Don't Close Your Eyes! (3 page)

Well, duh. Of
course
I looked tired. I was up all night playing video games. I watched the sun come up.

Colin scooped cereal into his mouth, making loud slurping and chewing noises.

Dad raised a grapefruit half and squeezed the juice into his open mouth. He never eats his grapefruit. He just squeezes it until it looks like a limp rag.

Colin burped really loudly.

“Stop it, please,” Mom said softly, lowering her coffee mug.

“Max taught me how to do that,” Colin said.

Yawning, I plopped down beside Colin. I was in no mood for his dumb jokes.

Dad finished squeezing his grapefruit and tossed it across the room, into the sink. “Two points!” he shouted.

My dad is a big, loud, red-faced Mack truck of a guy. He's a pretty good dad. But he's huge, and he thinks he's tough. And he thinks I should be macho and tough like Colin and him.

Fat chance.

I yawned again. My eyelids felt heavy. I reached for the salt to sprinkle on my scrambled eggs.

“Are you bringing your phys ed grade up?” Dad asked me.

“Huh?” I blinked at him.

“Max, you promised you'd try out for the swim team to impress your coach. Remember?”

I rolled my eyes. “Dad, I get all A's. The kids call me Brainimon. They all call me to help them with their homework because I'm the class brain. And all you care about is my C in phys ed.”

Dad pulled up his shirt sleeve and flexed his biceps in my face. When he flexed his right bicep muscle, it made his dragon tattoo appear to spit red flames.

“There's nothing more important in life than being fit,” Dad said. He picked up another grapefruit half and squeezed it into his mouth until it was dry. Pulp ran down his chin.

He waved the limp grapefruit rind in my face. “Canyoudothat?”

“Uh … I can do it with a grape!” I said.

It was a joke, but no one laughed.

“I can do it with Max's head,” Colin said.

Dad grinned at him. “Colin, you always set a good example for Max,” he said.

“I know,” Colin said. He turned to me. “There's something on the back of your pants, Max. Stand up.”

“Excuse me?” Normally, I wouldn't have fallen for Colin's dumb trick. But I was so tired, I obeyed. I stood up.

“No, I was wrong,” Colin said. “No problem.”

I didn't see him slip my plate of scrambled eggs onto my chair. So I plopped down and sat on my eggs.

Dad tossed back his head and roared with laughter. Colin joined him.

“Maxie, don't play with your food,” Mom said.

I opened my mouth to protest. But something terrible happened.

I felt it rise from my chest … and into my throat.

And then it spewed from my open mouth. A gusher of thick black ink.

Like a strong spray from a garden hose, it doused the table.

I struggled to close my jaw. But the force of the spray kept my mouth open wide.

The ink covered the table, splashed onto Mom, Dad, and Colin, and puddled on the floor.

“Stop it! Stop it!”

I heard their screams.

But I was helpless.

I couldn't stop.

DR
.
WELLES
GRUNTED
.
HE
pressed the stethoscope to my bare chest.

“Yaaaiiii!”
I let out a cry.

“I keep it in the freezer,” he said. “I like to see the look on people's faces.”

He was joking. Dr. Welles has a good sense of humor. He's young and blond and good-looking. He looks more like a tennis player than a doctor.

But his smile quickly faded. He listened to my chest for a while. Then he had me lie down on my stomach on the examining table, and he listened to different parts of my back.

My eyelids drooped. They felt so heavy. Heavy.

“Hmmmm,” the doctor said. “That's doctor talk for 'I don't know what's going on here.' “

“Don't fall asleep, Max,” I heard a voice whisper. I glanced up to see Nicky and Tara standing by the examining table.

“Go away,” I said.

“I can't,” Dr. Welles replied. “This is my office.”

“Your eyes were closing,” Tara said. “Keep them open.”

“We're watching you, Max,” Nicky said.

“Don't watch me,” I said.

“Then how can I examine you?” Dr. Welles asked.

“I wasn't talking to you,” I said.

He squinted at me.

“This is a waste of time,” Tara said. “We already know what the problem is. Let's get out of here.” She tugged at my arm.

“Put your arm down, please,” the doctor said.

Tara pulled my arm again. “Come on. Tell him you're in a hurry.”

“Put your arm down, please,” Dr. Welles repeated.

“Uh … just exercising,” I said. I jerked my arm away from Tara and almost fell off the examining table.

Dr. Welles pulled me up to a sitting position. “Let's take a good look at your throat.”

He raised a flat, wooden tongue depressor about the size of a yardstick and jammed it onto my tongue. Then he shined a bright light down my throat.

“Hey, I can see China!” he said. I guess that was one of his standard jokes.

“He isn't going to find Inkweed that way,” Tara said.

“Stay awake, Max,” Nicky warned. “Don't drift off.”

How could I fall asleep with a light down my throat?

Dr. Welles shook his head. He pulled the light from my mouth. Then he aimed it into my eyes. “Max, did you get much sleep last night?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not much.”

I can't fall asleep because an evil ghost will pour out of my body and destroy us.

“Well, put your shirt back on,” Dr. Welles said. He walked to his desk and started scribbling in a notebook.

A few minutes later, my mom came in to get the report.

“I didn't see anything unusual,” Dr. Welles said, brushing back his blond hair. “It must have been something he ate.”

Something I ate?

“He seems okay now,” the doctor continued. “Maybe he should stay home today and sleep.”

“No
way!”
Nicky and Tara both screamed.

“Shut up!” I said.

Mom and Dr. Welles both stared at me. “Did you just tell me to shut up?” he asked.

“Uh … shut up that cabinet over there,” I said, pointing. “Before the tongue depressors start falling out.”

* * *

A short while later, Mom led me out to the parking lot. She stopped before we climbed into the car. “Something you ate made you spew up all that black ink?”

“Uh … I had writer's block last night,” I said. “Maybe I just came unblocked!”

I know. I know. It didn't make any sense.

But I was too sleepy to think of a better explanation.

I'd been awake for more than twenty-six hours. My ears rang. My skin itched. Even my
hair
felt heavy!

I lowered my gaze. The bright sunlight hurt my eyes.

The thing inside me doesn't like light, I realized. I felt it slithering around behind my forehead.

I shuddered. I suddenly felt cold all over.

Inkweed said he'd put me to sleep forever!

And as soon as I fell asleep …

Mom drove home. She kept glancing over at me. “Maxie, are you feeling okay?” She asked it about a dozen times.

I guess she could see I couldn't stop shivering.

“Yeah. I'm okay,” I answered each time.

“I
will cover all three of you in my inky blackness. All three of you will
sleep forever!”

I'm okay as long as I don't close my eyes for the rest of my life!

We drove the rest of the way home in silence. Mom pulled the car into the driveway. “Max, I have to go to work now,” Mom said. “I want you to go right upstairs and take a nap, okay? The doctor said you should get some rest.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

A nap sounded so sweet. I could
feel
the soft pillow against my face.

I watched Mom back out of the drive and pull away.

I reached for the front door. My eyes started to close.

I sat down and began to fall asleep on the front stoop.

“What do you think you're doing?” a voice cried.

Nicky and Tara pulled me off the steps.

“I … I…” I was too sleepy to form words.

“Let's go,” Tara said, tugging me toward the street. “We think we know someone who can help.”

WE
WALKED
THREE
OR
four blocks. I had to keep my eyes half-shut because the sunlight made them burn.

We hurried past my school. I tried to hide behind hedges so no one could look out a window and see me.

I was missing a science test. But it was just as well. I knew I'd only fall asleep at my desk.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked my two ghost friends.

“Over there.” They both pointed.

Behind a row of tangled trees, I saw a sloping front yard, choked with weeds. And at the top of the hill—half-hidden by tall evergreen shrubs— stood a small gray house.

“We're going to that house?” I asked. “Who lives there?”

“No one,” Nicky replied. “It isn't a house. See?”

As we walked closer, I saw the small wooden sign near the gravel driveway. In black stenciled
letters, it read LIBRARY
OF
THE
SPIRITUAL
WORLD.

Twigs and dried weeds crackled under my shoes as we made our way up the sloping front lawn. I had to kick away clumps of dead brown leaves.

The sunlight disappeared as we stepped under the old trees. A cool wind ruffled my T-shirt. The house stood dark and silent at the top. I didn't see any signs of life.

We stepped into the deep shadow of the old house. “Why are we coming here?” I asked.

“This is where I got that book,” Tara said. “Maybe they have another copy of it.”

“Or maybe they know something about Inkweed,” Nicky said.

He pushed open the heavy front door. The wood was warped. It squealed as the door slid open.

Dark inside. A musty smell floated over us, dry and kind of sour.

I followed them in. The floorboards creaked under my shoes. We made our way along a long narrow hall. Thick tangles of cobweb reached down from the low ceiling.

“It's not like a library. More like a haunted house,” I whispered.

“Don't say that,” Nicky said. “One evil ghost is enough.”

I yawned. The air inside was hot and musty. Making me sleepy.

I felt Inkweed slide around my bones. That woke me up in a hurry!

We stepped into a big circular room with bookshelves all around from floor to ceiling. The room was dimly lit. But I could see that all the books looked ancient.

A long wooden desk piled high with books and papers stood at the far wall. Standing behind the desk was a pleasant-looking young woman with bright coppery hair and blue eyes. She wore jeans and a black sweater with a pair of gold cat's eyes on the front.

“That's Ms. Park, the librarian,” Tara said. “Go up to her, Max. She can't see Nicky and me. So you'll have to do all the talking.”

Tara gave me a shove toward the librarian's desk. She shoved too hard. I stumbled into a table and knocked over a stack of books.

“Oh!” Ms. Park uttered a startled cry.

“Sorry,” I said. I bent down to pick up the fallen books. They were heavy and old and smelled of dust and decay.

Would one of these books help me get rid of Inkweed?

“Didn't see that table,” I said. “It snuck up on me.”

She smiled at me. “It's kind of dark in here. My
dad likes it like that. He says it gives the place atmosphere. I think it's hard to look for books. But I can't argue with him.”

I stepped up to the desk. “Hi, I'm Max,” I said. “Max Doyle.”

“I'm Sumner Park,” she said. “I haven't seen you here before.”

“Uh … no.”

“Are you interested in ghosts and the spiritual world, Max?” she asked.

“Not really,” I said.

“Stop stalling,” Tara said sharply. “Go ahead and ask her about Inkweed.”

“Don't rush me,” I said.

Ms. Park's smile faded. “I didn't mean to rush you. We're open till eight tonight.”

“Not you,” I said.

She glanced over my shoulder. “Did someone come in with you?”

“No,” I said.

“Well, can I help you with something, Max?”

“Yes,” I said. “I… uh … well…”

“Spit it out,” Tara said.

“Leave me alone,” I told her.

Ms. Park squinted at me. “Are you joking? Did you
really
come in here to tell me to leave you alone?”

“N-no,” I stammered. “It's not a joke. I came to ask you about a ghost. I thought maybe …”

“You want information about a ghost?” she asked. “Well, you've come to the right place.” She waved her hand. “See all these books? They're all about ghosts.”

“Good,” I said. “I need help. I mean …”

“What ghost did you want to ask about, Max?” Ms. Park asked.

I took a deep breath. “Inkweed,” I said.

Ms. Park gasped. She backed away from the desk. Her eyes grew wide and her expression became tense. “Inkweed?” she asked. “Why are you asking me about Inkweed?”

I COULDN
'
T
TELL
HER
the truth. If I said I was possessed by Inkweed, she might throw me out. She looked so frightened.

“It's … uh … for a school project,” I said. “I have to write a report.”

That seemed to calm her down a little. She stepped back up to the desk. “Sorry I jumped like that,” she said, brushing back her red hair. “My dad used to tell me stories about Inkweed when I was little. And they
terrified
me.”

“I guess he's a pretty scary ghost,” I said.

Ms. Park nodded. “My dad told me when Inkweed attacks, he can cover a person in darkness. Just spread a deep shadow over that person. And from then on, the poor victim is invisible. Too dark to be seen by the human eye.”

I made a loud gulping sound. I didn't like that story.

“I remember another one,” she said, shutting her eyes. “Inkweed can cover your whole body
with a thick layer of black ink. As thick as a blanket. And it can't be erased, or pulled off, or washed off. You become like an ink creature. And eventually you suffocate because the ink oozes into your nose and mouth.”

“Nice,” I said. I shuddered. “Those were the bedtime stories your dad told you?”