Wanted (6 page)

The attic rang with our screams as a hideous old man came roaring out of the closet. He was half skeleton, half human. Most of the skin was missing on his face, and I could see the yellowed bone of his skull.

His eyes were sunk deep in their sockets. His nose was missing. Just a hole on the front of his face. His mouth was an open, empty gash.

He wore a ratty black cape and baggy, torn black trousers. He was barefoot. One foot had skin. The other was just bones.

He came screaming out at us, bony hands reaching in front of him.

No time to escape. He grabbed me by the shoulders and tightened his grip until I gasped.

“
The mask
…” His voice was a hoarse crackle from somewhere deep in his throat. “
It's haunted.
…”

“Let me go!” I shrieked. I pulled back — and slipped easily from his bony fingers. I stumbled backward into Brad and Marcus.

“
Haunted … The mask
…” the hideous man groaned. His sunken eyes studied each of us. His cracked lips kept moving, working over his toothless gums.

“Leave us alone!” I screamed. “Go away —
please
!” I could still feel the iron-hard grip of his bony fingers on my shoulders.

He nodded solemnly. I could see cracks in the top of his head. “
Listen to an old ghost…. Listen to a lonely old ghost…. The mask …”

“Noooo!” I screamed. I grabbed the handle and
slammed
the closet door shut.

The three of us pressed our shoulders to the door, hoping to keep him inside. Heart pounding, I expected the door to come flying open and the old ghost to come raging out at us.

But no. The door didn't budge. The only sound was our rapid, wheezing breaths.

We darted away from the closet. “He's … gone.” I hugged myself to stop my shivers. “It's … just like my story,” I murmured.

Both boys turned to me. “What story?” Marcus asked.

“An evil old ghost living in a closet. It's like a story I made up for Mitch the other night. But how can that
be
?”

I didn't want to think about it. It was just too weird. “Let's get out of here.” I ran to the stairs. My legs were shaking. “We have to tell Polly. We — we have to warn everyone. We have to tell them there's a ghost in the attic.”

I grabbed the ugly green mask and pulled it on. Weird. It felt strangely warm. Not rubbery. Soft and warm as human skin.

“Let's go,” Marcus said from behind the red devil mask. He helped Brad pull on the bald-man mask with its head split open and bleeding. “If these old costumes don't scare everyone, we'll
totally
terrify them when we tell them about the ghost in the attic.”

My mask felt a little tight and uncomfortable. I tugged at it, trying to stretch it a bit as I raced down the stairs to the party. Brad and Marcus followed close behind me.

Halfway down, I saw that the balloon game had ended. Polly and her mother were handing out plastic squirt guns. I saw a row of candles on the table. I knew this was the old squirt-out-the-candles game we've played since we were five.

Big whoop.

I stopped almost at the bottom of the stairs.

“There's a …” I started to tell them about the ghost upstairs. But I stopped. I don't know why. Instead, I lifted the green, scaly arms of my costume. And I roared: “
You're all DOOMED!
”

Behind me, Marcus and Brad let out hideous screams, shrieks like from a bad horror movie.

“DOOMED!”
I cried at the top of my lungs. My voice sounded strange, kind of raspy through the ugly green mask.
“You're DOOMED!”

Polly dropped the bundle of squirt guns in her hands. The kids all turned to the stairway. I heard a few kids scream.

“Who are you?” Polly's mom shouted. Her eyes were wide with alarm. “How did you get upstairs? Do you belong at this party?”

“We've haunted the attic for one hundred years!” Marcus boomed in a creepy old man's voice.

“Now we will haunt YOU!” Brad yelled.

“I will call the police if you are crashing this party,” Polly's mom said, frowning at us. “If you do not leave —”

“That's Brad,” a boy said, pointing. “I recognize his voice.”

“Yes. Brad and Marcus,” another boy chimed in.

Polly's mom looked very relieved. She laughed. “And is that Lu-Ann in the green mask with all those horrible teeth? You three fooled us. You gave us a good scare.”

Kids all started talking at once. They stared at the old masks and costumes we were wearing.

“Take off your masks so we can see it's really you,” Polly said.

Brad reached for his mask with both hands. He started to pull it off, gripping the split halves of the head. “Hey —” he uttered a startled cry.

The room grew quiet.

Brad tugged again. “I … can't … get it off,” he groaned.

On the step above him, Marcus was pulling hard on the red devil mask. “Whoa. Mine won't come off, either.”

I turned and watched both boys struggle and strain and tug.

“It's stuck to my skin!” Brad cried. “Help me! It's totally stuck to me!”

“Please — help!” Marcus wailed. “I'm trapped in this thing. It won't let go! It won't let go of me!”

My breath caught in my throat.
This can't be happening.

I spun around, grabbed the sides of Brad's mask, and pulled up hard.

A few kids were shouting and screaming. Most of them just stood frozen in shocked silence.

Finally, Brad and Marcus both started to laugh.

“Gotcha!” Marcus shouted. “Did you really believe us?”

Brad slid off his mask. He tossed it into the crowd of kids. “You guys are too easy to fool!” he declared.

Brad and Marcus bumped knuckles and slapped each other high-fives.

“Just a joke,” Polly's mom announced, as if everyone didn't already get it. “What a hilarious Halloween joke. You certainly got everyone's attention.”

Marcus and Brad were smiling at me. “Success!” Marcus exclaimed. “We shook up this party.”

“We have to tell you all about the
real
ghost,” Brad said.

“Yeah, sure,” someone groaned. “Like we're going to believe you now.”

The voices faded into the background. I suddenly felt a little scared.

I could feel my mask moving. Kind of changing.

A heavy feeling of dread formed in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to believe it, but the mask was growing warmer and warmer. And I could feel it shrinking, tightening to my face.

Brad and Marcus had pulled a joke about how their masks wouldn't come off. But this was no joke. This was really happening to me.

I reached my hands up to my neck and searched for the bottom of the mask. I knew I couldn't tug it off from the top. I had to grab the bottom and slide it up. Pull the mask off from the bottom.

But, wait. No. Oh, please, no.

My hands fumbled at my neck. I slid them up, then down, then back up.

Where was the bottom of the mask?

I couldn't find the place where the mask ended and my skin began.

The mask has melted itself to my skin.

My hands were shaking like crazy now. My panic was making my whole body shake.

I felt the mask tighten some more. It was
alive
. Yes. The old mask was
alive
.

I felt it moving, warming up, stretching itself, melting to my skin.

“HELP ME!” The scream burst from my throat.

I pulled and strained frantically at the mask. But it was no longer a mask. It was
attached
to me. It was
part
of me.

“Help me! I really need help! The mask — it's melted to my face!”

Brad and Marcus burst out laughing.

Other kids started to laugh. Everyone stared at me, smiling, laughing, joking.

“No — really!” I wailed. “I really need help! This old mask — it … it's ALIVE!”

More laughter.

“Oh, please, Lu-Ann,” Polly's mom said, chuckling and shaking her head. “The boys already pulled that joke. Take off the mask and come join everyone.”

“I can't!” I screamed. My voice sounded tinny, hoarse inside the mask. It wasn't my voice at all. Somehow, even my voice had become ugly, monstrous.

“I can't take it off!” I wailed again. “Please — I'm not joking! Somebody help me!”

I gripped it with both hands and pulled with all my might.

Kids laughed. Marcus and Brad were laughing, too.

And suddenly, my fear gave way to something else. Suddenly, I was no longer terrified.

Now I was
angry
. Now a burning, furious anger swept over me.

I felt about to blow up. Yes. Explode. Explode in screaming anger.

What am I going to do? I've never felt anything like this in my life!

I balled my hands into tight fists. I clenched my jaw. I felt every muscle in my body tense — so hard I could barely breathe.

As my anger boiled, I made one last attempt to pull off the mask. I tore at it. Scraped it with my nails. Ripped my fingers at the eyeholes.

But there were no eyeholes. There was no mask. It was my face now. The hideous, sharp-toothed, green scaly face was
my face
.

I couldn't hold myself in any longer. I felt it erupt inside me. My body churned — as if I were
vomiting
my anger!

An animal roar burst from deep down. A terrifying, menacing bellow of horror. So loud and furious, it even frightened
me
.

But I couldn't stop the anger. I lost myself. Lost Lu-Ann. Lost myself in the boiling sea of anger. Sank into it. Sank deep into the red, blinding red of my hate and fury.

I raised my eyes to the costumed kids in Polly's living room. They were still laughing. The idiots. The stupid jerks. They thought I was putting on some kind of show.

I'll show them it isn't pretend.

I attacked. I leaped over the banister and landed on a boy in a mummy costume. We both toppled to the floor. I wrapped my hands around his throat and squeezed until he squeaked.

Then I jumped to my feet. I lowered my shoulder and ran into a couple of girls. They fell backward and slammed into a wall.

I tossed back my head and let out another furious roar.

Kids weren't laughing anymore. Now they were screaming. Now they were backing away in fright.

Ha.

I leaped up and ripped streamers off the ceiling. I knocked over a table and sent a lamp crashing to the floor. “Stop! Stop! Lu-Ann — stop!” I heard Mrs. Martin screaming.

I grabbed a pumpkin pie off the food table and smashed it in her face. Then I hoisted up the food table in both hands and tipped it on its side.

All the food and drinks slid to the floor. The punch bowl shattered into a million pieces, sending the orange drink pooling over the carpet.

Kids screamed in terror. I saw a couple of girls run out the front door.

Polly had a phone to her ear. Was she calling the police?

I didn't care. I couldn't control myself. Couldn't control my red rage.

I ripped a painting off the wall and smashed its glass frame against the banister.

Kids shrieked and screamed.

I loved it!

Polly's mom was still wiping pie off her face. I heaved a vase at the wall. She spun toward me and sprang forward, trying to tackle me.

With a cry, I dodged past her outstretched arms. I took a flying leap and dove right through the living-room window.

Glass shattered and crashed all around me.

I landed on my knees. Then I climbed quickly to my feet. And took off, roaring down the street, screaming like a crazed animal.