مدرسه روح زده فصل 04

The haunted School - Chapter 4

The kids stared back at me so stiffly, so still… still as statues.

And then I realized they were statues!

Statues of kids. At least two dozen of them.

They were old-fashioned looking. Their clothes were funny, like from an old movie. The boys wore sports jackets and very wide neckties. The girls’ jackets all had wide shoulder pads. Their skirts came down to their ankles.

I lowered the paint cans to the floor. Then I took a few cautious steps into the room.

The statues were so real looking, so lifelike. More like department-store mannequins than statues. Their glass eyes glistened. Their red mouths were set sternly, not smiling.

I stepped up to the statue of a boy about my age and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. Real cloth. Not sculpted stone or plaster.

It was so dark in the room. Hard to see clearly.

I reached into the pocket of my khakis and pulled out my red plastic lighter.

I know, I know. I’m not supposed to have a lighter. There’s no reason why I would have one except my grandfather gave me the lighter a few weeks before he died. And I’ve carried it around with me as a good luck charm ever since.

I flicked the lighter and raised the flame to the boy’s face. The skin was so real. It even had tiny pimples on one cheek and a scar under the chin.

I closed the lighter and slipped it back in my pocket. Then I touched the boy’s face. Smooth and cool, carved or molded out of some kind of plaster.

I rubbed my finger over one of his eyes. Some kind of glass or plastic.

I tugged at the back of his dark brown hair. It started to slide off.

A wig.

Beside him stood a statue of a tall, thin girl in a black sweater, and a long, straight black skirt down to her ankles. I gazed up into her dark, shiny eyes. She appeared to stare back at me.

So sad. Her expression seemed so sad to me.

Why weren’t any of these statues smiling?

I squeezed her hand. Cool plaster.

Why are these statues here? I wondered. Who put them here in this hidden room? Is it some sort of art project?

I stepped back—and spotted an engraved sign over the door. My eyes moved quickly over the big, block letters: CLASS OF 1947

I stared at the sign. Read it again. Then I turned back to the roomful of statues. And one of the statues called out: “What are you doing here?”