R. L. Stine_Mostly Ghostly 03 by One Night in Doom House Page B

bags—all on the floor.
    Wow. A whole new hidden
messy
side of Traci!
    But where were the six life pods?
    Her desk was just as messy as the rest of the room. The computer was on, a screen saver of fish floating across the monitor.
    She had a photo of Buddy, her old dog, next to a photo of herself in a ballerina costume at age seven or so.
    I pulled off my gloves and started pushing things around on her desk. I examined a big cup full ofpens and pencils. I pulled open the desk drawers, all crammed with stuff, and poked through everything.
    No. No sign of the pendants.
    My legs trembled.
    I jumped at every sound.
    I knew that Morgo would come at any second. If I couldn’t find the pendants and return them to him, he’d melt me—and Traci, too.
    I moved to her makeup table, cluttered with bottles and tubes and soaps and eye pencils and sponges and stuff. But no pendants.
    I was about to turn away when I glimpsed a red box on the corner of her dresser. A jewelry box. Yes! She must have dropped the six pendants into her jewelry box.
    They
had
to be here. I started toward the dresser. A loud creak made me stop. Morgo?
    I spun to the windows. No. Not here—yet.
    I grabbed Traci's jewelry box and lifted the top. Tiny earrings and a couple of silver chains. No. No pendants.
    I lifted the top shelf of the jewelry box to look underneath.
    And the bedroom door swung open.
    “Oh!” I cried out. And dropped the shelf of earrings as Traci strode into the room.
    “Max? Are you crazy?” she cried. “What are you doing in my room?”

20
    “T-TRACI—” I SPUTTERED. “I—”
    “How did you get up here?” she demanded. She had her parka on. Her cheeks were still red from the cold. Her hands were balled into tight fists. “Why are you going through my stuff?”
    I was desperate to explain, but my tongue suddenly stuck to the roof of my mouth. The only sound I could make was “Hmmmmma hmmmma.”
    Traci pulled off her parka and tossed it onto the floor. “I don’t get it,” she said, frowning at me. “Did my parents let you up here? Or did you sneak into my house?”
    “I snuck in,” I said. I could finally talk. “Traci, it … it's hard to explain. But I need those silver pendants back. Right away.”
    “I gave them to Phoebe Mullin,” she said. “We’re working together on the necklace.”
    My mouth dropped open. “Phoebe has them?”
    She nodded. “You can’t take them back. We need them.”
    “You—you don’t understand!” I stammered. “They’re dangerous!”
    I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t tell her that Morgo, a vicious ghost, was probably melting Phoebe into a puddle of wax right now.
    “What's wrong with them?” Traci demanded. “What's so dangerous, Max?”
    I didn’t answer. I slid past her and took off. I bolted down the stairs and out the front door. I could hear Traci's dad shouting behind me, “Who's there?” But I couldn’t stop to answer.
    It's all my fault.
    That's what I kept repeating in my mind.
    Phoebe has probably been melted—
and it's all my fault!
    My boots crunched over the snow as I started to run. I had been to Phoebe's house before. It was three or four blocks away. I knew I had to get there as fast as I could.
    I was nearly at the curb when two figures stepped out from behind a tree. They jumped in front of me and grabbed me by the sleeves of my parka.
    The Wilbur brothers!
    “No time!” I gasped.
    “What's up, Maxie?” Willy asked.
    “How's it going?” Billy asked.
    “Let go,” I said breathlessly. “I—I have tohurry.” I twisted hard, trying to free myself. But those two guys are
big
—and totally strong.
    “No snowmen around to help you this time,” Willy Wilbur said, glancing around the block. “But you’re really into snowmen, right?”
    “No. No way,” I said. “Give me a break, guys. I really am in a hurry. I—”
    They picked me up and heaved me into a tall snowdrift. Then they held me down and began piling snow over me.
    “Let