By
Derek the Ghost
Scary pictures by
Scott M. Fischer
Dedication
To Stephen King, J. K. Rowling, Louis Sachar, Bill Watterson, Kurt Vonnegut, and all the writers who cracked me up, scared me witless, and brought me to new worlds.
—Derek
Epigraph
Caveat discipulus
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Reintroduction
Note from Derek the Ghost
One
The Elephant Who Always Forgets
Two
The Daring Rescue
Three
The Mummy’s Curse
Four
The Big Announcement
Five
King Zog the Terrible (But Always Pleasant Smelling)
Six
Tanya Tarantula
Seven
The Legend of Steven Kingsley
Eight
Inside Locker
Nine
Journey to the Monster King
Ten
Don’t Mess with Bearodactyls
Eleven
The Monster Princess
Twelve
Fritz vs. the Loch Ness Monster
Thirteen
A Monstrous Halloween
Fourteen
Eddie Bookman Doesn’t Exist…Or Does He?
Fifteen
Skeletons in the Closet
Sixteen
Thanksgiving with the Dark Lord
Seventeen
The Thousand-Foot Chain
Eighteen
The All-Knowing Monkey of Scary Mountain
Nineteen
Friday the Thirteenth
Twenty
The Monsters Attack
Twenty-One
The Curse Comes True
Twenty-Two
The Big Kiss
Twenty-Three
A Happy Holiday
Final Note from Derek the Ghost
Back Ad
About the Author
Other Books by Derek the Ghost
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Reintroduction
Well, hello. It’s good to see you again. In case you forgot, my name is Derek the Ghost.
If you’re reading this book, I guess that means you liked my first book. That makes me the happiest an eleven-year-old ghost can possibly be.
Because I like you, I’m going to let you in on a secret. I’m standing next to you right now.
Wow. You’re not even going to wave? Okay. Whatever.
Ah, I’m just kidding. I know you can’t see me. You have to go to strange places like Scary School to be able to see us. That makes sense to me. If people could see ghosts, they would seriously freak out. Not good at all!
So, we’re invisible when we’re out and about. Don’t worry though, we’re cool. Well, most of us anyway.
Once Scary School, the first book I wrote, was finished, I thought I would get to move on, but it turned out that Scary School won a trip to meet the Monster King as the grand prize for winning the Ghoul Games. And when amazing things are happening at Scary School, it’s up to me to write about them.
Actually, that just gave me an idea. After you finish reading this book, you ought to go to my website, ScarySchool.com, and write your own spooky or funny story. If I like it, I’ll post it on my website for all the other kids around the world to read. Then you can call yourself a writer just like me!
Anyway, it’s time for me to go back to my haunted house and prepare for another horrific year.
I wish you the best of luck in surviving this semester at Scary School. Hopefully, I’ll see you after winter break, but I still can’t guarantee you’ll make it out alive.
Note from Derek the Ghost
To be really in the know, go to the Secret Section of ScarySchool.com to unlock the Bonus Chapter of Book One. We’re about to pick up where that chapter left off! You don’t need it, but why miss it?
1
The Elephant Who Always Forgets
Petunia ducked frantically, barely avoiding being pulled into the Locker of Infinite Oblivion by the hideous ragged claw. It recoiled into the locker angrily, slamming the door shut.
I have got to pay closer attention, Petunia reminded herself, dusting the smudges off her purple dress.
She had gotten distracted searching the walkway for her friends.
Even though none of her classmates had contacted her over the summer, she had been desperately looking forward to school starting so she could see them. Petunia had not even heard from her best friend, Frank (pronounced “Rachel”), which she thought was very odd.
After the first few weeks of summer, Petunia had grown so lonely that she grew her purple hair back down to her purple shoulders. Her purple hair attracted honeybees, and she needed the company.
Petunia couldn’t wait to find out who her new sixth-grade teacher would be. The teachers were always special. Last year, Petunia’s teacher was Ms. Fangs, an 850-year-old vampire who was very, very nice. She only bit two kids the whole year.
As Petunia walked down the twisting main hallway of Scary School, most kids backed away from the bees circling her head.
Still not seeing her classmates, Petunia was very puzzled. Eventually she saw a boy she recognized. His name was Charles Nukid. He was from the other sixth-grade class. As always, his hair was molded into a perfect hair helmet on top of his egg-shaped head. He was wearing gray shorts, a white dress shirt, and a polka-dot tie, which was the official Scary School uniform that everybody else refused to wear because it looked so stupid.
“Hi, Charles,” said Petunia. “Have you seen anyone from my class?”
“No, I was actually looking for Penny. Let me know if you find her. I have to hurry or else I’ll only be on time for class instead of early. I’m always early. That’s my own personal rule. Why risk it, you know?”
Charles had to catch his breath. It was as if he hadn’t spoken to anyone all summer and had become overexcited when the chance came.
Petunia said good-bye to Charles and skipped toward her classroom. When she stepped into the room, she dropped her books in shock.
The room was empty.
Petunia double-checked her schedule. She was in the right place, Dungeon 5B, but there were no classmates and no teacher.
At 8:00 a.m., she peeked out into the hallway. It was as empty as her classroom.
Kids are never late for class at Scary School, because if a teacher is in a bad mood, well, let’s just say there are a few lollygaggers who are walking around without all their toes or noses.
Petunia decided to take a seat and hoped that someone would come. She didn’t dare wander the hallways without a hall pass. Even though the hallway monitor, Mr. Spider-Eyes, had been eaten by Mrs. T, the T. rex, during the Ghoul Games, the new hallway monitor might be even meaner. There was no point in taking the chance.
After a couple minutes, Petunia heard a loud thumping from the hallway.
Gathump. Gathump. Gathump. It got closer and closer, then stopped at the doorway. Petunia gulped.
Suddenly, the door burst open. In stomped something Petunia had never seen before. The creature had big, stumpy elephant feet, but the body of a man. He was wearing a tight-fitting suit and tie. His knitted brown jacket hung loosely around his humanlike arms. The creature had the head of a giant elephant, with floppy ears, long ivory tusks, and a trunk that hung halfway down his body.
He looked at Petunia, then at a sheet of paper he was holding in his trunk.
“Hello,” sai
d the creature in a deep, goofy-sounding voice. “Are you the teacher?”
“No,” Petunia answered, growing more confused by the second.
“Oh,” said the creature. “Well, by process of elimination, I guess that means I’m the teacher.”
Petunia stared at him blankly.
“What’s your name?” the creature asked.
“Petunia.”
“Petunia, eh? I’m going to write that down.”
The creature placed the paper on the desk, then used his trunk to write Petunia’s name on the sheet of paper. He didn’t have much success as there was nothing holding the paper in place. It just kept sliding all over the desk.
The creature got frustrated. “This paper won’t stay put for me to write down your name. Please excuse me if I forget it.”
“Why don’t you use your hands instead of your trunk?” Petunia suggested.
“Hands?” said the creature quizzically. He lifted his hands in front of his eyes and jumped back in fright. His hands were covered with fish scales.
“Oh my goodness! I have scaly hands! What kind of strange creature am I?”
“I have no idea,” said Petunia.
“Well, thank you for pointing these out to me, young lady. I couldn’t see them because my trunk was in the way. Tell me, what’s your name?”
“Petunia.”
“Petunia, eh? I’m going to write that down so I don’t forget.”
This time the creature used his hands to write down Petunia’s name on the sheet of paper.
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “Now we’re getting somewhere. It says on this sheet of paper that my name is Morris Grump. Apparently, I’m the teacher for the sixth-grade class at Scary School. Hmm. I suppose that means you better call me Mr. Grump.”
“Mr. Grump,” asked Petunia, “do you know where the rest of the class is?”
“The rest of the class? No. Do you?”
“No.”
“Oh. Well, we better wait here for them. I’d hate to go wandering around and get lost. I don’t even think I’m supposed to be living on this continent. Don’t elephants come from Africa?”
“Africa or southern Asia,” Petunia replied.
“Say, you’re smart! You’re going to be useful!” exclaimed Mr. Grump.
“Is that what you are? An elephant?” asked Petunia.
“You don’t seem to be a full elephant.”
“Good point,” said Mr. Grump. “I seem to be part scaly man also. I guess that means I’m the Elephant Man.”
“But I thought elephants never forget.”
“If you say so. The last thing I remember was trudging up a snowy mountain dragging a sack of coconuts behind me. The next thing I knew, I was walking down that hallway holding this sheet of paper.”
“To be honest, you don’t seem to know very much for a teacher.”
“Well, I’m sure I must have done something very impressive to earn this position. I’ll certainly give it my best. Now, what’s the first thing you would like me to teach you?”
“Um. I don’t know. Math?”
“Excellent choice! Math it is!” Then Mr. Grump’s expression went blank and his trunk went limp.
“What’s math?” he asked.
Ugh, Petunia thought to herself. This is going to be a long year.
2
The Daring Rescue
For the next hour, Petunia sat down with Mr. Grump and taught him the basics of math.
Mr. Grump wrote everything down as fast as he could, holding the paper with his hands and scribbling with his agile trunk.
When first period ended, Mr. Grump was so happy he couldn’t wait for the next subject.
“What’s next? What’s next?” he asked excitedly, jumping up and down, causing the whole room to shake.
Petunia looked around the empty room. She was becoming very worried. There’s no way the whole class would be gone the first day of school. Something must be wrong.
“We have to go find the rest of the class now,” Petunia said to Mr. Grump.
“Okay,” said Mr. Grump. “You lead the way.”
“But I don’t know where to look,” said Petunia.
“They could be anywhere.”
“Hmmm,” murmured Mr. Grump, scratching the top of his head with his trunk. “When I misplace something, which I do constantly, I always retrace my steps. Where’s the last place you saw them?”
“The last place I saw them was at Jacqueline’s haunted house on the last day of school. They all went into the Room of Fun, but I decided not to go in.”
“Well then, that’s the first place we’ll look! Excellent remembering, um…um…” Mr. Grump slyly looked at his sheet of paper. “Petunia. I won’t forget it again. Let’s go, ummm…”
“Petunia,” said Petunia, rolling her eyes.
Petunia led the way to the school yard. Jacqueline’s haunted house stood beside the path that leads through the playground, which some kids like to call the slayground because of the high probability of injury or demise. Take, for instance, the alligators at the bottom of the slide. Brave kids still like to ride it, though. It’s a fun slide until that last part with the chomping and dismemberment.
In case you don’t remember, Jacqueline is my eight-year-old sister. She’ll be nine in a month. She built the haunted house for me last year so that I would have a place to haunt. The school building was so uncomfortable. I don’t know how living kids can stand sitting at those desks for so long.
Petunia and Mr. Grump stepped up to the front door of the haunted house and knocked. Neither realized that I had been watching them all morning and writing everything down. Naturally, I followed them to my haunted house, whereupon I made myself visible.
Petunia knew me and said hello. Mr. Grump had apparently never seen a ghost before and got very scared.
“Gh-gh-ghooosst!” he howled. He trumpeted a deafening noise through his trunk and started stampeding across the school yard.
In his panic, he ran into a tetherball pole with a clang, staggered about dizzily for a few seconds, then collapsed unconscious on the lawn.
“Don’t worry. Your teacher should be fine,” I said to Petunia. “Please come in.”
I opened the door for her and we walked into the foyer. Ghosts circled the black chandelier above the great white fountain. Petunia remembered what to do. She plucked one purple hair from her head and placed it carefully in the fountain’s pool. Jets of water shot up and the ghosts cheered with joy. One flew down and opened the door to the rest of the house.
“Thank you,” said Petunia.
“No, thank you,” said the ghost, placing Petunia’s hair on its white ghostly head.
As we walked down the haunted corridors, I told Petunia how lonesome I had been all summer with none of the kids around to write about. She said that she had had a very similar summer, with nothing to do but read.
“That’s funny,” I replied. “I couldn’t read a book even if I wanted to. My hands go straight through them.”
“How sad,” Petunia said, trying to pat my shoulder, but whooshing right through me.
“Luckily, I have a ghost pad and a ghost pen that never runs out of ink, so I can write all I want.”
We came to the end of the hallway to the door marked ROOM OF FUN.
“Is my class still in there?” Petunia asked me.
“I remember that everyone except you went in there on the last day of school. They started going down a slide and they haven’t come out since.”
Petunia opened the door to the Room of Fun, and a wave of sound crashed upon our ears. It sounded like a symphony of screaming and wheeing. Petunia bravely stepped into the pitch-black room and had to quickly catch her balance. She was standing on a ledge overlooking a deep, dark pit.
“Hello!” she called down into the pit. “Is anybody down there?”
“Petunia? Is that you?” It was the voice of her best friend, Frank, which is pronounced “Rachel.”
“
Yes, it’s me!”
“Help us, Petunia! We’ve been going down this slide for three months and can’t get off!”
Petunia thought it was very strange that they had been sliding downward for so long, but they were still able to hear her. At a normal rate of descent, they should have already gone straight into the Earth’s core and been liquefied.
As Petunia’s eyes became adjusted to the darkness, she began walking gingerly along the edge of the pit, feeling the stone wall with her hands. When she got to the other end of the room, she felt something strange. One of the blocks of stone was much warmer than the others. She knocked on the stone and it crumbled away like sand, revealing a glowing lever behind it.
As soon as Petunia pulled on the lever, the symphony of sound came to a halt. Petunia realized that the screams and whees were not coming from her classmates. They were being blasted through speakers in order to mask another sound—the din of churning gears.
Lights came on, and Petunia could see into the pit. It didn’t look that deep at all. Perhaps twenty feet to the bottom. Her classmates were piled on top of one another.
The walls inside the pit showed projections of a moving background so it looked and felt like they were sliding down, when in fact they were staying right in place the entire time! Just like a super-slippery treadmill.
Petunia began to recognize her classmates. There was Jason, still wearing his hockey mask. Fred, the boy without fear. The three Rachels, Wendy Crumkin, Penny Possum, Fritz, and even Ms. Fangs. They looked haggard and hungry, but were in a surprisingly good mood. Petunia guessed it was because they had been having nonstop fun for the last three months.
Monsters on the March Page 1
