Vanessa and I followed close behind him.
“Hurry!” I shouted up to Ed and Justin. “Move!”
They came stumbling down the stairs. Scott grabbed the ceiling door with both hands. He hoisted it to the ceiling and shoved the metal bolt shut.
Panting like animals, we huddled on the floor. Icould still hear the siren howls ringing in my ears. The putrid smell of death, of decay, clung to my skin and my clothes.
“L-let’s go,” I stammered. I started toward the front door.
“Don’t leave me here!” Scott tugged me back. “I—I didn’t know,” he said. “I didn’t know there were real ghosts up there, Spencer. I made up all the stories.”
I raised my eyes to the ceiling door. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s quiet now. We locked them in. We locked them back in the closet. You’ll be okay.”
Scott’s chin was trembling. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. “I’m never going up there again. Never!” he said.
“I’ve tried to contact ghosts for a year. I had no idea it would be so terrifying. I’m never going to try again,” I declared. “Never.”
Little did I realize that I’d be risking my life back in Scott’s attic a few days later.
23
The next few days whirred past in a blur. I was in a total daze. I couldn’t shut the ghosts from my mind.
Will I ever forget that terrifying scene? I wondered.
I couldn’t concentrate on my schoolwork. I could barely think straight!
After school on Tuesday, I was down on the floor of my room, frantically painting a poster. The poster was due on Wednesday. I had completely forgotten I’d entered the school poster art contest.
I knew that most kids would be doing a lot of fancy graphics on their computers. I decided to do my poster the old-fashioned way.
I had cans of red and black paint and three different-sized brushes spread out on the floor beside my sheet of poster board. I planned to write “ROAR, TIGERS!” in bold black letters at the top. Tigers is the name of our school sports teams.
I had already sketched a very angry, roaring tiger head in pencil. I planned to give it red-and-blackstripes. Make it really jump off the poster.
Leaning over the poster board, I had just started to paint the black outline of the head, when I heard footsteps. And someone calling me.
I glanced up to see Scott step into my room. I hadn’t seen him in school that day. But I really didn’t have time to talk.
“Hey, Spencer—” He stopped a few inches from the poster. “You’re still working on your poster? I finished mine last week. I did some really cool things on my computer.”
“I forgot all about the poster contest,” I said. “So now I’m in a rush.” I didn’t look up. I kept moving the brush, filling in my sketch.
“Is that a dog?” Scott asked.
I groaned. “No. A tiger.” I dropped the brush onto the newspaper I’d spread. “What’s up, Scott? Are you okay? Have you seen any ghosts?”
His smile faded. He shook his head. “No. It’s been quiet. I think we locked them up.”
“Good,” I muttered. A chill ran down my back, thinking about those ghosts.
“I told my parents the whole story,” Scott said. “I told them everything.”
“And what did they say?” I asked.
He frowned. “They told me to save the ghost stories for Halloween.”
My mouth dropped open. “You mean…they didn’t believe you?”
He shook his head. “No. They didn’t. And there was no way I’d take them up to the attic and open the closet door to prove it to them.”
“Good move,” I said. I knew his parents wouldn’t believe him. My parents wouldn’t believe it either. I guess that’s why I didn’t tell them about it.
“I’m still kind of scared,” Scott admitted. “I jump every time I hear a creak or any noise. I think those ghosts are going to come jumping out at me.”
I nodded my head. “I know what you mean. I’ve been thinking about them too. But I think we locked them up. You’re safe as long as no one opens
“Hurry!” I shouted up to Ed and Justin. “Move!”
They came stumbling down the stairs. Scott grabbed the ceiling door with both hands. He hoisted it to the ceiling and shoved the metal bolt shut.
Panting like animals, we huddled on the floor. Icould still hear the siren howls ringing in my ears. The putrid smell of death, of decay, clung to my skin and my clothes.
“L-let’s go,” I stammered. I started toward the front door.
“Don’t leave me here!” Scott tugged me back. “I—I didn’t know,” he said. “I didn’t know there were real ghosts up there, Spencer. I made up all the stories.”
I raised my eyes to the ceiling door. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s quiet now. We locked them in. We locked them back in the closet. You’ll be okay.”
Scott’s chin was trembling. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. “I’m never going up there again. Never!” he said.
“I’ve tried to contact ghosts for a year. I had no idea it would be so terrifying. I’m never going to try again,” I declared. “Never.”
Little did I realize that I’d be risking my life back in Scott’s attic a few days later.
23
The next few days whirred past in a blur. I was in a total daze. I couldn’t shut the ghosts from my mind.
Will I ever forget that terrifying scene? I wondered.
I couldn’t concentrate on my schoolwork. I could barely think straight!
After school on Tuesday, I was down on the floor of my room, frantically painting a poster. The poster was due on Wednesday. I had completely forgotten I’d entered the school poster art contest.
I knew that most kids would be doing a lot of fancy graphics on their computers. I decided to do my poster the old-fashioned way.
I had cans of red and black paint and three different-sized brushes spread out on the floor beside my sheet of poster board. I planned to write “ROAR, TIGERS!” in bold black letters at the top. Tigers is the name of our school sports teams.
I had already sketched a very angry, roaring tiger head in pencil. I planned to give it red-and-blackstripes. Make it really jump off the poster.
Leaning over the poster board, I had just started to paint the black outline of the head, when I heard footsteps. And someone calling me.
I glanced up to see Scott step into my room. I hadn’t seen him in school that day. But I really didn’t have time to talk.
“Hey, Spencer—” He stopped a few inches from the poster. “You’re still working on your poster? I finished mine last week. I did some really cool things on my computer.”
“I forgot all about the poster contest,” I said. “So now I’m in a rush.” I didn’t look up. I kept moving the brush, filling in my sketch.
“Is that a dog?” Scott asked.
I groaned. “No. A tiger.” I dropped the brush onto the newspaper I’d spread. “What’s up, Scott? Are you okay? Have you seen any ghosts?”
His smile faded. He shook his head. “No. It’s been quiet. I think we locked them up.”
“Good,” I muttered. A chill ran down my back, thinking about those ghosts.
“I told my parents the whole story,” Scott said. “I told them everything.”
“And what did they say?” I asked.
He frowned. “They told me to save the ghost stories for Halloween.”
My mouth dropped open. “You mean…they didn’t believe you?”
He shook his head. “No. They didn’t. And there was no way I’d take them up to the attic and open the closet door to prove it to them.”
“Good move,” I said. I knew his parents wouldn’t believe him. My parents wouldn’t believe it either. I guess that’s why I didn’t tell them about it.
“I’m still kind of scared,” Scott admitted. “I jump every time I hear a creak or any noise. I think those ghosts are going to come jumping out at me.”
I nodded my head. “I know what you mean. I’ve been thinking about them too. But I think we locked them up. You’re safe as long as no one opens
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