The Best Halloween Ever by Barbara Robinson Read Free Book Online Page A

this would happen. She didn’t even know
what
had happened.
    Nobody knew what had happened, except Donald Sycamore, because Donald was the only person around when Alice finally found an outlet and plugged herself in.
    Donald said later that it was very exciting, “ … just like the Fourth of July. There was this loud crack and a lot of sparks and Alice yelled and the lights went out.”
    Alice wasn’t hurt, but for a long time she claimed to have loose electricity in her fingers, and she wouldn’t turn anything on or plug anything in because of it.
    In the meantime, though, everyone was stumbling around in the dark.
    Normally when something unexpected happened, Mr. Crabtree would get on the PA system and tell us all about it: the big red stain on the lunchroom floor was catsup, not blood; the kindergarten slide was missing from the playground, and the kindergarten kids were not allowed to use the big slide; today’s scheduled fire drill would be postponed till next Tuesday.
    “What do you think he’ll tell us about this?” Joanne’s voice came out of the darkness.
    “Probably tell us the lights are out,” Stewart said.
    “No, he won’t.” Boomer sounded funny. “He can’t tell us anything. Remember? The PA system’s broken.”
    “Then what’s that?” Louella said, after a second.
    I had heard it, too—a low, drawn-out whistle, like wind through a loose window … but there was no wind here, and no loose window.
    “I can’t see anything!” Joanne said. “I don’t even know where we are!”
    “I don’t even know
who
we are,” Louella whispered to me, “because, listen … Howard’s stroller is gone. It was right here, and now it’s gone. Who took Howard’s stroller?” She raised her voice. “Who took Howard’s stroller?”
    “Not me-e-e,” someone said, just like that: “me-e-e.”
    “Don’t fool around, Boomer,” Louella said. “I have to find Howard’s stroller.”
    “I’m not fooling around,” Boomer said. “I don’t know who that was. It wasn’t me.”
    It also wasn’t Albert or Stewart or Joanne or Maxine or me, so we didn’t hang around there—wherever “there” was. Joanne was right. Everything seemed different with all the lights out and no way to tell one room from another.
    “But who
was
it?” Louella said as we picked our way down the dark hall, bumping into what we hoped was each other, “and where
is
Howard’s stroller?”
    I didn’t know who “it” was, but I did know that we’d better find Howard’s stroller in a hurry, or I would have to help Louella carry him, and Howard was a lump.
    We headed for voices, because we weren’t the only people temporarily lost in Woodrow Wilson School. Everywhere there were kids and parents hollering for other kids and parents—”Jolene! … Gloria! … Wayne, where are you? … Boyd Liggett, you come here to me by the office!”— and Mr. Crabtree was yelling, “Lights! Lights!” as if just yelling about them would turn them on somehow.
    We did see a little flicker of light, way at the end of the hall. “Like a flashlight!” Boomer said. “Austin Hubbard had a flashlight because he’s a floor lamp. Hey Austin!” he called. “Wait up!”
    But the light bobbed up and down and back and forth, and then went out.
    Maybe Austin didn’t hear us, I thought. Or maybe it wasn’t Austin. Maybe it was … Who? or What?
    Something brushed against my head—one of the cardboard bats?—and then Louella squealed, “O-o-o-h! There goes Howard!”
    Of course he didn’t go far, and he didn’t seem to mind being dropped on the floor, but I had to feel around a little bit so I wouldn’t pick him up by one leg or something … and by accident I grabbed Joanne, who also squealed.
    “It’s me!” I said. “It’s just me.”
    “How am I supposed to know that?” she groaned. “You could be anybody … or anything. I’m going to sit down on the floor and stay right here till the lights come on. But somebody has to