Don't Close Your Eyes! Page 2

  He made a zipping motion over his lips.

  “The book fell on the floor,” I continued. “And something horrible happened. The words started to move. The ink all slid together. It became a big black puddle.”

  Colin shut his eyes and scrunched up his face. I couldn't tell what that meant.

  “The puddle floated off the book and formed the shape of a man,” I said, my voice shaking. “Inkweed. Inkweed lifted off the book and … and …”

  It was so frightening, it was hard to say. “And Inkweed floated into me,” I finally choked out.

  “I … I'm in so much trouble, Colin,” I said. “That evil ghost—he's inside me. He can control me. I … I don't know what to do.”

  I was trembling hard now. I couldn't say another word.

  Colin opened his eyes. He slid his arm around my shoulder again. “Hey, no problem, Max,” he said softly. “Good you confided in your older bro. I know how to get Inkweed out.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You do?”

  5

  “YEAH. NO PROBLEM,” COLIN said. “Here. Watch.”

  He pulled back his arm and let me have it—a solid punch to the soft part of my stomach.

  “Urrrrrk.” A sound escaped my throat that I'd never heard before.

  I doubled over in agony, holding my stomach. “Urrrk urrrk urrrk,” I kept honking. I struggled to breathe.

  Colin stood watching me with his hands at his waist. “Did the nasty ghost come out?” he asked.

  “The only thing … that came out… was … my dinner,” I groaned.

  It took a long time to stand up straight. When I did, I glared at Colin angrily. “Hey—you said you wouldn't laugh at me.”

  He tossed back his head and laughed for about five minutes.

  “Maxie, don't you ever get tired of making up these lame ghost stories?” he asked. “Inkweed! Stinkweed! You're too old for that dumb stuff! Did you really think I'd believe you?”

  “Yes,” I said, shaking a fist at him. “Yes. I confided in you, Colin. I trusted you because … because …”

  I didn't know why.

  “Okay, okay,” Colin said, raising both hands as if surrendering. “Here's another idea.”

  He disappeared into the hallway for a few seconds. When he returned, he had three fat rolls of toilet paper in his hands. He grabbed me around the waist, held me tight, and started wrapping toilet paper around my chest.

  “Stop it!” I shouted. “What are you doing?”

  “Making you a straitjacket,” he said. “Because you're nuts!”

  “Stop it! Let go of me!” I tried to squirm away, but he was too strong.

  Colin snickered. “Dad just got back from the outlet store. He bought three cases of toilet paper. So I'm putting it to good use.”

  He wrapped it around my chest, my waist, my arms. I slumped in place and didn't try to struggle. What was the point?

  “This looks good on you, Maxie,” he said, wrapping it around my head. “A cool new look.”

  “Mmmmmff mmmmmfff,” I said.

  “Maybe this is how mummies felt,” he said. “Of course, they were dead first.”

  He wrapped a while longer. I didn't move or struggle. It was better than being punched in the stomach.

  Mom usually tries to make Colin stop torturing me, but Dad thinks he's a riot. Dad thinks everything Colin does is wonderful. He says Colin isn't mean to me. He's only trying to make a man out of me.

  “Hey, Freak Face, I'm telling Dad you're wasting good toilet paper,” Colin said. I heard him walk out of my room giggling.

  As soon as he was gone, I struggled out of the paper cocoon. My heart was pounding, and I felt dizzy.

  I searched for Nicky and Tara. No sign of them.

  Maybe I'll try to do some homework, I decided. I'll force myself to work so I won't be able to think about what just happened.

  I pulled out my science notebook. I had a worksheet to fill in. I spread it out on my desk. Then I searched my drawer for a pencil.

  The worksheet had about twenty elements to identify. Easy stuff. I could do it with my eyes closed.

  I leaned over the paper and started to write.

  Whoa. Wait.

  I stopped and stared at the page. What were those black spots?

  I pushed my finger into one. Wet.

  Black ink. Several black ink spots on the page. Another one dropped near my finger.

  “Oh nooooo,” I moaned.

  The black ink was dripping from my nose.

  6

  MY NOSE, I jumped up from the desk. I staggered across the room and grabbed up big wads of toilet paper off the floor.

  I jammed the toilet paper up my nose.

  The black ink dripped from my nose for another minute or two. I wadded the toilet paper tighter. Finally, it stopped.

  Breathing hard, I dropped onto the edge of my bed.

  What am I going to do? I let out a moan.

  I had never felt so weird or so frightened. I could feel the evil ghost moving inside me … inside my head. Now it felt like a snake slithering around in my skull.

  Even though the dripping had stopped, I held the wadded-up paper to my nose. Maybe I should tell Mom and Dad what happened, I thought.

  But—no. I'd told them too many ghost stories.

  All true. But my parents thought I made them up. They thought I had a thing about ghosts. And a wild imagination.

  No way would they believe me about Inkweed.

  I gasped when I saw Mom poke her head into my room. “Max? What are you doing?” she asked, gaping at the tall pile of toilet paper on the floor. “What is this mess?”

  “Uh … it's an art thing,” I said. “I'm making papier-mâché. For a sculpture I'm doing of you. For Mother's Day.”

  She squinted at me. “But Mother's Day is six months away.”

  “It takes a long time to dry,” I said.

  Mom stared at the toilet paper for a long moment. Then she disappeared down the hall.

  “Good one, Max.” Nicky slapped me on the back.

  “Yeah. Fast thinking,” Tara said, suddenly reappearing beside her brother.

  “I have to think fast—ever since you two arrived,” I grumbled. “But this is the worst. Look what you've done to me!”

  “We can deal with it,” Nicky said.

  “There has to be a way to get Inkweed out of you,” Tara said. She gave me a push toward my computer. “Google him, Max. Hurry.”

  I blinked. I felt the snake slither to the front of my head.

  “Google Inkweed,” Tara said. “Let's see what we can find out about this ghost.”

  “Okay,” I said. I felt the snake crawl behind my forehead to the back of my skull, then down the back of my neck.

  Somehow I kept myself from screaming.

  I sat in front of the keyboard. I raised my hands to the keys.

  And felt myself lose control.

  As I started to type, I realized I wasn't the one typing. My fingers hit the keys. But someone else was telling them what to write….

  “I know who you are, Nicky and Tara Roland. As soon as I escape this body, I will cover all three of you in my inky blackness. Once this boy's body falls asleep, I come alive! And all three of you will sleep forever!”

  My hands dropped heavily to my sides. I was gasping for breath, my chest heaving.

  “I … I didn't write that!” I cried.

  Nicky and Tara leaned over me, staring at the screen.

  “I didn't type that,” I gasped. “Inkweed made my fingers move.”

  My whole body shuddered. “I… I don't have control of my own hands.” I stared at the words on the monitor. But I was too frightened to focus. They were a blur to me.

  “What are we going to do?” I cried.

  Tara put a hand on my shoulder. “We have to keep you awake, Max. We can't let you fall asleep until we find a way to send Inkweed back where he came from.”

  “I have to stay awake?” I said in a trembling voice.
“But… it's late. I'm toast. I'm really tired.”

  “Come on, dude,” Nicky said. “No sleep tonight. We'll play some video games.”

  “Yeah. I'll get some nacho chips and drinks downstairs,” Tara said. “We'll pretend it's an all-night party.”

  “Just don't fall asleep, Max.” Nicky stared hard at me. “You can't fall asleep until we figure out how to get rid of Inkweed.”

  “Right,” Tara said. She clutched my shoulders. “Max, if you fall asleep, we're all doomed.”

  7

  I STAGGERED DOWN TO breakfast a little after seven-thirty.

  Mom, Dad, and Colin were already at the table. Mom glanced up from her coffee mug. “You look tired this morning, Max,” she said.

  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.

  8

  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 c
old 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.”

  9

  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.