Chris Grabenstein - The Smoky Corridor

“That would make an awesome field trip for our history class!” said Malik.

“Yeah,” said Azalea. “I already talked to Ms. DuBois and she said it was an awesome idea, too! We just need to pick a date.”

“The sooner, the better,” said Malik. “The rubbings would make excellent Halloween decorations.”

“Yeah,” said Zack. “We could hang them on our lockers, which kind of resemble caskets.”

Malik’s and Azalea’s smiles instantly curdled into frowns.

“What? Okay. You don’t like the locker-coffin idea. We could—”

Someone grabbed his belt from behind and hoisted him off the ground.

“Well, if it isn’t wacky little Zacky.”

Kurt Snertz.

So that was why his friends had stopped smiling so fast.

“You ready for your toilet swirly, wimp?”

51

Kurt Snertzmust’ve spent all month plotting his revenge.

When Kurt let go of his belt and Zack spun around, he could see that Snertz had four guys with him this time. Zack had Azalea and Malik.

“Leave him alone!” shouted Azalea.

“What? You got girls fighting your fights for you these days, Jennings? You are such a wimpy wuss! Good thing we’re so close to the girls’ bathroom—the one you probably use all the time. Six toilets, no waiting. One swishy coming right up!”

His thug friends snickered.

“Stop this,” said Malik. “I’ll call the police!”

“Shut up, Lick-Me. Or you’re next!”

“I told you before,” said Zack. “Leave Malik out of this! Azalea, too! If you’re still mad about what I did to your little brother last summer …”

“Nah. I’m mad about what you’ve done to him this month! A Snertz eating at the nerd table? Cracking jokes and back-talking to me? You ruined him, Jennings! So now I’m gonna ruin you!”

Snertz cracked his knuckles.

Flexed his fingers.

Balled his hand into a fist.

“So, wussy boy, you know any prayers?”

Another movie unspooled in Zack’s brain: with Errol Flynn as Robin Hood. “Yes, and I’ll say one for you!”

Some of Snertz’s bully buddies actually laughed at the snap.

But not Snertz.

Veins bulged on his arm and in his neck.

“I hope you enjoyed that, Jennings. Because those are the last words you are ever gonna say!”

Snertz cocked back his fist.

That was when Malik stomped down as hard as he could on Snertz’s shoe and Azalea grabbed Zack by the arm.

Snertz wailed in agony.

“Run for it!” shouted Malik. “Hurry!”

“In here,” shouted Azalea. “Quick!”

“What?”

She shoved him through a swinging door.

The girls’ bathroom!

“Wait!” said Zack. “We’re trapped.”

“MR. SNERTZ?” boomed a loud voice out in the hall.

52

Zack stuckhis ear to the bathroom door and could hear Snertz’s buddies running away.

The big voice boomed again. “WHY WERE YOU ABOUT TO GO INTO THE GIRLS’ BATHROOM?” Mr. Green. The tech ed teacher. He had the loudest voice and biggest muscles of all the teachers in the school.

“I lost somethin’.”

“IN THE GIRLS’ ROOM?”

“Um …”

“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN ROOM NINETY-THREE. DETENTION HALL! WITH ME! MOVE IT.”

“I’ll be back!” Snertz shouted.

“BACK FOR WHAT?”

“Nothin’.”

“YOU DO KNOW I COACH WRESTLING AND BOXING, RIGHT?”

“Yes, sir.”

Zack heard Snertz and Mr. Green walking away.

Five seconds later, there was a knock on the door.

“Hey, you guys? It’s me!”

Malik.

Azalea pulled open the door, grabbed Malik’s arm, and yanked him into the bathroom. Fortunately, the bathroom had been empty when Zack and Azalea had first burst through the doors.

“We should probably hide in here a little longer,” Azalea suggested. “Just in case Snertz overpowers Mr. Green and pulls a jailbreak.”

Zack and Malik nodded slowly. Azalea had a way of making things way overdramatic.

“So, either of you guys ever been in the girls’ room before?” Azalea asked in a hushed tone.

Both shook their heads.

“I’ve been inside the boys’ room lots of times,” she said. “It’s nothing special.” She moved to the row of sinks and mirrors. “It’s not haunted like this one is.”

“This bathroom is haunted?” asked Malik.

Azalea nodded ominously. “Bloody Mary. You ever heard of her?”

“Um, I don’t think so.…”

“Who is she?” asked Zack.

“No one knows for sure. Some say she’s a little girl who was buried alive. Others say it’s the ghost of crazy Mary O’Malley!”

“Who?” asked Zack.

“This crazy Irish cleaning lady who used to scrub floors with babies!”

Zack nodded. “Oh. Her.”

“But most agree—Bloody Mary is Mary Tudor, the saddest queen of England ever, a lady who had five babies die on her and doesn’t like it if you make fun of her and her dead kids.”

“Question,” said Malik.

“What?”

“Why would the ghost of the former queen of England choose to haunt the girls’ bathroom in a middle school in Connecticut in America?”

“Turn off the lights! You’ll see.”

Azalea pulled a black candle out of her backpack. Lit it.

Zack shrugged. What the heck? They had to kill a little time to make sure the hallway was totally clear. He flicked the switch.

“Come on, you guys,” said Azalea. “Move closer to the sinks. Stare into the mirror!”

Zack and Malik followed Azalea and stared at their own flickering reflections in the bathroom mirror.

“Now, all we have to do is say, ‘Bloody Mary, I have your children,’ five times real fast while turning around in circles!”

“And then what happens?” asked Malik.

“Bloody Mary comes screaming out of the mirror and scratches our eyeballs out of our heads!”

“And this is fun exactly how?”

“It just is!”

“Come on, Malik,” said Zack. “Azalea needs our help.”

He was thinking that the sooner the three of them spun around in a circle five times, the sooner they could all go home.

Malik nodded. “Very well, Azalea. Proceed.”

“Okay. Say the words with me. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“One, two, three …”

“Bloody Mary, I have your children!”

They turned around in a circle.

“Bloody Mary, I have your children!”

They made another circle in front of the mirror.

“Bloody Mary …”

Zack stopped.

Because someone appeared in the mirror.

And it wasn’t the queen of England.

53

Zack staredblankly at the mirror.

Azalea and Malik were speaking to him but their voices sounded like they were underwater.

Zack’s eyes were riveted on the mysterious figure wavering inside the mirror, a young woman wearing a wreath of white leaves in her raven black hair, long white gloves, and a ruffled white wedding gown that made her look like a bell.

“I am Azalea’s guardian,” the ghost said in a woeful whisper. “She is in grave danger.”

“Is it the zombie?” said Zack.

He felt Azalea nudge him in the ribs when he said that.

“No, but I cannot say his name, for were he to hear it spoken, all would be lost.”

Zack nodded. He understood. Sort of.

“Guard Azalea. Do not let her fall into the evil demon’s clutches, for if she does, within the day, she will surely lose her soul.”

“Who are you? What’s your name?”

Azalea nudged him in the ribs again and said something like “You’re just pretending” and laughed, so Zack laughed, too, even though the woman in the mirror was weeping.