R. L. Stine_Mostly Ghostly 07 (2 page)

T
ARA TURNED AND SQUINTED
into the hedge. “Let's go see what he wants,” she said.

She tugged her hat down and started walking toward the man, swinging her arms at her sides.

Typical.

I ran after her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Hel-
lo
! Are you
crazy?
Don't you see him hiding there?”

She pulled herself free. “So?”

“So he doesn't want us to see him,” I said, glancing back at him. I could see the black raincoat through the leafy hedge. “That means he's dangerous,” I said. “How many dangerous ghosts have come after us this year?”

“A lot,” Tara replied. “What makes you think he's a ghost?”

I let out a sigh. “I don't know
what
he is. I only know he's trying hard not to be seen.”

“Then, if you're so smart, what should we do?” Tara asked.

I thought about it for a moment. “Run?”

“Okay. Run,” Tara said.

We took off running side by side across the grass.

Two squirrels turned their heads as we zoomed past. I knew they couldn't see us, but they must have felt the burst of wind.

Some kid had left a tricycle in his driveway, and I ran right through it. Tara's long plastic earrings jangled and flew behind her as she picked up speed.

We reached the end of the block. I glanced back.

The man was still following. His black raincoat flapped in the wind. He dove around the side of a house when he saw me turn.

“Almost home,” I said. “We'll be safe.” I started across the street—but Tara tugged me to a stop.

“No. Not home,” she said, breathing hard. “We can't go home, Nicky. We don't want him to know where we live.”

The man peeked out at us from behind the house, then quickly pulled his head back.

“Okay. Let's go.” I turned at the corner and led us away from our house. We ran into a backyard with a small plastic swimming pool and pool toys scattered everywhere.

We ran to the side of the garage and stopped. “Is he still there?” Tara asked.

I peeked out. “Yes. Still there.”

“Let's go into this house,” Tara said. She had her hands on her knees and was struggling to catch her breath. “Maybe it will throw him off the track. He'll think it's our house.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe he'll come in after us.”

Tara didn't wait to discuss it. She disappeared through the brick wall of the house, and I followed her inside.

We found ourselves in a brightly lit yellow and white kitchen. Two little boys sat at a small kitchen table. One of them was playing with a Game Boy. The other was coloring with markers.

They didn't look up when Tara and I burst inside.

Tara stepped right up to their table. “Hey, guys, can you hear us?” she called.

No.

Tara and I tiptoed to the kitchen window. My heart was pounding. We
never
sneak into other people's houses. It just doesn't seem right.

But this was definitely an emergency.

We both leaned on the edge of the kitchen sink and peered out the window. “Oh, wow!” Tara cried. “Look at him. He's still out there!”

The little man looked angry. Above his short white beard, his face was bright red. He stood beside the kiddie pool, his eyes narrowed into slits.
He had his hands shoved into the pockets of the raincoat.

He stared at the house. But he didn't make a move to come inside.

“Who is he?” Tara whispered. “Why is he following us?”

I sighed. “It can't be
good
news.”

“Level Three!” the kid with the Game Boy shouted from behind us at the table. “I made it to Level Three!”

I watched the little man start to pace back and forth. I could see he was thinking hard. He nearly fell into the swimming pool!

He took a few steps toward the back door.

My heart skipped a beat. Tara grabbed my arm. “Nicky—is he coming in?”

No.

He seemed to change his mind. He spun around and walked off. I stretched up as far as I could, watching him stride away.

I let out a long breath of air and stepped back from the window. “I … I think he's gone,” I said. “But let's wait a few minutes to make sure.”

I saw a plate of Girl Scout cookies on the counter. Thin Mints. My favorite.

“Don't even think about it,” Tara said. She shivered. “We have to get home. I
hate
being followed. I didn't like that little man.”

I couldn't resist. I lifted one cookie off the plate.

Wouldn't you know it? That's when both little boys turned around.

They saw the cookie floating in midair. And they both started to laugh. They thought it was funny.

I popped the cookie into my mouth.

“Mommy—the cookies are
alive!”
one of the kids shouted. “The cookies
fly!”

“Way to go, dude,” Tara said. “Come on. We're outta here.” She pulled me through the kitchen wall.

Outside, we pressed ourselves against the brick wall. Staying in the shadow of the house, we gazed around.

No sign of the little man.

“Let's move,” Tara whispered.

We took off, running hard. I was gasping for breath by the time we reached our house. Tara and I burst right through the front door without bothering to open it.

We didn't stop to see if anyone was home. We bolted up the front stairs—to Max's room.

“Max? Are you home?” I shouted. “Max?”

And there stood someone in black. Waiting for us.

P
ANTING HARD
, I
STAGGERED
back against the wall. Was it the little man? No. Not the guy with the white beard. It was Max's big brother, Colin.

Colin, dressed in black sweats, snooping around Max's room.

He pulled open Max's desk drawers and pawed through the stuff inside. What was he looking for?

Probably just snooping.

Colin is not the best big brother in the world. Actually, he might be the
worst.

Colin is big and handsome and blond and strong and athletic. He works out all the time. And he uses chubby little Max as a crash test dummy.

“Ooh. What's that smell?” Tara whispered. She pinched her fingers over her nose.

“Why are you whispering?” I asked. “Colin can't hear us.” And then I smelled it too. Something sour.

A
really
sour smell. Like two-day-old puke.

Colin carried a little white paper bag over to Max's bed. He checked the door to make sure no one was coming. Then he reached inside the bag and pulled out an egg.

Whoa. The disgusting odor swept over us. It was coming from the egg!

Colin had a cold grin on his face. He held the egg way out in front of him.

Holding my nose, I moved closer. The egg was hard-boiled and covered in mold. Furry green and blue stuff had grown all over it.

Totally gross.

And what did Colin plan to do with the rotten egg?

Put it under Max's pillow, of course.

“Let's stop him,” Tara whispered. She was fading in and out of view. I could barely see her.

“I can't,” I said. “I'm feeling … very … weak.”

That's one problem with being a ghost. If you use your energy up, you disappear for a while. Sometimes a short while. Sometimes a long while.

You can't control it.

It's like you're asleep. Only you don't know where you are. And you never dream.

I felt myself dissolving, fading away….

I saw Colin slide the rotten egg under Max's pillow. I watched him hurry out of the room.

“Later, Tara,” I whispered. “I'm … fading … fast.”

“Me … too,” she whispered. And then before we disappeared, she quickly added, “Know what's so totally scary about that guy who chased us?
He could
see
us!”

“Y
O
, A
ARON.
I
T'S
M
AX.
What's up?”

I pressed the cell phone to my ear and gazed around my room. Something smelled bad. I wondered if Nicky and Tara were up to more evil tricks.

They totally messed me up in school today. And they broke my dad's precious wall bass in half. How would I ever explain it to him?

I never told Dad I was taking it. My plan had been to borrow it, then get it back up on the den wall before he came home from work.

Well, forget about that. I was in deep doo-doo.

And now my two ghost friends were hiding somewhere. Afraid to face me—and I didn't blame them.

But what was that yucko smell?

“Aaron, where were you?” I asked. “It's almost dinnertime. You were supposed to come here this afternoon, remember? We were going to print out this month's newsletter for our
Stargate SG-1
club.”

On the other end of the line, I heard Aaron shout something to his mother. Then he came back on. “I got grounded, Max,” he said.

“Oh, wow,” I muttered. “Not again.”

Aaron is my best buddy in the whole world. But I don't see him too often. That's because he spends almost his entire life grounded.

“This time it's pretty bad,” he said. “And it's all because of a science experiment.”

“Excuse me?” I said. “Dude, what kind of science experiment?”

“I was testing the strength of different glues. You know. Every glue has a different stickiness to it. I wanted to see what kind of glue was the stickiest.”

I waited to hear the rest. “Go on, Aaron,” I said finally.

“Well … to make a long story short, I glued my sister's sneakers to the floor.”

“Kaytlin's sneakers?” I cried. “Was she
in
them when you glued them?”

“No. She wasn't home,” Aaron said. “Hey, I'm not stupid, dude. I wouldn't glue her sneakers to the floor if she was
in
them!”

“And how did you pull them up off the floor?” I asked.

“Couldn't,” Aaron replied. “That's why I'm
so
doomed. I used the strongest glue. Those sneakers will never come up.”

“Oh, wow,” I muttered again.

“And one more bad thing,” Aaron said.

“What's that?” I asked.

“They're glued down right in the middle of the living room.”

I let out another groan. I felt sorry for Aaron. He was a really good guy. He just could never resist doing science experiments on stuff that belonged to his little sister.

And he always got caught.

“So you're grounded for life again?” I asked.

“My parents are really angry. They say I'm not fit to live in the house,” Aaron said. “I have to live in a tent in the backyard. I'm only allowed inside for meals.”

“That's harsh,” I said. “What if you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Uh-oh,” he said. “I didn't think about that.”

“I guess the
Stargate
newsletter will have to wait,” I said.

“Well, Max, since you and I are the only members of the club, it can probably wait.”

“I have major news to tell you,” I said.

“Major news?”

“I mean, this may be the
biggest
, most totally exciting news of my life!” I said.

“More exciting than when you met that girl who knows Hilary Duff's cousin?”

“Aaron, this news is so totally unbelievable—”

I stopped because I heard a scream.
Aaron's scream on the other end of the phone.
A shrill, earsplitting screech of horror.
“Aaron? What's wrong?” I cried. “What happened? What's
wrong?”