The Creepy Sleep-Over (4 page)

Milo continued his paw tapping. Dunkum wished the cat would back off! Be gone, with the wind, maybe?

When the poem was over, Dunkum
raised his hand again. “Sorry,” he said when Miss Hershey called on him. “It's Milo—your cat—again.”

“Is he bothering you, Dunkum?”

“Can you make him stop tapping me?” asked Dunkum.

Miss Hershey began to smile, then laugh. “Oh, Milo. Dear Milo,” she said. “You've finally found the beat.”

“The beat?” Dunkum muttered. “He's beating on me!”

Eric and Jason were snickering.

But Miss Hershey explained. “Milo's heard ‘The Raven' many times. More times than I can count.” She went over and picked up her fat cat. “That's wonderful, kitty,” she cooed.

Dunkum thought of the repeated sentences.
'Tis the wind and nothing more
. And . . .
quoth the raven “Nevermore.”
He felt a beat. Kinda. If Milo could feel it, maybe he should try, too.

Miss Hershey opened her poetry book.
She gave it to Dunkum. “Here, you read it,” she said.

He began. “ ‘Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary . . .' ”

Suddenly, he stopped. “Hey! I think I hear the beat,” Dunkum said. “No, I can
feel
the beat!”

“That's very good.” Miss Hershey seemed pleased.

But Dunkum had a question. “What does ‘pondered' mean?”

His teacher explained. “To ponder means to think about something.”

“Oh,” said Dunkum. “I thought it meant to
pound
on someone!”

At that, Milo leaped toward Dunkum. The cat settled next to him.

Abby and Stacy giggled.

But Dunkum didn't laugh. He didn't know what to think. So he kept his eyes on Milo. And that swishy, bushy tail.

SIX

Miss Hershey finished her talk about Poe, the poet. Her bedtime story wasn't so bad. Wasn't scary at all. Dunkum thought it was interesting. Really interesting. He'd learned something new. He'd found the music in a poem. Well, at least he'd found the beat.

Later, Eric and Jason wanted to check out the old house. They had an important mission in mind.

Miss Hershey gave the OK. “This house is an exciting place,” she told them. “Look around as much as you like.”

She headed to the kitchen to make hot cocoa. The
deep
chocolate kind.

Abby, Stacy, and another girl stayed in the living room. They were roasting marshmallows by the fire.

Two other classmates were playing board games.

Dunkum hurried to find Eric and Jason. They were upstairs, opening every door. “Hey! You guys are nosy!” Dunkum said.

Eric laughed. “We're just looking for the bathroom.”

“I already told you. She probably doesn't have one,” Dunkum insisted. “Remember, she's a
teacher
.”

Jason jigged and jived.

“You had too much chocolate,” Dunkum said.

“Wrong again!” Jason teased. “I need a bathroom.”

Dunkum opened every door in the hallway. Even a broom closet.

Then . . . surprise! He found a walk-in closet.

He recognized certain clothes hanging there. “Look at this! I think I found Miss Hershey's closet.”

Eric and Jason rushed over. “Let's see,” said Eric.

“Any pj's?” Jason whispered.

“Are the clothes arranged from A to Z?” Eric teased.

“What about chalk? Or apples?” Jason said. “Maybe she stores apples for the teacher in there.”

Dunkum turned around. “Stop it!” he said. He slammed the door behind him.

Jason frowned. “Wait! I was just getting started.”

“I was afraid of that,” Dunkum said. He shooed the boys back. “This is totally uncool. Miss Hershey oughta have some privacy.”

Eric glanced at Jason. “Dunkum's right,” he muttered.

But Jason dashed off. He darted here and there, looking for the bathroom.

Together they all searched. And found nothing.

Dunkum wasn't too surprised. “See? Told you!” he said. “Teachers don't have bathrooms!”

SEVEN

Dunkum and Miss Hershey blew out the candles in the living room.

Soon, the lights were turned back on. “Who wants to play hide-and-seek?” asked Miss Hershey.

Abby and Stacy looked surprised. “
Here?
In your house?” Abby said.

“Absolutely! You'll discover some wonderful places to hide,” the teacher said.

Dunkum looked around.

Uh-oh! Jason was missing.

Eric waved his hand up. “Can I be ‘it' first?” he asked.

Stacy said, “Don't say ‘can'—we know you can.” She was always correcting speech. “You should say ‘may I be
it
first?' ”

Eric shrugged like he didn't care. “Well? Can I?”

Miss Hershey agreed. “But you must count to one hundred very slowly.”

“Why?” Eric asked.

“Because there are eight of us hiding,” she said.

“
You're
gonna hide?” Eric said.

Dunkum was surprised, too.

“I love playing games,” Miss Hershey said. “I'm still a kid way down deep.” She chuckled.

For a moment Dunkum believed her. He saw the wink of adventure in her eyes.

Just then Jason came downstairs. He was grinning.

“We're going to play hide-and-seek,” Miss Hershey told him.

“Yes!” Jason said. He looked right at
Dunkum. “I know where
I'm
gonna hide!” And he disappeared again.

Eric began to count. “One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .”

“Slow down,” Miss Hershey said. “This is a very big house, you know.”

Dunkum, Miss Hershey, and the others hurried to hide.

The sleep-over party was going great.

So far!

Dunkum ended up in the library. He found a secret panel next to a set of encyclopedias. He leaned against the wall.

Squeak!
The panel door opened.

“Hey, cool,” he whispered.

Quietly, he crept in. It was dark as chocolate inside.

He sat on the floor and pulled the panel door shut. “Eric will never find me here,” he said to himself.

He wondered if Miss Hershey knew about the wall panel. What a secret,
secret
place!

Slowly, he counted to one hundred. Just like Eric was downstairs. Counting might help pass the time. Because he didn't want to stay here too long. Not in this dark and dreary place behind the library wall.

Suddenly, he thought of the Poe poem. Miss Hershey's favorite.
Once upon a midnight dreary
. . .

Shivering, he wished he hadn't remembered. Not the gloomy midnight part. Not the raven part. This hiding place was way too creepy!

He waited a bit longer, listening. But he heard nothing. No sounds of Eric finding the others.

Nothing.

Maybe if he cracked the door, he'd hear better. Maybe even Eric's footsteps.

Dunkum listened longer.

Eric should be calling, “Coming, ready or not!” Surely by now.

Dunkum pulled on the panel door. It wouldn't move.

He pulled harder.

Stuck! It was honestly stuck.

Looking around was impossible. He couldn't even see his hand. And it was in front of his face! He knew it was because he bumped his own nose.

This time he jiggled the door. But it was jammed.

“Help!” Dunkum shouted. He called and called through the library wall. “I'm trapped! Somebody help me, please!”

EIGHT

If Dunkum hadn't been so scared, he might've laughed. Here he was in the best hiding place of all.

Only
one
problem: it was too perfect. Hiding inside the wall meant Eric might never find him. Miss Hershey might not, either!

He kept calling.

He hollered.

He tried not to freak out.

If only Miss Hershey hadn't recited the poem. That raven poem. All of it seemed so spooky now. He wished he'd
brought his flashlight up here.

He counted to one hundred again.

The waiting was getting boring. He yawned and leaned his head against the secret panel. He wished he were asleep in his own bed. . . .