There was no sign of his pets. Robert panicked, tearing through the pile of the books at the bottom of his locker. Finally he noticed that the hood of his windbreaker was moving; he peered inside and there were Pip and Squeak, cozied up as if they were resting in a hammock.
“There you are!” he exclaimed. “You guys scared me!”
“Who scared you?” Glenn Torkells asked.
He had come out of nowhere. Robert tried to swing the locker door closed but he wasn’t fast enough; Glenn blocked it with his big, dirty boot.
“I asked you a question, Nerdbert. Who scared you?” Glenn peered into the locker, but Pip and Squeak had burrowed even deeper into the hood ofthe windbreaker.
“Nobody,” Robert said. “I was just talking to myself.”
Glenn laughed. “So you scared yourself? You’re such a chicken you actually scared yourself? I should charge you a double dweeb tax for that one.”
Robert grabbed the windbreaker and tucked it beneath his arm. “I have to go.”
“Hang on a second,” Glenn said, reaching into the locker for the leather-bound book. “Where’d you get this thing? From one of those Halloween stores?” Glenn opened the cover and dust fell from the pages. He pointed to an illustration of an old man with a single horn in the center of his head. “Who’s this,” he asked, pointing at it with a dirty fingernail, “your dad?”
“Very funny,” Robert said. “Give it back.”
“Hang on a second,” Glenn said, “I’m going to tell you a story.” He flipped to a passage in the middle of the book. “
Deph-pha. Ctzelzog. Enorhula-tu
.” He was stumbling over the words; they were impossible to pronounce. “Is this French or something? Who talks this way?”
“Just give it back,” Robert pleaded.
“Hey, listen to this one.
Kyaloh yog-sothoth f’ah. Kyaloh yog-sothoth f’ah
.” He bobbed his head like he was rapping to a beat box. “
Ky-ky-kyaloh. Yo-yo-yog-sothoth
.”
Robert became aware of a cold draft coming from his locker. It was weird; it felt like the temperature in the hallway had abruptly dropped thirty degrees. And there was a smell, too. A strangely familiar smell. Like moldy mothballs. The draft was stronger now, an actual gust of wind—but how was that possible?
“
Ky-ky-kyaloh—
”
“Glenn,” Robert said.
“
Yo-yo-yog-sothoth—
”
“Glenn, I think you should stop,” Robert said. As he spoke, puffs of white vapor left his mouth, like he was outdoors in the middle of January. An icy frost was forming on the edges of the book, as though it had suddenly frozen solid.
“Yow!” Glenn exclaimed, dropping the book to the floor. “What’s wrong with that thing?”
“I don’t think you should have read that.”
Robert tried to pick up the book, but it was so cold it burned his fingertips. He yanked his hand away.
The wind was making his locker buckle and stretch; it seemed to be widening, almost yawning. The back wall of the locker had dissolved into a sort of swirling blackness. Robert stared into the center of the spiral. There was something hypnotic about it. He might have kept staring if Glenn hadn’t tugged on his arm, yanking him back to the present.
“Hey, what is that?”
Robert looked down. Extending from the locker and coiled around Glenn’s left ankle was a purple and yellow tentacle. Like the arm of a giant octopus, minus the suckers. Its surface glistened with slime.
The tentacle tugged on Glenn’s leg.
“Whoa!” Glenn shouted, shifting off-balance suddenly, hopping on his one free leg and struggling to stand upright. “What the heck, man! Get it off!”
Robert reached down but there was no place to grip the tentacle; his hands slipped helplessly over its slimy surface. “I’ll get a teacher.”
“No!” Glenn shouted. The tentacle tugged again, pulling Glenn closer to the locker, pulling his right leg
inside
the locker. “Don’t leave me here, Robert!” Glenn grabbed the sides of the locker to steady himself, but
“There you are!” he exclaimed. “You guys scared me!”
“Who scared you?” Glenn Torkells asked.
He had come out of nowhere. Robert tried to swing the locker door closed but he wasn’t fast enough; Glenn blocked it with his big, dirty boot.
“I asked you a question, Nerdbert. Who scared you?” Glenn peered into the locker, but Pip and Squeak had burrowed even deeper into the hood ofthe windbreaker.
“Nobody,” Robert said. “I was just talking to myself.”
Glenn laughed. “So you scared yourself? You’re such a chicken you actually scared yourself? I should charge you a double dweeb tax for that one.”
Robert grabbed the windbreaker and tucked it beneath his arm. “I have to go.”
“Hang on a second,” Glenn said, reaching into the locker for the leather-bound book. “Where’d you get this thing? From one of those Halloween stores?” Glenn opened the cover and dust fell from the pages. He pointed to an illustration of an old man with a single horn in the center of his head. “Who’s this,” he asked, pointing at it with a dirty fingernail, “your dad?”
“Very funny,” Robert said. “Give it back.”
“Hang on a second,” Glenn said, “I’m going to tell you a story.” He flipped to a passage in the middle of the book. “
Deph-pha. Ctzelzog. Enorhula-tu
.” He was stumbling over the words; they were impossible to pronounce. “Is this French or something? Who talks this way?”
“Just give it back,” Robert pleaded.
“Hey, listen to this one.
Kyaloh yog-sothoth f’ah. Kyaloh yog-sothoth f’ah
.” He bobbed his head like he was rapping to a beat box. “
Ky-ky-kyaloh. Yo-yo-yog-sothoth
.”
Robert became aware of a cold draft coming from his locker. It was weird; it felt like the temperature in the hallway had abruptly dropped thirty degrees. And there was a smell, too. A strangely familiar smell. Like moldy mothballs. The draft was stronger now, an actual gust of wind—but how was that possible?
“
Ky-ky-kyaloh—
”
“Glenn,” Robert said.
“
Yo-yo-yog-sothoth—
”
“Glenn, I think you should stop,” Robert said. As he spoke, puffs of white vapor left his mouth, like he was outdoors in the middle of January. An icy frost was forming on the edges of the book, as though it had suddenly frozen solid.
“Yow!” Glenn exclaimed, dropping the book to the floor. “What’s wrong with that thing?”
“I don’t think you should have read that.”
Robert tried to pick up the book, but it was so cold it burned his fingertips. He yanked his hand away.
The wind was making his locker buckle and stretch; it seemed to be widening, almost yawning. The back wall of the locker had dissolved into a sort of swirling blackness. Robert stared into the center of the spiral. There was something hypnotic about it. He might have kept staring if Glenn hadn’t tugged on his arm, yanking him back to the present.
“Hey, what is that?”
Robert looked down. Extending from the locker and coiled around Glenn’s left ankle was a purple and yellow tentacle. Like the arm of a giant octopus, minus the suckers. Its surface glistened with slime.
The tentacle tugged on Glenn’s leg.
“Whoa!” Glenn shouted, shifting off-balance suddenly, hopping on his one free leg and struggling to stand upright. “What the heck, man! Get it off!”
Robert reached down but there was no place to grip the tentacle; his hands slipped helplessly over its slimy surface. “I’ll get a teacher.”
“No!” Glenn shouted. The tentacle tugged again, pulling Glenn closer to the locker, pulling his right leg
inside
the locker. “Don’t leave me here, Robert!” Glenn grabbed the sides of the locker to steady himself, but
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