by R. L. Stine
Mr. Devine raised his eyes from his papers. “Tommy? What did you say?”
“Did anyone hear that girl?” I asked. “Calling for help?”
A few kids laughed. Thalia turned and frowned at me.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Mr. Devine replied.
“No. Really,” I insisted. “I heard her. She said, ‘Please help me.’”
Mr. Devine tsk-tsked. “You’re too young to start hearing voices.”
Some more kids laughed. I didn’t think it was very funny.
I sighed and picked up my book. I couldn’t wait for the bell to ring. I really wanted to get out of that classroom.
I thumbed through the book, trying to find my page.
But before I found it, I heard the girl’s voice again.
So soft and near. And so unhappy.
“Help me. Please. Please, somebody—help me.”
9
On the night of the school dance, Ben, Thalia, and I got to the gym early. With only an hour to go, we were busily putting the finishing touches on the decorations.
I thought it all looked pretty great.
We had banners strung out in the hall outside the gym. And two big banners in the gym, proclaiming BELL VALLEY ROCKS! and WELCOME, EVERYONE!
We tied huge bouquets of helium balloons to the two basketball hoops. The balloons were all red and black, of course. And we had red and black crepe-paper streamers on the walls and over the bleachers.
Thalia and I had spent days painting a big poster of a bison giving the thumbs-up sign. Underneath the bison, it read BISONS RULE! in red and black letters.
Thalia and I aren’t very good artists. The bison didn’t really look much like the photos of bisons we’d found in books. Ben said it looked more like a cow that had been sick for a long time. But we hung the poster up, anyway.
Now, the three of us were arranging a red-and-black crepe-paper tablecloth over the refreshment table. I glanced up at the scoreboard clock. Seven thirty. The dance was scheduled to start at eight.
“We still have a lot to do,” I said.
Ben tugged his end of the paper tablecloth too hard. I heard a soft ripping sound.
“Ooops,” he said. “Anybody bring any tape?”
“It’s no problem,” Thalia told him. “We’ll just cover the torn part with soda bottles or something.”
I glanced at the clock again. “When is the band supposed to arrive?”
“Any minute,” Thalia replied. “They were supposed to get here early to set up.”
Some kids had formed a band called Grunt. It was sort of a strange band—five guitar players and a drummer. And I heard some kids saying that three of the guitar players didn’t really know how to play.
But Mrs. Borden asked them to perform a few songs at the dance.
It took us a while to get the tablecloth straight. It wasn’t quite big enough for the table.
“What’s next?” Ben asked. “Do we have decorations for the gym doors?”
Before I could answer, the double doors swung open, and Mrs. Borden came charging in. At first, I didn’t recognize her. She wore a shiny bright red party dress. And she had her black curly hair piled up high on her head behind a silver tiara.
Even with her hair piled up, she still wasn’t much taller than we were!
Her eyes darted around the gym as she hurried over to us. “It looks great! Just fabulous, guys!” she gushed. “Oh, you worked so hard! You did a wonderful job!”
We thanked her.
She slapped a Polaroid camera into my hands. “Take pictures, Tommy,” she instructed me. “Snapshots of the decorations. Hurry. Take a whole bunch before people start arriving.”
I examined the camera. “Well… okay,” I agreed. “But Thalia, Ben, and I still have some stuff to do. We have posters for the doors. And we need more balloons over there. And—and—”
Mrs. Borden laughed. “You’re a little stressed!”
Thalia and Ben laughed too. I could feel my face turning hot. I knew I was blushing.
“Take it easy, Tommy,” Mrs. Borden said, patting my shoulder soothingly. “Or you won’t survive until the dance.”
I forced a smile. “I’m okay,” I told her.
Little did I realize that—after all my hard work—I would never see the dance.
10
“Yo! Look out!”
“Move that amp! Hey, Greta—move that amp!”
“Move it yourself!”
“Where’s my wa-wa? Did anyone see my wa-wa pedal?”
“I ate it for breakfast!”
“You’re not funny. Move that amp!”
The band members arrived while I was snapping Polaroids. And they instantly took over, making a big racket as they set up by the bleachers.
The guitarists were all guys. Greta was the drummer. Seeing her lug her drums across the gym reminded me of the lipstick battle in class on Thursday.
After school, I’d asked Thalia what the big deal was. “Why did you go nuts?” I asked.
“I didn’t go nuts!” Thalia insisted. “Greta did. She thinks because she’s so big and strong she can just grab whatever she wants.”
“She’s really weird,” I agreed. “But you were so upset—”
“I like that lipstick. That’s all,” Thalia replied. “It’s my best lipstick. Why should I let her grab it from me?”
Now Greta, dressed in black as always, was setting up with the rest of the band. They were all laughing and shoving each other around, tossing cables back and forth, tripping over their guitar cases. Acting like big shots because they had a band.
A few other kids started to arrive. I recognized the two girls who were the ticket takers. And a couple of kids from the refreshment committee, who started complaining that somebody ordered only Mountain Dew and no Coke.
I scrambled around, snapping photos of the banners and the balloons. I was setting up to shoot our bison poster—when a loud shout made me spin around.
I saw Greta and one of the guitar players pretending to have a duel with guitars. The other band members were laughing and cheering them on.
Greta had picked up one of the guitars. She and the other guy raised their guitars high over their heads and came charging at each other.
“No—stop!” I screamed.
Too late.
Greta’s guitar ripped right through the BELL VALLEY ROCKS! banner. Tore it in two!
I let out a loud groan as the two halves of the banner drooped to the floor. I turned and saw the unhappy faces of Thalia and Ben.
“Hey—sorry about that!” Greta called. Then she burst out laughing.
I hurried over to the wrecked banner and picked up one end. Thalia and Ben were right behind me.
“What are we going to do?” I cried. “It’s ruined.”
“We can’t just leave it here hanging over the floor,” Thalia said, shaking her head.
“We need it!” I declared.
“Yeah. It’s our best banner,” Thalia agreed.
“Maybe we can tape it back together,” I suggested.
“No problem. We’ll tape it together,” Ben said. “Come on, Tommy.” He grabbed my arm and started to pull me.
I almost dropped Mrs. Borden’s Polaroid. “Where are we going?” I demanded.
“Up to the art room, of course,” Ben replied. He started jogging to the double gym doors, and I followed.
It won’t take long to tape it together, I thought. Then I’ll get a ladder from the janitor’s closet, and we’ll hang it back up.
We stepped out into the hall—and I stopped. Kids were arriving for the dance, hurrying to the gym.
“We don’t have time to fix the banner!” I told Ben.
“We’ll hurry,” he said. “No problem.”
“But—but the art room is way up on the third floor!” I sputtered. “By the time we get all the way back down to the gym…”
“Relax,” Ben said. “It won’t take that long—if you’d stop complaining.
Come on. Let’s go!”
Ben was right. I started running down the hall. Kids were pouring into the gym. I knew we had to hurry.
“Hey—not that way!” I heard him calling. “You’re going the wrong way, Tommy!”
“I know where I’m going!” I called back. “I went this way last time!”
I ran to the end of the hall and turned a corner.
“Tommy—stop!” Ben called.
“It’s up this way!” I called back to him. “This way is faster. I know it.”
But I was wrong. I should have listened to Ben. A few seconds later, the hall ended at a boarded-up wall.
“See?” Ben cried breathlessly. “What is your problem? The stairs are back there.”
“Okay. I made a mistake,” I told him. “I wanted to hurry, that’s all.”
“But you don’t know where you’re going!” he said angrily. “Remember, Tommy? You need a road map to find your toes!”
“Very funny,” I muttered. I gazed around. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know! I can’t believe I followed you!” Ben was annoyed. He banged both fists against the boarded-up wall.
“Hey—!”
We both cried out as the rotted, old boards broke away. Startled, Ben stumbled forward—and crashed right through the boards.
They splintered and fell to the floor. And he fell on top of them.
“Oh, wow.” I bent to help him up. “Check this out!” I said, peering down a dark hall. “This must be the old school building. The building they closed off.”
“Thrills and chills,” Ben muttered. He groaned and rubbed his knee. “I scraped my knee on those boards. I think it’s bleeding.”
I took a few steps into the dark hall. “This school has been closed off for fifty years,” I told him. “We’re probably the first kids in here since then!”
“Remind me to write that in my diary,” Ben growled, still rubbing his knee. “Are we going to the art room or what?”
I didn’t answer him. Something on the wall across from us caught my eye. I walked over to it.
“Hey, Ben. Look. An elevator.”
“Huh?” He hobbled across the hall to me.
“Do you believe it?” I asked. “They had an elevator in the old school.”
“Those kids were lucky,” Ben replied.
I pressed the button on the wall. To my surprise, the doors slid open. “Whoa—!” I peered inside. A dusty ceiling lamp clicked on, sending pale white light down through the metal car.
“It’s on!” Ben cried. “It’s working!”
“Let’s take it to the third floor,” I urged. “Come on. Why should we walk up all those stairs?”
“But—but—” Ben held back. But I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him inside the elevator. And followed him in.
“This is great!” I exclaimed. “I told you I knew how to get there.”
Ben’s eyes darted nervously around the narrow gray elevator car. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured.
“What could happen?” I replied.
The doors closed silently.
11
“Are we moving?” Ben asked. His eyes rose to the elevator ceiling.
“Of course not,” I replied. “We haven’t pushed the button vet.”
I reached out and pushed the button with a big black 3 on it. “What is your problem, anyway?” I demanded. “Why are you so nervous? We’re not robbing a bank or anything. We’re just riding an elevator because we’re in a hurry.”
“The elevator is fifty years old,” Ben replied.
“So?” I demanded.
“So… we’re not moving,” Ben said softly.
I pushed the button again. And listened for the hum that meant we were going up.
Silence.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ben said. “It’s not working. I told you we shouldn’t try it.”
I pushed the button again. Nothing.
I pushed the button marked 2.
“We’re wasting time,” Ben said. “If we ran up the stairs, we’d be up there already. The dance is starting, and the stupid banner is trailing on the floor.”
I pushed the 3 button again. And the 2 button.
Nothing. No noise. We didn’t move.
I pushed the button marked B.
“We don’t want to go to the basement!” Ben cried. I heard a little panic start to creep into his voice. “Tommy, why did you push B?”
“Just trying to get it to move,” I said. My throat suddenly felt a little dry. I had a knot in the pit of my stomach.
Why weren’t we moving?
I pushed all the buttons again. Then I pounded them with my fist.
Ben pulled my hand away. “Nice try, ace,” he said sarcastically. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? I don’t want to miss the whole dance.”
“Thalia is probably a little steamed by now,” I said, shaking my head. I pushed 3 a few more times.
But we didn’t move.
“Just open the doors,” Ben insisted.
“Okay. Fine,” I agreed unhappily. My eyes swept over the control panel.
“What’s wrong?” Ben asked impatiently.
“I—I can’t find the door open button,” I stammered.
He shoved me out of the way. “Here,” he said, gazing over the silvery buttons. “Uh…”
We both studied the control panel.
“There’s got to be a door open button,” Ben muttered.
“Maybe it’s this one with the arrows,” I said. I lowered my hand to a button at the bottom of the metal panel. It had two arrows on it that pointed like this: <>.
“Yes. Push it,” Ben said. He didn’t wait for me to do it. He reached past me and pushed the button hard with his open hand.
I stared at the door, waiting for it to slide open.
It didn’t move.
I slapped the <> button again. And again.
Nothing.
“How are we going to get out of here?” Ben cried.
“Don’t panic,” I told him. “We’ll get the doors open.”
“Why shouldn’t I panic?” he demanded shrilly.
“Because I want to be the one to panic first!” I declared. I thought my little joke would make him laugh and calm him down. After all, he was always making jokes.
But he didn’t even smile. And he didn’t take his eyes off the dark elevator doors.
I pushed the <> button one more time. I kept it pressed in with my thumb. The doors didn’t open.
I pushed the 3 and the 2 buttons. I pushed the 1 button.
Nothing. Silence. The buttons didn’t even click.
Ben’s eyes bulged. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Help us!” he screamed. “Can anybody hear me? Help us!”
Silence.
Then I spotted the red button at the top of the control panel. “Ben—look,” I said. I pointed to the red button.
“An emergency button!” he exclaimed happily. “Go ahead, Tommy. Push it! It’s probably an alarm. Someone will hear it and come rescue us!”
I pushed the red button.
I didn’t hear an alarm.
But the elevator started to hum.
I heard the clank of gears. The floor vibrated beneath our feet.
“Hey—we’re moving!” Ben cried happily.
I let out a cheer. Then I raised my hand to slap him a high five.
But the elevator jerked hard, and I fell against the wall.
“Uh-oh,” I murmured, pulling myself up straight. I turned to Ben. We stared at each other in wide-eyed silence, not believing what was happening.
The elevator wasn’t moving up. Or down. It was moving sideways.
12
The elevator rumbled and shook. I grabbed the wooden railing on the side. Gears clanked noisily. The floor vibrated beneath my shoes.
We stared at each other, realizing what was happening. Neither of us spoke.
Ben finally broke the silence. “This is impossible,”
he murmured. His words came out in a choked whisper.
“Where is it taking us?” I asked softly, gripping the rail so hard that my hands hurt.
“It’s impossible!” Ben repeated. “It can’t be happening. Elevators only go up and—”
The car jolted hard as we came to a very sudden stop.
“Whoooa!” I let out a cry as my shoulder slammed into the elevator wall.
“Next time, we’re taking the stairs,” Ben growled.
The doors slid open.
We peered out. Into total blackness.
“Are we in the basement?” Ben asked, sticking his head out the door.
“We didn’t go down,” I replied. A shiver ran down the back of my neck. “We didn’t go up or down. So…”
“We’re still on the first floor.” Ben finished my sentence for me. “But why is it so dark here? I can’t believe this is happening!”
We stepped out of the elevator.
I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. But they couldn’t adjust. It was too dark.
“There must be a light switch,” I said. I ran my hand along the wall. I could feel the outline of tiles. But no light switch.
I swept both hands up and down the wall. No. No light switch.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ben urged. “We don’t want to get trapped here. We can’t see a thing.”
I was still searching for the light. “Okay,” I agreed. I lowered my hand and started back to the elevator.
I heard the doors slide shut.
“No!” I let out a sharp cry.
Ben and I banged on the elevator doors. Then I felt along the wall for the button to open the doors.
Panicked, my hand trembled. I swept my open palm all along the wall on both sides of the closed doors.
No button. No elevator button.
I turned and leaned my back against the wall. I was suddenly breathing hard. My heart pounded.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Ben muttered.
“Would you please stop saying that!” I demanded. “It is happening. We’re here. We don’t know where. But we’re here.”
“But if we can’t call the elevator, how do we get out of here?” Ben whined.
“We’ll find our way,” I told him. I took a deep breath and held it. I decided I had to be the calm one since he was being so whiny and scared.
