Scream school

Goosebumps (R) Series 2000 No. 15
SCREAM SCHOOL
by R.l. STINE
Copyright 1999 by Parachute Press, Inc.
BOOK JACKET INFORMATION
Goosebumps No. 15
APPLE FICTION
Student body stalker ...
Welcome to the new millennium of fear
Goosebumps (R) SERIES 2000
The two figures floated up from the pile ofdusty costumes. One was a man, the other awoman. Their faces were ghoulish. Skin pulled sotight Jake could see the bone underneath. Eyesyellow, sunken back in their sockets. Theirlips cracked and purple. "Now we can make our movie," the womansaid, floating closer to Jake, arms outstretched,side by side with the man. "The most horrifyingmovie ever made!"
SCHOLASTIC INC.RL4 008-012
SCREAM SCHOOL

"We shouldn't be here, Rita," Ronwhispered. The yellow beam of light from hisflashlight bounced over the shaggy, worn carpetin front of them. "I know," Rita whispered back. "Butwe're here, right? So we might as wellexplore." She shook her flashlight, hopingto make it brighter. A strand of Rita's dark hair fell overher eyes. She brushed it back with her free handand moved closer to Ron. A creaking sound made them both gasp. Thecircles of light swept the cracked plaster onthe walls, then washed over the furniture coveredin dusty sheets. "Just the old house settling," Ron whispered,swallowing hard. "Old houses do that, you know.Settle." "I thought that only happened in dumb horrormovies," Rita replied. She picked up theedge of a sheet and squinted at the arm of a bigcouch. "Wish we were at the movies," Ronmurmured, unable to keep his voice from trembling.A shudder ran down his long, lean body. Hetugged off his baseball cap and mopped his foreheadwith his shirtsleeve. "If you're so scared, why did you dare meto come here?" Rita snapped. Her green eyesflashed in the dim, darting light. "I didn't dare you," Ron protested. "Youdared me." "No. You," Rita insisted. "Don't youremember? We were walking home from school. Andyou said you were sick and tired of everyone calling ourschool Scream School." "Yeah, but--" "You said everyone in town laughs at us becausewe're always being terrified by ghouls and monsters andgruesome creeps. Kids at our school arealways screaming their heads off. And that's why everyonecalls it Scream School. And--" "Yes, I said that," Ron interrupted. "ButI didn't--" "And then you said you weren't the tiniest bit scaredof Johnny Scream. You said you didn't carehow many kids that ugly dead ghoul hasmurdered. You said you would break right into his house--the house where he died fifty years ago. Andthen you dared me to come with you." Rita raised the light to Ron's face. Sheheld it there until he covered his eyes andturned away. "Okay, okay. I remember. I said that,"he told her. "So here we are. This is where thatcreep lives. We broke in. Now what?" "You tell me," Rita replied, brushing herdark hair off her face again. "It was your bigidea." "Well ..." Ron hesitated as anothercreaking noise made them spin around. No one there. "We've done it," Ron said softly."We've proven we're not afraid of JohnnyScream, right?" Rita nodded. "I guess." "So let's go home." She didn't argue with him. Her legs weretrembling as she followed him through the dark,cluttered room to the front door. She hopedRon couldn't see how frightened she was. Ron let out a little squeak as he tugged theknob on the front door. He tugged it again.Harder. "Which-what's wrong?" Rita stammered. Shestumbled and bumped him from behind. "The door--" he moaned. "It's ...locked." "Locked from the outside? That's impossible!"she cried. "It can't be locked. It must bestuck." She set her flashlight on the floor.Shoved him aside. And gripped the doorknob withboth hands. Rita tugged with all her might, groaning asshe twisted the brass knob and pulled. "We came in through this door," she gasped."So it can't be locked." Ron handed her his flashlight. Sweat poureddown his forehead, into his eyes. He ignored itand tried the door again. "There's no one here. So who could have locked thedoor?" "How do you know there's no one here? MaybeJohnny Scream ..." "Shut up! Don't be funny! Just get us outof here! Hurry!" Struggling breathlessly with the door, their panicgrowing with every second, the two teenagers didn'thear the creak of floorboards across the darkenedliving room. Didn't see the hunched figure lurch towardthem. Didn't hear his low grunts with each heavy,plodding step. "Hunnh hunnh hunnh." Huddled together, twisting the knob, tugging, Ronand Rita didn't see the ghastly creaturemove behind them. Didn't hear the whoosh of coldair as he swung his axe up onto his shoulder. And then raised the axe above his head. They didn't hear his excited wheezing. Theydidn't see the gleeful grin on the ghoul'stwisted face. Behind the two frantic teens, the axe rosehigh. And then it started down. "YAAAAAAIII!" A shrill scream burst from outside the room. They all heard a CRASH, then a heavy,solid THUD. The ghoul spun around quickly. "Helll-lo!"he called. "Was that in the script? I don'tthink so!"

"CUT! CUT!" Emory Banyon criedangrily. Jake Banyon saw his father jump out of hisdirector's chair. Sprawled on his stomachon the studio floor, Jake struggled to climbto his feet. But he was tangled in the canvaschair that had collapsed beneath him. "What happened, Emory?" the actressplaying Rita called from the set. "That was such agood take." "I know, I know." Jake's dad groaned."I guess it was too good. You scared my sonright out of his chair!" Jake heard laughter all around the movieset. He sighed to himself. This isn't fair, hethought. It wasn't my fault. Jake knew he was blushing. Everyone was staringat him. Everyone hated him. He had ruined areally good take in his father's new movie. He could see his friend Chelsea Paigeshaking her head. She must think I'm a total geek, he thoughtmiserably. Look at her. She's pretendingshe doesn't know me. "Are we going to break for lunch, or what?" theghoul called impatiently, dropping his axe to thefloor. It bounced across the set. The axe waslight, made of balsa wood. "No. We don't have time," EmoryBanyon told him. "You want to spend anotherthree hours in makeup? Let's get the scene,Carl. Then we'll break for lunch." All three actors grumbled. Carl, the guyplaying the ghoul, trudged off to the side to have hismakeup repaired. Emory bent and pulled the chair away so thatJake could stand up. "Jake," he said sternly,lowering his bushy black eyebrows until theycame together, "if you're too scared to watch,maybe you should wait outside." "But I wasn't scared!" Jake protested."Really. I was enjoying it. It didn't scareme, Emory!" Jake's dad insisted that everyone call himby his first name. Even Jake. Jake would rather call him Dad. But Emorywouldn't allow it. "You and I are closer than father and son, right?"he always boomed. "We're pals! And palscall each other by their first names." "Right, Emory," Jake had to agree. Emory never talked in a quiet voice--heonly boomed, as if he were onstage in anopera. With his wild black hair that was neverbrushed, his bushy eyebrows, his flashing blackeyes, his booming, deep voice, Emoryattracted attention everywhere he went. He thought fast. He talked fast. He neverwalked--he always trotted. He always appearedto be in a hurry. He always seemed to be doingsix things at once, giving instructions to a dozenpeople, talking rapidly into his cell phone,writing frantic notes at the same time. Sometimes Jake felt slow as a turtlenext to his famous movie director father.Sometimes Jake felt as if he lived with ahurricane! "But I wasn't scared of that scene!" Jakeprotested again. "The dumb chair collapsed, andI fell. It wasn't my fault,Emory." Emory tsk-tsked. He patted Jake'sslender shoulder. "It's okay to admit you werescared, son," he replied. "It was a very scaryscene. Millions of people will scream when they seeit." "But I only screamed because the chair fell!"Jake cried. He didn't mean for that shrill,whiny voice to come out. But he couldn't stop it."I wasn't scared, Emory. Really!" Emory turned to Chelsea. She was still perchedin her tall red canvas chair. Chelsea wastwelve, the same age as Jake, pretty withbrown eyes and light brown hair streaked withblond. She wore a red cut-off T-shirt, baggykhaki shorts, and had about a dozen plasticbracelets up and down her right arm. Chelsea's father also worked in movies. ButJake wasn't sure exactly what he did.Something to do with the business side of things. Jake only knew that Chelsea wasn't forcedto call her dad by his first name. And Mr.Paige didn't make horror movies. Sohe was never accusing Chelsea of being a chicken and ascaredy-cat all the time. "Chelsea, there's a ton of food over there,"Emory said, pointing to the studio door. "Allkinds of sandwiches and salads. Why don't youtake Jake and go check it out?" He didn't wait for Chelsea to reply.He frowned at Jake. Then he swung backto the set and shouted, "Places! Come on. Wealmost had it. Lights. Cut the lights.Quiet, everyone. Let's go again." Jake followed Chelsea out the studio doorinto the hall. He didn't like the smile onChelsea's face. Was she still laughing at him? "It wasn't my fault," he told her."The chair just fell. So don't laugh." She laughed. "Sorry. But it's kind offunny. They should keep it in the movie." "Ha-ha," Jake replied bitterly. They stopped in front of the food tables.Chelsea's expression turned serious. Hereyes softened to a warm, sympathetic gaze. That's what Jake liked about her. She wasnice. She didn't just want to show you how muchbetter she was than you. A lot of kids in Hollywood were verycompetitive. "So is it totally awful having such a famousfather?" she asked. "Aren't there any good parts to beingthe son of the King of Horror?" "I can't think of any," Jake moaned. Hepicked up half a turkey sandwich and droppedit onto a paper plate. He thought hard."Well ... I do get into the movies for free.That's pretty cool," he admitted. "But so does just about everyone else at ourschool," he added. "So I guess it's nobig deal." He thought some more. "Famous people come to our houseall the time. That's a little cool." He dropped a handful of nacho chips onto hisplate. "But the hard part is that everybody alwaysasks me the same question. "Are you scared of yourfather's movies? Are you scared of your father'smovies?"' Over and over. The same dumbquestion." Chelsea chewed on a carrot stick. "Can Iask you a serious question?" she asked. "Yeah. What?" Jake replied. "Are you scared of your father's movies?" Chelsea burst out laughing. Jake slugged her on the arm. Then he raisedboth hands to her throat and pretended to strangleher. Still laughing, she tried to jam the carrot stickinto his nose. "It's a good question," Chelsea insisted. "Imean, what else are people going to ask you? Your dadis the King of Horror. So ..." "I'm just as scary as he is!" Jakeproclaimed. "But he won't believe me. Hethinks I get scared all the time. You know why hebrings me to his movie set? To show me that thehorror isn't real. To teach me not to beafraid." Jake sighed. "But I'm not afraid!" hecried. "I'm not! Nothing scares me!" Jake felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around. Stared. And opened his mouth in a scream of terror.

Jake and Chelsea both gaped at JohnnyScream, the most famous zombie ghoul inhistory. As the star of Emory Banyon'sScream School movies, JohnnyScream's terrifying face was known around the world. Seven feet tall, straight and skinny as askeleton, Johnny Scream stared back atJake and Chelsea with his cold silver eyes.As if blown by the wind, his thick black hairflew back around his rotting, decaying face. His grin revealed pointed yellow teeth. Achunk of skin was missing from his left cheek.Gray bone poked out from underneath. Johnny removed his bony hand from Jake'sshoulder. His long yellowed fingernails were curledlike a canary's claws. "Hey, Jake--I didn't mean to scareyou," Johnny Scream said. He had asurprisingly normal voice, pleasant andsoft. "Just wanted to say hi." "I--I wasn't scared," Jake stammered,feeling his face grow hot. Blushing again. Why was he such an easy blusher? It wastotally embarrassing. Chelsea narrowed her eyes at him. "Youweren't scared?" she teased. "You screamed yourhead off." "I know," Jake told her. "I was doing theofficial Johnny Scream Scream." A black-lipped grin spread over JohnnyScream's face. Chelsea frowned at Jake. "Yeah. Forsure," she muttered. "No. Really," Jake insisted. "That was theofficial Fan Club Scream. Everyone doesit at movie theaters whenever Johnny Screamcomes on." Jake frowned back at her. "You didn'treally think I was scared--did you? I mean,Johnny Scream comes to my house all the time.I've known him since I was a baby." Chelsea rolled her big brown eyes."Okay, you weren't scared. Like I'll believeanything." Johnny Scream pawed over the sandwiches."I've got to get back on the set or yourdad will kill me. Do you see any roast beefsandwiches?" he asked Jake. "Can you pick oneup for me? Know how hard it is to eat with thesestupid curled fingernails?"
After the day's shooting, Emory drove Jakeand Chelsea to the Banyons' mansion in BeverlyHills. Jake liked showing off his dad'senormous black Mercedes. "Yes, it's great. My dad has the samecar," Chelsea told him. "But I like our newlittle Volkswagen bug better. It's so cute!" Jake invited Chelsea to stay for dinner. Butwhen the dinner conversation started, he was sorry hehad invited her. "What's on the menu tonight, Vicki?" Emoryasked his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Jake's mother was a tiny sparrow of a woman,sharp-featured but pretty, with short, smoothblond hair streaked with platinum, and tiny, roundblue eyes that beamed onto you like lasers. She had been a model and had appeared in afew TV commercials before Jake was born. Butwhen Emory's movies became popular and hebecame the King of Horror, she gave up hercareer. "We're having take-out chicken and potatosalad," Vicki Banyon announced. "Ididn't have time to cook tonight." "Chicken for a chicken, huh, Jake?"Emory laughed. "Let's eat." Jake dragged Chelseainto the dining room before his father could crack anotherdumb joke. Everyone sat down and passed around the bucketof chicken and the potato salad. "How did it go on the set?" Jake's momasked Jake. "Fine," Jake replied. "I really enjoyed it," Chelsea said, pullingthe skin off a chicken breast. Emory chuckled. "We had a good day--until Jake lost it." Jake's mom turned her laser eyes onJake. "I didn't lose it!" he protested. "I guess the scene was a good one," Emorycontinued, grinning. "Jake got so scared, hefell off his chair!" "Not true!" Jake shrieked. He jumpedangrily to his feet. "It's not true!" Chelsea was laughing. Wasn't she supposed to be his friend? "Jake, sit down," his mom said softly."Where's your sense of humor?" Scowling, Jake dropped back into his seat. "There's nothing wrong with being scared," Emorysaid, fumbling around in the bucket, then pulling outa chicken leg. "Most people like to be scared--thankgoodness!" "But I wasn't scared--" Jake started. Emory shoved the bucket across the table to him."Here. Take some chicken." Jake reached out both hands and pulled over thecardboard bucket. "I enjoyed meeting Johnny Scream,"Chelsea said. "He seems like a really coolguy." "He's talented too," Emory said, hiseyes on Jake. Jake tilted the bucket toward him. Startedto reach in. And gasped when he saw the eyeball staring upat him. A wet yellowish eyeball with tiny red veinsstretching over it. Emory burst out laughing. He gleefullyslapped the table with both hands. "Gotcha!" heboomed. "Emory--" Jake started. "Did you see the look on his face?"Emory bellowed. "He was terrified!" Chelsea laughed again. Mrs. Banyon shook her head. "Emory, I--I wasn't scared," Jakestammered. "You've done this lame eyeballtrick a thousand times before." Emory tossed back his head, laughing. Jake picked up the eyeball and threatenedto heave it at his father. Jake's mom snatched the glass eyeball fromhis hand. She glared at her husband. "Emory,why do you keep trying to scare Jake?" shedemanded sharply. "Why do you do it? Just to prove thatyou're the King of Horror?" Emory cut off his laughter. His expressionturned serious. "That's not why I do it. Ofcourse not," he insisted. "Then why?" Jake's mom asked. "I want Jake to be able to admit when he'sscared," Emory replied. "It isn't healthyto do what he always does. It isn't healthyto hold your true feelings in." "But I don't!" Jake insisted shrilly.He balled his hands into tight fists. "Idon't! I don't!" "You know what scares me?" Chelsea chimedin. "The fact that I never get scared. I'mnot afraid of the dark. Or afraid of movies.Or nightmares. Or anything. Sometimes Iwonder if that's normal." "Let's change the subject," Mrs.Banyon said, seeing Jake's tight, angryscowl. "Let's talk about the Dodgers. You'regoing to the game Saturday, right, Jake?" Jake nodded, but he didn't reply. He was thinking. Thinking hard. How can I prove to my dad that I'm notafraid? he asked himself, glaring across the table asEmory hungrily gobbled down chicken. I know, he thought. I'll prove that I'm justas scary as he is. But how?

Jake dribbled the ball past his friend CarlosManza. He gave Carlos a little shove as hewent by. Moved to the basket for an easylayup. And missed. The ball bounced off the backboardinto Carlos's hands. Carlos laughed. "Niceshot." "I'm just warming up," Jake told him. Carlos dribbled away, then heaved the ballup from halfway across the court. The ball missedthe basket. Missed the backboard. Missedeverything. They watched it bounce across the lawn toward theBanyons' swimming pool. "I'm just warming up too," Carlos said,laughing. Carlos was shorter than Jake, but bulky andathletic-looking. He had short black hair,buzz-cut on the sides, spiky on top. His dark eyes crinkled at the edges. Healways appeared to be laughing at something. He wore baggy shorts and an enormous redT-shirt that came down nearly to his knees.His white high-top sneakers were new. They glowedin the sunlight. Jake took the ball. Faked one way.Faked the other way. Started to dribble up themiddle--and Carlos slapped the ball outof his hands. They were playing one-on-one in Jake'sbackyard, on the tennis court that Emory hadconverted to a basketball court. Emory told everyone how he grew up on thestreets of New York playing basketball.He and Jake played on the backyard courtall the time. When he played with his father, Jake had to befast--and careful. Emory played to win. In theheat of the game, he would knock Jake to the groundand run over him to get the last shot at thebasket. The two of them always kept at ituntil they were exhausted and drenched with sweat. Playing against Carlos was a lot more relaxing.Mainly because Carlos was a fun, easygoing guy.And they both had about the same amount of skill--notmuch. "You're coming to my house for dinner, right?"Carlos asked, dribbling at the foul line. "Yeah. And we'll watch a movie?" Jakeasked, bending over to catch his breath. Carlos nodded. Took his foul shot. Itswished through the basket. Jake loved going over to Carlos's house.His parents had their own screening room with a movieprojector and full-size screen. And they hadthe most amazing collection of old horrormovies. Carlos and Jake loved to watch the classicblack-and-white films: Bride ofFrankenstein, The Wolf Man, TheInvisible Man. The two of them screamed their heads off, eventhough the old films seemed kind of funny now. One day, Jake told his dad how much heenjoyed the old horror movies. "Great old stuff," Emory replied. "Ifyou ever get too scared while you're watching, justremind yourself that it's only a movie." Jake dribbled the ball past Carlos.Carlos slapped at it and missed. Jake wentup for his shot. "Hey, Jake--" A voice from thedriveway. Jake turned. Missed the shot. The ballhit the rim and bounced away. Chelsea came running over, her light brownhair flying behind her. She wore a white tennisoutfit and carried a tennis racket."What are you guys doing?" she asked. "Knitting a sweater," Jake replied. Hewas still angry that she had laughed at him at dinnerthe night before. "What does it look like we'redoing?" Chelsea pretended to hit him on the head withher tennis racket. "I meant, are you playinga game or just messing around?" "Both," Carlos replied, grinning. "Wantto play? How about Jake and me against you?" "No way," Chelsea replied. She sether racket down on the grass beside the court."Basketball isn't my sport. I kind ofstink at it." "Okay. You and Jake against me," Carlossuggested. "I'll try to go easy on you two." They started their game. Chelsea triedto dribble the ball past Carlos, who danced infront of her, waving both hands in her face. "Pass it! Pass it!" Jake cried. Chelsea dribbled to the basket. Shot andscored. "Lucky shot," Carlos murmured. He took the ball out. Started to dribble,dancing to one side, then the other. Fancyfootwork. Showing off for Chelsea, Jake thought. Chelsea moved in front of Carlos--andstole the ball from his hands. She dribbled, backingover the half-court line, then moving forward. "Pass it! Here!" Jake called, waving hisarms over his head. "I'm open!" Chelsea ignored him and fired off atwo-handed layup. It swished through the basket."Four to zip," she told Carlos. "Hey--am I in this game or what?" Jakecomplained. "Know what Jake did yesterday on his dad'smovie set?" Chelsea asked Carlos. Shecast a mischievous, teasing glance at Jake. "No, what?" Carlos asked, dribbling inplace. "Shut up, Chelsea!" Jake snapped."Just shut up!" "What did he do?" Carlos asked, grinningat Chelsea. Chelsea opened her mouth to reply. But all three of them froze when they heard theloud growls. And saw the enormous blackrottweiler come roaring into the yard. The ball fell out of Carlos's hands androlled away. "Oh, no ... I know this dog," Jakemoaned, backing up. Barking furiously, the huge dog lowered itshead, preparing to attack. "No, Dukie! No!" Jake pleaded. Heraised both hands, trying to shield himself."Dukie--down! Down!" The dog opened its jaws in a furious growl. "Oh ... help!" Jake cried as the dograised its front paws. Leaped heavily ontohim. Knocked Jake to the ground. And lowered its massive head to attack.

"Dukie--no! Nooooo!" Jake howled. But the dog stood over Jake, its big pawspressing Jake's shoulders to the ground. It loweredits head. And licked. Licked ... "Dukie--stop! Dukie!" Jake pleaded. The dog licked Jake's face ... lickedhis neck. Its stubby tail wagged furiously. In seconds, Jake's cheeks and neck wereglistening with wet dog slime. "Pull him off!" Jake begged his friends."He does this to me all the time. He thinkshe's still a puppy. Owww! He weighs aton! Owww! Dukie--you're crushing me!" Chelsea and Carlos looked on helplessly. Dukie finally got tired of giving Jake atongue bath. He backed off, panting, his tailtwirling like a propeller. Jake saw his father trotting across the lawn."Emory?" Dukie bounded over to greet Mr. Banyon.The dog's tongue trailed from its mouth as itran. Emory gave its head a few pats, thendropped beside Jake. "You okay?" he asked. Jake pulled himself up to a sitting position.He wiped sticky dog saliva off his cheek with theback of one hand. "Yeah. Fine." Emory's face filled with concern. Heplaced a hand on Jake's shoulder. "Jake--why didn't you ever tell me that you're scared ofdogs?" Jake squinted up at his father."Huh?" "I had no idea," Emory continued, shakinghis head. "But don't worry. We can deal with theproblem." "Problem? What problem?" Jake cried. Chelsea and Carlos watched from thebasketball court. Carlos picked up theball and tossed it from hand to hand. "The first thing is to admit it," Emory toldJake. "Admit that you're afraid of dogs.Once you realize you have a problem, we can--" "But I'm not--to was Jake protested."Emory, I just--" "I saw the whole thing, Jake," Emoryreplied, patting Jake's shoulder again. "Dukie is pretty scary," Chelseachimed in. "He is not!" Jake cried angrily."I've known him since he was a puppy. Andhe's just playful, that's all." Emory climbed to his feet. He reacheddown and pulled Jake up. "Know what? I'llget you a dog, Jake. Your birthday is comingup. I'll buy you a dog for your birthday. Thatwill help you work out your problems." "But, Emory--if you'd only listen to me..." "Having your own dog will help you get over yourfear." A phone rang. Emory pulled a cellphone from the pocket of his khakis. He flippedit open and began talking into it as he walked backto the house. Jake turned to his friends. They both hadwide grins on their faces. "Look out, Jake--the neighbors' cat isover there," Carlos said, pointing. "We'll protect you," Chelsea teased."Don't be afraid. We won't let it getyou." Laughing scornfully, they slapped each othera high five. Jake let out an angry, frustrated cry.He grabbed the basketball--and heaved it as highand as hard as he could. All three of them watched it sail high into thesky, bounce once on the grass, and then splashinto the swimming pool. "Nice shot," Carlos murmured. Jake just growled in reply.
That night, Jake stepped out of Carlos'shouse and began walking home. It was a clear,warm night. A million stars glitteredoverhead. The light from a full moon made theperfectly trimmed Beverly Hills lawnsshimmer like silver. Jake crossed the street onto the nextblock. The houses were mostly dark.Streetlamps cast yellow light, making hisshadow stretch far in front of him. A warm breeze brushed against him as hewalked. The breeze rustled the low hedges alongthe sidewalk. A screech in a tree limb made Jakegaze up. A bird? A cat? He couldn't see. To his surprise, the stars had all vanished.He watched a black cloud slide quickly overthe moon. The ground darkened. His shadow faded into thedeepening blackness. So dark now. Suddenly so dark. Eerily dark. He crossed the street and stepped into a thick,damp mist. A strange green glow against thedarkness. Swirling snakes of green cloud,hovering low against the ground, curling around hisankles. The thick green fog curling around him, washingover him. Sweeping so silently around him, as ifpulling him inside. Holding him in its green glow. Holding him... pressing against him so wetly ... trappinghim. "Hey--" Jake uttered a strangled cry. He took another step. His legs suddenlyfelt as heavy as lead. "Hey--" Only two blocks to go until he was home.Why couldn't he see the houses now? Whathappened to the light from the streetlamps? He heard a rustling behind the hedge.Footsteps. "Hey--" Why couldn't he see the hedge? The green fog wrapped around him, tightening itsgrip, so warm and wet. He couldn't see. Couldn't see anything. "Hey--hey--what's happening?"

Jake heard scrambling behind the hedge. Afrantic rustling like small animals scamperingover leaves. "I can't see anything," he murmured. And then the thick green mist appeared to splitapart. And a figure loomed quickly in front of him.A figure of shimmering blue shadows. So talland thin ... taller than a human. And then from out of the shadows, a face. Ahaunted, distorted face. And Jake cried out in shock--"JohnnyScream!" Johnny's silver eyes glared down atJake, glowing green, reflecting the mist. Hisblack lips curled in a cold smile. Hestretched out bony arms as if trying to blockJake's way. "Which-what are you doing here?" Jake stammered."I was walking home, and this weird fog cameup, and--" "You can't go home," Johnny Screamrasped. The curled fingernails clicked on hisclenching fists. "Excuse me?" Jake stared up at thegiant ghoul. The green mist swirled around themboth, hot and wet. The street was so silent ... no cars ... novoices ... no rustle of wind in the trees. Jake could hear his own rapid breathing, hear thethud of his heartbeat in his chest. "You can't go home, Jake," JohnnyScream repeated, the silver eyes so cold andlifeless. "Johnny--are you trying to scare me?" Jakeasked. His voice sounded tiny, muffled in thechoking fog. Johnny Scream's black suit, patched andtorn and many sizes too big, fluttered in theswirling fog, a flapping sound--like a flag in thewind. Or bat wings. The silver eyes never blinked. The ghoul's smile revealed two rows ofpointed teeth. Sharp spikes. He clicked the fingernails on his right hand againsthis fingernails on his left hand in a steady, slowrhythm. CLICK-CLICK CLICK-CLICK ... theonly sound now except for Jake's shallowbreaths. "Johnny--why are you trying to scare me?"Jake demanded. He tried to take a stepback. But the fog held him. Pushed against him.Prickled the skin on the back of his neck. "I'm real, Jake," the ghoul whispered. Thepatch of cheekbone beneath the open skin glowed green. "Huh? What are you saying?" "I'm real, Jake. I can't let you gohome." "Johnny, I know you," Jake insisted,unable to keep his voice from trembling. "I knowyou're not real. You're in my dad's movies." "I'm not in the movies now," the ghoul repliedcoldly. "But you're not real!" Jake declared. "It'sall makeup, Johnny. I know it's allmakeup!" With an angry cry, Jake stuck out bothhands--and grabbed Johnny Scream's face. "All makeup!" Jake screamed. And triedto pull off the skin flap. Tried to pull off theugly mask over the actor's real face. "Oh!" Jake gasped as his hands stuckto Johnny's face. His skin was soft--soft and sticky like thicksyrup. Jake tried to tug his fingers free. But theystuck to the soft skin, then stretched it, like taffy,like bub7um ... Jake pulled back--and the sickening, stickyskin kept stretching with him. I'm stuck! he realized. Stuck to the ghoul'sface! Johnny Scream's eyes gleamed like twobeams of light. His black-lipped smilespread, stretched ... stretched ... And Jake, pulling ... pulling ... strugglingto free his hands from the rubbery skin, opened his mouthin a horrified scream.

As the scream faded, the fog faded with it,leaving a glowing darkness. Jake blinked. Hecouldn't see the grinning ghoul any longer. His whole body shook. Shook up and down. He blinked again--and stared up at hisfather. Over his dark, sleepy eyes, Emory'sbushy eyebrows wriggled like two fat worms. Jake realized his father had hold of his shouldersand was shaking him. Shaking him out of his dream. "Wake up, Jake. You're having anightmare." Emory's normally booming voicewas clogged from sleep. He wore baggy, stripedpajama bottoms. His bare chest, with its nest ofthick black hair, loomed over Jake. "It's a nightmare," Emory repeated. Jake sat up slowly. He raised bothhands and stared at his fingers, as if expecting themto be sticky from Johnny Scream's face. "Wow," Jake murmured. "Wow." "You're okay," Emory said soothingly,letting go of Jake's shoulders. "But that was quite ascream. You probably woke up half ofBeverly Hills." "It was a pretty scary dream," Jakeadmitted. "I dreamed about Johnny Scream.He wouldn't let me come home, and--" "So my movie did scare you!" Emorycried triumphantly. He jumped to his feetand clasped his big hands together. "Well ..." Jake cleared his throat. Thebedroom was air-conditioned, but his pajamas weredrenched with sweat. "It's great you can finally admit it, Jake,"Emory declared happily. "Don't you feel amillion times better admitting that you werescared?" Jake groaned. "Emory, it was just a stupidnightmare. Everyone has nightmares." "I know it's hard being the son of the King ofHorror, Jake," Emory said, scratching hisbare chest. "But if you can just face your fear ...that's the first step." "But, Emory--" A smile spread over Emory's face.He squeezed Jake's shoulder again. "I'mproud of you. Very proud." "But I'm not scared of your movies!"Jake shrieked. "Listen to me! I'm notscared!" Emory motioned with both hands for Jake to calmdown. "Shhhh. Let's get some sleep.You've had a hard night." He turned and madehis way to the bedroom door. "But, Emory--I like scary movies,"Jake called after him. "I watch scarymovies all the time." His dad didn't seem to hear. He padded outto the hallway without turning around and vanishedinto his room. He only hears what he wants to hear,Jake thought bitterly. It made Emory so happy that I had anightmare about Johnny Scream. How can Iprove to him that I'm not scared? That I'm asbrave as he is? Through the wall, he could hear his parents talkingin their bedroom. They're probably talking aboutme, Jake thought with a sigh. Emory is probably telling Mom that Ifinally admitted what a coward I am. That Ifinally admitted I'm terrified of the ScreamSchool movies. What am I going to do? When will I ever have a chance to prove to Emory thatI'm not scared? When?
The next morning, Jake got his chance.

Chelsea came over the next morning. Sheslipped in through the kitchen door as Jake wasfinishing his Frosted Flakes. She wore a white tank top over baggypale blue shorts. Her blue plastic sandalsclonked on the tile floor. She sat downacross from Jake and poured herself a glass oforange juice. "What's up?" "Mmmpf mmmpf," Jake mumbled, with amouthful of cereal. "Mom is driving to Westwood this morning,"Chelsea reported. "We could go with her and--youknow--hang out. Maybe walk around the UCLAcampus?" Jake opened his mouth to reply. But Emoryburst into the room, talking loudly into his cellphone. He wore a sleeveless red T-shirtover wrinkled khaki shorts. His unbrushedblack hair was wilder than ever, poking straightup on his head. He lowered the phone from his mouth to talk to Jakeand Chelsea. "Want to be in the movie?I need some extras this morning." Jake and Chelsea exchanged glances. "What do we have to do?" Jake asked. "Nothing scary," Emory replied. "It's aclassroom scene. I need to fill up theseats. You just sit in art class, that's all." "Cool!" Chelsea declared. Jake agreed. "Okay. Count us in!"
As they drove to the studio, Emory explainedthe scene in a little more detail. "It's a big art class at ScreamSchool. A boy is locked in the supplycloset at the back of the room. The kids aremaking so much noise, they can't hear him pounding onthe closet door, trying to get out. "The kids are all working on art projects.Suddenly, a boy shouts, "Hey--check out myproject!" The kids all look up. The boyhas a bunch of big snakes--poisonoussnakes--climbing all over the table. "They look around. And there are snakeseverywhere. Snakes on the tables. On the floor.Snakes in the sink. Snakes crawling up thewall. Everyone panics. They all startscreaming and running around. "The boy finally bursts out of the supplycloset. He can't believe what he sees. Theroom has emptied out--and he's surroundedby hissing snakes." Emory turned the Mercedes into the studiolot. He gave the guard in the little booth asalute and headed toward the parking lot. "Are the snakes real?" Jake asked. Emory nodded. "Most of them. But they're notdangerous. They've all been defanged." He pulled the car into his reserved space."But you don't have to worry, Jake. You won'tbe near any snakes." "I'm not worried," Jake protested. "What do we have to do?" Chelsea asked. "You're students in the art class," Emorytold her. "You'll be near the back. You just haveto pretend to paint or something. No big deal."
Jake and Chelsea had to wait around on theset for nearly two hours. First, the crew hadtrouble with the lighting in the classroom set. ThenEmory discovered that not enough snakes had beendelivered. He angrily sent someoneto get two dozen more. Jake and Chelsea hung out with the otherextras. They all wanted to ask Jake what itwas like to be the King of Horror's son. "It's great," Jake replied. "Reallyawesome." He walked over to the food table to get abagel and some juice--and bumped into DevonKlar. Devon had been on a popular TVshow about vampire teenagers for a few years. Thiswas his first movie. "Whoa!" Devon let out a cry ofsurprise as he studied Jake. "You look likemy twin!" "Huh?" Jake stared hard at Devon. Devon was right. He was taller than Jake andmore muscular. But they both had the same straightbrown hair, dark, serious eyes, full mouths,and square jaws. "You're Emory's son, right?" Devonasked, still studying Jake's features. Jake nodded. "What's it like?" Devon asked. "I mean,is he scary at home?" "Not too," Jake told him. Devon piled a couple of cherry danisheson a plate. "What are you doing here? Justhanging out?" "I'm an extra today," Jake said. "Youknow. In the art class." "Cool," Devon murmured. "Well ...have fun, Twin." He walked off with a platepiled high with food. Jake returned to Chelsea, who was sittingon a wooden crate, reading People magazine."Did you bring me a bagel?" she asked, notlooking up from the magazine. "No. Did you want one?" Jake asked. "Not really." "Do you think I look like Devon Klar'stwin?" Jake asked. "In your dreams," Chelsea replied. "Extras on the set! Extras!" SheilaFarrel, the assistant director, was calling.She was a tall, thin young woman with short redhair that bounced as she walked. "Extras in theclassroom. Places." Jake took a last bite of bagel andfollowed Chelsea onto the classroom set.He knew his part was easy. Nothing to it.But his heart began to pound anyway. "Could we have a run-through?" Sheila shouted."We need to block this." "Where's Devon?" Emory called. Heglanced at Jake as he brushed past him."Devon? Is he in makeup?" "Sheila told me I don't needmakeup," Devon said, trotting up to Emory."I'm locked in the closet, right?" "Right." Emory glanced at the clipboard inhis hand. "You're trying to break out. We're onlyshooting you from behind. No makeup." Jake and Chelsea followed Sheila to a tablenear the back of the room. She pointed to paper andpaints spread out on the tabletop. "Just paintwhatever you want," she instructed them. "Itdoesn't matter. But concentrate on yourpaintings--and don't talk to each other." "No problem," Jake replied. He andChelsea took their places. Sheila moved the other extras into place.Devon stepped into the supply closet. Acrew member carefully closed the door behind him. The closet had no ceiling, Jake saw. Acamera was perched on the top of the back wall,aimed at Devon's back. A second camerastood at the front of the classroom, readyto film the art students. "Call the snake wranglers," Emoryordered. "I want the snakes in place for therun-through. But leave them in their cages." Heclapped his hands. "Snakes! Bring on thesnakes!"
They did three run-throughs before Emory washappy with the scene. Jake and Chelsea dabbed attheir paintings, concentrating hard. The snakeswrithed and wriggled in their cages. Devonbanged on the closet door, pushing, pulling,struggling to get out. "Okay--let's roll some film," Emoryannounced. "Let's try a take." "Quiet!" Sheila screamed. "Quiet,everyone! We're rolling!" The hammering by the set carpenters across the roomstopped. A hush fell over the vast studio. "Rolling," someone said. "Speed." And then a loud groan from the supply closetinterrupted the silence. "What was that?" Emory asked, standingbeside the camera operator. Another groan. And Devon staggered out of the closet, grippinghis stomach. "It hurts ... owww ... man, itreally hurts." Sheila gasped. Emory set down hisclipboard and ran to Devon. "What's wrong?What hurts?" "My stomach," Devon groaned. "I justate some danishes. I ..." His face wenttotally white. His knees buckled. Emory grabbed him to keep him from sinking to thefloor. "I think ... I'm ... sick. ..."Devon moaned. Two crew members helped Devon off.They headed quickly to the back door. Another loud groan. "He's throwing up!" a crew member shouted.The door slammed behind them. Jake turned to see his father staring at him. "Jake?" Emory called. "Come over here.I just had an idea. Turn around." "Huh? Turn around?" Jake obedientlyspun around. "Yes!" Emory declared. "You have the samehair as Devon. You look almost like him--frombehind." "Wow. Thanks for the compliment," Jake joked,rolling his eyes. A few of the extras laughed. "This is an easy scene. Nothing to it,"Emory said, wrapping his arm heavily aroundJake's shoulders. "I--I don't understand," Jake stammered. "We'll do the scene with you," Emoryexplained. "Get in the closet. And push at thedoor. Try to get out. That's all you have to do." Jake stared at him in surprise. "Huh?Me? Do Devon's scene?" "It's real easy, Jake," Emoryreplied, guiding him to the closet. "We shootyou from behind. No one will see your face. Come on.Let's get going." Jake hesitated at the closet door."You're sure?" "You're not scared--are you, Jake?" Emorydemanded. "Scared? Of course not!" Jake declared. "Ofcourse I'm not scared!" He pulled open the closet door and steppedinside. This is my chance, Jake decided. My chance to prove to my dad that I'm not scaredof anything. "Quiet!" Sheila was shouting. "Quiet onthe set! This is a take!"

Jake wiped his sweaty hands off on his jeanslegs. He cleared his throat and stepped up to thecloset door. Behind him, the camera operator whispered, "Notyet. I'll give you a signal." "You okay in there, Jake?" Emory called."Know what you have to do?" "Just fine!" Jake called back. "I canhandle it." Yes, I can, he told himself. Yes, I can. "We have a problem, Emory!" he heardSheila shout. "Problem? I'm about to start a take here," heheard Emory protest. "What's the problem?" "Well ... one of the snakes is missing." From behind the closet door, Jake heardgasps and surprised cries from the extras in theclassroom. "One of the snakes got loose?" Emoryasked. "Yes. That's what the snake wrangler toldme," Sheila replied. "It's got to be somewhereon the set. If you want to hold up the take andsearch for it--" "What for?" Emory interrupted. "It'sonly one snake, right? And it's harmless?" "Well ... yes. But it's pretty big." "We'll find it after we get the scene in thecan," Emory declared. "I've wasted the wholemorning. I can't stand to lose another minute." Jake heard Emory muttering to someone for afew moments. Then he heard Sheila call,"Places. Get ready, everyone. Students,concentrate on your art projects." "Quiet!" "We're rolling," someone announcedquietly. "We've got speed." Jake's muscles tensed. He pressed bothhands against the back of the door and took a deepbreath. "Scene one-twelve, take one," Jakeheard Sheila announce. He heard the slapof a clapper. "Wait for my signal," the camera operatorrepeated, whispering behind him. "And don't turnaround. Just bang on the door, try the knob--thenforce the door open with your shoulder." "No problem," Jake whispered back. He took another deep breath and waited. "Action!" he heard Emory call. He heard voices in the classroom. Twogirls were saying their lines. He wondered how Chelsea was doing. She hasthe easy job, he thought. What a weird day. When we came here thismorning, I had no idea that the back of my headwould become a star! "Okay--go! Step up to the door--now." Thecamera operator's words broke into Jake'sthoughts. He took a step toward the door. Thenanother. And as he took the final step, he felt thesnake curl around his ankle.

A scream rose up from Jake's chest. He shut his mouth tight to muffle it. He knew the camera was running. He raisedhis fist to pound on the closet door. But the snake tightened around his leg. Tightened ... Until Jake had to scream. He couldn'thold it in any longer. "Helllllp!" The shrill cry burst fromJake's mouth as he shoved open the door andstaggered out into the classroom. The snake tightened around his ankle. Refusedto let go. "Help me!" Jake gasped."So-so-snake!" He heard the startled cries of the other kids. He saw his father's disgusted look. Emory tossed his clipboard furiously to thefloor. "Jake--what is your problem?" hedemanded, storming across the floor, fists swinging athis sides. "So-snake ..." Jake mumbled, shaking hisleg, hopping, jumping, trying to kick thecreature off. He lowered his gaze. Not a snake. No. No snake. "Jake--your leg is tangled in a powercable," Emory sighed, hands on his waist. Herolled his eyes. His eyebrows rose about twofeet on his forehead. "A power cable," herepeated disgustedly. Jake bent down and pulled the cable off hisankle. He could hear the kids and crew memberslaughing at him. When he stood up, Emory led him off theset. "If only you could admit that my moviesets frighten you," he said softly, "then Iwouldn't force you to come to them." "Emory, I wasn't scared. I--" Jakestarted. But Devon Klar came jogging up to them."Sorry about that," he told Emory. "Ifeel much better. I'm ready to do the scene." "Good news," Emory replied. He pattedJake on the shoulder. "Why don't you go overthere. Make yourself a sandwich. And wait tillwe're through with the scene." "Yeah. Sure," Jake replied glumly. Should I change my name to Loser? OrWimp? Yeah. Wimp. That has a nice ringto it. He trudged miserably to the food tables againstthe wall. This is so crazy, he told himself. I'm brave. I love horror. I love it as much as my dad. I'm a scary guy too. I really am. But how will I ever prove it to Emory? How? Jake didn't feel much like eating. Infact, his stomach felt tied in knots and heavyas a rock. But he picked up a plate and started to lookover the sandwiches. He took a ham sandwich and was spooning somepotato salad onto his plate when he felt thesnake slither between his legs.

After the snake incident, Emory didn'tinvite Jake back to the set. For thenext few weeks, Jake and Chelsea hung outwith Carlos, playing basketball and swimming inJake's backyard. One day they prowled around HollywoodBoulevard, checking out the T-shirt stores and thewax museum, like tourists. Another day,Jake's mom dropped them off in Westwood andthey went shopping in the trendy little stores. Jake was having an okay summer. But hecouldn't stop thinking about his dad--about provingto Emory that he wasn't a wimp. Jake went to the bookstore and bought acollection of Edgar Allan Poe stories.He sat out by the pool, hoping Emory would seehim reading them. Jake bought a bunch of magazines abouthorror movies and left them around the house.He knew that might impress his dad. But Emory was hard at work on his ScreamSchool movie. He was seldom home. Hedidn't notice Jake's attempt to be ascary guy. On the morning of his birthday, Jake pulledon a white polo shirt and faded jeans andhurried downstairs for breakfast. He expectedhis mom to make his favorite breakfast--blueberry pancakes with whipped cream. But the maid told him she had already left thehouse. Jake found a note from his dad stuck onthe refrigerator door:
Happy Birthday, Jake! Wrapping up at the studio today. I'd like youto meet me there. I'll send a car for you. Mom will meet us at the studio, and we'll goout for a birthday dinner. Restaurant is yourchoice. But please don't say In and OutBurger. Let's pick something a little morefestive. See you later. Love, Emory
The black limo pulled up the driveway atfour o'clock. Since it was a birthday dinner,Jake had changed into clean khakis and a tanlinen sports shirt that he usually wore onlyunder protest. The black-uniformed driver gave Jake atwo-fingered salute. He had a bushy mustacheand curly hair. He held open the door for Jake andmurmured, "Happy Birthday," as Jakeclimbed inside. Jake settled into the softleather seat and gazed out through the tinted windows as thelimo carried him silently to the movie studio. The driver pulled the car past the guard boothat the front of the studio lot and stopped. Thepassenger door opened. Jake stared out at a littleman who was holding the door for him. "Welcome," the man said in a scratchy,hoarse voice. Jake stepped out beside the little man. He wasonly a few inches taller than Jake. He looked very old. He was entirely baldexcept for a few wisps of scraggly whitehair that flew up around his ears. He had tiny,round gray eyes that squinted at Jake,half-opened and ringed by deep, dark circles. His face was thin and powdery pale. His chinappeared to sag into the open collar of his whiteshirt. The front of his shirt hung out over his suitpants. His shiny black suit was much too big.The jacket sleeves came down over his hands.The pants cuffs dragged on the pavement. "This way," the little man croaked. He turnedand began walking, his shoulders hunched, his eyessquinting ahead of him as if peering into a thickfog. Who is this guy? Jake wondered. I'venever seen him here before. Jake followed him past the long white stuccobuilding that housed the studio offices. Theyturned a corner and walked past the studiocafeteria, closed and dark. Jake crossed a familiar walkway andstarted toward the soundstage, as big as anairplane hangar, where Emory had beenfilming. But the little man grabbed Jake's sleeve."This way," he said, pointing a bent, bony fingerin the other direction. The man's tiny gray eyes squinted hard atJake. He's so pale, Jake thought. How is itpossible to live in sunny L.a. and be thatpale? He followed the little man away from thesoundstage. The sun floated low in a smoggysky. Jake felt the back of his neckprickle in the heat. Where are we walking? His pale head bobbing with each step, the man ledJake past another soundstage, past a citystreet set, past a Wild West town, pastsome low concrete buildings Jake didn'trecognize. Jake realized they were nearly at the back of thelot. "You're taking me to my dad, right?" heasked. The little man didn't reply. Instead, hepointed the same bony finger. Jake saw a large green building upahead. It looked as if it hadn't been used ina long while. The green paint was peeling off the walls. Thewindows were all boarded up. A metal gutterhad broken off from under the roof and hung down to thepavement. "We're going in here?" Jake demanded,mopping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand."My dad is meeting me here?" Again, the man didn't reply. As Jake came closer, he could make out thefaded words over the building's wooden door:SOUNDSTAGE 13. Lucky thirteen, he thought. Why is Emory using this old soundstage today?Must be for special effects or something. "Is my mom here yet?" Jake asked."She was supposed to meet us here." The old man coughed in reply. He reachedinto the pocket of his baggy trousers and pulled out aset of keys. Big, metal, old-fashionedkeys. He fingered through the keys, squinting hard atthem, holding them close to his face. He finallypicked one and slid it into the lock on the door. The door pushed open easily. The little manshoved it all the way, then stepped aside forJake to enter. "Hey--it's dark in here!" Jake protested."Where are we?" "Soundstage thirteen," the man replied from thedoorway. Jake took a deep breath, gazing into thedarkness. The air felt hot and damp. Itsmelled stale in here. Sour. "Is--is my dad working in here?" Jakedemanded. "I don't know anything about that," the little manreplied. "Huh? What do you mean?" The man coughed again. The heavy keys jangledin his hand. "I had my instructions," he toldJake. "Excuse me? Instructions?" The door slammed shut. Jake gasped. He stared into total darkness."Hey, wait--" Jake heard the key being turned in the lock. "Hey, no!" Jake leaped to the door. Fumbled in the darkfor the knob. Found it. Turned it. One way. The otherway. He pulled. Pulled with all his strength. Locked. Locked in. "Hey, let me out!" Jake cried."What's the big idea? Let me out of here!"
Jake stepped back from the door. The darkness seemed to close in on him. He took a deep breath to calm himself--butalmost choked on the sour smell. What is this place? he wondered. He spunaway from the door and waited for his eyes to adjust.Slender lines of sunlight filtered in between theboards over the windows. The room was enormous. An old soundstage.Abandoned. Empty. Jake cupped his hands around his mouth and called,"Emory? Emory? Are you here?" His voice echoed off the walls and highceiling. No reply. "Who was that freaky old guy?" Jake askedout loud. "And why did he bring me back here?Is it some kind of a joke?" It didn't seem like a joke. Jake's eyes slowly began to take in afew shapes, a few details. He saw astack of wooden cartons against one wall. Arack of folding chairs all on their sides.Some metal trunks piled three high. "It's a storage room," Jake muttered."Why did the old guy lock me in a storageroom?" A square of pale orange light caught hiseye. Far in the distance. Another room? Jake's shoes scraped over the concretefloor, kicking up clouds of dust as he madehis way toward the light. "Hey--anybody there?"he called. He listened to his echoing words. "Hey--anybody?" No answer. He continued toward the light. It's a way out, he thought. Yes! Thesesoundstages have doors at the side. And doorsat the back. Doors all around. This has got to lead to a way out. His heart started to pound as he jogged across theenormous soundstage. Into the square of light. Another room. The fading afternoon sunlightwashing through a high window, a mile over Jake'shead. Jake stopped in the doorway and gazed into theroom. Costumes. Old-fashioned dresses andmen's suits. Rack after rack of old clothing. The costumeracks, jammed so close together, filled theroom. Jake stared at cowboy outfits, ballettutus, lace-covered ball gowns. ... He stepped into the room. Reached for the sleeveof an old army uniform. Covered in dust, hesaw. Moths had shredded the cuff with a milliontiny holes. Jake moved between costume racks, studying theold dresses and uniforms and suits. His shoesslid on a thick layer of white powdery duston the floor. The costumes were faded.Moth-eaten. Dusty. No one has been in here for a hundred years!Jake thought. Weird! He made his way to the center of the room. Andstopped at a pile of old costumes, thrown ina heap on the floor. A furry gorilla costume lay tangled ina silky black cape. Jake bent down andpulled the gorilla costume free. It weigheda ton. And smelled like spoiled meat. Jake held it up, studying the faded rubbergorilla face. "Cool," he murmured. He dropped the costume back onto thepile. And as he dropped it, he saw the pilemove. The black cape appeared to shiver. Two longblue ball gowns ruffled, then slid apart. "Huh?" Jake gasped as the costumesshifted. Sleeves shot up as if reaching forsomething. Dresses rolled over. A brown armyuniform tumbled off the pile. And as Jake stared in amazement, twofigures rose slowly from the middle of the pile. Two ugly, pale-faced figures, stretchingtheir arms, rolling their heads on their necks,climbing up, floating up from under the dusty pileof costumes. "No way--" Jake blurted out. He tooka step back and bumped into a rack of furcoats. The two figures continued to stretch. One was aman, the other a woman. Their faces wereghoulish. Skin pulled so tight Jake could seethe bone underneath. Eyes yellow, sunken back intheir sockets. Their lips cracked and purple. "Let's make a movie, Jake," thewoman croaked. Her voice as dry as thecrackle of dead leaves. She stepped out from thepile of costumes, her sunken eyes locked onJake, her purple lips twisted in an uglysmile. "Huh?" Jake backed into the fur coats.Tried to slide away. But he was trapped between thecostume racks. "Which-who are you?" he choked out. "How do you knowmy name?" The man lurched forward beside the woman. Helicked his lips with a fat purple tongue. Hehad a deep red scar up and down one side of hisface. The scar ran all the way up through hispatchy brown hair. Dried blood was cakedall along the scar. The two ghoulish figures were both dressed inblack. Loose-fitting black robes that slidsilently along the floor as they stepped away fromthe costume pile. And moved toward Jake. "Leave me alone!" Jake screamedangrily. "What's going on here, anyway?" "Let's make our own horror movie," thewoman rasped. "But who are you?" Jake demanded. "What areyou doing here?" "We were abandoned, Jake," the man replied,his voice a dry whisper like his partner's. "This is a forgotten set," the womancroaked. "They forgot about us back here. Forgotall about us." "But we're still here," the man added, licking hiscracked lips again, his sunken yellow eyesrolling wildly in their sockets. "We're stillhere--and now we've got you." "But--but--" Jake sputtered. "Now we can make our movie," the womansaid, floating closer, arms outstretched, sideby side with the man. "Now we can make the mosthorrifying movie ever made!" Jake was trapped. He couldn't run.Couldn't move. The two ghouls grabbed him by the shoulders.Lifted him off the floor. Shoved him backagainst the costume rack. "Show time," they whispered.

"Let go of me!" Jake shrieked. "Putme down!" The two ghouls held him off the floor. Theirpurple mouths spread in gleeful grins. "Don't you want to make a movie with us,Jake?" the woman rasped. "Don't you want to be our star?" her partnerwhispered. "No! Put me down!" Jake insistedangrily. "Take me to my father--right now!" "But we don't know your father," the manreplied. "We've been locked in here for so many years,"the woman said, shaking her head. Her dry,strawlike hair brushed Jake's cheek."We've been waiting here for so long ... waitingfor our star!" "You're crazy!" Jake cried. "You'reboth crazy! Let go of me!" "We're going to have some fun," the man said,lowering Jake to the floor. "Our movie is goingto be the most terrifying ever made." "You'll both be terrified when my dad findsout you're here!" Jake threatened. They both tossed back their heads and laughed. "Your dad can't do anything to us," the womansaid. "Because we're dead," her partner added. "Whatcan you do to someone who's already dead?" He ran hisfingers down the caked blood along his deep scar. They both laughed again, dry, hoarse laughterthat sounded more like coughing. I've got to get out of here, Jake thought. They're both totally nuts! I've gotto find a way out. He began inching along the costume rack, hiseyes searching the room for a door or window. He stopped when the costume pile in the centerof the floor began to move again. Coats and dresses shook. The gorillacostume rolled over. Two more ugly figures climbed up from beneath thepile. Two men. With long, dry hair like whitestraw, greenish skin, and frightening,purple-lipped grins. They stood up, stretching, groaning asif they hadn't moved in a hundred years. "Noooo," a low moan escaped Jake'sthroat. "Our cast is here!" the woman cried, movingto Jake's side. Her fingers dug into the shoulderof his shirt. "We can begin our movie!" the man declared."We are here. At last, we are all here!" Jake pulled free of the woman's sharpgrasp. He was breathing hard. His heart thuddedagainst his chest. "This is a joke--right?" he choked out. "Thisis some kind of a joke?" One of the scraggly haired, yellow-eyed menvanished into the racks of costumes. A fewseconds later, he returned, carrying a longstick in front of him like a flagpole. Jake gasped. What was that perched on top of the stick? A head? A human head? Jake squinted up at it--and then opened hismouth in a shrill cry of horror when herecognized it. Chelsea. Chelsea's head.

Jake shut his eyes and staggered back. His stomach lurched as he fell against a rackof costumes. His throat tightened. He couldn'tbreathe. He toppled back into the costumes. And fellthrough to the other side. Dazed, dizzy, he scrambled to his knees.And half-ran, half-crawled through the nextcostume rack. He burst through the other side. And saw anopen door at the far wall. Yes! Struggling to breathe, his chest pounding, his earsringing, he forced himself to his feet. And took off. He didn't turn back. But he could hear therapid footsteps of the four ghouls close behindhim. "Come back, Jake!" "Don't you want to be a star?" "We need you, Jake! We need your head!" "Nooooo!" a terrified howlescaped Jake's throat. He was running now,running full speed. Through the doorway. Into a long, narrow hall. "You can be a star with your friend, Jake!" "Your friend is waiting here for you!" "Give us your head! We need your head!" Jake's shoes slid as he followed thehallway around a sharp turn. He could hear thefour ghouls behind him, close, so close. Theycalled to him in their hoarse, raspy voices,begging him to stop, to come back, to surrender his head... ... like Chelsea. He didn't realize he had started to sob.Hot tears ran down his cheeks, flew off hisface as he tore down the long hall. He made another sharp turn--and ran into apile of metal equipment. old cameras. Soundamps. They blocked the hall. Nowhere to run. Strong arms tackled Jake from behind. "Where were you going, Jake?" "You can't leave. We need our star!" "Noooo!" With an angry cry of protest,Jake swung his elbows hard. Pushed back theghoulish attacker. Clawed his way frantically over the old,dusty equipment. A hand grabbed his ankle. Jake kicked himself free. "Come back, Jake!" "You can't escape us!" "Give us your head!" Sobbing, his chest heaving, his side aching, Jakescrambled across the floor. And fell facedown in front of a darkcurtain. Bony hands grabbed his ankles. Can't move, he realized. They've got me. I can't move anotherstep. He couldn't hold back the tears. His wholebody shook in terror. He hunched on his knees on the floor andwaited. Waited for the ghouls to drag him away. He heard a creaking sound. And saw the curtain in front of him sway. And then rise. The curtain pulled up rapidly. And Jake, on his knees, sobbing loudly,stared out at a roomful of people. Balloons. Partyhats. Dozens of grinning faces. "Surprise!" "Happy Birthday!"

A surprise party, Jake realized to hishorror. He saw his mom and dad in the front.Carlos stood with Chelsea. Chelsea? The head was a fake. Everything was a fake. All a joke. All a stupid joke. And here he was, on his knees in front ofeveryone he knew, crying his eyes out, shaking like ababy. The cheers and happy cries died instantly.Troubled, confused whispers filled the big room. "Jake--what's wrong?" Chelsea cried. The actors who played the ghouls hurriedto help Jake to his feet. "Sorry," one ofthem whispered. "Did we go a little too far?" "We thought you were in on it," another one said."Your father told us to give you a good scare." Jake turned to find his mom and dad beside him.Mrs. Banyon wrapped Jake in a hug andturned angrily to Emory. "I told you it wasa stupid idea. You ruined his birthday!" "But--but--" Emory sputtered. "He alwaystells me he isn't scared. He always tellsme he's as brave as I am. So I decidedto believe him. I thought he'd enjoy it!" Jake's mom shook her head angrily. "Youwon't give up--will you, Emory? You haveto prove to your own son that you're the King ofHorror." She hugged Jake tighter. He had stoppedsobbing, but he couldn't stop the trembling. "Mom, please--" he whispered. "Let go.Everyone is watching." She ignored him and kept her angry glareon Emory. "Just apologize to Jake. Goahead. Apologize." "Mom--please!" Jake begged. Total silence had fallen over the room.
Jake could see all his friends, hisrelatives, his parents' friends--all watching him. I've never been so embarrassed in my life,he thought. How could Emory do this to me? How could he hire these actors to terrify meon my birthday? And now I'll never be able to prove to him thatI'm not scared of his movies. Never. Emory leaned close to Jake and beganto apologize. "I'm really sorry if I--" Jake didn't wait to hear any more. The staring people ... the silence in the room ... theembarrassment ... the embarrassment. Enough! he thought. He broke free of his mother's hug--and ran. He ran through the open curtain. Back into thelong hall. He didn't know where he was running. He justwanted to run forever. Emory will never let me forget this, he thoughtbitterly. Emory will never let me live thisdown.
But--a few weeks later--Emory had abig surprise for him that would change everything.

A hot July afternoon, the sun blazing down.Jake and Emory were in the swimming pool.Jake floated lazily on a blue vinylraft. Emory splashed noisily past him,bobbing up, then beneath the surface like a hairyporpoise, doing his usual one hundred laps. "One hundred!" he cried, surfacing finallyat the shallow end. Water ran off him as hestood. He pulled off his goggles and tossed themonto the deck. Emory swept back his thick mop of blackhair. Water clung to his bushy eyebrows."Jake, are you getting too much sun?" heasked. "I put on lotion," Jake replied,paddling the raft lazily with both hands. "Numberfifteen, I think." Emory grabbed the end of the raft and pulled itinto the shallow end. "I want to talk to you," hesaid. Jake squinted up at him through hissunglasses. "Did I do something wrong?" Emory smiled. "No. I have some news."He ducked under the water. Came up quickly andspit a stream of water onto Jake's chest. Jake laughed. "Hey--is that your news?" "No," Emory laughed. "I just wantedto get your attention." His expression turned serious. "The studiowants me to start Scream School VI rightaway. We're going to film on location. Ifound this old, abandoned high school out in thedesert. It's perfect-looking, and it'ssupposed to be haunted." "Cool," Jake interrupted. "Maybe you canfilm real ghosts!" "I'd rather film actors," Emory replied,smiling. "They're a little easier to control." He wiped water from his eyebrows, then slappeda fly that had perched on his shoulder. "Anyway,Jake, I want you to come on location with me." Jake nearly toppled off the raft."Excuse me?" "Your mom has to visit her sister for a week.I don't want you staying home by yourself with thehousekeeper," Emory replied. He swirled the raft around. "We'll havefun," he told Jake. "And I promise Iwon't do anything to scare you." "I don't get scared on your moviesets," Jake insisted quietly. "Whatever," Emory said, ducking his broadshoulders under the water. "Anyway, you can help outon the set--but only if you want to." Jake squinted up at his dad. "It's ahaunted old school, abandoned in the desert?" Emory nodded. "What do you think? Wantto come?" "Sounds great!" Jake exclaimed. "I'mthere!" This is my chance, he thought, gazing up atEmory's pleased smile. This is my chance to show him how brave I am.
Jake didn't realize how right he was.

"We need to break some of the windows," Emoryinstructed a crew member. "And can wespray a layer of dust over the wood down here?And get some more dust over the windows?" The young man hurried to carry out Emory'sorders. Other movie workers were setting upcameras and sound equipment at the front of theschool. Jake gazed up at the abandoned high school.It was three stories tall, built of redwoodlogs that had faded and peeled under the hot desertsun. The clock in a small tower on theslanting slate roof had no hands. Theflagpole tilted against the side of the building. Shielding his eyes from the glare of sunlight,Jake gazed down the street. A row of lowstucco houses had also been abandoned. Across fromthem, a tilting wooden sign in front of a railfence proclaimed: 3B RANCH. HORSES. Jake didn't see any horses behind thefence. And he didn't see any ranchers. He and Emory had arrived in Silver Citytwo days before. They were staying in their air-conditionedmovie trailer. The little hotel in town wasclosed and boarded up. In two days, Jake had seen only fiveor six people in the town. Why do people build a town and then abandon it? hewondered. In the far distance, Jake could see brown andpurple mountains poking up through a yellow haze.The Sierra Nevadas, he knew. He had studied a map on the drive across thedesert. Silver City was a tiny dot near theNevada border. "Whoa. Watch it." Jake stepped out of the way as two men hurriedpast, setting down electrical cables. Hewandered over to the food table in the shade of atrailer. The actor who played Johnny Scream satin the open trailer doorway, moving his lipssilently as he read through a pink copy of thescript. His name was Rad Donner. Without thegruesome makeup, he was handsome and young-looking, withstraight blond hair cut very short, freckleson his cheeks, and a warm smile. He flashed his warm smile at Jake."Hey. What's up?" "Just watching everyone," Jake mumbled. Hepicked up a slice of watermelon from the table."Wow. It's hot in the sun!" "The desert," Rad replied, eyes on hisscript. "It's even hotter inside the school.You been in there?" "Not yet." Jake took a big bite ofwatermelon. "Your dad knows how to pick creepylocations," Rad said, grinning. "Hey--did hetell you about the Johnny Scream CD-ROMgame?" Jake shook his head. "No." "It made number one best-selling game.Cool, huh? Have you played it?" "Emory brought it home, but I haven'topened it yet." "Well, I have my laptop in my trailer,if you want to check it out later," Rad offered."You know. If you get bored or something." Jake started to thank him but heard Emorycalling. He turned and hurried across the sand andtall grass to see what his father wanted. "We're shooting exteriors today," Emorysaid, scribbling something on his clipboard. "Just someoutside shots of the school. But tomorrow I hopeto shoot in the lunchroom." A cloud rolled over the sun, sending a blueshadow sweeping across the ground and then the school.Emory mopped his forehead and adjusted theJohnny Scream baseball cap over hiseyes. "Want to go inside and scout out the lunchroomfor me?" he asked Jake. "Yeah. Sure," Jake answered quickly. "If you're scared, you can say no." Jake frowned at his dad. "No problem!" "See how much work has to be done in there,"Emory instructed. "I think it's in back onthe first floor. Or else it's in the basement." "I'll find it," Jake told him. Heturned and jogged toward the school. Near the entrance, two crew members heldlong-nozzled machines like paint sprayers. Theywere spraying a layer of dust on the front wall. Jake climbed the broken stairs and pulledopen the front door. A blast of hot, mustyair greeted him. He stepped into the fronthall and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimlight. A glass trophy case against the wall stoodopen. One silver trophy lay on its side.The other shelves were empty. Draped over the front hall, a torn andfaded blue banner read: GO, PIRATES! Jake's shoes thudded loudly on the hardfloor as he passed a door marked FRONTOFFICE and began making his way down the hall.Lockers stood open. Empty. One row oflockers had been pulled out from the wall and leanedinto the middle of the hall. Jake peeked into open doorways, searching for thelunchroom. Desks were still lined up inclassrooms, as if ready for students to start theschool day. Large wall maps were pulled down.Math equations in yellow chalk stretched out onblackboards. Where did everyone go? Jake wondered, turninga corner. This is a pretty big high school.There must have been a lot of kids living inSilver City once. What was that white curtain stretched across thecorridor at the end of the hall? Jake camenearer--and then stopped. No. Not a curtain. Cobwebs. Shimmering, sticky cobwebs asthick as a quilt. Jake stared openmouthed--and saw dozens ofblack spiders scrambling through the thick strings ofwhite. Dead flies ... dead beetles ...hundreds of dead insects decorated thecurtain. Jake shuddered. And turned back. The sheet of webbing was toolarge to step through or push aside. I'll go theother way, he decided. He made a circle, his footsteps ringing inthe long, low-ceilinged halls. He turned, thenturned again, peering into classrooms, hands deepin the pockets of his baggy shorts, sweat runningdown his forehead. A sudden sound made him stop. He heard a scraping sound. Stared at anarrow door. A broom closet? Yes. Something inside the closet was scrapingfuriously at the door. Jake swallowed. I don't want to knowwhat's in there, he decided. He kept walking. No sign of the lunchroomon the first floor. He took a stairway to the basement. Darkdown here. And a little cooler. The first door he opened was the lunchroom. He stepped inside. Gray light washed in fromnarrow windows up at ground level. The tilewalls were caked with dirt. Plastic trays hadbeen scattered over the floor. Chairs were overturned on top of the longtables. A wastebasket lay on its side onthe counter where food had been served. "What a mess!" Jake murmured. He cried out as the door slammed hard behindhim. "Hey--" He spun around. No one there. Was it a gust of wind? There was hardly abreeze outside. He turned back into the room. The front of asoda machine had been battered in, as if with anaxe. A wide puddle of oily black liquidwas spread on the linoleum beside it. Jake heard a soft thud. A footstep? He heard a scraping sound. Another softthud. Yes. Footsteps. He realized he was no longer alone. "Which-who's there?" he called.

A girl stepped out from the shadows near thedoorway. "Hey--" Jake called out in surprise. She was pale and thin and had long, straightcopper-colored hair pulled back in aponytail. She wore a long white T-shirtover red shorts. "Hi," she said softly. She waved a handawkwardly and took a few steps toward Jakein the center of the lunchroom. "Are you lost too?"She had a hoarse, whispery voice. Jake narrowed his eyes at her. "Huh?Lost? No." "Oh." She bit her bottom lip. "Iguess I'm lost. I mean, I don't know whereto go. I thought--" "I was checking out the lunchroom," Jaketold her. "I didn't think anyone else wasdown here." "What a mess," the girl said, herlarge green eyes sweeping over the room. "Who are you?" Jake asked. She told him her name was Mindy. "I'm fromCoronado. You know. The next town?" Jake introduced himself. And then he added,"Emory Banyon is my dad. I'm kind ofhelping him out." Mindy nodded. She kept her eyes on thefloor. Jake could tell she was kind of shy. "I'm supposed to be an extra," sheexplained. "A bunch of my friends and me. Theycame to Coronado and said they needed kids to bein the movie. So we came here." She sighed and tugged at the bottom of herT-shirt. "But I thought they were shooting downhere. I got separated from the others, and--" "No. They're just shooting the outside of theschool today," Jake told her. She raised her eyes to Jake. "Do you getto be in all of your father's movies?" Jake laughed. "No. I'm not in any ofthem. He's letting me help out on this one." "I'm really nervous," Mindy confessed."I've never been in a movie. And they toldme I get killed by Johnny Scream in the firstscene!" "He's a nice guy," Jake told her. Her eyes grew wide. "Huh? JohnnyScream? But he's an evil zombie ghoul!" Jake laughed. "Not in real life. It's justa movie, remember? You don't have to be nervousabout getting killed or anything. It's allspecial effects." She nodded solemnly, as if thinking about whathe said. "I'll show you the way outside," Jakeoffered. He started toward the lunchroom door."So you live in the next town?" Mindy nodded. "Yeah. We used to live herein Silver City. But when everyone left ..."Her voice trailed off. Jake stopped at the door and turned to her."Why did everyone leave?" he demanded. "Do youknow why? Why was this whole school abandoned?" Her eyes locked on his. "Do you reallywant to know?" she asked in her whispery voice. "Yes," Jake replied. "I do." "Are you sure?" she asked again. "You have to stayhere for two weeks. Are you really sure you wantto know what happened here?"

Jake had to plead. Finally, Mindy began herstory: "When I was a little girl, Silver City was anice town. It wasn't very big, but it was growing. "A lot of Silver City people worked in thesilver mines in the mountains nearby. And a lot oftourists came to our town for their vacations because of thetwo big dude ranches here. "Silver City had an Old West lookto it, and people liked that. My dad worked for a realestate company. They planned to build asmall, western-style mall just outside town. "More and more families moved into our town, and theschool became too small for all the kids. Thetown voted to build a new high school. "And that's when all the trouble began. "I was really young, and so I don't know thedetails. But people told me the story later. "There was a big fight about where to put the highschool. Some people wanted to put it where my dad'sshopping mall was going to go. Other people wantedto build the school farther out of town. "Finally, the decision was made. And the highschool was built--on top of an oldgraveyard. "Of course, they dug up the old graves beforethey started building the school. They moved thecoffins and gravestones to another part of town. "But the dead didn't like being moved. "That's the way the stories go. And all of uswho used to live in Silver City believe thestories. "The dead didn't want their graves dugup. But they waited ... waited patiently intheir new resting place. "They waited until the new high school wasbuilt. Waited until the school was filled withkids. "And that's when the ghosts of the dead rose up fromtheir new graves. "They invaded the school and terrified the kids. "Their moans and howls rang out through the halls.Kids found rotting skulls in their lockers.Dead squirrels and mice showed up in thecafeteria food. "Frightening accidents began to happen. Ceilinglights crashed to the floor. Windowpanesshattered with glass flying at the startled students.Locker doors slammed, crushing kids' hands. "Town officials tried to explain the strangeoccurences. But there was no logical wayto explain them. "And then the ghosts decided to play rough. "A class was playing volleyball in thegym. A pack of hideous, decaying ghostsburst into the gym. Circled the kids, dancing andchanting. "The kids were all screaming and crying. "The ghosts wrapped the volleyball net aroundthem all. Tightened it, crushing them inside.Holding them prisoner. "Word got out to the rest of the school. Everyoneran. The school emptied out in minutes. "Everyone escaped except for the kids in thegym class. "The whole town waited outside the school.They could hear screams from inside the gym. And theeerie howls and ugly chanting of the dead. "The police tried to get inside. Butflames shot out all the doors and windows.Burning heat formed a wall around the school. "No one could get in to rescue the kids. "Everyone waited ... waited in horror,listening to the frightening cries and howls inside. "Finally, the kids came staggering out three dayslater--pale, shaken, sick. "No one knows what happened to them in that gym.They were too terrified to talk about it. Most ofthem seldom spoke again. "The ghosts never left the school. They madeit their new home. People brave enough to come close to thebuilding could hear their chants and moans allnight. And they could see wispy gray figuresfloating through the dark classrooms. "The school was never used again. It had to beabandoned. "People were terrified to go near it. "Everyone began to move away. In a fewmonths, the whole town was abandoned. The ghosts hadtaken over--and emptied out the entire town."
As Mindy told her story, she and Jakemade their way through the empty halls toward thefront door. Jake stopped her as they reached theempty trophy case in the front hall. "You're talking about this school building?" heasked. "The ghosts took over this highschool?" Mindy nodded solemnly. "Yes. That's whyit's perfect for a horror flick!" "But--but--" Jake sputtered. "Do you reallybelieve that story?" "Of course," Mindy replied. Then shepointed to a tall, thin boy standing just inside thedoor. "In fact--there's one of the ghosts rightthere!"

Jake's mouth dropped open. He stared at the boy. The boy came trotting up to them. He worea Grateful Dead T-shirt pulled down overblack denims. He had long brown hair, darkeyes, and a tiny silver stud in one ear. Mindy laughed. "Hi, Gregory." "Mindy, what's up? I've been looking foryou," Gregory said. "You're not a ghost!" Jake blurted out. Gregory grinned at him. "Is that whatMindy told you? What else did she tell you?You can't listen to Mindy. She's the world's biggestliar." "No. You are!" Mindy declared. She gaveGregory a hard shove. He fell back, laughing, against the glasstrophy case. "What are you doing in here?" Gregorydemanded. "Telling Jake ghost stories," Mindyreplied. Jake introduced himself to Gregory. "You're Emory's son?" Gregory asked. Jake nodded. "Are you from Coronado too?" "Yeah." Gregory brushed back his longhair. "Mindy and I are in the same class.When Mindy told me Emory Banyon waslooking for extras, I came here with her. Ireally want to be in the movies." He grinned. "It beats working at my dad'slunch counter. "Do you want fries with that? Youwant fries with that?"' That's what I was saying ahundred times a day." "You say it very well," Mindy teased. "Howlong did it take you to learn that?" She burst out laughing at her own joke. Jake didn't laugh. He was thinking hard, thinking about Mindy's ghoststory. Thinking about how Gregory called Mindy theworld's biggest liar. Gregory pushed open the front door and theyheaded back out into the sunlight. "Was that storytrue?" Jake asked Mindy. "About thisschool?" A strange smile spread over Mindy'sface. "You decide," she replied in awhisper.
"Places, everyone! Places!" Sheilacalled. "I want all extras in place.Silence, please!" It was the next day. Bright yellow sunlightstreamed down through the lunchroom windows. Jake stood next to Emory, who was busilyscribbling notes on his clipboard pad. Jake gazed around the lunchroom. He couldn'tbelieve the change in one day. The room had been painted, dusted, cleaned.Posters and banners adorned the sparkling tilewalls. Fluorescent ceiling fixtures sentclean white light streaming down. The chairs and long tables had been polished andarranged in rows. Food steamed on the servingcounter. White-uniformed actresses--the school lunchcrew--stood behind the counter, spooning, sniffing,readying the lunch. Stacks of trays, cleanplates, and glasses had been arranged on oneend. The crew turned it into a real-lookinglunchroom overnight! Jake realized. Hestudied the pizza slices, hamburgers,grilled cheese sandwiches, plates ofmacaroni, bowls of chili, and salads. Even the food is real! Emory caught the expression on Jake'sface. "The magic of the movies," hemurmured. Then he stepped forward to talk to theroomful of teenagers. Jake searched for his two new friends. Hespotted Mindy and Gregory at a table near theback. He gave them a thumbs-up. They wavedback. "Hello, everyone," Emory began, motioningwith both hands for everyone to quiet down."Welcome to our first day of shooting." He glanced down at his clipboard, then backup. "I thought we'd start here because it's an easyscene. Very normal. Nothing strange going on.If you've read your scripts, you know that this is acalm day in the lunchroom--before JohnnyScream and his ghouls arrive in the school." One of the lighting guys interrupted Emory with aquick question. Emory answered him, then returned to theextras. "I want you all to act exactly as you would inyour school lunchroom," he instructed. "Getup. Get in line. Take a tray. Pickany lunch you like. Talk to each other. Laugh.Kid around. You've done it a million times,right? It shouldn't be hard." "Just remember never to look into the camera,"Sheila interrupted. "The camera doesn'texist. You're in school having your lunch.Remember that." "Okay. Let's do it," Emory said."I'm not even going to do a run-through. This should betotally easy, totally natural. A nice,normal scene. We're going to shoot this. Anddon't worry about what you say. Say anything.We're going to add the sound later." "Okay, line up, everyone!" Sheilainstructed. "Line up and get your trays.Let's all have a nice lunch now." The lunchroom filled with excited voices.Chairs scraped on the linoleum. The foodservers readied themselves. The walls echoed with theclatter of trays and silverware. Emory moved beside the camera operator.Jake stepped to the other side of the camera. Hecrossed his arms in front of him and watched allthe activity. Several kids got food and returned to thetables. Several others waited in line. The camera rolled. Emory leaned forward, clipboard resting on hisknee, watching the scene intently. Everything went well for a few minutes. Then the first scream startled everyone. A girl jumped up at a table. "Ohhh."She uttered a sick moan. "Something's in mymacaroni!" She held it up. "Oh, no!It's a finger! A person's finger!" Another cry burst from the next table. "I... I found one too!" a boy gasped. Jake watched openmouthed as Mindyjumped to her feet. "I ... I'm going to besick!" she moaned. "There are toes--realtoes--in my cheeseburger. I--I ateone!" "Ohhhhh." Sick moans rose up over theroom. A girl leaned over her table, gagging. Gregory let out a cry. "A nose! Ifound a human nose--in my chili!" Heheld it up. A tray crashed to the floor. "Cut!" Emory screamed. "Cut!" He turned to Jake. "Don't be scared,"he murmured. "I'll handle this." "I'm fine," Jake replied softly. Emory shook his head as the sick moans andhorrified cries grew louder. "What's goingon?" Emory grumbled. "How could this happen?"

Jake sat across from Emory in their trailer.They both sipped from cans of Coke. The air conditioner rattled and shook. But itfelt good to escape the blazing-hot desert air. "Emory--you promised you wouldn't do anythingto scare me," Jake said, brushing his dark hairoff his forehead with his free hand. "I know. I know," Emory muttered. "Ididn't have anything to do with that scene in thelunchroom. I'm not trying to scare you, Jake." Emory raised his right hand. "I swear." "Then who messed up the food?" Jakedemanded. He took a long, cold sip ofsoda. "That's what I'm trying to find out!" Emorydeclared. "Probably some joker who--" "I was talking to one of the extras," Jakeinterrupted. "And she told me the school isreally haunted. She said it was built on agraveyard, and--" "I heard that story," Emory muttered again."It's just silly. You don't believe it--doyou?" Jake shrugged. "I don't know. I--" Emory's cell phone rang. He clickedit open. "Yeah? Yeah? No one in the foodcrew? You asked them all? Did you talk to thecaterer?" He lowered the phone and talked to Jake. "Noone knows anything about the lunchroomfood. It's a total mystery." Emory returned to the phone. "Okay.Okay. I'm coming. We've got to accomplishsomething today!" He clicked the phone shut, stuffed it in hispocket, and jumped to his feet. "We're goingto try the cheerleader scene behind the school while thesun is still up. Come on. This should be an easyone."
Five of the extras had been chosen to becheerleaders. Jake saw Mindy adjusting theshort red-and-white skirt of her uniform as hefollowed his father behind the school. She smiled at him as he came near."Isn't this exciting?" she gushed. "I getto be in the cheerleader scene." "That's awesome!" Jake agreed. Emory hurried to check with Sheila and othermembers of the crew. Guys scurried around,carrying cables, moving lights. A young woman wasconcentrating on snapping a new lens onto thecamera. "Are you okay?" Jake asked Mindy. "Imean, after the lunchroom." She shrugged. "I guess. That was totallygross." "Emory can't figure out how it happened,"Jake said. Mindy's green eyes flashed. "Bet I cantell him how it happened!" "Where are you putting the girls?" Emory wasasking a crew member in white shorts and a whiteshort-sleeved sports shirt. "Over there?" The man pointed to a large square of dirt beyondthe tall grass. "They'll have the sun behind them.It'll look great, Emory." Emory squinted at the area, then nodded."Okay. Are we ready for a run-through?" "When are we reshooting the lunchroom scene?"Sheila asked Emory. Emory frowned. "As soon as we can get anew shipment of food." He rolled his eyes."Maybe the next batch won't have human bodyparts in it." Sheila shook her head. "They weren't real,were they?" "No," Emory replied bitterly. "But theylooked real enough. The kids believed it." Sheila hurried over to the fivegirls in cheerleader uniforms. "Ready, girls?Do you know your routine?" "We've been practicing for an hour,"Mindy told her. "Well, let's see what you can do." Sheilaturned to Emory. "They're ready to start.Want to watch?" "Yes. Let's do it," Emory replied.He tugged his baseball cap down lower on hisforehead. Then he put an arm on Jake'sshoulder and led him to the filming area. "Everyone, let's hear your cheer," Sheilainstructed. "Nice and loud, okay?" Mindy and the other four girls lined up on theedge of the tall grass. Behind them, purplemountains rose in the hazy distance. A red hawkcircled low in the sunlit sky. They began their cheer: "GO PIRATES GO PIRATES LISTEN TO US SCREAM! GO PIRATES GO PIRATES WE'LL SCREAM A LITTLE LOUDER!" They repeated the cheer, louder this time. Then athird time, even louder. "That's excellent," Emory told them,clapping his hands. "We want it loud andshrill." He turned to the camera operator."Everything set?" Squinting into the viewer, the man nodded."Looking good, Emory." "Get them in position," Emory instructedSheila. Sheila guided the five cheerleaders over thegrass. "Onto that dirt area," she told them."We'll do a run-through of the whole routine first." Mindy led the way off the grass, onto thedirt. The five girls were chatting excitedly. The chatting stopped as Mindy cried out. Jake saw her arms fly straight up. Thenshe went sliding onto her back. "Oh--oww!" Mindy cried. She kicked herlegs up. "It's muddy! It's all muddy!" Mindy reached a hand up to another girl. Thegirl started to help Mindy up--slipped--and theyboth tumbled into the mud. "Whoa!" Another cheerleader slid. Caughther balance. Then fell facedown with a wetsplash. She pulled herself up slowly, covered with thickmud from head to foot. "What's happening?" Emory cried,
dropping his clipboard. "It's all muddy!" Mindy shrieked. "Ouruniforms--my hair! Oh, no--my hair!Yuck!" "But how can it be muddy?" Emory demandedfuriously. "It hasn't rained here in weeks!" One of the girls tried to wipe the mud off herface, but only smeared it. The girl next to herpulled a thick, wet clump from her blondhair and tossed it with a PLOP to the ground. "This can't be happening!" Emory screamed."There can't be mud here in the desert! There can't!" And then Mindy uttered a low groan. Hereyes bulged wide, and she dropped to herknees. She pulled something from the mud. Something smooth and gray. She held it up in a trembling hand. "A so-skull!" she stammered. "A humanskull!"

The next morning, the camera lens was missing.Two of the main electrical cables had been cutin half. The trophy case in the school'sfront hall had been filled with tarantulas. Shooting had to be stopped while repairs weremade. That afternoon, Jake found his dad behind theirtrailer. "I don't know what's going on,"Emory said excitedly into his cell phone."Maybe this old school really is haunted!" He turned and saw Jake standing behind him."Oh, hi." He clicked the phone shut."Didn't see you there." "Do you really think the school is haunted?"Jake asked softly. "No. Of course not," Emory repliedquickly. But Jake caught a flicker of fear in hisfather's eyes. "Well ... if it's not ghosts ..." Jakestarted. "It's some wise guy on the set," Emorysaid, knitting his bushy eyebrowsangrily. "Maybe someone on the crew who hasa grudge of some kind." Jake stared hard at his dad. "A crewguy? Is that really what you believe?" "Stop looking at me like that!" Emorysnapped. "I don't know what to believe. ButI sure don't believe in ghosts!" He tugged Jake's hand. "Come with me.Let's check some things out." He led Jake past busy crew members,past a group of extras finishing their lunches inthe shade of the building. Into the school. The trophy case had been cleaned out. Thetarantulas taken out to the desert. Carpenters hammered and sawed, getting aclassroom ready for filming. His head bobbing with each step, his expressionunhappy, Emory led Jake down the longhall. They turned a corner and climbed thedust-covered stairs to the second floor. Down another long hall, walking quickly sideby side. Jake stopped when he heard a sound behind them. Footsteps? Emory heard it too. He glanced back. No one there. They walked another few steps. And heard thesound again. A scrape. A soft thud. They waited, listening. Another scraping footstep. Closer now. Jake turned and gazed behind them. "No. No one there," he told Emory in awhisper. Emory shrugged. They walked a little farther down the dimly lithall. SCRAPE. THUD. So close now. So close behind them. They both spun around at the same time. And gasped when they saw no one. "This is kind of creepy," Jake confessed ina whisper. "Stay calm," Emory replied, placing ahand on his shoulder. "Just keep walking. Thereisn't anyone there." "But I heard--" Jake insisted. "Just keep walking." Emory gave him a littlepush. "I think it's just some kind of echo." They started walking again. "Where are we going?" Jake asked. Before Emory could answer, they heard laughter. Soft. Muffled, as if it were floating to them fromfar away. Jake's voice caught in his throat. "Didyou hear that?" he choked out. Emory nodded, his eyes wide. He's afraid, Jake thought. I think he'sactually afraid. They heard another burst of laughter, high,tinny laughter. "Must be coming from outside," Emory murmured."Must be those extra kids out there." "But they were in the front of the building," Jakesaid. "We're in the back." Emory scratched his chin. They turned acorner and started down another long hall."There's no one else in the building," Emorymurmured. "The laughter has to be from outside.You know. Sound carries strangely in these oldbuildings." Jake swallowed. "Right." They began walking faster, as if trying to getaway from whatever was following them. "I'm looking for the wood shop," Emory said."I thought we might do a very scary scene--" He stopped as another wave of laughter burstthrough the hallway, echoing off the tile walls. Jake heard voices. Kids talking. Morelaughter. He pointed. "It--it's coming from thatclassroom!" he exclaimed. He saw Emory hesitate. He's frightened, Jake realized. But he can'tlet on. For my sake. Another burst of laughter. Jake followed his dad to the classroomdoor. He could hear the voices inside theroom. Emory took a deep breath--and pushed openthe door. They both peered inside. Dark in the room. Empty. Overturneddesks. A wastebasket standing upside down onthe teacher's desk. No one in there. No one. "But I heard them," Emory murmured. They both gasped when they heard more high,shrill laughter. From the next room. Jake and Emory raced toward thesound. Emory got there first. He shoved open thedoor. Silence now. No one in there. "I don't believe this!" Emory cried,sweat glistening on his forehead and on his blackeyebrows. "What's going on? Who is doingthis?" Jake grabbed his dad's shirt sleeve."Emory--you promised me." Emory turned, his face tight with confusion."Huh?" "You promised me," Jake repeated. "Yousaid you wouldn't test me anymore. You said youwouldn't do anything frightening." "But--but--" Emory sputtered. "But I'm notdoing it!"

Johnny Scream stood leaning against a powersaw in the wood shop. The tall, silver-eyedghoul stood perfectly still. All around him crewmembers scurried, readying the sound, adjusting thelights, moving equipment into place. Jake huddled near the door with Mindy andGregory and a few other extras. "Emoryreally wants to get this scene filmed," Jaketold them. "He's upset because so much time hasbeen wasted." "I can't believe I'm in a scene withJohnny Scream," a girl said, pressing herhands against her cheeks. "I mean, look at him.He's a giant! He's just standing there--and he'stotally terrifying!" Mindy started to say something. But Emoryappeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. Hiseyes swept the room as he pulled Jakeaside. "Listen, Jake, do me a favor," hewhispered. He really looks tense, Jake thought.I've never seen him like this. "Don't tell anyone about what happened,"Emory said, raising his eyes to the extras at thedoorway. "I mean, about the laughing voices, theinvisible kids we heard. We don't wantto scare anyone--right?" "Right," Jake agreed. "Don't worry,Emory. I won't say a word." Emory nodded gratefully. Then he hurriedover to the set. "Are we ready?" Sheila appeared beside him. She turned andmotioned to Mindy and the other extras. "Do you knowwhen to come in?" she asked. "When JohnnyScream turns on the power saw, all four of youwalk right through here." "And remember, you don't see him at first,"Emory added. "So don't look at him. Anddon't look at the camera." Emory talked briefly with the cameraoperator. Then he had a short conversation on hiscell phone. "Okay, let's try it," he calledloudly. "Let's see what this looks like." The crew members settled into their jobs.Sheila called for quiet. Jake stood next to his father. He turned andglimpsed Mindy, Gregory, and the others liningup for their entrance. "Okay, Johnny," Emory instructed."You toss back your head and laugh. And then youreach out with both hands and throw the switch on the powersaw." Johnny Scream didn't reply. Hestood stiffly facing the saw. "Ready?" Emory asked. Johnny didn't move. "Johnny--?" Emory called, his voicecatching. "Is there a problem?" No reply. Johnny Scream still didn'tmove. "There's something wrong with him, Emory!"Jake cried. "Huh? Which-what's going on?" Emorydemanded, scowling. He shoved his way past twosound recorders and stomped up to JohnnyScream. "Johnny?" He grabbed Johnny's hand. The curledfingernails came off in Emory's palm. Emory grabbed Johnny Scream's shoulder.The ghoul's big coat fell open. Loud gasps rang out through the wood shop. "Noooo!" Jake screamed.

Empty. The ghoul's costume was empty. Emory held the rubber mask in histrembling hands. Johnny Scream's jacket and tightscrumpled to the floor. "It--it was standing there with no one inside!"Jake gasped. Shocked cries echoed around the room. Emory stared at the mask in his hands. Stared... his face twisted in horror. Finally, he turned to Sheila. "Has anyoneseen Rad? Has anyone seen Rad today? Whohelped him into the costume? Who did hismakeup?" "I--I haven't seen him all morning," thecamera operator said. "I thought he was standing therethe whole time!" "Me too," Sheila said, shaking her head."We all thought he was in his costume." Emory uttered a nervous laugh and tossed therubber mask to the floor. Jake could see that his dad was shaking. Hehurried over to him. "People don't just vanish," Emory murmured. "Emory--let's get out of this school,"Jake begged. "This place really is haunted.It's the only explanation." Emory gazed at him blankly, large beadsof sweat running down his pale cheeks. "Let's get out--please!" Jake pleaded,tugging his dad's sleeve. "Before something evenworse happens." Emory shook his head. "No way!" heboomed. "I'm the King of Horror! I can'tlet anyone drive me from my own set!" And then he added in a whisper to Jake, "Ican't let them see me scared." "Emory--please!" Jake cried. But his dad turned to the crew and boomed,"Set up the final classroom scene. Iwant to film it this afternoon. And NOTHING will gowrong!"
"My dad won't leave," Jake toldMindy after lunch. "He's very stubborn," Mindy agreed. "He's frightened. I know he is," Jakesaid. "He should listen to you," Mindy said softly. "I hope everything goes okay in theclassroom scene," Jake said. A strange smile spread overMindy's face. Her green eyes flashed. Shedidn't reply.

Jake knew something was wrong as soon as he andhis father entered the classroom. He saw Emory stiffen. Emory lowered theclipboard to his side. His eyes swept overthe brightly lit room. A shrill hissing sound rose up from thefront. "Sheila?" Emory called, stopping justinside the doorway. "Where is the crew?" Jake crept up beside Emory and peered into theroom. He didn't see Sheila. And he didn'tsee any of the other crew members. The camera stood on its pedestal, the lensaimed into the rows of seats. The hissing sound grew louder. It rolled from thefront of the room back over the room, like anocean wave. "Sheila? Where are you?" Emory demanded, hisvoice rising over the shrill hiss. "Where iseverybody? What is that horrible sound?" "The kids are all in their seats," Jakewhispered, moving close to his dad. "But where is the crew?" Emory asked,swallowing hard. The shrill hiss forced him to cover his ears. And then, slowly, the students began turning intheir seats. And as they turned to the back of the room, turnedto Emory and Jake, their hideous, twistedfaces came into view. Ghouls. They were all ghouls. With sagging, melting greenskin. Sunken eyes in rotting sockets.Grinning, toothless mouths. Decaying purpletongues lapping at blackened lips. Chunks of skin fell off their cheeks and chins.Eyeballs plopped wetly onto the desktopsand rolled to the floor. And as the ghouls turned, hissing, hissing as ifall the life was leaking out of them--they reached out theirarms, yellowed, gnarled, skinless fingers clawing theair as if trying to grab Emory and Jake. "Nooooo!" Jake leaped back as a horrifiedwail burst from his father's throat. "You're not my actors!" Emory shrieked."Who are you? Where did you come from? Where are myactors?" The ghouls laughed in reply. Ugly, dry,choking laughter. Emory uttered another cry as JohnnyScream rose up from a desk. His black lipsspread in an openmouthed grin. He lurched to thedoorway--and grabbed Emory by the throat. "You're not Rad!" Emory shrieked, his handsflying up in helpless terror. "You're not theactor!" "I'm REAL!" Johnny Scream declaredin an ugly rasp. He tightened his bony-fingeredgrip on Emory's throat. "I'm back from the dead! I'm no actor!I'm REAL!"

Emory uttered a choked cry of protest. He shot both hands up--and swiped them atJohnny Scream's face. Emory's fingersplunged into the ghoul's doughy green skin. "Not a mask?" Emory gasped weakly. And then the rest of the ghouls were on their feet,staggering stiff-legged across the classroom.Hissing ... hissing ... Closing in on Emory and Jake. Emory pulled free of Johnny Scream'sgrasp. And fell back against the wall. Andopened his mouth in a horrified scream. "No! Please!" Emory begged as the ghoulsclosed in. "Please! Please!" The ghouls froze in place. The hissingstopped. Johnny Scream took a step back. Helowered his skeletal hands with their yellow curlednails to his sides. Emory hunched against the wall, face buriedin his hands. Shuddering. His whole body trembling. "See what it's like?" Jake demanded. Jakecouldn't keep a triumphant grin from spreadingover his face. "Emory--now you know what itfeels like!" "Huh?" Emory raised his head from his hands. Jake couldn't hold back any longer. Heleaped onto a desk and tossed back his head--andcrowed, crowed in victory! Johnny Scream pulled off his mask. Theextras all pulled off their masks. They werelaughing hard, laughing and congratulating Jake. "That's for ruining my birthday party!" Jaketold his dad. "That was for trying to terrify me everyminute! Now you know that anyone can be scared!" "You mean ..." Emory shook his head as iftrying to shake away his confusion. "You mean youplanned everything? All the frightening things thathappened here?" Jake nodded happily. "Mindy andGregory and the other kids helped me. The ideaswere all mine. But I couldn't have done it withoutthem." Emory shook his head again, stunned. "Goodwork, everyone," he said finally, his voice stilltrembling and weak. "Good work." "Admit you were scared," Jake demanded. "Comeon, Emory. Admit it. Admit you werescared." Emory swallowed noisily. "I wasterrified," he told Jake.
Later that evening, Jake sat beside Emory inthe screening room the crew had set up in theauditorium. "You really scared me, Jake," headmitted. "But I'm happy about one thing. Thecamera was rolling the whole time. I got that wholeterrifying classroom scene on film." "Can't wait to see it," Jake said. Emory turned back to the guy at theprojector. "Roll that classroom scene,"he called. "Let's take a look." The lights went out. The projector clacked to life. Lightflickered on the movie screen. The classroom came into view. Jake gazedat the seats. The desks. "Where is everyone?" Emory cried. "They're not there! The classroom isempty!" Jake declared. "But--but--" Emory stammered. They both stared at the empty classroom. "They are there. But they didn'tphotograph," Emory whispered finally."Ghosts," he murmured. "Mindy, Gregory--all of your friends, Jake. They really areghosts!"
"Let's get out of here!" Emory declared. They were in their trailer. Emory beganfrantically tossing his clothes into a suitcase."Pack up, Jake. I never want to see thishaunted place again!" "I'll be back in a sec," Jake toldhim. He hurried out to thank Mindy and Gregory."Emory is actually terrified!" he toldthem. They all laughed and congratulated each other,slapping high fives all around. "He really believes that you're ghosts!"Jake exclaimed. More gleeful laughter. "That film convinced him," Jake told them."When he saw that no one showed up in the film,he nearly died!" "We were so clever," Mindy declared. "Whoseidea was it to film the empty classroom before theextras took their seats?" "I guess it was mine," Jake said. "Brilliant! Awesome!" Gregory declared,slapping Jake on the back. "And we never evenfilmed the kids in the class. Only the emptyclassroom!" "So now, thanks to our clever little joke,Emory believes in ghosts," Jake crowed."You guys have got to come visit me in L.a.I can't wait to see Emory's face when you showup!" They laughed some more. And then said goodbye. Jake hurried back to his dad in thetrailer. As he ran, a final triumphantsmile crossed his face. "Who is the King of Horror?" he askedhimself. "Who is the King of Horror? "I am!"




About R.l. Stine
R.l. Stine is the most popular author inAmerica. He is the creator of theGoosebumps, Give YourselfGoosebumps, Fear Street, and Ghostsof Fear Street series, among other popularbooks. He has written over 250 scarynovels for kids. Bob lives in New YorkCity with his wife, Jane, teenage son,Matt, and dog, Nadine.
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