Weirdo Halloween Read online

“Yes, by the ghost of my father.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Your father died in this costume?”

  He shook his head. “No. He’s still alive! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

  I let out a frustrated groan. “Do you have anything that will fit me?”

  He pulled a bright green costume from under the counter. “This one is for you. It’s a lizard.” He raised the rubber mask. “Cute, right?”

  My mouth dropped open. I recognized it. The same costume that girl in the park was wearing. The girl who stared at me. This was the exact same lizard costume.

  “Don’t you have anything else?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  I sighed and took the costume from him. I slipped it on over my clothes. It had a bumpy back and loose lizard legs that fit over my jeans.

  The Horror handed me the mask, and I tugged it down over my head. I adjusted the eye holes so that I could see. And pulled the bottom of the mask down to my lizard neck.

  I had to reach under the costume to get to the money in my jeans pocket. I paid the Horror with it.

  “Enjoy it, Meg,” he said. “You make an awesome lizard.”

  I started for the front door, then quickly spun around. “Did you just call me Meg?” I demanded. “How do you know my name?”

  He stared at me through his Horror mask.

  “How do you know my name?” I asked again. “Come on. Tell me. How do you know my name?”

  He turned away and pretended to be busy with the masks on the counter.

  I waited a few more seconds. But I saw that he wasn’t going to answer. So I pushed open the door. Heard the shrill scream once again. And wandered onto the plaza.

  Is he part of Jonathan Chiller’s game? Is that how he knew my name?

  I saw a sign pointing to HALLOWEEN TOWN. I started walking toward it and tripped over the bottom of my lizard costume. I hiked the costume up and rolled up the legs so I could walk better.

  If only I had some idea of how to play this crazy game. Double or Nothing, Chiller had called it. Well, so far, I had nothing. Not a clue.

  The path led to a creepy old house. It looked like the haunted house in every scary movie. Its paint was peeling. The windows were all dark. The shutters banged against the walls. A black cat with glowing green eyes peered down at me from the second-floor balcony railing.

  A tilted sign on the front porch read: STAY AWAY. HAUNTED. REALLY.

  A ghostly howl poured out from a tiny attic window. The floorboards on the porch creaked and groaned as I stepped over them.

  This should be fun, I thought. Chris and I love haunted houses. We always talk about turning our house into a haunted house for Halloween. But we’re always too busy to do it.

  A curtain hung over the open front door. I started to step through it before I realized what it was made of. Caterpillars! Fat, furry caterpillars all strung together.

  They twisted and squirmed. They were ALIVE! Hundreds of them!

  I shut my eyes and pushed through the curtain. I could feel their furry bodies brush my cheeks as I passed.

  I shuddered. My skin itched like crazy.

  I found myself in a dark hall. One flickering candle was the only light. I could hear voices in other rooms. Kids shouting and laughing. Heavy footsteps. But I couldn’t see anyone else in this dark hall.

  Moving slowly, I stepped into the front room. The floorboards creaked under my shoes. The whole house seemed to groan as I walked.

  I heard a cat screech nearby. I glanced around the dimly lit front room. A fire smoldered in the fireplace, red embers were dying on the hearth. A human skull rested on the mantel. It turned to follow me as I walked past.

  A long bloodstain ran down one wall and puddled on the carpet. A glass vase was filled with enormous eyeballs.

  A woman’s screams of horror rang down from somewhere above. And I heard a muffled cry: “Help me, please. Help me, please.” A little boy’s voice. It was coming from inside the wall!

  “Awesome haunted house,” I murmured. “Nice special effects.”

  I cried out as the window drapes suddenly flew into the room. They rose up like ghosts and brushed my face, giving me a chill, then settled down silently.

  I stepped through a narrow doorway and found myself in a small den. I saw a desk in the center of the room. Tall bookshelves on the wall behind it.

  The bookshelves were empty except for a small object on top. I moved closer. I squinted hard at the object. Oh, no! A shrunken head!

  The tiny head of a man with scraggly brown hair and long buck teeth. Crooked black stitches crossed his forehead. His dark little button eyes peered out at me.

  Suddenly, his dry brown lips moved. “What are you staring at?” he rasped.

  I screamed.

  The head uttered an ugly laugh.

  I spun away from it, my heart pounding. Something moved. I heard a creak, then a sliding sound.

  “Whoa. Wait —”

  I saw the walls move. The walls were moving in on me.

  “Hey!” I cried out as the ceiling dropped down. I felt a jolt. The floor was rising!

  A rumbling sound. And the walls squeezed in tighter. The room grew smaller.

  I climbed on top of the desk. But the ceiling came plunging down … lowering over me … sinking fast. The walls slid closer.

  This was no joke. In seconds, I’d be squeezed to death in here!

  “Hey! I’m in here!” I shouted. “Can anybody hear me? I’m here! Help! Somebody — help me!”

  The ceiling dipped lower. The walls pressed in against the desk.

  I dropped to my knees on the desktop.

  I screamed again when the desk began to crack. The sliding walls were crushing it!

  “Somebody — help me!” My cry came out muffled and shrill. “Is anybody here? I need help in here!”

  With a groan, I raised both hands, trying to hold the ceiling off me. I pushed against it with all my strength.

  The desk cracked. The walls slid in tighter.

  I gave the ceiling another hard shove — and punched a large hole in it. Plaster fell all around me. I shut my eyes and waited for it to stop.

  Then I gazed up at the jagged hole I had made. Was it big enough to squeeze through?

  I grabbed the sides of the hole with both hands and pulled myself to my feet. I stuck my head through the hole.

  Dark up there.

  The ceiling dropped again. The desk was splintering under me.

  I grasped the sides of the hole tightly, kicked off from the desktop, and hoisted myself up to the next floor.

  “Ow!” I cried out as I scraped my arm on the jagged wood. Breathing hard, I pulled myself to my knees and rolled away from the hole.

  Where was I? In a long, dark hallway. I took a few seconds to catch my breath. I could hear kids laughing somewhere far away. I heard footsteps clanging up a staircase.

  I gazed around, still struggling to breathe normally. Trailing my hand along the wall, I lurched down the hallway. I had to find a way out of this creepy house.

  Again, I heard a cat screech somewhere nearby. And a woman screaming in horror above my head.

  I passed several rooms. The doors were all shut tight.

  My shoes scraped the ragged rug as I slowly made my way through the darkness. Finally, the hallway ended. Gray light seeped up a narrow staircase. The staircase led down.

  Good, I thought. I can get back to the first floor — and out of here!

  I gripped the railing tightly and followed the curving stairway down. The light grew brighter as I neared the bottom.

  I let out a sigh of relief when I stepped back onto the first floor. I stood in a small dining room. The table was covered with an orange-and-black tablecloth. Orange candles flickered in the center.

  A scowling jack-o’-lantern was placed at either end. The table was set with china dishes and covered with food platters. I saw a roasted turkey, a big ham, a bowl of mashed potatoes — and the shrunken head on a round
platter.

  Someone had moved it.

  “Who are you, Meg?” the head demanded in a hoarse, dry whisper.

  “Leave me alone!” I screamed.

  “Who are you, Meg? Who are you REALLY?”

  “I don’t want to play this game!” I cried. “How do I get out of here?”

  “Who are you really? And can you prove it?” the head croaked.

  I lurched away. I let out a cry when I saw the front door ahead of me. “I made it! I’m out of here!”

  I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it. I pulled.

  The door didn’t budge.

  I tried pushing.

  No.

  I tried again. Again.

  A cold shiver ran down the back of my neck.

  Someone had locked me in.

  I tried the doorknob again. The door still wouldn’t budge.

  “Hey — did somebody lock me in here?” I cried. “Can somebody let me out?”

  I was panting hard. Sweat ran down my face inside the lizard mask. I had forgotten I was wearing it!

  “Hey — anybody?”

  Finally, I heard footsteps. Someone approaching slowly from the back hall.

  The footsteps were strange. Sort of a thud, followed by a scraping sound.

  I didn’t care. Help was on the way.

  “I’m trapped in here!” I called. “The door is locked.”

  I listened to the strange footsteps grow louder. And then a hunched figure staggered into view.

  A monster. Some kind of green-headed ghoul with blazing red eyes dripping with goo. A piglike nose. Scraggly hair sticking out over big pointed ears. The face was pocked and bumpy. Thick drool slid over its fat black lips and down its green chin.

  “Trick or treat … Trick or treat …” the creature growled.

  “That’s an awesome costume!” I said. “Do you work here? Can you let me out?”

  “Trick or treat … Trick or treat …”

  He took a step closer, dragging one leg. A gob of drool hit the carpet with a smack. I could hear his wheezing breaths.

  “Can you help me?” I asked.

  “Trick or treat …” He raised his dripping red eyes to me and smacked his lips together. As he moved closer, I could see long dark hair sprouting from his nose.

  “Do … do you work here?” I stammered.

  “Trick or treat,” he replied in a deep, ugly growl.

  Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

  “The door — it’s locked.” I tried one more time.

  He began wheezing harder. Another gob of drool made a splat sound as it landed on his big bare feet.

  “Please —” I started.

  He was real. He wasn’t pretending. I was staring at a real ghoul.

  “HELP ME!” I tried to scream. But the rubber lizard mask muffled my cry.

  And before I could move from the doorway, the hideous creature lowered his bulging shoulder, uttered a terrifying growl — and dove at me!

  I ducked away.

  The ghoul’s hard shoulder slammed the door — and smashed it open.

  He staggered forward and fell flat on his stomach.

  I didn’t hesitate. I took a deep breath and took off running. I jumped right over him. He growled and reached for me with both hands. He missed — and I kept running.

  Sweat poured into my eyes and made it hard to see through the narrow eye slits in the lizard mask. I ran full speed. I was in a narrow alley that ran along the back of the haunted house.

  No one else in view.

  I could hear the shouts and laughter of park visitors on the other side of the house.

  Okay. Okay. I was out. I was free! Now I just had to find a way back to the main street.

  Breathing hard, I glanced back. Was the ghoul following me?

  No. No sign of anyone back there.

  My shoes thudded on the narrow alley pavement. All I could think of was getting back to the crowded walkway. Losing myself in the crowd. Taking a long breath. Getting a cool drink.

  The alley ended at a tall brick wall. Was this a dead end? I turned at the wall and found a path to the main street.

  “Oh!” I let out a startled cry as I bumped into a girl in a green costume. It took me a few seconds to recognize it. A green lizard costume.

  The girl I’d seen before. The girl who had stared at me. And now, here we were, both wearing the same costume and mask.

  She tilted her head as she stared back at me.

  “Where did you get that lizard costume?” the girl asked me.

  “The mask store,” I replied. I pointed toward Zombie Plaza. “Just tonight.”

  “Me, too,” the girl said. She had a whispery voice, like she had a cold or something.

  “I saw you before,” I said. “Remember? On the plaza?”

  “Maybe,” she replied. Staring at her mask, I realized she had green eyes like me.

  My face was burning up. I had to wipe the sweat from my eyes.

  I grabbed the bottom of the rubber mask, yanked it off, and threw it on the ground. Then I mopped my face with the sleeve of my costume.

  When I looked up, the other girl was pulling off her mask.

  She shook out her red hair and stared back at me.

  “Oh, wow!” I cried. “No. It’s impossible!”

  I was staring at myself !

  Her mouth dropped open. She squinted hard at me in silence.

  I stared back. She had my face. My long, curly red hair. My green eyes. She even had the same freckles on her nose!

  She wasn’t a look-alike. She was me!

  It had to be some kind of visual trick. Some kind of special effect. A mirror image. Maybe like the 3-D holograms I saw at the art museum.

  I moved closer. I couldn’t resist. I reached out and brushed her cheek.

  I figured she wouldn’t really be there. I thought my hand would go right through her.

  But no. I touched skin. She was really standing there.

  She reached out and brushed back my hair. Then she jumped back, as startled and creeped out as I was!

  “Who are you?” I blurted out. “I mean, what’s your name?”

  “I’m Meg Oliver,” she replied in her whispery voice.

  “No!” I cried. I raised my hands to my face. “No — you’re not!”

  And then it came to me. Suddenly, I caught on to what this was about.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “I get it. You’re playing Chiller’s game — aren’t you!” I said.

  She frowned at me. “Game?” She shrugged the bumpy shoulders of her lizard costume. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well … I’m Meg Oliver,” I told her. “So you’ve got to be playing a game. Who are you really?”

  “Meg Oliver,” she said quietly.

  I studied her face. She looked exactly like me in every way. She even had the tiny scar on my forehead I got when Chris scraped me with a sand shovel when we were little kids.

  Impossible. Impossible.

  “Your face is a mask — isn’t it!” I cried.

  “No way,” she replied. “Are you wearing a mask?”

  I grabbed for her face before she had time to grab me. I reached under her chin and searched for the bottom of the mask.

  I couldn’t find it.

  “Hey — stop!” She squirmed out of my reach. Then she dove forward and grabbed my chin. She started to tug, twisting my head to one side.

  “I’m not wearing a mask, either!” I screamed.

  I lost it. I shoved her in the chest with both hands, and she fell backward. I just wanted her to let go of me. I didn’t mean to push her so hard.

  She stumbled back until she bumped the alley wall. Then she shook herself, like shaking off the pain. A second later, she ducked her head and came roaring at me.

  She wrapped her arms around my waist and tried to tackle me to the ground.

  “Let go! Let go of me!” I screamed, and tried to pull her arms off me. “Are you crazy? Let
go of me!”

  We wrestled standing up. She really wanted to push me to the ground. I just wanted to get her off me.

  “Let go!” I pleaded.

  And then I heard a familiar voice. “Hey, Meg — what’s up?”

  We both turned to the voice. Her hands slid off me.

  I squinted at the boy running toward us down the alley.

  “Chris!” I cried, staring wide-eyed at my brother. “How did you get here?”

  “Meg!” he exclaimed. “That shop owner — Jonathan Chiller — he brought me here. He said something about a fun Halloween game. I —”

  Chris stopped and turned to the other girl. He scrunched his face up. I could see he was confused.

  “Meg, who is this girl? What’s going on?”

  “Chris!” I called. “You’re talking to the wrong girl. This is me over here.”

  My brother spun around.

  “That’s not true,” the other girl cried. “I’m the real Meg.” She pointed to me. “That girl is totally crazy.”

  My brother’s head turned from her to me, then back to her. He looked like he was watching a tennis match.

  “I don’t get it,” he murmured. “What’s this about?”

  “Chris,” I said, “it’s part of Chiller’s game.” I picked my lizard mask up off the pavement. “But, game over,” I said.

  “Don’t talk to her, Chris,” the other girl said, stepping between us. “She’s a total fake. I’m your sister.”

  “I’m your sister,” I insisted. “And now that you’re here, I’ll win Chiller’s game. You’ll be able to prove to him that I’m me. Like I said, game over.”

  “Game over for you,” the other girl said. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders, just the way I always do. “Now that my brother is here, I can win the game.”

  I glared angrily at her, breathing hard. My sides still ached from where she’d grabbed me.

  I could see that poor Chris was totally confused. He was staring at identical twins. I had to find a way to show him I was his sister. I had to talk to him … alone.

  A crowd of teenagers — at least twenty of them, all wearing scarecrow costumes — came walking by. They were some kind of high school group. I could see by the way they laughed and talked that they all knew each other.