The Haunted Mask II (7 page)

Yeah. Right.

I’ll be one hundred and fifty. But I’ll be fine.

I let out an unhappy sigh.

“We’ll bring you up some soup or something later,” Dad called in. Then he disappeared downstairs.

I stared at the phone. Should I try Carly Beth again?

No, I decided. She won’t believe it’s me. She’ll hang up the way her father
did.

I scratched my ears. I could feel the spiders crackling around in them. I
touched the bare spot on top of my head where the skin was ripped apart. The
skin was soft and wet. I could feel the patch of hard skull that showed through.

“Ohhhh.” Another long sigh.

I’ve got to think, I told myself. I’ve got to think of a way out of this.

But I felt so weary, so sleepy.

I pulled myself up and slumped to the bed. A few seconds later, I fell sound
asleep.

I awoke to bright sunlight streaming through my bedroom window.

I blinked several times, startled by the bright morning light. Morning.
Halloween morning.

It should have been a happy day. An exciting day. But instead…

I reached up with both hands and touched the sides of my face.

Smooth!

My cheeks felt smooth. Soft and smooth.

I rubbed my ears. Small ears.
My
ears. No spiders!

I raised both hands to my hair. And touched
my
hair. Not the stringy,
old man’s hair.

Hesitantly, carefully, I touched the torn spot on top of my head where the
skull showed through.

Not there!

“I’m me again!” I cried out loud. I let out a long
whoop
of joy.

No old man’s mask. No old man’s voice. No old man’s body.

It had all been a dream. A horrible nightmare.

Still blinking in the light, I gazed happily around my room.

“I dreamed it all!” I cried.

Going down to that dark store basement. Pawing through the carton of masks.
The man in the cape. The mask of the old man. Sneaking it home and trying it on.

The mask sticking to my skin. Refusing to come off.

All a dream!

All a horrifying nightmare that was over now.

I was so happy! This had to be the happiest moment of my life.

I started to jump out of bed. I wanted to leap around my room, to dance for
joy.

But then my eyes blinked open. And I woke up for real…

…I woke up for real.

And knew that I had only
dreamed
that it was all a dream!

I grabbed my face—and felt the craggy wrinkles, the heavy scabs. I rubbed
my nose and brushed the green gobs stuck in my nostrils.

I had dreamed that the mask didn’t exist.

I had dreamed that I had my own face back. My own voice and body.

All a dream. A wonderful dream.

But now I was really awake—and really in trouble.

I pulled myself up and brushed the stringy, yellow hair out of my eyes. “I
have to tell Mom and Dad,” I decided. “I can’t spend another day like this.”

I had slept in my clothes. I staggered to my feet and dragged my old body to
the door. I tugged open the door—and saw a note taped on the other side.

Dear Steve,

Hope you’re feeling better. Mom and I had to go visit your Aunt Helen
this morning. We left early to beat the traffic. We’ll be home in time to
help you with your hobo costume. Love, Dad

My hobo costume?

Not this year. Besides, since I was now at least one hundred and fifty, I was
a little old to go trick-or-treating!

Crinkling the note in my hand, I made the long trip down to the kitchen,
holding on to the banister, taking one step at a time. I had a sudden craving
for a steaming bowl of oatmeal and a cup of hot milk.

“Oh, no!” I croaked. I was starting to
think
like an old man!

I made myself a breakfast of orange juice and corn flakes. I carried it to
the table and sat down to eat. The juice glass felt strange against my fat,
brown lips. And it was almost impossible to chew the cornflakes with just one
long, crooked tooth.

“What am I going to do?” I moaned out loud.

Then, suddenly, I had an answer.

I decided to go ahead with my plan to terrify the first graders. Why
shouldn’t I pay back those bratty kids for all the trouble they gave me day after day on the soccer
field?

Yes! I decided. When Mom and Dad get home, I’ll greet them and show off my
old-man costume. They won’t know it isn’t a costume. They’ll think it’s really
cool.

Then, later, I’ll go to the spooky old Carpenter mansion to meet the kids.
And I’ll scare the first graders out of their masks!

And then what?

Then I’ll find Carly Beth. It won’t be hard to find her. She’s having a
Halloween party at her house after trick-or-treating.

I’ll find Carly Beth and get her to tell me the secret. I’ll get her to show
me how to remove this horrible mask.

Then I will be a very happy guy.

Sitting there alone in the kitchen, struggling to choke down my cornflakes,
it seemed like a really good plan.

Too bad it didn’t work out the way I hoped.

When Mom and Dad returned home that evening, I hobbled downstairs to greet
them. They both gasped when they saw my ugly, scabby face.

Mom dropped the bag she was carrying. Her mouth fell open to her knees.

Dad’s eyes bulged. He stared at me for a long time. Then he burst out
laughing. “Steve—that is the
best
costume!” he exclaimed. “Where did
you get that?”

“It’s disgusting,” Mom said. “Ohh. I can’t stand that open patch on top of
the head. And that horrible hole in your tooth.”

Dad walked in a circle around me, admiring my new look.

I had put on the patched, black suit that I wore as my hobo costume. And I
had found one of my grandpa’s old canes in the closet, which I leaned on now.

“It’s great!” Dad declared, squeezing my shoulder.

“I bought the mask at a party store,” I croaked. It was
almost
the
truth.

Mom and Dad exchanged glances. “The old man’s voice is very good,” Mom said.
“Have you been practicing?”

“Yes. All day,” I replied.

“Do you feel better?” Dad asked. “We didn’t want to disturb you this morning
since you weren’t feeling good. Your mom and I had to leave so early…”

“I’m feeling much better,” I lied. Actually, my legs were trembling and my
whole body was drenched in a cold sweat.

Feeling weak, I leaned harder on the cane.

“Yuck! What’s that in your hair?” Mom cried.

“Spiders,” I told her. I shuddered. I could feel them crawling over my head
and in my ears.

“They’re so real-looking,” Mom declared, raising a hand to her cheek. She
shook her head. “Are you sure you don’t want to be a hobo? That mask must be so
hot and uncomfortable.”

If she only knew how uncomfortable it was!

“Leave him be,” Dad scolded her. “He looks great. He’s going to terrify
everyone on the street tonight.”

I hope so, I thought. I glanced at my watch. Time to get going.

“Well, he’s terrifying me!” Mom exclaimed. She shut her eyes. “I can’t stand
to look at you, Steve. Why did you buy something so… so ugly?”

“I think it’s funny,” Dad told her. He poked a finger at my long tooth.
“Great mask. Is it rubber?”

“Yeah. I guess,” I muttered in my quivering, old voice.

Mom made a disgusted face. “Are you trick-or-treating with Chuck?”

I yawned. I suddenly felt sleepy. “I promised my soccer players I’d meet
them,” I croaked. “Then I’m going over to Carly Beth’s house.”

“Well, don’t stay out too late,” Mom said. “And if that heavy mask gets too
hot, take it off for a while—okay?”

I wish!
I thought bitterly.

“See you later,” I said. Leaning on the cane, I began dragging myself to the
front door.

Mom and Dad laughed at my funny walk.

I wasn’t laughing. I wanted to cry.

Only one thing kept me from breaking down and telling them the truth. Only
one thing kept me from telling Mom and Dad that I was trapped inside this
horrible mask, that it had turned me into a weak, ancient creature.

Revenge.

I could see the terrified expressions on the faces of my soccer team. And I
could hear their howls of horror as they went running for their lives.

That cheered me up and kept me going.

I grabbed the doorknob and struggled to pull open the front door.

“Steve—wait!” Dad cried. “My camera. Wait. I want to take a picture.” He
disappeared in search of the camera.

“Your trick-or-treat bag!” Mom cried. “You forgot your trick-or-treat bag.”
She rummaged around in the front closet until she found the shopping bag with
little pumpkins all over both sides.

I knew I couldn’t manage the cane and the shopping bag. But I took it from
her anyway. I’ll throw the bag away when I get outside, I decided. I didn’t plan
to trick-or-treat. I knew it would take me half an hour just to walk up
someone’s driveway!

Dad burst back into the living room. “Say cheese!” he cried, raising his
little camera.

I tried to twist my wormy lips into a smile.

Dad flashed the camera once. Then three more times.

Blinded by flashbulb lights, I said good-bye and made my way out the door.
The white circles followed me into the night. I nearly fell off the front stoop.

I grabbed the railing and waited for my heart to stop pounding. Slowly the
flashes of light faded from my eyes, and I began to pull myself down the
driveway.

It was a clear, cold night. No wind at all. The nearly bare trees stood as
still as statues.

I limped onto the sidewalk and started in the direction of the Carpenter
mansion. There was no moon. But the street appeared brighter than usual. Most houses had all of
their front lights on to welcome trick-or-treaters.

I stuffed the shopping bag into a trash can at the foot of our neighbors’
driveway. Then I continued down the block, my cane tap-tapping on the sidewalk.

My back began to ache. My old legs trembled. I leaned over the cane,
breathing hard.

After half a block, I had to take a rest against a lamppost. Luckily, the
Carpenter mansion was on the next block.

As I started on my way, two little girls came hurrying down the sidewalk,
followed by their father. One girl wore colorful butterfly wings. The other wore
lots of makeup, a gold crown, and a long fancy dress.

“Ooh, he’s ugly,” the butterfly whispered to her friend as they came near.

“Yuck!” I heard the princess reply. “Look at the green stuff in his nose.”

I leaned close to them, opened my lips in a snarl, and rasped,
“Get out of
my way!”

The little girls both let out frightened squeals and took off down the
sidewalk. Their father flashed me an angry stare and hurried after them.

“Heh-heh-heh.” An evil cackle escaped my lips.

Seeing their frightened faces gave me new energy. Leaning on my cane, I
tap-tapped my way across the street.

A few minutes later, the Carpenter mansion came into view. The huge old house
stood dark and empty. Its stone turrets rose up to the purple night sky like
castle towers.

Huddled under a streetlamp at the bottom of the weed-choked front yard stood
my soccer team.
My Hogs. My first graders.

My victims.

They were all in costumes. I saw Power Rangers and Ninja Turtles. Mummies and
monsters. Two ghosts, a Beauty, and a Beast.

But I recognized them anyway. I recognized them because they were shoving
each other, grabbing at trick-or-treat bags, shouting and fighting.

I leaned against my cane, watching them from halfway down the block. My heart
started to pound. My whole body trembled.

This was it. My big moment.

“Okay, guys,” I murmured softly to myself. “It’s
show time!”

I was trembling with excitement as I dragged myself up to them. I stepped
into the light, my wormy lips twisted in a frightening sneer.

I stared from one to another, giving them a chance to see my terrifying face.
Giving them a chance to see the spiders crawling through my hair. The wormhole
in my tooth. The patch of skull poking up through my rutted scalp.

They grew quiet. I could feel their eyes on me. I could sense their instant
fear.

I opened my mouth to let out a frightening growl that would send them running
for their mommies.

But Marnie Rosen, wearing a white bride’s dress and veil, stepped up to me
before I could get it out. “Can we help you, sir?” she asked.

“Are you lost?” one of the Power Rangers asked.

“Do you need directions?”

“Can we help you get somewhere?”

No. No!

This wasn’t going right. This wasn’t going the way I’d planned—the way I’d
dreamed!

Marnie took my arm. “Which way were you headed, sir? We’ll walk with you.
It’s kind of a scary night to be walking around a strange neighborhood.”

The others pushed in closer, trying to be helpful.

Trying to be helpful to an old man. An old man they weren’t the least bit
scared of.

“Nooooo!” I howled in protest. “I’m the ghost of the Carpenter mansion! I’ve
come to pay you back for trespassing on my front yard!”

I tried to shriek—but my voice came out in a weak whisper. I don’t think
they heard a word I uttered.

I’ve got to scare them, I told myself. I’ve
got
to!

I raised both hands together in the air as if I planned to strangle them all.

My cane flew out of my grasp. I lost my balance and tottered over backward.

“Ohhhh!” I let out a groan as I hit the sidewalk sitting up.

They all cried out. But not in fear. They cried out because they were worried
about me.