Stinetinglers--All New Stories by the Master of Scary Tales Page 5

  “Oh, wow,” I gasped. “Are those all human skins?”

  Dad nodded. “Pick one, Freddy. Who do you want to be next?”

  He reached in and lifted out a hanger. I stared at the skin draped over it. “I used to wear this one,” Dad said. “But I shed it before you were born.”

  “Huh?” I blinked a few times, trying to understand.

  “So then I picked the skin I’m wearing now,” Dad said, pinching his own cheek.

  “But—but—” I sputtered.

  Dad smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Freddy, what have I always told you? You can be whoever you want to be!”

  THE GHOST IN THE CAR

  This is one of those stories where I didn’t have an idea, but I had the title. It happens to me lots of times. A good title for a scary story pops into my head. And the title makes me think about what the story should be about.

  And so I began to think about a car with a ghost in it …

  How would a ghost get into a car?

  Why would the ghost stay in the car?

  How would the ghost scare the riders in the car?

  What does the ghost want?

  Then, for some reason, I found myself thinking about my cousin when I was a kid back in Ohio. He had a beat-up car of his own, and he drove me to school and back every day.

  I don’t know why I started thinking about my cousin. But I put him together with a haunted car—and suddenly I had the plot for this story.

  Miller stepped into the house, and Ava and I both groaned. I don’t know if Miller heard us or not. Ava and I were never happy to see my cousin. But he’s so stuck on himself, he never guessed that we didn’t like him.

  Miller thinks everyone is wild about him. But no one is more wild about Miller than Miller.

  He had a wide grin on his face, but it wasn’t the kind of grin that made you happy. It was a grin that said I’m bad and I have bad ideas in my head.

  It was a seriously disturbing grin, and Miller grinned a lot because he was a disturbing kind of guy.

  My friend Ava Decker and I had been playing Minecraft on my mom’s laptop. But I knew we’d have to stop now that Miller had arrived.

  He stomped up behind me and gave me a hard punch on the shoulder for no reason. I tried not to cry out, but I couldn’t help it. It hurt. After all, Miller is seventeen, five years older than me, and at least a ton heavier than me. He works out at his dad’s gym and considers himself a sports star.

  I rubbed my shoulder. “What are you doing here?” I asked him. Okay. That wasn’t the friendliest thing to say. But Miller would never notice.

  “Staring at your ugly face, Goo-Goo,” he replied, the grin even wider.

  My name is Paul Goolsby, and he insists on calling me Goo-Goo because he knows I hate it. Who wouldn’t hate it?

  “Don’t call him Goo-Goo,” Ava told Miller. She knows it’s a waste of time. But she always sticks up for me anyway.

  Miller tickled her under the chin. “You’re a goo-goo, too.”

  She jerked her head away from him. “Give us a break, Miller.”

  He laughed. He has a sick laugh. It sounds like he’s choking. “Ava, what do you brush your hair with—a salad fork?” He laughed at his own bad joke.

  “At least I have hair,” she murmured. Miller’s blond hair is shaved so short, it looks like fuzz on a tennis ball.

  “I keep my hair short for swim meets,” he said, patting his head. “You have to keep it sleek to win competitions.”

  “You learned how to swim?” I said.

  He ignored my joke. He grabbed the laptop screen and swung it toward him. “What game are you two playing?” he demanded. “Baby’s First Loose Tooth? I hear that’s an awesome game.”

  He grinned at me. “Too hard for you, Goo-Goo?”

  I wanted to punch him, but that would be a big mistake. Miller likes to punch back, and his fists are as big as my head. The sad fact is, I’m stuck with him.

  He and my aunt and uncle live on the next block, and we see them all the time. Ever since my parents split up, Mom has worked as a substitute teacher. Which means we don’t have much money. Miller’s dad, my uncle Ralph, owns three gyms in town. He helps Mom and me out a lot.

  I even wear Miller’s old clothes to school. Some things are too big for me. The jeans are real baggy, and I have to wear a tight belt to keep them up. But what choice do I have?

  Ava and I see Miller almost every day. He takes his mom’s car, and he drives us to school in the morning and drives us home in the afternoon.

  “We’re playing Minecraft,” Ava said.

  Miller squinted at the screen. “I could give you some pointers. I won a state championship in Minecraft,” he bragged.

  I could tell he was lying. These little pink circles break out on his cheeks whenever he tells a lie. Which means he almost always has pink circles on his cheeks.

  Besides, who ever heard of a state championship for Minecraft?

  I turned away from the laptop. “Miller, did you bring back my tablet?” I asked.

  “Oops. Forgot,” he said.

  “You promised you’d return it last week,” I told him.

  “Forgot,” he repeated. “I haven’t seen it for a while. Are you sure I didn’t already bring it back to you?”

  I balled my hands into fists and let out a low growl. “I’m sure,” I muttered.

  Mom entered the room, carrying a tall stack of old magazines in front of her. “Cleaning out the den,” she said. “Why do we keep these old magazines?” Then she saw Miller. “Oh. Hi. I didn’t know you were here.” She shifted the magazines in her hands. “What’s up?”

  “Just helping them out with some tips about Minecraft,” Miller replied. “The game is a lot more fun if you know what you’re doing.”

  “That’s nice of you,” Mom said. She has no idea what Miller is really like. Because he’s always sweet and polite whenever he sees her. Mom is really smart. I mean, she’s been a teacher her whole career. But she sure is fooled by Miller.

  Mom set the magazines down on the coffee table. “Maybe I should go through them before I toss them out.” Then she squinted at Miller. “Hey, wait. Your mom told me you had a big basketball game today. What are you doing here?”

  Miller shrugged. “I had to quit the team,” he told her. “Actually, they asked me to leave.”

  Mom’s mouth dropped open. “Asked you to leave? Why?”

  “Because I’m too good,” Miller said. “The other guys on my team couldn’t keep up with me. They’re just not on the same level as I am.”

  “That’s a shame,” Mom said.

  I saw the pink circles on Miller’s cheeks, and I knew he was lying. But Mom didn’t notice them.

  “It’s no biggie,” Miller told her. “Actually, I got tired of having to do all the scoring. I figured the other guys would have more fun if they could play on their own level without me making them look bad all the time.”

  Miller’s cheeks went from pink to red. Was Mom really buying that total load of bull from him?

  “You’re a good guy,” she told him. “Very generous. I hope you can find a better team that will challenge you.”

  Oh, wow. Ava and I stared at each other. We both knew that Miller had probably been kicked off the team because he was terrible or because he bullied the other players.

  Miller invited himself to lunch. Saturday was homemade pizza day, and Ava and I weren’t happy we’d have to share. We sat down around the kitchen table. Miller sat beside me and kept elbowing me in the ribs just for fun. He stopped whenever Mom turned toward us.

  “Have you decided anything about college?” Mom asked him, sliding the pizza from the oven. Miller graduated from Crocker High School last spring. He has been taking a year off to “find himself.”

  “I’m looking at some of the Ivy League colleges in the east,” he told her. “A few of them are interested in me.”

  I watched the pink circles pop up on his cheeks.

  “I’m hoping to get a golf scholarship,” Miller said.

  “I didn’t know you play golf,” Ava said.

  “I’m taking it up this summer,” he replied. “After a few weeks, I’m sure I’ll be good enough for a scholarship.”

  Mom dished out two slices of pizza on each plate. It smelled terrific. Mom uses two kinds of cheese and a spicy tomato sauce and little bacon bits. I took a few bites. The pizza was awesome.

  “Oh, wait,” I said, standing up. “I hear my phone ringing in the other room.”

  I was gone from the kitchen for only a minute or two. But when I sat back down at the table, there was only one slice on my plate, the slice I’d taken two bites from.

  “Hey—where’s my other slice?” I cried, turning to Miller beside me.

  He grinned while he was chewing. “Huh? What’s your problem?”

  “Did you eat my other slice?” I demanded.

  He swallowed a big mouthful. “No way. Why would I eat your slice?”

  I turned to Ava across the table. “Did you see?”

  She shook her head. “No. I was looking at my own plate.”

  “Mom—” I started. But what was the point? She’d never believe that my angel cousin would steal the food off my plate.

  Miller laughed and shoved more pizza into his mouth.

  After lunch when he was finally leaving, he grabbed my arm really hard and pulled me to the stairs. “Saturday is your allowance day, right?”

  I had a bad feeling about that question. “Uh … yeah.”

  “Lend me ten dollars,” he whispered, looking to make sure Mom wasn’t watching.

  “No, I can’t—” I started.

  He squeezed my arm. “Ten dollars, Goo-Goo. Hurry.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll pay you back Monday morning.” He raised his right hand. “I swear. Monday morning when I pick you up for school. I’ll pay it back. I promise.”

  I didn’t really have a choice. He was squeezing my arm so hard, it was starting to turn red like a salami.

  My whole allowance is fifteen dollars. It’s supposed to pay for my lunch at school. But I gave Miller two five-dollar bills. “Monday morning, first thing, right?” I said.

  He stepped outside and let the screen door slam behind him.

  * * *

  Monday morning after breakfast, Ava met me at my house, and we waited in the front yard for Miller to pick us up. He was always about ten minutes late, and we often had to run to class to get there before the bell. He had a different excuse every morning, but Ava and I knew that none of them were true.

  This morning, a car we’d never seen before pulled into my driveway. Squinting into the morning sunlight, I saw Miller behind the wheel. He honked the horn three times even though Ava and I were standing there.

  We jogged over to the car. It was a small two-door hatchback, a dull black, not shiny. Peering inside, I saw that the seats were black, too. No color anywhere.

  The car definitely wasn’t new. The right front fender was bent with a deep gash across it. The door handle was dark from rust. The back window had a small crack in one corner.

  Miller rolled a window down. “Hurry. Get in. You’re late,” he said.

  He never apologized. He made it sound like it was our fault.

  “Whose car is this?” I asked.

  “Mine, Goo-Goo,” he said, tapping the black steering wheel with both hands.

  I pulled open the door. He pulled the seatback forward. “Get in back. Both of you,” he said.

  “Why?” Ava demanded.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. Just get in back.”

  It was a pretty tight squeeze. The car smelled stale. Like cigarette smoke or maybe food that had been left too long.

  Miller shifted into reverse and squealed back down the driveway into the street.

  Ava and I were jerked forward, then back. “There aren’t any seat belts back here,” I said.

  Miller didn’t reply. He swerved toward the curb as a mail truck rumbled at us.

  “How did you get a new car?” Ava asked him.

  He gazed at her in the rearview mirror. “I’m going to work part-time at one of my dad’s gyms. He bought me this car to go back and forth.”

  “You’re going to start a job?” I said.

  “Not really,” Miller said. “Dad begged me to fill in. He said he needed someone good. I figure I’ll spend most of my time on the machines, working out. I need to keep in shape till I hear what college wants me the most.”

  Ava and I exchanged glances. We both knew the truth. Miller’s dad told him he had to work—or else. I couldn’t see his face because we were in the back seat. But I knew his cheeks had to be pink.

  “Why do we have to sit in back?” I asked.

  The car jerked hard as he stomped on the brakes at a stoplight.

  “I wanted to give you a thrill,” Miller said.

  “Huh? What kind of thrill?” I demanded.

  “To sit in a dead man’s seat,” he said. He squealed through the light. He laughed his dry laugh. “This car is haunted. That’s why my dad got it for cheap.”

  “Haunted? What do you mean?” I said.

  “A guy died right where you two are sitting,” Miller replied. “He died in the back seat. But his spirit never left the car. He’s still in here.”

  “Give us a break—” I started.

  He raised his right hand off the wheel. “I swear. I’m totally serious. He’s back there with you. He haunts the car. You’re probably sitting on him.”

  “Miller, give up,” Ava said. “We don’t believe—”

  He kept his right hand raised. “If I’m lying, I’m dying.”

  I shook my head. “Your dad bought a haunted car?”

  “Dad didn’t believe the guy who sold it to him. But I believe it. I’ve had proof.”

  Some kids from our class waved to us from the sidewalk as we passed by. We were a block from school.

  “What kind of proof?” Ava asked.

  “Sometimes the car starts up on its own,” Miller said. “Sometimes the windows roll down. Last night, the ghost stepped on the gas before I was ready, and I nearly crashed.”

  Ava and I both burst out laughing. This wasn’t the first time Miller tried to scare us. He knew we were both a little scared of ghosts. That’s why he made up the story about the dead man in the back seat haunting the car.

  “Don’t laugh,” Miller said. “I’m scared every time I get in the car. I mean, seriously scared. But Dad says I have to drive it.”

  I saw our school up ahead. Miller slowed the car. “Don’t you feel it?” he said, watching us in the rearview mirror. “Feel how cold it is back there? It’s ten degrees colder in the back seat. The ghost stays back there, back where he died. Feel something moving around you?”

  Miller’s voice trembled. I suddenly had the funny feeling that maybe he believed what he was saying. Did he really believe the ghost story? Or was he putting on a good act to scare us?

  “Feels fine back here,” Ava said. “Nice and cozy.”

  Miller pulled to the curb in front of our school. I started to push the seatback in order to climb out. But then I stopped.

  “Oh, wait. My ten dollars,” I said. “Can I have it?”

  Miller turned to look at me. “Ten dollars?”

  “You borrowed it on Saturday,” I said. “Let me have it, Miller. I need it to buy my lunch.”

  He squinted at me. “Ten dollars? Why would I borrow ten dollars from you?”

  I slapped the seatback angrily. “Just hand it over, okay. You promised.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Miller said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m talking about the ten dollars you said you’d pay back this morning.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have ten dollars, Goo-Goo.” He grabbed the handle and shoved the passenger door open. “Get out of the car. You’re going to be late.”

  * * *

  For a long time, Ava and I dreamed of paying Miller back for all his lies and all his meanness. But we could never think of a way to have our revenge.

  Maybe the money thing was the last straw. I knew Miller never planned to pay back the ten dollars. Now it was definitely time for Ava and me to pay him back.

  I thought about it all day. And I talked about it with Ava, who had to share her lunch with me since we both had no money. But we couldn’t come up with a good plan.

  I didn’t have an idea until Miller picked us up after school. We stuffed ourselves into the narrow back seat, and Miller turned to us. “I heard whispers back there,” he said. “I’m serious. I heard someone whispering, ‘I’m here … I’m here…’”

  “You need a checkup from the neck up,” Ava said. It was one of her favorite expressions. I don’t know where she heard it.

  Miller raised his right hand. “No lie. I heard it plain as day. I almost jumped out of the car.” He pulled the car away from the curb. “You’re sitting on a ghost. Don’t you feel anything?”

  We both muttered no.

  I didn’t have my big idea until Miller dropped us off. He didn’t take us home. He parked the car at the curb in front of his house. “I don’t feel like taking you the rest of the way,” he said. “Why waste my time? You can walk from here.”

  He climbed out, slammed the driver’s door shut, and jogged up the front lawn to his house. “It’s starting to rain,” Ava said. “Why didn’t he take us home?”

  I shrugged. “Because he’s Miller?”

  Ava leaned over the seatback to open the passenger door. “Wait,” I said. I pulled her back. “Wait till Miller is in the house. I have an idea.”

  She dropped back onto the seat. “An idea?”

  “To freak Miller out,” I said. “Maybe even scare him.”

  Ava chuckled. “Go ahead. Spill, Paul. What’s the plan?”

  “We’ll make him think there really is a ghost in the car,” I said.

  “Impossible,” she replied.

  “Not if we do it slowly,” I said. “He’ll suspect us at first. But if we keep at it, maybe he’ll start to believe…”