Ghouls Gone Wild Read Online Free Page A

and weak. I decided to stop and face him. “Who are you?” I cried. “What do you want?”
    And then once again, he whispered the words:
“I'm watching… I'm watching …”
    Huh? Watching? Watching
me?
    Why?
    His voice sent a shiver down my back.
    Suddenly, car headlights swept over the ground as an SUV turned the corner. The light poured right through the boy.
    Right through him!
    He took off, bending low to avoid the light.
    And I realized he was a ghost. He had to be a ghost.
    I took a deep breath. No sign of him now. The light had frightened him away. I turned and ran home.
    I found Mom in the kitchen, wiping down the counter. “Mom, someone followed me!” I cried.
    “That's nice, dear,” she said. She didn't look up. She was busy cleaning.
    “No, Mom—listen!” I cried. “It was scary. A boy—he chased me. He had an old man's face. I—”
    Finally, she turned around. “Oh my goodness!” she cried. “Look at you. Max, this won't do! The Marvins will be here any minute.”
    “Who?”
    “Get clean. Get changed. Clean your room. Clean, clean, clean!” she cried.
    I stared at her. “I don't understand. A strange old man chased me. I think he might have been a ghost—”
    “No time for your ghost stories,” Mom said. She started to push me out of the kitchen. “Mrs. Flake will be here soon. She's the real estate agent, Maxie.”
    “Mrs. Flake?”
    “Don't laugh at her name, whatever you do,” Mom warned. “She doesn't know it's a funny name.”
    “But Mom—” I started.
    “She's bringing a nice young couple. The Mar-vins. To look at our house.”
    No way would Mom listen to my story. With a sigh, I heaved myself upstairs. I pulled off my clothes and carried them to the laundry room.
    I took a hot shower. Put on a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
    “Clean, clean, clean,” Mom had said. So I did my best to straighten my room. I made my bed and I picked up a lot of junk from the floor and shoved it into my closet.
    I felt really tense. I couldn't stop thinking about that guy in black.
    I needed to talk to somebody. “Nicky? Tara? Where are you?” I called.
    No answer.
    Where were they? Were they angry at me because I wanted to move and leave them behind? They'd been disappearing a lot lately. They said they couldn't control it.
    I needed to talk to them. I needed to tell them I knew they were angry at me. But they had to understand—there was nothing I could do about it.
    I picked up three of my six heavy milk bottles and started to juggle them. I knew the juggling would calm me down. But I was so tense, I couldn't get my rhythm going.
    When the front doorbell rang, all three bottles flew from my hands.
    With a wild swipe, I grabbed them all before they hit the floor. Mom wouldn't be too happy to find broken glass and pools of milk all over the rug.
    I heard voices downstairs. A woman said, “What a charming place.” Then a man said, “This is just the right size.”
    I set the milk bottles on my desk. I lined up all six to make them look neat.
    A few minutes later, Mom led everyone into my bedroom. Mrs. Flake was a white-haired woman with flashing blue eyes and bright purple lipstick. The Marvins were blond and thin and nice-looking.
    Mr. Marvin wore a red tie and a blue blazer. His wife wore a short denim skirt and a yellow T-shirt.
    “This is Max,” Mom said. I nodded to them. “You'll have to excuse the messiness,” Mom said.
    Messiness? I cleaned everything up!
    Mrs. Marvin gave me a sweet smile. “How old are you, Max?” she asked. I hate when grown-ups ask that question.
    “Eleven years, eleven months, and four days,” I said.
    They all laughed. “Max likes math,” Mom said.
    Mrs. Flake waved a hand around the room.“Notice the windows,” she told the Marvins. “They give a lot of light.”
    The Marvins walked around my room. “Very charming,” Mrs. Marvin said. “What are those?”
    She walked up to the row of milk bottles. Her husband followed her.
    “Do you