The Haunted School Read online

  It was so dark in the room. Hard to see clearly. I reached into the pocket of my khakis and pulled out my red plastic lighter.

  I know, I know. I’m not supposed to have a lighter. There’s no reason why I would have one except my grandfather gave me the lighter a few weeks before he died. And I’ve carried it around with me as a good luck charm ever since.

  I flicked the lighter and raised the flame to the boy’s face. The skin was so real. It even had tiny pimples on one cheek and a scar under the chin.

  I closed the lighter and slipped it back in my pocket. Then I touched the boy’s face. Smooth and cool, carved or molded out of some kind of plaster.

  I rubbed my finger over one of his eyes. Some kind of glass or plastic.

  I tugged at the back of his dark brown hair. It started to slide off.

  A wig.

  Beside him stood a statue of a tall, thin girl in a black sweater, and a long, straight black skirt down to her ankles. I gazed up into her dark, shiny eyes. She appeared to stare back at me.

  So sad. Her expression seemed so sad to me.

  Why weren’t any of these statues smiling?

  I squeezed her hand. Cool plaster.

  Why are these statues here? I wondered. Who put them here in this hidden room? Is it some sort of art project?

  I stepped back — and spotted an engraved sign over the door. My eyes moved quickly over the big, block letters:

  CLASS OF 1947

  I stared at the sign. Read it again.

  Then I turned back to the roomful of statues.

  And one of the statues called out: “What are you doing here?”

  “Huh?” I let out a loud gasp.

  “What are you doing in here, young man?” the voice repeated.

  Blinking hard, I whirled around.

  And saw Mrs. Borden, the principal, standing in the open doorway.

  “You — you’re not a statue!” I blurted out.

  She moved quickly into the room, holding a clipboard against the front of her sweater. “No, I’m not,” she replied without smiling.

  She glanced down at the two paint cans on the floor. Then she stepped up beside me, her eyes studying me.

  Mrs. Borden is very short. She is only an inch or two taller than me. And she’s kind of chubby. She has curly black hair and a round, pink face. She always seems to be blushing.

  Some kids told me that she’s really nice. I met her only for a moment when I showed up at Bell Valley my first morning.

  That morning, she was all upset about a pack of dogs that were swarming over the playground and frightening the little kids. She didn’t have time to talk to me.

  Now she stood so close to me, I could smell the peppermint on her breath. “Tommy, I think you must be lost,” she said softly.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I guess,” I murmured.

  “Where are you supposed to be?” she asked, still clutching the clipboard to her chest.

  “The gym,” I replied.

  She finally smiled. “You’re a long way from the gym. This is the entrance to the old building. The gym is in the new building, way on the other side.” She gestured with the clipboard.

  “I took the wrong stairs,” I explained. “I was coming from the art room, and —”

  “Oh, right. You’re on the Dance Decorations Committee,” she interrupted. “Well, let me show you how to get back downstairs.”

  I turned to the statues. They all stood so still, so silently. They seemed to be eavesdropping on Mrs. Borden and me.

  “What is this room?” I asked.

  She put a hand on my shoulder and started to move me toward the door. “It’s a private room,” she said softly.

  “But what is it?” I repeated. “I mean — these statues. Who are these kids? Are they real kids or something?”

  She didn’t reply. Her hand tightened on my shoulder as she guided me to the door.

  I stopped to pick up the paint cans. When I glanced back at Mrs. Borden, her expression had changed.

  “This is a very sad room, Tommy,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “These kids were the very first class in the school.”

  “The class of nineteen forty-seven?” I asked, glancing at the sign.

  The principal nodded. “Yes. Just about seventy years ago. There were twenty-five kids in the school. And one day … one day, they all disappeared.”

  “Huh?” Startled by her words, I dropped the paint cans to the floor.

  “They vanished, Tommy,” Mrs. Borden continued, turning her gaze to the statues. “Vanished into thin air. One minute they were here in school. The next minute, they were gone … forever. Never seen again.”

  “But — but —” I sputtered. I didn’t know what to say. How could twenty-five kids vanish?

  Mrs. Borden sighed. “It was a terrible tragedy,” she said softly. “A terrible mystery. The parents … the poor parents …”

  Her voice caught in her throat. She took a deep breath. “They were so heartbroken. The parents had the school boarded up. Closed forever. The town built a new school around it. The old building has stood empty ever since that horrible day.”

  “And these statues?” I asked.

  “A local artist made them,” Mrs. Borden replied. “He used a class photo. A photo of everyone. The artist used the photo to make these statues. A tribute to the missing children.”

  I stared at the roomful of statues. Kids. Vanished kids.

  “Weird,” I muttered.

  I picked up the paint cans. Mrs. Borden opened the door.

  “I — I didn’t mean to come in here,” I apologized. “I didn’t know …”

  “No problem,” she replied. “This building is very big and very confusing.”

  I led the way out to the hall. She closed the door carefully behind us. “Follow me,” she said. The heels of her shoes clicked loudly on the hard floor as she walked, swinging the clipboard at her side.

  She walked really fast for a tiny person. Holding a paint can in each hand, I had to struggle to keep up with her.

  “How are you getting along, Tommy?” she asked. “Aside from getting lost, I mean.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Everyone’s been really great.”

  We turned a corner. I had to jog to catch up to her. We turned another corner. Into a brighter hallway. The tile walls were a bright yellow. The linoleum floor gleamed.

  “This is where you meant to go,” Mrs. Borden announced. “And there is the stairway down to the gym.” She pointed the way, then smiled at me.

  I thanked her and hurried off.

  I couldn’t wait to get back to the gym. I hoped Thalia and Ben weren’t angry about how long it took me. I was really eager to ask them about the class of 1947. I wanted to hear what they knew about all those missing kids.

  Holding the cans of red paint, I made my way down the two flights of stairs to the basement. It all looked familiar now.

  I ran past the lunchroom to the double gym doors at the end of the hall. Pushed open the doors with my shoulder. And burst into the gym.

  “Hey — I’m back!” I called. “I —”

  The words caught in my throat. Thalia and Ben were sprawled facedown on the gym floor.

  “Oh, nooooooo!” I let out a wail of horror.

  The paint cans fell from my hands and clattered heavily to the gym floor.

  One of the cans rolled in my path, and I stumbled over it as I hurtled toward my new friends. “Thalia! Ben!” I screamed.

  They both giggled.

  And raised their heads from the floor, grinning.

  Ben opened his mouth in a long, phony yawn.

  “We got so tired waiting for you, we fell asleep!” Thalia declared.

  They both laughed again. Ben shot Thalia a high five.

  They both climbed to their feet. Thalia hurried over to her purse. She pulled out a lipstick tube and began applying another red coat to her lips.

  Grinning, Ben narrowed his eyes at me. “You got lost — right?”

  I nodded unhappily. “Yeah. So? Big deal,” I muttered.

  “I win the bet!” Ben cried happily. He held out a hand to Thalia. “Pay up.”

  “Whoa! I don’t believe you two!” I exclaimed. “You bet on whether I got lost or not?”

  “We were pretty bored,” Thalia confessed. She handed Ben a dollar.

  He shoved it into his jeans pocket. Then he glanced up at the big scoreboard clock. “Oh, wow!” he cried. “I’m late! I promised my brother I’d get home by five.”

  He ran to the bleachers and started gathering up his backpack and jacket.

  “Hey, wait —” I called. “I want to tell you what I saw upstairs! I mean, it was so weird. I —”

  “Later,” he said, pulling on his jacket as he jogged toward the double doors.

  “But what about the red paint?” I cried.

  “I’ll drink it tomorrow!” he shouted. Then he disappeared out the doors.

  I watched them bang shut. Then I turned to Thalia.

  “He’s pretty funny sometimes,” she said. “I mean, sometimes he makes me laugh.”

  “Ha-ha,” I muttered.

  I picked up the cans of red paint and carried them over to our banners on the floor. “Sorry it took me so long,” I told her. “But —”

  She was brushing some kind of makeup onto her eyelids. “You saw something weird upstairs?” she asked, glancing at me over the little round mirror she held in her free hand.

  “Well, first I ran into the hall and knocked over this weird girl,” I told her.

  Thalia narrowed her eyes at me. “What weird girl?”

  “I don’t know her name,” I replied. “She’s big — a lot taller than me. And really tough looking. And she has the weirdest gray eyes, and —”

  “Greta?” Thalia asked. “You knocked over Greta?”

  “Is that her name?” I replied.

  “Dressed in black?” Thalia asked. “Greta always dresses in black.”

  “Yeah. That was her,” I said. “I knocked her flat. Then I fell on top of her. Smooth move, huh?”

  “Watch out for her, Tommy,” Thalia warned. “Greta is definitely weird.” She started to roll up her banner. “So what happened to you upstairs?”

  “I heard something,” I told her. “When I got to the art room. I heard voices. Kids’ voices. But when I went inside the room, there was no one there.”

  “Huh?” Thalia’s mouth dropped open. “You — you heard them?” she stammered.

  I nodded.

  “You really heard them?”

  “Yes. Who were they?” I demanded. “I kept searching for them. All over the third floor. I heard them, but I couldn’t see them. And then Mrs. Borden —”

  I stopped talking when I saw that Thalia had tears in her eyes.

  “Hey — what’s wrong?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer me. She spun away — and ran from the gym.

  A few days later, Thalia had a run-in with Greta. And it almost turned violent.

  It was Thursday afternoon. Mr. Devine, our teacher, received a message from the office. He read the message a few times, moving his lips as he read. Then, muttering to himself, he left the room.

  It was near the end of the school day. I guess everyone was tired of sitting in school. We were all ready to break out of there.

  So as soon as Mr. Devine disappeared, everyone kind of exploded. I mean, guys jumped up and started running around the room. Doing funny dance moves and just goofing.

  One kid turned on some music and cranked it up. Some girls were laughing wildly about something in the back of the room, tossing their heads and slapping their hands on their desks.

  I sit in the back row since I’m a new kid. Ben was absent. I think he had a dentist appointment or something.

  So since I didn’t really know anyone else yet, I sort of was left out of all the fun.

  I tapped my hand to the song and pretended I was having a good time. But actually, I felt kind of awkward and lonely. And I secretly wished that Mr. Devine would come back so that things could return to normal.

  I stared out the window for a while. It was a cloudy autumn day. Very windy. The swirling wind gusts sent red and yellow leaves sailing and twisting over the playground.

  I stared at them for a while. Then I turned back into the room, and my eyes landed on Thalia in the front row.

  She wasn’t paying any attention to all the dancing and joking and wild laughter. She had her little mirror raised to her face and was slicking a layer of lipstick onto her lips.

  I waved and tried to get her attention. I wanted to know if she and I were going to work on decorations after school in the gym.

  I tried calling to her. But she couldn’t hear me over all the noise. She stared into her little mirror and didn’t turn around.

  I started to stand up and walk over to her — when I saw Greta lean over Thalia’s desk and grab the lipstick tube from her hand. Greta laughed and said something to Thalia. She held the lipstick tube out of Thalia’s reach.

  Thalia let out an angry scream. She swiped at the lipstick. But she wasn’t fast enough to grab it back.

  Greta’s gray eyes glinted with excitement. She laughed and heaved it to a guy across the room.

  “Give that back!” Thalia shrieked.

  She leaped to her feet. Her eyes were wild, and her face was pale.

  “Give that back! Give it! Give it!”

  With a furious growl, Thalia dove across the row of desks and tried to tackle the boy.

  Laughing, he dodged away from her and tossed the tube back to Greta.

  The metal tube hit a desk and bounced onto the floor.

  Thalia hurtled herself to the floor, grabbing at it wildly with both hands.

  I was halfway to the front of the room. As she and Greta wrestled on the floor for the lipstick, I gaped at Thalia in shock.

  What is the big deal? I wondered. Why is she so desperate to get that tube back? It’s only lipstick, after all.

  Other kids were watching the struggle. I saw the girls at the back of the room laughing at Thalia. They were the ones who had teased her about wearing makeup.

  Some kids cheered as Greta came up with the lipstick. She raised it in her big fist.

  Thalia screamed and grabbed at it.

  And then Greta raised the lipstick tube higher toward Thalia’s face.

  And drew a red smiley face on Thalia’s forehead.

  Thalia had tears in her eyes now. I saw that she was totally losing it.

  I didn’t really understand why she was so insane about it. But I decided I had to do something.

  Hero time for Tommy Frazer.

  “Hey — give that back to her!” I boomed.

  I took a deep breath and stepped forward to teach Greta a lesson.

  Greta was holding the lipstick tube high over her head, pushing Thalia away with her other hand.

  “Give it back to her!” I insisted, trying to sound tough. “It isn’t funny, Greta. Give Thalia the lipstick.”

  I jumped up — and grabbed the hand with the lipstick in it.

  I heard some kids cheering and clapping. I didn’t know which of us they were cheering.

  Using both hands, I started to pry the tube from Greta’s big hand.

  And that’s when Mr. Devine returned to the room.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  I turned to see him glaring at me through his round, black-frame eyeglasses.

  I lowered my hands from Greta’s fist. The lipstick tube dropped to the floor. It rolled under Thalia’s desk.

  With a tiny cry, she dove for it.

  “What’s happening in here?” Mr. Devine moved quickly to the front of the room.

  “Tommy, why are you up here?” the teacher demanded. Behind his thick glasses, his eyes looked as big as tennis balls! “Why did you leave your seat?”

  “I was just … uh … getting something,” I choked out.

  “He was helping me,” Thalia chimed in. I gazed down at her. She seemed a lot calmer now that she had her lipstick back.

  Meanwhile, my heart was pounding like crazy.

  “Get back to your seats, everyone,” Mr. Devine ordered. “I should be able to leave the room for two minutes without everyone going berserk.” He turned his stare on Greta.

  “Just goofing around,” she muttered. She tossed back her white-blond hair and dropped heavily into her seat.

  I slumped back to my desk and took deep breaths. I wanted to ask Thalia what the big deal was about her lipstick. But she didn’t turn around.

  It took a few more seconds for Mr. Devine to get everyone calmed down. Then he glanced up at the clock above the chalkboard.

  “We have twenty more minutes until the bell rings,” he announced. “I have to take care of some paperwork at my desk. So I’d like you to use the time for quiet reading.”

  He pulled off his glasses and blew a speck off one of the lenses. His eyes looked like tiny marbles when he took the glasses off.

  “Your book reports are all due on Monday,” he reminded us. “So this would be a good time to do some reading.”

  There was a lot of chair scraping and book bag thudding and thumping as we all pulled out our reading books. A few seconds later, the room fell silent.

  I was reading a book of short stories by Ray Bradbury for my book report. I’m not a science-fiction freak or anything. But these stories were really good. Most of them had surprise endings, which I really like.

  I tried to concentrate on the story I was reading. It was about these kids who live on a planet where it never stops raining. A very sad story. They never ever see the sun shine. And they can never go outside to play.

  I read a couple of pages. And then I nearly dropped the book when I heard a voice. A girl’s voice. Very soft — but very near.

  “Please help me,” she cried. “Help me….”

  Startled, I slammed the book shut and glanced around.

  Who said that?

  My eyes landed on Thalia. Was she calling to me?

  No. She had her face buried in a book.

  “Help me — please!” I heard the girl plead again.

  I spun around. No one there.