Free R. L. Stine_Mostly Ghostly 06 by Let's Get This Party Haunted! Page A
Authors: Let's Get This Party Haunted!
pounding, I saw him standing stiffly in place. His mouth hung open, twisted as if
he
was the one being tickled. His eyes were bulging. His hands were at his sides, balled into tight fists.
He didn't move. He was in the ticklish trance.
I took a deep shuddering breath. And stepped back a few paces from the pool edge.
And as I did, I saw the mayor stagger forward. Mouth frozen open, eyes bulging without blinking. In his trance, the mayor stumbled —and toppled into the pool with a loud, echoing splash.
29
Q UENTIN DID N'T MOVE. He lay on his back with both legs in the air, staring up at the ceiling.
I stepped over him and walked to where Mayor Stank had fallen in. I heard him splashing and thrashing, and I saw water wash up onto the tile floor.
“Help me!” the mayor screamed.
The cold water must have snapped him out of his trance.
“Help me, Max! I can't swim!”
I got down on my knees, leaned over the side, and stretched out my hand. The mayor tried to reach it, but he sank below the surface, then popped back up, coughing and choking and sputtering.
His pudgy fingers slapped at the water. His bright yellow necktie floated up over his face, and he frantically swiped it away.
“Help me! Don't just sit there watching!” he screamed.
“I'm trying to help you!” I shouted.
He sputtered and coughed some more. And sank under the water for a few seconds.
“My shoes! My shoes are weighing me down!” he cried when he came back up. “Help me, Max!”
I reached as far as I could and grabbed his soaked suit jacket with both hands. He started to sink and almost pulled me in with him.
“Grab my hands!” I shouted.
He raised his hands, and I wrapped my fingers around them. But he slipped out of my grasp. Once. Twice.
I grabbed again and again.
Finally, I tightened my hands around his wrists and got him to the side. Then I tugged him up by his necktie. And heaved him onto the floor.
He plopped onto his stomach like a beached whale, and about a quart of water poured from his mouth. “Unnnnnngggh.” He made a horrible groaning, barfing sound. And rolled onto his back.
I turned and saw that Quentin had returned to life. He bent over the mayor. “Are you okay, Dad?” he asked, grabbing his dad's hand.
Mayor Stank groaned again. He let Quentin pull him up to a sitting position. Then more pool water drooled down his chin.
“Dad? Are you okay? Dad?” Quentin kept repeating.
Finally, the mayor struggled to his feet. Waterpoured from his suit. He took a few steps. His shoes squished against the floor.
“I'm okay,” he muttered to Quentin.
Then he turned to me. “I think we're even,” he said. “I'm an honest man. Yes, I may be insane. Because I have to have my revenge, even against a twelve-year-old boy. But I'm honest. And when I say we're even, we're even.”
He grabbed Quentin's arm. “Let's get out of here.”
Quentin turned to me. “I'm sorry, Max. He made me do it.”
I watched them hurry out of the building. The doors slammed behind them. I couldn't stop shivering. A close call.
The mayor was totally insane. He'd wanted me to swim two hundred laps!
I hugged myself and tried to stop shivering. The pool shimmered in front of me. Moonlight washed through the tall windows.
Mom and Dad must wonder where I am, I thought. If I told them the truth, they'd never believe me.
I took a deep breath and strode down the side of the pool, pushed open the door, and made my way outside.
As I started to walk home, I felt bad, really bad. This was supposed to be an awesome birthday. Instead, it was horrible in every way.
My party was a major flop. I'd embarrassed myself in front of all the cool kids and my whole class. And I'd lost a friend. At least, someone I
thought
was a friend.
I turned the corner onto Bleek Street. My house was on the next block. I was walking with my head down, thinking hard, feeling sorry for myself, not seeing anything.
Suddenly, I realized I wasn't alone.
I turned, focused
he
was the one being tickled. His eyes were bulging. His hands were at his sides, balled into tight fists.
He didn't move. He was in the ticklish trance.
I took a deep shuddering breath. And stepped back a few paces from the pool edge.
And as I did, I saw the mayor stagger forward. Mouth frozen open, eyes bulging without blinking. In his trance, the mayor stumbled —and toppled into the pool with a loud, echoing splash.
29
Q UENTIN DID N'T MOVE. He lay on his back with both legs in the air, staring up at the ceiling.
I stepped over him and walked to where Mayor Stank had fallen in. I heard him splashing and thrashing, and I saw water wash up onto the tile floor.
“Help me!” the mayor screamed.
The cold water must have snapped him out of his trance.
“Help me, Max! I can't swim!”
I got down on my knees, leaned over the side, and stretched out my hand. The mayor tried to reach it, but he sank below the surface, then popped back up, coughing and choking and sputtering.
His pudgy fingers slapped at the water. His bright yellow necktie floated up over his face, and he frantically swiped it away.
“Help me! Don't just sit there watching!” he screamed.
“I'm trying to help you!” I shouted.
He sputtered and coughed some more. And sank under the water for a few seconds.
“My shoes! My shoes are weighing me down!” he cried when he came back up. “Help me, Max!”
I reached as far as I could and grabbed his soaked suit jacket with both hands. He started to sink and almost pulled me in with him.
“Grab my hands!” I shouted.
He raised his hands, and I wrapped my fingers around them. But he slipped out of my grasp. Once. Twice.
I grabbed again and again.
Finally, I tightened my hands around his wrists and got him to the side. Then I tugged him up by his necktie. And heaved him onto the floor.
He plopped onto his stomach like a beached whale, and about a quart of water poured from his mouth. “Unnnnnngggh.” He made a horrible groaning, barfing sound. And rolled onto his back.
I turned and saw that Quentin had returned to life. He bent over the mayor. “Are you okay, Dad?” he asked, grabbing his dad's hand.
Mayor Stank groaned again. He let Quentin pull him up to a sitting position. Then more pool water drooled down his chin.
“Dad? Are you okay? Dad?” Quentin kept repeating.
Finally, the mayor struggled to his feet. Waterpoured from his suit. He took a few steps. His shoes squished against the floor.
“I'm okay,” he muttered to Quentin.
Then he turned to me. “I think we're even,” he said. “I'm an honest man. Yes, I may be insane. Because I have to have my revenge, even against a twelve-year-old boy. But I'm honest. And when I say we're even, we're even.”
He grabbed Quentin's arm. “Let's get out of here.”
Quentin turned to me. “I'm sorry, Max. He made me do it.”
I watched them hurry out of the building. The doors slammed behind them. I couldn't stop shivering. A close call.
The mayor was totally insane. He'd wanted me to swim two hundred laps!
I hugged myself and tried to stop shivering. The pool shimmered in front of me. Moonlight washed through the tall windows.
Mom and Dad must wonder where I am, I thought. If I told them the truth, they'd never believe me.
I took a deep breath and strode down the side of the pool, pushed open the door, and made my way outside.
As I started to walk home, I felt bad, really bad. This was supposed to be an awesome birthday. Instead, it was horrible in every way.
My party was a major flop. I'd embarrassed myself in front of all the cool kids and my whole class. And I'd lost a friend. At least, someone I
thought
was a friend.
I turned the corner onto Bleek Street. My house was on the next block. I was walking with my head down, thinking hard, feeling sorry for myself, not seeing anything.
Suddenly, I realized I wasn't alone.
I turned, focused
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