my voice shaky and shrill. “We’re in a
different world—so close to ours.”

“But—but—” Ben sputtered.

The clumps of fog began to float together, forming a billowing wall. It moved
quickly up from the ground, hiding the bottom of the building from us now.

“Let’s keep going,” I urged Ben. “There’s
got
to be a way out of
here!”

We started to jog again, moving past darkened houses and empty lots. Running under black-trunked trees, all winter bare.
Our shoes clattering over streets without cars or streetlights.

I kept gazing up at the sky, hoping to see the moon or the blinking light of
a star. But I stared up at a ceiling of solid black.

We’re like shadows, I thought. Shadows running through shadows.

Stop it, Tommy! I scolded myself. Don’t start thinking weird thoughts. Just
keep your mind straight ahead on what you have to do.

Which is to find a way to escape from this place.

We jogged past a black mailbox, across another empty street. And as we ran,
the fog swept around us.

It floated low at first, clinging to the dark grass, billowing over the
streets. There was no breeze. No wind at all.

But the fog quickly began to rise. It rose all around us. Hiding the houses
behind it. Hiding the bare trees and streets and driveways—hiding
everything
behind a thick, swirling curtain of gray.

With a groan, Ben stopped jogging.

I ran right into him. “Hey—!” I cried out breathlessly. “Why did you stop?”

“I can’t see anything,” he choked out. “The fog…” He lowered his hands to
his knees and leaned forward, struggling to catch his breath.

“We’re not getting anywhere—are we?” I asked softly. “I mean, we could
probably keep running forever. And we’d never get out of this place.”

“Maybe we should wait till morning,” Ben suggested, still bent over. “Then
the fog will probably be gone and we can see where we’re going.”

“Maybe…” I said doubtfully.

I shivered. I wondered how much of me had turned gray. Did I have any
color left?

I pulled up my shirt and struggled to see. But it was too dark. Everything
looked black and gray. I couldn’t tell.

“What do you want to do?” I asked Ben. “Go back to the school?”

The fog swept around us. So thick, I could barely see him.

“I—I don’t think we could find the school in this fog,” he stammered. I
could hear the fear in his voice.

I turned back.

He was right. I couldn’t see the street or the trees on the other side of the
thick mist.

“Maybe we can retrace our steps,” I suggested. “If we keep going in that
direction—” I pointed.

But in the thick, spinning fog, I wasn’t sure it was the right direction.

“This was dumb,” Ben muttered. “We should have listened to those kids. They
were trying to help us, and—”

“It’s too late to think about that,” I said sharply. “I have an idea. Let’s
try to find our way through the fog to one of the houses and spend the night there.”

“You mean break in?” Ben demanded.

“They seem to be empty,” I replied. The fog swirled thicker, wrapping us up
tightly. I tugged his arm. “Come on. We’ll find a place to wait until morning.
It’s better than standing out here all night.”

“I guess…” he agreed.

We turned and began walking up a sloping front yard. We had to move slowly
because we could barely see.