The Haunted Mask II (3 page)

At least my mud dive had stopped Andrew and Duck from fighting.

The mud weighed me down as I climbed slowly to my feet. I felt like Andrew. I
felt as if I weighed a thousand pounds. Maybe I did!

I wiped mud off my eyes with both hands—and saw Chuck standing over me. He
tsk-tsked a few times. “You look really bad, man.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I muttered.

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

I squinted through two inches of mud at him. “Excuse me?”

“You look like a Mud Monster or something.” Chuck snickered.

“Ha-ha,” I said glumly.

“You told me to meet you here, Steve. You said we were going straight to that
party store to buy the you-know-what.”

He glanced back at my team of first graders. They weren’t listening to our
conversation. They were too busy flinging mud balls at each other.

I scooped my hand along the front of my sweater and scraped off about ten
pounds of glop. “I… uh… I think I’d better go home after practice and
get changed first,” I told Chuck.

Talk about your
long
afternoons!

I had to break up the mud ball fight. Then I had to hand over all of the
little angels to their parents and baby-sitters.

Then I had to explain to their angry parents and baby-sitters why they had
practiced mud ball fighting instead of soccer.

I crept home. Chuck waited for me outside. I hid my mud-caked clothes in the
back of my closet. I didn’t have time to explain to my mom.

Then I changed into a clean pair of jeans and a gray-and-red Georgetown Hoyas
sweatshirt one of my uncles had sent me. I don’t know anything about the Hoyas.
I don’t even know what a Hoya is. But it is a cool sweatshirt.

I pulled my cap down over my mud-drenched hair. Then I hurried to meet Chuck.

“Steve—is that you?” Mom called from the den.

“No, it isn’t!” I called back. I closed the front door behind me and ran down
the driveway before she could stop me from going out again.

I was really eager to find that party store and check out the weird masks. So
eager, I forgot to bring any money with me.

Chuck and I walked two blocks before I reached into my jeans pocket and
realized it was empty. We jogged back to my house, and I crept up to my room
once again.

“This just isn’t my day,” I muttered to myself.

But I knew that buying a really gross and frightening mask would instantly
cheer me up. Then I could go ahead with my plan to terrify the Hogs, to get my
revenge.

Revenge!

What a beautiful word.

When I’m older and have my own car, that’s what I want it to say on my
license plate.

I pulled all of my allowance money out of the dresser drawer where I hide it.
I counted it quickly—about twenty-five dollars. Then I jammed the bills into
my jeans pocket and hurried back downstairs.

“Steve—are you going out again?” Mom called from the den.

“Be right back!” I shouted. I slammed the front door and ran down the
driveway to meet Chuck.

Our sneakers slid over fat, wet leaves as we walked. A pale full moon hung
low over the trees.

The streets and sidewalks still glistened from all the rain.

Chuck had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt. He
leaned into the wind as we walked. “I’m going to be late for dinner,” he
grumbled. “I’m probably going to get into major trouble.”

“It’ll be worth it,” I told him, feeling a little more cheerful. We crossed
the street that led to the party store. A small grocery stood on the corner.
Other small shops came into view.

“I can’t wait to see these masks!” I exclaimed. “If I find one just
half
as scary as Carly Beth’s…”

There it stood! In the darkness above a small, square store, I could make out
the sign: THE PARTY PLACE.

“Let’s check it out!” I cried.

I leaped over a fire hydrant.

Flew over the sidewalk. Up to the big front window.

And peered in the window.

“Oh, wow!” Chuck cried breathlessly, stepping up beside me.

We both pressed our faces against the window glass and stared in.

Stared into total darkness.

“Is it closed?” Chuck asked softly. “Maybe it’s just closed for the night.”

I uttered an unhappy sigh. “No way. It’s closed for good. The store is gone.”

Peering through the dust-smeared glass, I could see empty shelves and display
racks inside. A tall metal shelf lay on its side across the center aisle. A
trash basket, overflowing with paper and empty soda cans, stood on top of the
counter.

“There’s no ‘Out of Business’ sign on the door,” Chuck said. He’s a good
friend. He saw how disappointed I looked. He was trying to stay hopeful.

“It’s empty.” I sighed. “Totally cleaned out. It isn’t going to open up again
tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah. Guess you’re right,” Chuck murmured.

He slapped my shoulder. “Yo—snap out of it. You’ll find a scary mask at
some other store.”

I pushed myself away from the window. “I wanted one like Carly Beth’s,” I
complained. “You remember that mask. You remember those glowing eyes, right? And
the way the mouth moved. The way it growled at us with those long, dripping
fangs. It was so gross. And it looked totally real. Like a real monster!”

“They probably have masks like that at K-Mart,” Chuck said.

“Give me a break,” I muttered. I kicked at a candy wrapper that blew across
the sidewalk.

A car rumbled past slowly. Its headlights rolled over the front of the store,
lighting up the bare shelves, the empty counters inside.

“We’d better get home,” Chuck warned, pulling me away from the store. “I’m
not allowed to wander around town after dark.”

He said something else, but I didn’t hear him. I was still picturing Carly
Beth’s mask, still unable to get over my disappointment.

“You don’t understand how important this is to me,” I told Chuck. “Those
first graders are ruining my life. I have to pay them back this Halloween. I
have to.”

“They’re just first graders,” he replied.

“No, they’re not. They’re monsters. Vicious, man-eating monsters.”

“Maybe we can
make
a scary mask,” Chuck suggested. “You know. Out of papier-mâché and stuff.”

I didn’t even bother to answer him. Chuck is a good guy, but sometimes he has
the dumbest ideas ever thought up by a human.

I could just see Marnie Rosen and Duck Benton when I popped out on Halloween.
“Ooh, we’re scared! We’re scared! Papier-mâché!”

“I’m hungry,” Chuck grumbled. “Come on, Steve. Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah. Okay,” I agreed. I started to follow him down the sidewalk—then
stopped.

Another car had turned onto the street. Its headlights rolled over a narrow
alley beside the party store.

“Whoa, Chuck! Check it out!” I grabbed the shoulder of his sweatshirt and
spun him around. “Look!” I pointed into the alley. “That door is open!”

“Huh? What door?”

I dragged Chuck into the alley. A large black trapdoor in the sidewalk had
been left up. It caught the light from a streetlamp on the sidewalk.

Chuck and I peered in through the door. Steep concrete steps led down to a
basement.

The basement of the party store!

Chuck turned to me, a confused expression on his face. “So? They left the
basement door open. So what?”

I grabbed the open trapdoor and leaned over the steps, squinting into the dim
light from the streetlamp. “There are boxes down there. A whole bunch of
cartons.”

He still didn’t understand.

“Maybe all the masks and costumes and party things are packed up in those
cartons. Maybe the stuff hasn’t been shipped away yet.”

“Whoa. What are you thinking about?” Chuck demanded. “You’re not going down
there—are you? You’re not going to sneak down to that dark basement and try to
steal a mask—
are you?”

I didn’t answer him.

I was already halfway down the stairs.

My heart began to pound as I made my way down. The steps were narrow and
slippery. Slick from all the rain.

“Ohh!” I let out a cry as one foot slid over the concrete step and I felt
myself start to fall. I shot out both hands in search of a railing—but there
wasn’t one.

I landed on the hard basement floor with a loud
thud
—luckily, on
both feet. Feeling shaken, I took a deep breath and held it.

Then I turned back to the trapdoor and called up to Chuck. “I’m okay. Get
down here.”

In the light from the streetlamp, I could see his unhappy face peering down
at me. “I—I really don’t want to,” he called softly.

“Chuck—hurry,” I insisted. “Get out of the alley. If someone drives by and
sees you, they’ll get suspicious.”

“But it’s so late, Steve,” he whined. “And it isn’t right to break into
basements and—”

“We’re not breaking in,” I called up to him impatiently. “The door was open—right? Hurry up. If the two of us search the boxes, we can do it in five
minutes.”

He leaned down over the opening. “It’s too dark,” he complained. “We don’t
have a flashlight or anything.”

“I can see fine,” I replied. “Get down here. You’re wasting time.”

“But it’s against the law…” he started. Then I saw his expression
change. His mouth dropped open as car headlights washed over him. With a low
gasp, Chuck ducked through the opening, and bolted down the stairs.

He stepped up close beside me, breathing hard. “I don’t think they saw me.”
His eyes darted around the large basement. “It’s too dark, Steve. Let’s go
home.”

“Give your eyes a chance to adjust,” I instructed him. “I can see okay.”

I gazed slowly around the basement. It was bigger than I’d thought. I
couldn’t really see the walls. They were hidden in darkness.

The ceiling was low, only a foot or two over our heads. Even in the dim
light, I could see the thick cobwebs in the rafters.

The cartons had been stacked in two rows near the steps. Somewhere way across
the room, I could hear the steady
drip drip drip
of water.

“Oh!” I jumped when I heard a clattering sound.

It took me a few seconds to figure out that it was the wind blowing against
the metal trapdoor up in the alley.

I made my way over to the nearest carton and bent over to examine it. The
flaps were folded over each other. But the carton wasn’t sealed.

“Let’s have a look,” I murmured, reaching for the flaps.

Chuck had his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. “This isn’t right,”
he protested. “It’s stealing.”

“We haven’t taken anything,” I protested. “And even if we do find a good,
scary mask and take it, we’ll just borrow it. We’ll return it after Halloween.”

“Aren’t you… a little scared?” Chuck asked softly, his eyes moving all
around the dark room.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m a little scared,” I admitted. “It’s cold and creepy down
here.” The wind clattered the trapdoor above us again. I heard the faint
drip
of water against the concrete floor.

“Let’s hurry,” I urged. “Help me.”

Chuck stepped beside me, but he just stared down at the box and didn’t try to
help.

I pulled open the first carton, pushed back the cardboard flaps, and peered
inside. “What
is
this stuff?” I reached in and pulled out a cone-shaped
party hat. The box was stuffed with party hats.

“This is great!” I whispered happily to Chuck.

I dropped the hat back in the box. “I was right. All the stuff from the store
is packed up down here. We’re going to find the scary masks. I know we will!”

Cartons were stacked on top of cartons. I pulled down another one and started
to pull it open. “Chuck, you take the bottom one,” I instructed.

He hesitantly reached for the box. “I have a bad feeling about this, Steve,”
he murmured.

“Just find the masks,” I replied. My heart was thudding. My hands were
shaking as I pulled open the second carton. I was really excited.

“This one is filled with candles,” Chuck reported.

My carton had piles of party place mats, napkins, and paper cups. “Keep
going,” I urged. “The masks have got to be down here.”

Above our heads, the wind shook the trapdoor. I hoped it wouldn’t suddenly
slam shut on us. I didn’t want to be trapped down in this cold basement in the
dark.

Chuck and I slid two more cartons into the pale square of light from outside.
My carton was taped shut. I struggled to pull off the tape.

I stopped when I heard the creaking sound above my head.

Creaking floorboards?

I froze, my hands over the carton. “What was that?” I whispered.

Chuck frowned at me. “What was what?”

“Didn’t you hear that noise upstairs? It sounded like a footstep.”

Chuck shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

I listened for a few more seconds. Silence now. So I went back to work on the
carton.

I pulled it open and peered eagerly inside.

Greeting cards. Dozens of greeting cards. I sifted through them. Birthday
cards. Valentines. A whole carton of cards.

Disappointed, I shoved the carton to the side and turned to Chuck. “Any
luck?”

“Not yet. Let’s see what’s in this one.”

He pulled open the carton with both hands. Then he leaned over it and peered
inside.

“Oh,
yuck!”
he cried.

“It’s so gross!” Chuck groaned.

“What is? What?” I demanded. I leaped over my carton to get to him.

“Check it out.” A grin spread over Chuck’s face as he pulled something out of
the carton.

I gasped as I saw an ugly purple face with broken teeth and a long, fat worm
poking out of a hole in its cheek.

“You found them!” I shrieked.

Chuck let out a gleeful laugh. “A whole carton of masks! And they’re all
totally gross!”