my hand free from the ghostâs cold grip. âYou have to take me home,â I said.
âNo, I donât,â he said. âI have taken you far from your home. To a distant time. Before you were born.â
âBut my mom will be waiting. Sheââ
âYour mother hasnât even been born yet,â he said. âScroogeman, I brought you back to the distant past to show you a lot of things. You ruined Christmas for a lot of people. Now you need to learn the real meaning of the holiday.â
âBut I already know that,â I protested. âWhat do you think I was doing in that attic closet? I was discovering whatâs important about Christmasâmy presents.â
He shook his head. Two tall dark-hatted men in long overcoats walked past, both rubbing their beards and talking at once. One of them walked through the ghost as if he were made of air. The ghost didnât seem to mind.
Iâm the only one who can see him , I realized.
No way I could report him to the police.
âWh-why did you do this to me?â I stammered. âWhy did you bring me so far back in the past?â
He lowered his hood close to my face. I could still see only darkness inside. âBecause I knew you wouldnât like it,â he whispered.
The answer sent a chill down my back. âBut ⦠in the movie, the Ghost of Christmas Past makes Scrooge revisit his childhood,â I said.
âThis isnât a movie,â he snapped. âYou have many lessons to learn, Scroogeman. You need to learn how to treat the people you know. Have you ever heard of the Golden Rule?â
âSure,â I said. âDo it to others before they do it to you.â
He remained silent for a long time. âOkay,â he said finally. The gray hood bobbed up and down. âOkay. Thatâs the Golden Rule. I have brought you back in time to a place where they practice your Golden Rule.â
âGood,â I said. My head was spinning. I didnât really know how to reply.
ââDo it to others before they do it to you,ââ the ghost repeated. âLetâs see how you like that, Scroogeman.â
The long robe swirled around him as he turned away from me. He floated into the street as a horse and carriage clattered by.
âHey, wait!â I called. âWhere are you going? You canât just leave me here. Where are you going?â
He turned, and again I saw the empty blackness inside the hood. âTime for you to start school, Scroogeman. Follow me.â
Â
12
Everything went black. When I could see again, we were standing in a dimly lit hall. Torches along the wooden wall provided a flickering light. Christmas wreaths were hung at the windows. Weird-looking, old-fashioned-type kids carrying leather book bags by their straps strode past us.
âThis is your new school, Scroogeman,â the Ghost of Christmas Past said. âThe Bleak Academy.â
I stared at the kids walking past. Some of the boys must have been farmers. They wore dark denim overalls to school. Flannel shirts and bib overalls with straps like suspenders.
Totally weird.
The girls had hair down to their shoulders, tied back in colored ribbons. They all wore long skirts, gray or black, that came down to their heavy leather shoes.
Everyone talked quietly, like they were afraid to make any noise. The loudest sound was the clump of their heavy shoes on the wooden floor.
âI donât want to go to this weirdo school. I want to go to my own school,â I told the ghost.
âYour mean nature has brought you here, Scrooge,â the ghost said. His robe shimmered in the flickering torchlight. âLet us see how you enjoy being in a school where everyone treats you the way you treat others.â
ââMean natureâ?â I cried. âWho says Iâm mean? Tell me. Who said it? Iâll punch out his lights.â
He didnât reply.
âTake me
Learning to Kill: Stories