Free Locker 13 by R.L. Stine

swept over the floor. I began to run full speed to the bench.
    I didn’t see the huge Lions player—until we collided.
    I plowed right into him. Caught him flat-footed. He let out a startled, “Oof.” And we cracked heads.
    â€œYaaaiiii!” I let out a scream of agony as blinding red pain shot around my head. The red shimmered to gold. Brighter, brighter … bright as the sun.
    I felt my legs giving out. Felt myself collapsing, crumbling into a deep, deep, bottomless darkness.
    I woke up to pinpoints of yellow light. They flickered high above me. Each time they flashed, a wave of pain rolled over my forehead, down the back of my neck.
    I blinked hard. Blinked until I realized I was staring up at the lights on the gym rafters.
    I lay on my back on the gym floor, one knee raised, my hands flat at my sides. I squinted up at the high rafters—until faces blocked my view.
    Players’ faces. And then a few worried-looking adults. And then Coach Bendix’s face, looming over me, bobbing over me like a parade balloon.
    â€œWhat—?” One word escaped my throat. My dry throat. So dry, I couldn’t swallow.
    â€œStay still, Luke,” Coach ordered, speaking softly. His dark eyes peered down into mine, studying me. “You’ve had a bad concussion. Don’t try to move. We’re sending you to the emergency room.”
    â€œHuh? No!” I gasped.
    I rolled onto my side. I lurched to my feet. The floor tilted from side to side, as if I were on a rocking boat.
    â€œDon’t move, Luke.” Coach reached for me.
    But I staggered out of his grasp. Stumbled through the circle of people that had formed around me.
    â€œNo. No hospital!” I croaked.
    I had to find that skull. That was all I needed, and then I would be okay again.
    The skull …
    I stumbled over someone’s shoe. Staggered toward the locker room. The gleaming wood floor swaying beneath me.
    â€œLuke—come back!”
    No. No way. I shoved open the locker room door with one shoulder. And sliding a hand against the lockers, moved to the back row. Lurched to my gym locker. Pulled open the door so hard it slammed against the frame.
    â€œWhere is it? Where?”
    I frantically pawed through my street clothes. Searched and then tossed everything onto the floor.
    â€œWhere? Where?”
    Not in my khakis pockets. Not in my shirt pocket. Not in my sweatshirt.
    The locker floor? No. Nothing down there.
    Stumbling over the pile of clothes on the floor, I lurched back down the row of gym lockers. Ran through the gym, out the doors, and up the stairs. Into the long, empty hall.
    My sneakers squeaked on the hard floor as I ran. The walls and ceiling appeared to close in on me, then slide back into place.
    To my locker. To locker 13.
    It took me three tries to get the combination right. But finally I unlocked it and flung open the door.
    And jammed my hand into one coat pocket, and then the other.
    â€œWhere is it? I have to have it! Where? Where?”
    And then a long, happy sigh escaped my parched throat as my hand closed around it.
    Yessss!
    I was so happy!
    I had the skull in my hand. I squeezed it tightly. So happy. So happy.
    I pulled it out of the coat pocket. Raised it in front of me. Raised it close to examine it.
    And let out a cry of horror.

 

    The eyes. They were dark. Not red, not glowing.
    And the face had changed ! The bump-toothed grin was gone. The open mouth was curled down in a fierce, angry scowl.
    â€œNo—it’s impossible!” I gasped.
    I held the skull up to the light. The red jewel eyes were gone! The deep, round sockets were empty. The skull scowled down at me, dark and menacing.
    What does this mean? I wondered. How did this happen?
    Before I could think about it clearly, I glimpsed something in the open locker. A soft glow. A slow moving light, growing larger as if moving closer.
    The light split into two. Two circles of red light. Down low. Very low, near