Have You Met My Ghoulfriend? (3 page)

I glimpsed Traci staring at me. “Uh … No. I said
guts
. I'm sure I have the
guts
to climb this.”

My hands were sweaty. My legs felt rubbery and weak. All eyes in the gym class were on me.

“Try not to look so frightened,” Tara said.

“How can I?” I asked, a cold sweat pouring down my forehead.

“How can you
what
?” Coach Freeley asked.

“How can I make this more challenging?” I replied. “It's too easy.”

“Stop talking to the rope and
climb
it,” the coach said. Everyone laughed.

My hands shook as I reached up and grabbed the rope. It was thick and coarse, actually several ropes twined together. It scratched my hands as I gripped it.

“Do you have any climbing gloves?” I asked Coach Freeley.

He glared at me. “Are you going to climb it or knit a sweater with it?”

More laughter. I saw Traci shake her head.

“Stop stalling, Max. We're right here with you,” Nicky said.

“Just pretend to climb,” Tara said. “We'll hold on to you and carry you up to the top of the rope. No one else can see us. They'll think you're climbing.”

“Make it look good,” Nicky said.

I took a deep breath. The whole class was watching me. Coach Freeley had his hands on his hips and was tapping one foot impatiently.

I raised my hands. And dug my sneakers into the rope.

“Here goes,” Tara said. “Hold on, Max.”

They grabbed me under the arms. Then they both floated off the floor, carrying me up with them.

I scrabbled my hands over the rope, reaching one hand up over the other. And I pretended to push myself up with my feet.

Glancing down, I saw everyone staring up at me. I hoped I was making it look good. Did they believe I was really climbing?

“This is easy,” I told the two ghosts.

“Easy for
you,
” Tara said, groaning. “You're heavy!”

I moved higher, making climbing motions with my hands and feet. “This is awesome!” I exclaimed.

Tara groaned again, tugging me up. “You owe us big-time.”

Halfway up the rope, I had a great idea.

I pulled my hands from the rope and held them straight out at my sides. “Hey, look, everyone!” I shouted at the top of my voice.
“No hands!”

I could hear the gasps and cries of surprise down below as everyone watched me climb the rope without holding on.

“Show-off,” Nicky muttered.

“I can smell that A in phys ed,” I said.

“Don't worry,” Tara said. “We'll find ways for you to thank us.”

I grabbed the rope again and tucked my sneakers around the big knot. They floated higher and carried me to the top. I heard applause down below.

Glancing down, I saw Traci grinning up at me. Excellent! She's impressed. And I bet the no-hands thing really impressed Coach Freeley, too.

“Okay, guys,” I said. “I'm ready to climb down.”

I turned my head from side to side. No sign of them.

“Nicky? Tara? I'm ready for you to take me down now.”

Silence.

Where were they? Was this their idea of a joke?

“Hey—not funny. Come on, guys. How do I get down?”

Below me, the gym had suddenly grown very quiet.

“Max, get your butt down here, okay?” Coach Freeley's voice broke through the silence. “Other people want a turn.”

Get my butt down there? Okay. I'd love to.

But how? I didn't have a clue.

I clung to the rope. My palms began to sweat and my hands started to slip. My legs began to shake. I was losing my grip. I couldn't hold on much longer.

“Nicky? Tara?
Help!
”

I
SWALLOWED.
M
Y
T
HROAT
felt as dry as sawdust. I was trembling so hard, my knees were knocking together. Could everyone see that?

How could those two stupid ghosts leave me up here? I really had no idea how to get down. I knew there was no way I could slide down without ripping my whole body to pieces.

And then I realized something else—
I'm afraid of heights!

As I gazed down, the gym started to spin. The kids, Coach Freeley, the bleachers, the gym floor—it all became a whirling blur.

Fighting off my dizziness, I raised my eyes to the ceiling. And felt my hands slip a little more. My heart pounded in my chest.

Coach Freeley is going to have to call the fire department, I thought. That's the only way I'll ever get down. But how can I hold on long enough for the firefighters to get here?

Coach Freeley turned and headed across the gym to get his clipboard. That's when I saw the
ladder at the side of the gym start to move. It was a tall metal painter's ladder that had been leaning against the far wall. As I stared down, the ladder lifted itself away from the wall and appeared to move on its own—sliding toward me.

Yes—!

Kids let out startled cries as the ladder edged across the gym floor. They scrambled to get out of the way. The ladder moved past them and came to a stop at the wall beneath me.

Okay, okay, Max. This should be a piece of cake. Just hold on to the rope and lower your feet to the ladder. No prob, right?

Well, it sounded easier than it was.

I held on to the rope, lowering my hands inch by inch until my sneakers bumped the top rung of the ladder. Then slowly, slowly I lowered myself. With a final step of courage, I let go of the rope. I quickly grabbed the ladder's sides with my hands. Then I climbed down the rest of the way.

When my shoes hit the gym floor, I let out a triumphant cheer. I stopped when I realized everyone was staring hard at me.

“Max, that ladder,” Traci said, pointing. “It—it walked across the gym on its own!”

Think fast, Max. Think fast.

“Of course,” I said. “It's a
step
-ladder!”

Groan.

Well … that was the best I could do.

Up in my room that night, I waited for Nicky and Tara to appear. Why didn't they help me down the rope? I wanted to know. Why did they make me flunk the rope test?

But more important than that, I needed to tell them about Phears. I had to tell them about the Berserker Ghoul he was going to send to break me.

Break me.

I don't want to be broken, I thought, shuddering. I want my life to be normal again.

Nicky and Tara had to step up. They had to help protect me from Phears and this ghoul he was sending. After all, whose fault was it that I was in this mess?

I didn't ask to be haunted. I didn't ask for any of this. And if I was going to protect Nicky and Tara, it was only fair for them to protect me.

But where were they?

They didn't show up all night.

I tried to write in my journal. But everything I wrote about my day sounded like some kind of scary novel. No one would believe any of it. I tore out the page and promised myself I'd think of something to write tomorrow.

Finally, I tucked myself into bed, shut my eyes, and tried to forget about this awful day. But just as I started to drift off to sleep, I heard a low howl.

And then a long, shrill cry.

The cat. Again.

“Where is that cat?” I bolted up in bed.

Another low howl. Sounding so sad and lonely.

“Where are you, cat?” My muscles tensed.

Wait a minute. Maybe I'm hearing Edgar, the Swansons' black cat next door. Sometimes Edgar stands in the backyard and howls to be let inside.

I could feel my body relax. That's it, I told myself. It's just Edgar.

“Yeeeeeeeeoooow.”

That sad howl again. No, not Edgar. The cry was too nearby to be the Swansons' cat. “Where are you, cat? What do you want?”

Silence now.

I fell back into bed, turned onto my stomach, and pulled the blanket up to my neck. I shut my eyes and settled into the pillow.

I heard heavy footsteps. Felt a whoosh of cold air. And something leaped out of the darkness.

I tried to turn over. I tried to see what was there. But I couldn't. Something landed heavily on my back. An animal? A ghoul?

Before I could move, it grabbed my neck with two powerful claws.

“N
OOO—!”
I
LET OUT
an angry cry and tried to fight it off. Squirming and thrashing, I tugged its heavy claws off me. With a groan, I struggled onto my back.

The bedside lamp flashed on—and I gasped as I saw the creature in all its gruesome horror.

Colin. My brother, Colin.

Colin sat on top of me, fingernails still digging into my throat. Seeing my shock, he tossed back his head and laughed. His blue eyes flashed gleefully in the bright light.
“Wahoo!”
He let out a victory cry and pounded on my head for a while with both hands. He always thinks it's fun to use my head as a bongo.

“Okay. You scared me,” I said. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

He grinned down at me. “Where'd you get those pajamas, Maxie?”

“What do you mean? They're my
Star Wars
pajamas. They're my favorites. I've had them forever.”

“But they're torn,” Colin said.

“No, they're not,” I protested.

Colin grabbed my pajama shirt and ripped it down the front. “See? They're torn.”

I tried to shove him off me, but he was too heavy and too strong. He works out about twenty hours a day, watching himself in a mirror the whole time. Colin loves himself, and just about everyone else does too. Because he's such a macho hunk.

Puke.

“Why'd you rip my shirt?”

“To teach you a lesson,” he said.

“Excuse me? A lesson? What lesson?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Beats me.” He climbed off me, leaning all his weight on my ribs, and glanced around the room. “You have a cat in here, don't you, Fat Face?”

“Don't call me Fat Face. I hate that,” I said.

“It's your real name. Fat Face Doyle. I saw your birth certificate.”

“How funny are you, Colin? Not!”

“Where's the cat, Fat Face?”

So Colin could hear the cries too. Weird.

“I don't have a cat,” I said. “What makes you think I have a cat?”

“Because I heard it meowing. It woke me up.”

“Funny. I didn't hear anything,” I lied.

“Maxie, if you have a cat, you're in major trouble,” Colin said. “You know Mom is allergic.”

He crossed the room to my closet and began heaving stuff out, tossing it all over the floor. “Is it in here? Where is it?”

I sat up. “Get your paws off my stuff. I told you, I don't have a cat.”

What could I do? He was pulling everything out of my closet. He knows I always get into trouble with Mom and Dad when my room is a mess. I had to think of something to get him out.

“You know what I think it was?” I said. “It wasn't a cat. I think it was just my stomach growling real loud.”

“Oh, really?” He backed out of the closet and turned to me. “Stomach growling? I know how to cure that, Maxie.” He leaned forward, took a running start, and gave me a ferocious head-butt in the stomach.

I yelped in pain. It hurt so much, I thought his head had gone all the way
through
me!

Giggling and pumping his fists in the air, Colin ran out of the room.

A few minutes later, I started breathing again. I slid back under the covers and listened for the cat. Silence.

I knew where its cries were coming from. I think I knew all along, but I didn't want to admit it.

The cat was in the tunnel. The tunnel hidden behind a panel in my bedroom wall. Nicky and
Tara and I discovered the tunnel one night. It led to some kind of terrifying ghost world, all dark and cold and filled with lurking ghosts and spirits.

Nicky and Tara forced me to go into the tunnel to find a box of Nicky's belongings. I still have nightmares about it. I was trapped in the tunnel, trapped in the ghost world. Nicky and Tara had to pull me out, pull me back to my room.

The tunnel opening has been paneled up ever since. I never want to go back to that terrifying place again.

“Please go away,” I whispered to the cat. “Please—stop crying. No one wants you here.”

As I struggled to fall asleep, little did I know that I'd be pulling off that wall panel in just a few hours.

T
HE NEXT MORNING,
D
AD
jumped up from the breakfast table as soon as I stepped into the kitchen. “Max, are you hiding a cat in your room?”

“Huh?”

That was my best reply for first thing in the morning.

I saw Colin grinning at me over his bowl of shredded wheat. Mom leaned against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee between her hands.

“Your brother heard a cat in your room last night,” Dad said.

Colin's grin grew wider. He loved getting me in trouble.

“He's a dirty liar,” I said.

Mom choked on her coffee. Dad hurried over to slap her on the back. Dad is a big, beefy guy, built like a buffalo. And Mom looks sort of like a frail little bird. So when Dad slaps Mom on the back, believe me, she stops choking right away. She never wants a second helpful slap.

“Don't call your brother names,” Dad said.

“Yeah. Don't call me names, you big piece of garbage,” Colin chimed in.

Dad laughed at that. He thinks Colin is a riot.

“Maxie, I know you want a pet,” Mom said, setting her mug on the counter. “But I'm terribly allergic to cats.”

“Besides, you have Buster,” Dad said.

“Buster?”
I cried. “Buster
hates
me! He thinks I'm one of his chew toys!”

Buster is a big, furry wolfhound we got a few years ago. He stays mostly outside or in the garage. Whenever I come near him, he growls and sinks his teeth into my leg.

Dad says he's just being friendly. He says I have to get over my fear of dogs.

I'm not afraid of dogs. I'm afraid of being
eaten!

Colin loaded his spoon with cereal and snapped it toward me. He got me right in the forehead with a big wet wad of shredded wheat.

Dad laughed. To him, everything Colin does is golden.

Mom shook her head at Colin. “Don't play with your food. And stop picking on Maxie.”