Phantom of the Auditorium (9 page)

“But we
want
to find him,” Zeke reminded Brian.

I sneezed seven times. Then one more for good luck. Finally, I was all sneezed out.

“He heard that. I
know
he did,” Brian fretted. His eyes darted around in fear.

The door slammed shut.

“Nooo!” We all jumped and cried out.

My heart leaped to my mouth. Every muscle in my body tied itself into a knot.

We turned to stare at the door. Someone had closed it, I knew. It hadn’t been blown shut by any wind.
Zeke was the first to move. Lowering his flashlight, he hurtled to the door. He grabbed the knob and pushed hard.

The door didn’t budge.

Zeke lowered his shoulder against the door. Twisting the knob, he pushed again.

Still no success.

He banged his shoulder against the door. Pushed again. Strained against the door with all his weight.

When he turned back to us, his face revealed his fear for the first time. “We — we’re locked in,” he said softly.

I rushed up beside Zeke. “Maybe if all three of us try,” I suggested.

“Maybe,” Zeke replied. But I could see he didn’t have much hope.

I swallowed hard. Seeing Zeke so frightened made me even
more
frightened.

“Yeah. Let’s all push together,” Brian agreed, stepping up beside me. “We can
break
the door down if we have to.”

Way to go, Brian!
I thought.
He’s finally showing some spirit.

We lined up against the door and prepared to push.

I took a deep breath and held it. I was trying to calm myself down. My arms and legs felt as if they were made of chewing gum.

This is just so scary,
I realized.
If we are locked in this tiny room and can’t get out, we could be here for the rest of our lives. We are miles and miles away from the rest of the world.

Everyone will search and search up above. And they’ll never find us. And even if we yell and scream at the tops of our lungs for help, there’s no way anyone could hear us.

We’ll be trapped here forever.

I took another deep breath. “Okay, on the count of three,” I said. “On three, everybody push.”

Zeke started to count. “One … two …”

“Whoa! Wait a minute!” I interrupted. I stared at the door. “We pushed the door to get in here — right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Zeke replied, staring hard at me.

“So it won’t
push
open from the inside,” I said. “We have to
pull
it open.”

“Hey — you’re right!” Zeke cried.

I grabbed the knob, twisted it, and pulled hard.

The door slid open easily.

And there was a man standing in the doorway.

My flashlight moved up to his face. I recognized him instantly.

Emile. The little white-haired man who said he was the night janitor.

He blocked the doorway and glared in at us, an ugly, menacing scowl on his scarred face.

“Let us go!” I shrieked.

He didn’t move. His strange gray eyes moved from Zeke to Brian to me.

“You have to let us out of here!” I insisted. And then I added meekly, “Please?”

His scowl grew even angrier. The light from the flashlight made the long scar on his cheek look even deeper.

He didn’t budge from the doorway. “Why are you down here?” he demanded in his hoarse whisper of a voice. “Why are you in my home?” “So — you
are
the Phantom!” I blurted out. He narrowed his eyes at me in surprise. “Phantom?” His expression turned thoughtful. “I guess you could call me that.” Brian uttered a low cry. “This is my home sweet home,” the man said angrily. “Why are you here? Why didn’t you listen to my warnings?”

“Your warnings?” I asked. I was shaking so hard, the light from my flashlight was dancing all over the wall.

“I did everything I could to keep you away,” the Phantom said. “To keep you from my home.”

“You mean the paint on the backdrop? Swinging down from the catwalk? The scary mask in my locker with the note?” I cried in astonishment.

The Phantom nodded. “I tried to warn you. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. But I had to protect my home.”

“And so you tried to stop our play?” Zeke demanded, huddling close to me. “You tried to ruin our play so we wouldn’t use the trapdoor and find you down here?”

The Phantom nodded.

“And what happened seventy-two years ago?” I asked him. “What happened to you the first time the play was supposed to be performed? Why did you disappear that night?”

The Phantom’s expression changed. I saw confusion in his silvery eyes. “I — I don’t understand,” he stammered, staring hard at me, his white hair falling over his forehead.

“Seventy-two years ago,” I insisted.

A bitter smile formed on his lips. “Hey, I’m not
that
old!” he replied. “I’m only fifty-seven.”

“Then … you’re not the Phantom?” Zeke asked uncertainly.

Emile shook his head. He let out a weary sigh. “I don’t understand this Phantom talk, young man. I’m just a poor homeless guy trying to protect my little space.”

All three of us studied him, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. I decided that he was. “You’ve been living here under the school?” I asked softly. “How did you know about this room down here?”

“My father worked at the school for thirty years,” Emile replied. “He used to bring me here with him when I was a kid. When I lost my apartment in town, I remembered this space. I’ve been living here ever since. For nearly six months now.”

His eyes glared angrily again. He brushed the hair off his forehead as his ugly scowl returned. “But you’re ruining it for me, aren’t you?” he said sharply. “You’re ruining it all for me.”

He moved quickly, stepping from the doorway, entering the room, walking toward us with that menacing expression.

I stumbled back. “Wh-what are you going to do to us?” I cried.

“You ruined everything. Everything,” he repeated, moving toward us.

“Now, wait —” I cried, raising my hands as if to shield myself.

Then I heard a sound. From out in the tunnel. A low clanking sound. I turned to Zeke and Brian. They heard it, too. The trapdoor! It was moving. Coming down. We could hear it at the other end of the tunnel.

I think all three of us had the same idea at once. We
had
to get to that trapdoor. It was our only chance of escape.

“You ruined everything,” Emile repeated, suddenly sounding more sad than angry. “Why didn’t you listen to my warnings?”

Without saying a word to each other, Zeke, Brian, and I charged for the door. “Oh!” I bumped into Emile as I scooted past.

To my surprise, he didn’t reach out to grab me, didn’t try to stop me.

I led the way out the door, running at full speed. My legs still felt as rubbery as chewing gum. But I forced them to move. One running step, then another.

I didn’t glance back. But I could hear Zeke and Brian at my heels. And then I heard Emile’s voice echoing through the tunnels: “You ruined everything. Everything!”

Was Emile chasing after us?

I didn’t care. I just wanted to get to the trapdoor platform and get out of there!

I plunged blindly through the dark, curving tunnel. My sneakers sank into the soft dirt floor as I ran. My shoulder scraped the rough wall, but I didn’t slow down.

The light bounced over the ground at my feet. I raised it as the trapdoor platform came into view. I was gasping for breath. My side ached from running.

“Huh? What are
you
doing down here?” a man’s voice called.

Zeke’s dad!

Zeke, Brian, and I scrambled onto the platform, squeezing beside him.

“What’s going on?” Mr. Matthews demanded. “Whose voice is that?”

“Up!” I managed to choke out. “Take us up.”

Zeke reached out and flipped the switch. This time it moved.

With a hard jerk, the platform started to raise itself.

I gazed back to the tunnel. Had Emile followed after us?

No. No sign of him.

He hadn’t even chased us.

Weird,
I thought.
So weird.

“I heard a man’s voice. Who was that?” Mr. Matthews demanded again.

“A homeless guy. Living beneath the stage,” I said, and explained what had happened and how he had been trying to scare us for weeks.

“How did you know we were down there?” Zeke asked his dad.

“You were supposed to be at home,” he replied sternly. “You were grounded. You’re
still
grounded. But when you weren’t at home, I figured I’d find you poking around the stage again. The side door to the school was open. I entered the auditorium and heard the trapdoor moving. I decided to see what was going on.”

“I’m so glad!” I cried. I felt like hugging Mr. Matthews.

As soon as the platform stopped, we scrambled onto the stage. Zeke’s dad hurried to call the police. He told them there was a homeless guy living under the school.

The police arrived quickly. We watched them go down the trapdoor. We waited for them to
bring Emile up. But they returned a few minutes later without him.

“No one down there,” an officer reported. He removed his helmet and scratched his wavy black hair. “No sign of anyone, either. Just a bed and some old furniture.”

“What about his food? His books?” I asked.

“All gone,” the officer replied. “Guess he cleared out real fast. The basement door was still slightly open.”

After the police left, Brian said good night and headed out of the auditorium. Zeke’s dad was going to drive me home.

I turned to Zeke. “So, there’s your Phantom,” I said with a little sadness. “Just a poor homeless man. Not a seventy-two-year-old ghost who’s been haunting the school since it was built. Just a poor homeless man.”

“Yeah, it’s disappointing,” Zeke replied, frowning. “I really wanted to meet a real ghost, a real phantom.” His expression brightened. “But at least now Ms. Walker will believe me. And I’ll get my part in the play back.”

The play. I’d almost forgotten about the play.

Zeke was right,
I thought happily.
He’ll get his part back now. Everything will go fine.

The Phantom is gone.

Now we can all relax,
I thought.
Now we can enjoy ourselves and put on a great performance.

Wow. Was I wrong!

The night of the performance, I sat in the girls’ dressing room, smearing globs of stage makeup all over my face. I’d never worn so much makeup before and didn’t think I was doing it right. I didn’t even want to wear the gunk in the first place.

But Ms. Walker said we all had to. Even the guys. She said it cuts down on the glare from the lights and makes your face less shiny onstage.

It was a wild scene in the girls’ dressing room. We were all struggling into our costumes and brushing on makeup. Lisa Rego and Gia Bentley — two fifth-graders who didn’t even have big parts in the play — were hogging the full-length mirror, laughing and giggling and admiring themselves.

By the time I got to check myself out, the stage manager was calling, “Places! Places, everyone!”

My stomach jumped.
Calm down, Brooke,
I ordered myself.
This is supposed to be fun — remember?

I stepped out of the dressing room, crossed the hall, entered the auditorium through the stage door, and took my place at the side of the stage. Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I jumped a mile. Man, was I jittery!

I whirled around and found myself face-to-face with the Phantom!

I knew it was Zeke in his costume and mask, but he startled me just the same. “Zeke! You look so
real!
You look awesome!” I told him.

Zeke didn’t reply. He gave me a very formal bow from the waist, then hurried to take his place.

The curtain was closed. But I could hear the steady rumble of voices out in the auditorium. I peeked out of the side of the curtain. Wow! Every seat was filled. That thought sent my stomach doing jumping jacks all over again.

The lights began to dim. The audience instantly became silent. The stage lights went up. The music started.

Go for it, Brooke,
I told myself.
Just go for it!

The play didn’t get strange until the end of the first act. We were all doing really well until then.

When the curtain opened, and the audience applauded the set, I stepped out onstage with Corey. And I completely forgot about my stage fright.

“Be careful, daughter,” Corey warned, playing my father. “There’s a creature living beneath this theater. A twisted phantom, scarred and ugly.”

“I do not believe you, Father,” I replied as Esmerelda. “You are only trying to control me, to keep me a child!”

The audience seemed to be having a great time. They laughed in the right places and applauded several times.

This is
excellent! I thought. I was excited without being nervous. I was enjoying every minute of the performance.

And as the first act drew near its end, I knew the real highlight of the show was coming. A fog of dry ice swept slowly over the stage. Blue lights swirled through the twisting fog, making it appear eerie and unreal.

I heard the clank of the trapdoor. I knew it was carrying Zeke in his Phantom costume up from down below.

In seconds, the Phantom would make his big entrance, rising up in the blue fog.

The audience will love it,
I thought, watching the fog billow up over my long yellow dress.

“Phantom, is that you?” I called. “Are you coming to see me?”

The Phantom’s blue-and-green mask floated up in the fog. Then his black-caped shoulders hovered into view.

The audience gasped and then cheered as the Phantom rose, standing stiffly in the fog, his black cape billowing out behind him.

And then he stepped toward me, walking slowly, majestically.

“Oh, Phantom! We are together at last!” I cried with all the emotion I could put into it. “I have dreamed of this moment for so long!”

I took his gloved hand and led him through the swirls of blue fog to the front of the stage.