The Mystery of the Mystery Meat (8 page)

“You are referring to the other little creature from the Underworld, Scary the shape-shifting phantom. In that case…Scary…Please join us,” Horatio Snickering called.

Scary and Freekin traded another look. “You have to pretend to be me,” Freekin whispered to Scary. “Like you pretended to be Pretty. You looked exactly like her.”

“Woodiwoodi,”
Scary pleaded, shaking his head. He transformed into a pair of pouty lips and then into an arrow pointed straight at Freekin.

“I can’t. He might realize I’m really me,” Freekin insisted. “Then he’ll know that Pretty’s not hypnotized, and he might do something terrible to her.”

Scary staggered, dizzy at the very thought of harm coming to his wonderful Pretty.

“Scary?” Horatio Snickering called out. “Are you going to show yourself?”

“Him so shy,” Pretty said.

“You can do it.” Freekin clapped his hand on the little phantom’s wing. “I have faith in you, Scary.”

Given that it was still raining, Freekin needed a moment to realize that Scary transformed himself next into a giant drop of sweat. Then Scary changed back, licked his lips and narrowed his eyes…and morphed into Freekin.

“Ta da,”
Scary bleated.

“Good. Show him,” Freekin whispered.

Walking stiff-legged, Scary-as-Freekin stepped from behind the crypt. Freekin stood statue still, straining to listen through the rain, fearful of being seen.

“See? Scary so Freekin,” Pretty said in a monotone. “Ha ha, big fat joke.”

“I need proof. Scary, turn into a xylophone.”

There was silence.

“We not knowing xylophone,” Pretty said.

“Then…turn into a cat.”

Freekin heard meowing.

“Very good,” Horatio Snickering said. “I am satisfied. I should never have doubted a brave, smart, hypnotized monster such as yourself. I will continue to use our code whenever I need you. Now off with you both.”

“Okeydoke, master.”

Pretty and Scary came back around the crypt. Scary wilted, bent over, and exhaled. He changed back into himself and Freekin patted him on the back.

“You so actor!” Pretty said, hugging Scary. “You so fooly boy!”

“You guys rock,” Freekin told them both. “He didn’t suspect a thing. That means I can go to school tomorrow and warn Lilly. I’ll just pretend to be Scary, pretending to be me.” He smiled. “Two can play at that game.”

Pretty wasn’t sure she understood. He wanted to play a game? “Tag? Scrabble? Computer game?” she suggested.

“No, I mean, sneaking around and pretending to be something you’re not,” he said. He grinned at her. “You are
so
funny.”

“Me so Pretty,” she reminded him.

“Yes, you are.” He tugged on her ponytail ear, and she was more deeply in love than ever.

Pretty gave her arm a nibble. “Me no liking,” she said.

“Don’t worry, Pretty. I’ll be careful,” Freekin promised. “Nothing will go wrong.”

This is Belle. Something’s going to go wrong, isn’t it?

This is Elvis. Yeah. What is it? I don’t want any bad surprises. Can’t you just tell us what it is so we don’t have to worry?

Dear Belle and dear Elvis, your anxiety is music to my ears. It is the job of the Narrator to make you worry, and you both are clearly very wrapped up in my tale of woe and despair. I told you things would go from bad to worse. And so they shall.

I don’t like the sound of that, Uncle Chris.

Me neither, Mr. Flesh.

Be brave, girls. If you are, you might get a reward at the end of the story.

What, Uncle Chris? Chocolate? Money?

Something even better. A happy ending.

Do you promise, Mr. Flesh?

Turn the page, dear Elvis, and let’s see.

In the morning, Freekin got ready for school as usual—taking a long shower (but keeping the water spray light so it wouldn’t slough off too many layers of dead skin) and coating himself with deodorant to keep the smell down. When he had first come back from the Afterlife, he had worn his mom’s makeup to hide his ghostly pallor. But he’d given up on that. He was what he was.

As luck would have it, the first person he saw when he got to school was Lilly, standing at her locker. She was wearing her cheerleading outfit, and she was so beautiful that for a moment he couldn’t think straight. His ears tingled like crazy; lucky thing he had restapled them to his head that morning.

“Freekin, hi,” she said breathlessly. “Come and check this out!”

She thrust a piece of white paper at him. Their fingers brushed, and he smiled at her.

He looked down at it. The entire page was one giant question mark.

?

“Lilly, what are you doing with this?” he asked, looking around. “You could get in so much trouble. Question marks are illegal!”

“Turn it over,” she said.

Become a part of Generation ? Asking questions is GOOD! IT’S FUN! And you can learn how to do it! Come to a free seminar! Call this number to find out when and where! (131) 313-1313! The first fifty people to call are eligible to win a FREE HIGH-DEFINITION TV, A COMPLETE GAME SYSTEM, or A FIFTY-DOLLAR GIFT CERTIFICATE TO SNICKERING
WILLOWS MALL! Plus your name will be entered in a drawing for a FREE, ALL-EXPENSES-PAID TRIP TO THE SNARKSHIRES! Tell all your friends, especially your old ones. Generation ? rocks the house!

CALL NOW! (131) 313-1313!

“It was in my locker,” she said. “I don’t know how it got there, but I can’t wait to go!”

“Lilly, no, you can’t,” he said urgently, crumpling the flyer into a ball.

“Hey,” she protested, “that’s my flyer!”

“You could be expelled for having this,” he reminded her. “I don’t know who…” And then he blinked. Could the Snickerings have something to do with it? That couldn’t be. Horatio Snickering himself had created the law forbidding Snickering Willowites to ask questions. But the timing was…creepy. Could it be a trap?

“Good morning, Ms. Weezbrock. Mr. Ripp,” said a voice behind Freekin. It was Principal Lugosi, the pale, baggy-eyed principal who had expelled him for asking questions—and made it very clear that he didn’t want to let Freekin back in. If Mr. Lugosi saw him with the flyer, he would have the perfect excuse to expel him again.

Lilly stared in horror at Freekin. Before turning around to face Mr. Lugosi, Freekin popped the crumpled
ball into his mouth. He turned around and pointed to his throat.

“Errr, mmm,” he replied.

“Freekin has laryngitis,” Lilly blurted. “He was just telling me about it. Using hand motions. Because he can’t talk,” she added in a wobbly, nervous voice.

“It’s probably another hideous contagious disease that he’ll infect normal people with,” Principal Lugosi groused. “Something he brought with him from the Afterlife.” He glared at them both.

“Um, we need to get to first period,” Lilly ventured.

“No, you don’t,” Principal Lugosi countered. “Your first-period classes have been canceled. I’m about to call for a school-wide assembly. I’ll see you both there.” He gave Freekin another hard stare. “Unfortunately.”

Mr. Lugosi announced the assembly on the school’s public address system. Within fifteen minutes, the entire Snickering Willows student body was packed into the auditorium. According to the unwritten laws of school, Lilly should have sat with the cheerleaders, who always sat with the jocks. But instead she joined Freekin and his friends—his fellow boarders, Hal, Otter, and Steve, and the goths, who treated him like a rock star.

“Hey, I got this flyer,” Otter told Freekin. “If I go to this seminar about asking questions, I might win some cool stuff.”

“Me too,” Hal chimed in. “Plus a free trip to the Snarkshires. I heard there’s an awesome new skateboard park there!”

“Wait,” Freekin said, “listen…”

On the auditorium stage, Principal Lugosi walked in front of a dark gray curtain the exact shade of Mystery Meat. He was carrying a couple of sheets of paper, which he laid down on a lectern in the center of the stage, and stared right at Freekin.

Freekin realized that he’d been caught talking. He tried to cover up with a fake cough, but Principal Lugosi simply narrowed his eyes and smiled even more sourly.

“Good morning,” he said into the microphone, “although I’m not so sure what’s good about it. I wish to address a very serious matter. Snickering Willows does not encourage illegal or immoral behavior, and if we catch anyone with flyers that
do
encourage such behavior, you will be expelled from this school and never allowed to return. And if you are caught going to any seminars that condone illegal activity, you will be apprehended by the Society for the Prevention of Curiosity and tried for Curiosity. Now we will sing our school song.”

“They can’t do that,” one of the goths insisted as the auditorium filled with “Snickering Willows, Sweet Mystery of Life.” “They’re trying to censor our freedom of expression and take away our rights. They can’t stop me if that’s what I want to do.”

“Me too. I’m going to call that number as soon as I can,” another one proclaimed.

“Hey, let me see that flyer,” a third goth hissed. “I didn’t get one.”

Freekin caught Raven’s eye and shook his head. “This is not good,” he muttered, trying not to move his mouth. “Meeting at lunch. The quad. Just us.”