Free Wanted by R. L. Stine

of unbelievable kindness. The kind Marcus’s dad was talking about.
    My hand trembled as I reached for the closet door. But before I could pull it open, I heard a sound. I turned and saw Polly at the top of the steps.
    She gazed around the long room until she found me. “Lu-Ann, hear those sirens?” she said. “Those are the police. Coming for you.”
    Yes. I could hear them. Very faint. Far away. But getting closer.
    I didn’t have much time. I squeezed the handle to the closet door.
    Polly came running toward me. “What are you doing? Lu-Ann, get away from there. The police will be here in minutes. You can’t hide in that closet.”
    â€œI … don’t want to hide,” I murmured. “I’m going to do you a big favor. There’s a ghost —”
    I tugged the closet door open.
    Polly burst up beside me. “Get away. Get out of here.”
    â€œWait,” I said. “I —”
    I didn’t get to finish my sentence.
    A bony hand shot out of the darkness of the closet and wrapped its skeletal fingers around Polly’s shoulder.
    â€œHuh?” A startled cry escaped her throat as a second hand grabbed on to her.
    The old ghost appeared in the closet doorway with his cracked skull, patchy skin, and sunken eyes. “So lonely …” he groaned.
    I saw him tighten his grip on Polly. Tighten it until she screamed.
    â€œHelp me! Oh, help! He’s got me! He’s pulling me! Help me! He’s pulling me into the closet!”
    And as I stared, frozen in horror, the disgusting old ghost gave a hard tug.
    And Polly vanished into the darkness.

“Hahahahahaha!”
    A burst of evil laughter escaped my throat. I tossed back my head and laughed.
    No, Lu-Ann. Fight the evil. Fight it.
    I clamped a hand over my mouth, struggled to hold in the laughter.
    Fight the evil, Lu-Ann.
    I forced myself to move. I lurched forward and stumbled into the closet. Blinking in the dark, I spotted the old man, now with his hands around Polly’s waist, pulling her … dragging her deeper into the closet.
    â€œSo loooooonely …” he moaned.
    â€œNo way!” I shouted.
    I wrapped my arms around Polly and pulled her free. Then I leaped at the old ghost. Tackled him around his bone-hard waist.
    A squeak escaped his ragged throat. “The mask … Nooo … The mask …” He went down hard.
    I heard the crack of bones. He let out a soft wisp of air. One leg cracked and split off his body. It came sliding out from his black pants leg.
    I lifted myself off him. In time to see his head crack in two. It rolled off his bony neck. Rolled against the wall with the sunken eyes staring straight up.
    He didn’t move.
    Polly stood with her hands wrapped around her chest. Shaking. Eyes rolling in her head.
    I grabbed her gently and led her out of the closet, into the light of the attic. “You’re okay,” I whispered, smoothing her hair off her face. “Polly, you’re okay now.”
    â€œThank you, Lu-Ann,” she said.
    I grabbed at the mask over my face. I knew I had done it. Saving Polly from the ghost had to be an act of unbelievable kindness.
    I tugged both sides up.
    Come off. Come OFF.
    I fumbled for the bottom of the mask. Struggled to lift it up. To slide the tight, hot mask up my face.
    No.
    Not happening.
    Please … please come off!
    Saving Polly wasn’t enough. Or had Mr. Wright lied? Had he given me the wrong solution?
    No. Why would he do that?
    He was an expert on all kinds of masks. He would know how to remove the Haunted Mask.
    I tried one more time. I tugged at it. I twisted it. I pinched it hard and pulled.
    Noooooo.
    The mask was my skin now. My skin. My hideous green skin.
    The sirens grew very loud. The police were on Polly’s block now. Seconds away.
    I took off running. Down the two flights of stairs. Through the back hall and out the kitchen door.
    I ran as fast as I could, the