مدرسه روح زده فصل 08

The haunted School - Chapter 8

Greta was holding the lipstick tube high over her head, pushing Thalia away with her other hand.

“Give it back to her!” I insisted, trying to sound tough. “It isn’t funny, Greta. Give Thalia the lipstick.” I jumped up—and grabbed the hand with the lipstick in it.

I heard some kids cheering and clapping. I didn’t know which of us they were cheering.

Using both hands, I started to pry the tube from Greta’s big hand.

And that’s when Mr. Devine returned to the room.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

I turned to see him glaring at me through his round, black-frame eyeglasses.

I lowered my hands from Greta’s fist. The lipstick tube dropped to the floor. It rolled under Thalia’s desk.

With a tiny cry, she dove for it.

“What’s happening in here?” Mr. Devine moved quickly to the front of the room.

“Tommy, why are you up here?” the teacher demanded. Behind his thick glasses, his eyes looked as big as tennis balls! “Why did you leave your seat?” “I was just… uh… getting something,” I choked out.

“He was helping me,” Thalia chimed in. I gazed down at her. She seemed a lot calmer now that she had her lipstick back.

Meanwhile, my heart was pounding like crazy.

“Get back to your seats, everyone,” Mr. Devine ordered. “I should be able to leave the room for two minutes without everyone going berserk.” He turned his stare on Greta.

“Just goofing around,” she muttered. She tossed back her white-blond hair and dropped heavily into her seat.

I slumped back to my desk and took deep breaths. I wanted to ask Thalia what the big deal was about her lipstick. But she didn’t turn around.

It took a few more seconds for Mr. Devine to get everyone calmed down. Then he glanced up at the clock above the chalkboard.

“We have twenty more minutes until the bell rings,” he announced. “I have to take care of some paperwork at my desk. So I’d like you to use the time for quiet reading.” He pulled off his glasses and blew a speck off one of the lenses. His eyes looked like tiny marbles when he took the glasses off.

“Your book reports are all due on Monday,” he reminded us. “So this would be a good time to do some reading.” There was a lot of chair scraping and book bag thudding and thumping as we all pulled out our reading books. A few seconds later, the room fell silent.

I was reading a book of short stories by Ray Bradbury for my book report. I’m not a science-fiction freak or anything. But these stories were really good. Most of them had surprise endings, which I really like.

I tried to concentrate on the story I was reading. It was about these kids who live on a planet where it never stops raining. A very sad story. They never ever see the sun shine. And they can never go outside to play.

I read a couple of pages. And then I nearly dropped the book when I heard a voice. A girl’s voice. Very soft—but very near.

“Please help me,” she cried. “Help me….”

Startled, I slammed the book shut and glanced around.

Who said that?

My eyes landed on Thalia. Was she calling to me?

No. She had her face buried in a book.

“Help me—please!” I heard the girl plead again.

I spun around. No one there.

“Did anyone hear that?” I asked, more loudly than I’d planned.

Mr. Devine raised his eyes from his papers. “Tommy? What did you say?”

“Did anyone hear that girl?” I asked. “Calling for help?”

A few kids laughed. Thalia turned and frowned at me.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Mr. Devine replied.

“No. Really,” I insisted. “I heard her. She said, ‘Please help me.’” Mr. Devine tsk-tsked. “You’re too young to start hearing voices.”

Some more kids laughed. I didn’t think it was very funny.

I sighed and picked up my book. I couldn’t wait for the bell to ring. I really wanted to get out of that classroom.

I thumbed through the book, trying to find my page.

But before I found it, I heard the girl’s voice again.

So soft and near. And so unhappy.

“Help me. Please. Please, somebody—help me.”