Haunted Mask II, Page 4

  A very wide smile.

  I was pleased with myself. In fact, I was overjoyed. I felt like leaping in the air. Or maybe doing a wild, crazy dance. Or crowing like a rooster. Or tilting back my head and howling at the moon.

  The evening had been a total success.

  I didn’t tell Chuck. I didn’t want Chuck to know.

  But when the caped man clicked on the basement light — in that split second before he saw me and I saw him — I grabbed a mask from the carton. And I shoved it under my sweatshirt.

  I had a mask!

  It hadn’t been easy. In fact, being trapped in that eerie basement with that strange man had been the scariest time of my life.

  But I had a mask! Safely tucked under my sweatshirt.

  I could feel it against my chest as I ran. And I could feel it now, warm against my skin as I reached for the front door.

  I was so happy. So pleased with myself.

  And then I felt the mask start to move.

  And I screamed as something sharp bit into my chest.

  I grabbed the front of my sweatshirt. I pressed both hands tight against the bulge of the mask.

  “Whoa,” I murmured, holding the mask in place under the sweatshirt.

  Stop imagining things, Steve, I scolded myself.

  Calm down. The mask started to slip down your chest. That’s all. It wasn’t moving. It didn’t bite you.

  Get in the house, I ordered myself. Hide the thing in a drawer in your room. And pull yourself together.

  Why was I so nervous?

  The scary part was over. I had escaped with one of the great masks. Now it was my turn to scare other people. Why was I standing there scaring myself?

  Still holding the front of my sweatshirt, I pushed open the front door and stepped into the house. “Down, boy! Get down, Sparky!” I cried as the little black terrier greeted me. He leaped high off the floor, bouncing off me, barking and whining as if he hadn’t seen me in twenty years.

  “Get down, Sparky! Down!”

  I wanted to sneak into the house, run up to my room, and stash the mask away before my parents heard me return. But Sparky ruined that plan.

  “Steve — is that you?” Mom stormed into the living room, a fretful frown on her face. She glared at me and angrily blew a curl of blond hair from in front of her eyes. “Where on earth were you? Your father and I went ahead and ate dinner. Yours is ice-cold by now!”

  “Sorry, Mom,” I said, still holding the front of my sweatshirt to keep the mask in place as I tried to push Sparky away.

  The lock of hair fell back over her forehead. She blew at it again. “Well? Where were you?”

  “I … well …”

  Think fast, Steve.

  You can’t tell her you sneaked out to steal a Halloween mask from the basement of a store.

  “I had to help Chuck with something,” I finally answered.

  Sure, it was a lie. But it wasn’t a serious lie.

  I’m usually a very honest guy. But right then, all I cared about was having the mask! I had it, and I was desperate to get it out from under my sweatshirt and hidden in a safe place in my room.

  “Well, you should have told me where you were going,” Mom scolded. “Your father went out to do the grocery shopping. But he’s very angry, too. You should have been home for dinner.”

  I lowered my head. “Sorry, Mom.”

  Sparky gazed up at me. Was he staring at the bulge in my sweatshirt?

  If the dog could see it, Mom could see it, too.

  “I’ll take off my coat and come right down,” I told her.

  I didn’t give her a chance to reply. I spun around, leaped onto the stairs, and ran up two at a time. I flew down the hall, burst into my room, and slammed the door behind me.

  I took a few seconds to catch my breath. I listened hard, making sure that Mom hadn’t followed me upstairs.

  No. I could hear her banging around in the kitchen, warming up my dinner.

  I couldn’t wait to check out the mask!

  Which one did I take? When the light came on in the store basement, I grabbed a mask without looking. I stuffed it under my sweatshirt before I could see it.

  Now I eagerly reached under the sweatshirt and pulled out my hard-won prize.

  “Wow!” I raised it in both hands and admired it.

  The old-man mask. I took the mask of the creepy old man.

  I smoothed out its long strings of yellow-white hair. Holding it by the big, pointy ears, I lifted it in front of my face and examined it closely.

  A single white tooth hung down over the bottom lip. A brown wormhole poked through the center of the tooth.

  Outside on the front stoop, the big tooth had scraped my chest, I realized. That’s what made me think the mask was biting me.

  The mouth was twisted in an evil sneer. The lips curled like two brown worms.

  The long nose had gobs of green dripping from each nostril. A square patch of skin was missing just above the forehead. I could see gray skull bone in the hole.

  The whole face was creased and lined. The flesh was a sickly green. The skin appeared to be peeling off the face. Dark scabs bulged from the sunken cheeks.

  Black spiders appeared to crawl through the stringy, yellow hair. Spiders poked out of the two ears.

  “Yuck!” I cried.

  Was I holding the scariest Halloween mask in the world?

  No. In the universe!

  I began to feel a little queasy just holding it. I rubbed the scabby cheek with one finger. The skin felt warm, like real skin.

  “Heh-heh-heh.” I practiced laughing like an old man. “Heh-heh-heh.” I tried a dry cackle.

  Look out, Hogs! I told myself. When I come leaping out at you on Halloween night in this mask, you will jump out of your skins!

  “Heh-heh-heh.”

  I raked the ugly, long hair back over the head. My fingers bumped over the spiders tangled in the hair. The spiders didn’t feel rubbery. They felt soft and warm like the skin.

  I gazed down happily at the disgusting, old face. It sneered back at me. The brown worm lips quivered.

  Should I try it on?

  I carried it over to the mirror on my closet door. I was dying to see what I’d look like.

  I’ll slip it on for just a second, I decided. Long enough to see how ugly and frightening I’d look.

  Holding it in both hands, I raised the mask over my head.

  Then slowly, carefully … very carefully … I began to pull the mask down, down, down over my face.

  “Steve!”

  Mom’s loud cry from downstairs startled me.

  “Steve — where are you? Get down here for your dinner!”

  “Coming!” I shouted back. I lowered the mask. I’d try it on later, I decided.

  I walked quickly to the dresser and pulled open my sock drawer. Smoothing the long, spidery hair over the ugly face, I set the mask down carefully in the drawer. Then I hid it under several pairs of socks and closed the drawer.

  I hurried down to the kitchen. Mom had a salad on the table and a plate of warmed-up macaroni-and-cheese.

  My stomach growled. I suddenly realized that I was starved! I sat down, pushed the salad aside, and started forking up the macaroni as fast as I could.

  I glanced down to see Sparky staring up at me with his big, black, soulful eyes. He saw me looking at him and tilted his head.

  “Sparky,” I said, “you don’t like macaroni — remember?”

  He tilted his head the other way, as if trying to understand. I slipped him a couple of noodles. He sniffed them and left them on the floor.

  Behind me, Mom busily cleaned out the refrigerator, making room for the groceries Dad was out buying. I was dying to tell her about the scary mask. I wanted to show it to her. Maybe put it on and make her scream.

  But I knew she’d ask too many questions about where I bought it, and how much it cost, and how much of my allowance I used up to pay for it.

  All questions I could
n’t answer.

  So I bit my tongue and forced myself not to blurt out the exciting news that I wouldn’t have to be a hobo again this Halloween.

  That was my costume for the past five years. A hobo. Actually, it wasn’t much of a costume. I wore one of Dad’s baggy old suits with patches on the pants. Mom rubbed charcoal on my face to make me look dirty. And I carried a knapsack on a fishing pole over my shoulder.

  Bor-ring!

  This Halloween will be different, I promised myself. This Halloween will not be boring.

  I was so happy. As I sat gobbling down macaroni-and-cheese, I couldn’t get that creepy mask out of my mind.

  I’m not going to tell anyone about it, I decided. I’m going to scare everyone I know.

  I’m not even going to tell Chuck. After all, he ran away and left me down in that dark basement.

  Look out, Chuckie Boy! I told myself, grinning so hard some noodles slipped out of my mouth. I’m going to get you, too!

  I had soccer practice for my first graders after school the next day. It was a sunny, cold October afternoon. The sunlight made the yellow and brown falling leaves glitter like gold. Puffs of white cloud floated like soft cotton across the blue sky.

  Everything looked beautiful to me. Because Halloween was only one day away.

  I was staring up at the clouds when Marnie Rosen drop-kicked the soccer ball into my stomach.

  I grabbed my stomach and doubled over in pain. Duck Benton and two other kids jumped on my back and drove me facedown into the mud.

  I didn’t care.

  In fact, I laughed.

  Because I knew that I had only one day to wait.

  I tried to show them how to pass. As I ran along the sidelines, Andrew Foster stuck out his foot. I tripped and went sailing into the bike rack. A handlebar caught me under the chin as I fell, and I actually saw stars.

  But I didn’t care.

  I picked myself up with a grin on my face.

  Because I knew a secret. I knew an evil secret that the kids didn’t know. I knew that trick-or-treat night was going to be a special treat for me!

  At four o’clock, I called an end to practice. I was too weak to blow the whistle. My clothes were soaked with mud, I walked with a limp, and I had cuts and bruises in twenty different places.

  A typical practice with the Horrible Hogs.

  But did I care?

  You know the answer.

  I gathered them in a circle around me. They were shoving one another, and pulling hair, and calling each other horrible names. I told you — they’re total animals.

  I raised my hands to quiet them down. “Let’s have a special Hogs’ Halloween party tomorrow,” I suggested.

  “YAAAY!” they cheered.

  “We’ll meet in our costumes after practice,” I continued. “The whole team. And we’ll all go trick-or-treating together. I’ll take you.”

  “YAAY!” they cheered again.

  “So tell your parents to drop you off,” I told them. “This is going to be our special party. We’ll meet in front of the old Carpenter mansion.”

  Silence. This time they didn’t cheer.

  “Why do we have to meet there?” Andrew asked.

  “Isn’t that old house supposed to be haunted?” Marnie asked softly.

  “That place is too creepy,” Duck added.

  I narrowed my eyes at them, challenging them. “You guys aren’t scared — are you?” I demanded.

  Silence. They exchanged nervous glances.

  “Well? Are you all too wimpy to meet me there?” I asked.

  “No way!” Marnie insisted.

  “No way! We’re not scared of a stupid old house!”

  They all began to tell me how brave they were. They all said they would meet me there.

  “I saw a ghost once,” Johnny Myers bragged. “Behind my garage. I shouted ‘Boo!’ and it floated away.”

  These kids are animals, but they have great imaginations.

  The other kids all started teasing Johnny. He stuck to his story. He insisted he saw a ghost. So they pushed him to the ground and got his jacket all muddy.

  “Hey, Steve — what are you going to be for Halloween?” Marnie asked.

  “Yeah. What’s your costume?” Andrew demanded.

  “He’s going to be a pile of toxic waste!” someone joked.

  “No. He’s going to be a ballerina!” someone else declared.

  They all hooted and jeered.

  Go ahead and laugh, guys, I thought. Have a good laugh now. Because when you see me on Halloween, I’ll be the only one laughing.

  “Uh … I’m going to be a hobo,” I told them. “You’ll recognize me. I’ll be wearing a tattered old suit. And my face will be all dirty. I’ll be dressed like a bum.”

  “You are a bum!” one of my loyal team members shouted.

  More wild laughing and hooting. More shoving and hair-pulling and wrestling on the ground.

  Luckily, their parents and baby-sitters showed up to take them home. I watched them go with a big smile on my face. A big, evil smile.

  Then I grabbed up my backpack and hurried home. I ran all the way. I was eager to take another look at my mask.

  Chuck stepped out as I jogged past his house. “Hey, Steve … what’s up?” he called.

  “Not much!” I called back. “Later, man!”

  I kept running. I didn’t want to hang out with Chuck. I needed to check out that mask. I needed to remind myself of how awesome it was. How totally terrifying.

  I burst through the front door. Then I ran straight up the stairs to my room, taking the stairs three at a time.

  I raced down the long hall. I turned into my room and tossed my backpack onto the bed. Then I hurried across the room to my dresser and eagerly jerked open my sock drawer.

  “Huh?”

  I peered inside. With a trembling hand, I shoved away several balled-up pairs of socks.

  The mask was gone.

  “No!”

  I began pawing frantically through the drawer, tossing all the socks onto the floor.

  No mask. Gone.

  The balled-up socks bounced all over the room. My heart was bouncing, too.

  Then I remembered that I had moved the mask. Before school that morning. I was worried that my mom might do laundry. And open my sock drawer. And see it there.

  So I had shoved it to the back of my closet, behind my rolled-up sleeping bag.

  Letting out a long whoosh of air, I dropped to my hands and knees. I quickly collected all the socks and stuffed them back into the drawer. Then I opened the closet door and pulled down the mask from the top shelf.

  Steve, you’ve got to calm down, man, I told myself. It’s just a Halloween mask, after all. You’ve got to stop scaring yourself like that.

  Sometimes it helps to scold yourself, to give yourself advice.

  I started to feel a little calmer. I smoothed back the stringy yellow hair and rubbed my hand over the craggy, scab-covered skin of the mask.

  The brown lips sneered at me. I poked my little finger through the disgusting wormhole in the tooth. I squeezed the spiders hiding inside the ears.

  “This is so cool!” I declared out loud.

  I couldn’t wait a whole day till Halloween. I had to show it to someone.

  No. I had to scare someone with it.

  Chuck’s face popped instantly into my mind. My old friend Chuck was the perfect victim. I knew that he was home. I had seen him there a few minutes ago.

  Wow. Will he be shocked! I told myself. Chuck thought that I ran out of that store basement empty-handed. When I sneak into his house and creep up on him wearing this disgusting mask, he’ll faint!

  I glanced at the clock. I had an hour before dinnertime. Mom and Dad weren’t even home yet.

  Yes, I’ll do it! I decided.

  “Heh-heh-heh.” I practiced my old-man cackle. “Heh-heh-heh.” The scariest, most evil cackle I could do.

  Then I grasped the wrinkled neck of the mask
in both hands. Stepping in front of the mirror, I raised the mask over my head.

  And tugged it down.

  It slid easily over my hair. It felt soft and warm as I pulled it over my face.

  Down over my ears. Over my cheeks.

  Down, down.

  Until I felt the top of the mask settle onto my hair. I twisted it until I could see out of the narrow eyeholes.

  Then I lowered my hands to my sides and stepped closer to the mirror to check myself out.

  So warm.

  I suddenly felt too warm.

  The rubbery mask pressed tightly against my cheeks and forehead.

  Warmer.

  “Hey!” I cried out as my face began to burn.

  So hot …

  So hard to breathe.

  “Hey … what is happening to me?”

  I could feel the skin of the mask tightening around my face.

  My cheeks burned. A sour odor swept over me, choked me.

  I gagged. I sucked in a deep breath through my mouth. But the mask was so tight, I could hardly breathe.

  I grabbed the ears with both hands. The outside of the mask felt normal. But inside, I was burning up!

  I tried to tug the mask off. But it wouldn’t slide up. The hot rubber stuck to my face.

  I groaned as the putrid odor washed over me again.

  I tugged harder. The mask didn’t budge.

  I gasped for breath.

  I grabbed the stringy hair — and pulled. I slid my hands under the chin — and pushed.

  “Ohhh.” A sick groan escaped my throat. My hands dropped limply to my sides.

  I suddenly felt so tired. So weak.

  So totally weak.

  Every breath was a struggle. I bent over. My body began to tremble.

  I felt so weak. And old.

  Old.

  Was this how an old man felt?

  Calm down, Steve, I scolded myself. It’s just a rubber mask. It fits a little too snug, that’s all.

  It’s stuck to your face. But you’ll pull it off, and you’ll be fine.

  Calm down. Count to ten. Then examine the mask in the mirror. Grab it from the bottom, and you’ll be able to pull it up. No problem.

  I counted to ten. Then I stepped up close to the mirror.

  I nearly cried out when I saw my reflection. The mask really was awesome! So real. So gross.