R. L. Stine_Mostly Ghostly 06 Read Online Free PDF Page B

hands into fists. I felt so angry, I wanted to scream.
    But
no way
could I tell Quentin about them.
    Nicky and Tara were angry because they couldn't come to my party. So they were doing their best to mess up our magic act.
    We tried a few more easy tricks, and they were ruined too. “It just isn't our night,” Quentinsaid. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow night.”
    He left, shaking his head, very confused.
    As soon as he was out the door, my two ghost friends appeared. “How's it going, Max?” Tara asked, grinning at me.
    “You
know
how it's going,” I snapped.
    “Did you have a bad night?” Nicky asked, acting innocent.
    I realized I was grinding my teeth. I'd never been so angry at them. “You have no right to do that,” I shouted. “You have no right to ruin all our tricks.”
    “I'll bet your tricks will go a lot better if you invite us to your party,” Tara said.
    “For sure,” Nicky chimed in. “Invite us to your birthday party, and we'll be your best friends again.”
    “No way!” I cried. “You're not my best friends. And stop begging me. No way are you coming to my party!”
    They both put on these really hurt faces. Tara pulled off her hat, tossed it on the floor, and started stomping on it.
    I turned away from them and walked to the window. I took deep breaths, trying to calm down. I didn't like being angry at them. They were two poor young ghosts, after all. They probablywouldn't have any more birthdays —because they were dead.
    But messing up our magic tricks like that was just plain mean.
    I gazed out the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. A few stars twinkled dimly in the night sky. I lowered my eyes —and gasped when I saw the boy in black staring up at me.
    He stood at the side of my yard, leaning against a tree trunk.
    I pulled up the window, stuck my head out, and shouted down at him. “Go away! I'm warning you! Go away!”
    He took a few steps closer to the house. Light from the kitchen downstairs washed over him, and I saw his face. An old man's face, lined and wrinkled and sagging.
    He cupped his hands around his mouth and called up to me. “Be careful!”
    Gripping the windowsill, I stared down at his ancient face, at his pale, sunken eyes. “What do you want?” I screamed. “Why are you doing this?”
    “Be careful,” he repeated in a breathy rasp of a voice. “They are going to kill you. The ghosts are going to kill you!”
    A chill ran down my back. I stepped away from the window. Shivering, I turned to Nicky and Tara.
    “What did he mean?” I asked. “Why did he say that? Why did he say you are going to
kill
me?”
    I saw the shock on Nicky's and Tara's faces.
    And then they disappeared.

12
    I SAT DOWN AND tried to do some math homework for about an hour. Math is one of my favorite subjects. The problems were easy, but after seeing the boy in black, it was hard to concentrate. Working on the math eventually helped me to push him from my thoughts, so I ended up doing the next day's assignment too.
    The kids at school call me Brainimon. That's because I have a good brain and I get all A's.
    Mom thinks I'm really popular, because she hears my phone ring at least four or five times a night. But it's only kids asking me for help with their homework.
    When I finished my homework, I tried to IM my friend Aaron. But he wasn't online.
    That's when I saw the little metal suitcase against the wall. Quentin's magic kit. He had forgotten it.
    I picked it up by the handle, then sat down with it on my lap. I was tempted to open it and see what he had inside.
    But I decided that wouldn't be right. No magician likes to share his secrets.
    Quentin had his name and address on a tag tied to the handle of the case. I read it and saw that he lived on Murk Drive. That's in a pretty fancy neighborhood about four or five blocks from my house. Lots of big houses and mansions hidden behind tall hedges.
    I glanced at the clock. Only eight-thirty. Mom and Dad wouldn't