It’s October, and you know what that means . . . well, sure, Halloween, but it’s also Max’s birthday! Now that a bunch of ghosts have entered Max’s life, no birthday celebration will ever be the same! All Max wants for his birthday is a great party–but will he live to see another new year?
Let's Get This Party Haunted! (Mostly Ghostly)
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About the Author
R. L. Stine began his writing career when he was nine years old, and today he has achieved the position of the bestselling children’s author in history. In the early 1990s, Stine was catapulted to fame when he wrote the unprecedented bestselling Goosebumps® series, which sold more than 250 million copies and became a worldwide media phenomenon.
R.L. Stine has received numerous awards of recognition. He lives in New York, NY.
R.L. Stine has received numerous awards of recognition. He lives in New York, NY.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
11
At dinner that night, Mom was very upset. She told Dad the whole story. “The principal called me this afternoon. Max told a teacher to shut up. And he tossed clay all over the art room.”
Dad’s face turned even redder than usual. Steam started to pour from his ears. He gripped his fork and knife in his big, meaty fists. “In trouble again? Why did you do that, Max?”
“Hard to explain,” I muttered.
The dragon tattoo on Dad’s right bicep appeared to lower its fiery head and stare at me. “Why can’t you be more like Colin?” Dad growled. “Is that asking too much? Colin is perfect. Why can’t you be perfect?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, head down.
Colin kicked me hard under the table. Then, grinning, he pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here is my new honor roll certificate,” he told Dad. “Would you like to get it framed like all the others?”
I was grounded for a week. I didn’t see Nicky or Tara the whole time. I knew they were angry at me. Angry because I’d told them to stay away from my birthday party.
But I didn’t expect them to totally disappear.
A week after the pottery room incident, Quentin came over to practice magic tricks. My party was only a few days away. I wanted to rehearse and rehearse until our act was perfect.
After all, Traci Wayne was coming. I wasn’t allowed to get near her. But this was my big chance to impress her.
“Let me show you a hat trick that everyone loves,” Quentin said. “Do you have a real hat I could use?”
I rubbed my chin, thinking hard. “No. I only have baseball caps,” I said. “Oh, wait. My dad has a really good hat he uses for weddings and funerals and things.”
“Go get it,” Quentin said. “You’ll like this trick.”
I hesitated. “But it’s my dad’s only hat, and it’s very expensive. You have to be very careful.”
“No problem,” Quentin said. “The trick is perfectly safe. I’ve done it a thousand times.”
I went down to my parents’ bedroom closet to borrow Dad’s hat. He and Mom were in the den, watching wrestling on TV. They were both shouting at the screen: “Kill him! Kill! Kill! Break him in two!”
They both love wrestling. But sometimes they get carried away. Last week after a big match, Mom jumped on Dad and started slapping his bald head with both hands. He had to pick her up and carry her into the shower to snap her out of it.
I pulled Dad’s hat down from the top shelf. And I also borrowed one of his neckties. He only has three, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear one. I had learned a nifty new necktie trick that I knew Quentin would love.
“Kill! Kill! Ruin him!” My parents’ shouts rang out from the den.
Back in my room, I handed Quentin the hat.
“What’s the trick?” I asked. “Will it be good for the party?”
He nodded. He pulled a few things from his magic kit. He held up two eggs. “I crack these two eggs into the hat,” he said. “Then I pour in this jar of honey. Then I turn the hat right side up, and it’s perfectly dry.”
I gulped. “Are you sure about this?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Quentin said. “It’s an easy trick. Watch.”
He pushed his blond hair off his forehead. Then he cracked the two eggs and let them run into the hat. Then he opened the honey jar and turned it upside down, and the honey slowly oozed into the hat with the egg yolks.
“Say the magic words!” Quentin cried. “Hat be good!” He turned the hat over–and honey and yellow egg yolk came dripping out.
“You–you ruined my dad’s hat!” I wailed.
Quentin squinted at the sticky mess inside the hat. “I don’t get it. That trick always works.”
My heart started leaping in my chest. I shoved the hat under my bed. Later I’d have to figure out a good hiding place for it.
“What’s up with the necktie?” Quentin asked, picking up the tie and pulling it through his fingers.
“Here’s a good trick for the party,” I said. “And this one is totally safe.”
I took the tie from him and picked up a pair of scissors. “See? I make it look like I cut the tie into four pieces. But I don’t really cut it. I cut this piece of cloth instead.”
I pulled the cloth from my magic kit and tucked it under the tie. “Now watch,” I said. “It looks like I’ve cut the tie up. But when I tug on it, it’s all together again.”
“Cool,” Quentin muttered.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I boomed, holding the tie in front of me. “The Amazing Indestructible Necktie!”
I snipped it into four pieces. I balled the pieces up in my hand. And then I gave a hard tug. “Back together again!” I exclaimed.
Wrong.
I’d sliced my dad’s tie into four pieces.
“Oh, wow.” I stared at the pieces of tie in my hand.
Then I pictured my dad, as big as a truck, a bellowing bull when he was angry. When he saw what I’d done to his hat and tie, he’d . . . he’d . . .
I couldn’t even think about it.
Trembling, I shoved the pieces of necktie under my bed next to the hat.
Quentin tried a few easy card tricks. The cards fell from his hands and scattered over the floor.
He tried the trick where he waves his magic wand and it turns into a bouquet of flowers. It didn’t work. The wand broke in two.
He shook his head. “Max, everything is messed up tonight. I can’t figure out why.”
I could.
I knew what was happening. Nicky and Tara were messing up our tricks.
I gritted my teeth and balled my hands into fists. I felt so angry, I wanted to scream.
But no way could I tell Quentin about them.
Nicky and Tara were angry because they couldn’t come to my party. So they were doing their best to mess up our magic act.
We tried a few more easy tricks, and they were ruined too. “It just isn’t our night,” Quentin said. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow night.”
He left, shaking his head, very confused.
As soon as he was out the door, my two ghost friends appeared. “How’s it going, Max?” Tara asked, grinning at me.
“You know how it’s going,” I snapped.
“Did you have a bad night?” Nicky asked, acting innocent.
I realized I was grinding my teeth. I’d never been so angry at them. “You have no right to do that,” I shouted. “You have no right to ruin all our tricks.”
“I’ll bet your tricks will go a lot better if you invite us to your party,” Tara said.
“For sure,” Nicky chimed in. “Invite us to your birthday party, and we’ll be your best friends again.”
“No way!” I cried. “You’re not my best friends. And stop begging me. No way are you coming to my party!”
They both put on these really hurt faces. Tara pulled off her hat, tossed it on the floor, and started stomping on it.
I turned away from them and walked to the window. I took deep breaths, trying to calm down. I didn’t like being angry at them. They were two poor young ghosts, after all. They probably wouldn’t have any more birthdays–because they were dead.
But messing up our magic tricks like that was just plain mean.
I gazed out the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. A few stars twinkled dimly in the night sky. I lowered my eyes–and gasped when I saw the boy in black staring up at me. He stood at the side of my yard, leaning against a tree trunk.
I pulled up the window, stuck my head out, and shouted down at him. “Go away! I’m warning you! Go away!”
He took a few steps closer to the house. Light from the kitchen downstairs washed over him, and I saw his face. An old man’s face, lined and wrinkled and sagging.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and called up to me. “Be careful!”
Gripping the windowsill, I stared down at his ancient face, at his pale, sunken eyes. “What do you want?” I screamed. “Why are you doing this?”
“Be careful,” he repeated in a breathy rasp of a voice. “They are going to kill you. The ghosts are going to kill you!”
A chill ran down my back. I stepped away from the window. Shivering, I turned to Nicky and Tara.
“What did he mean?” I asked. “Why did he say that? Why did he say you are going to kill me?”
I saw the shock on Nicky’s and Tara’s faces.
And then they disappeared.
At dinner that night, Mom was very upset. She told Dad the whole story. “The principal called me this afternoon. Max told a teacher to shut up. And he tossed clay all over the art room.”
Dad’s face turned even redder than usual. Steam started to pour from his ears. He gripped his fork and knife in his big, meaty fists. “In trouble again? Why did you do that, Max?”
“Hard to explain,” I muttered.
The dragon tattoo on Dad’s right bicep appeared to lower its fiery head and stare at me. “Why can’t you be more like Colin?” Dad growled. “Is that asking too much? Colin is perfect. Why can’t you be perfect?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, head down.
Colin kicked me hard under the table. Then, grinning, he pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here is my new honor roll certificate,” he told Dad. “Would you like to get it framed like all the others?”
I was grounded for a week. I didn’t see Nicky or Tara the whole time. I knew they were angry at me. Angry because I’d told them to stay away from my birthday party.
But I didn’t expect them to totally disappear.
A week after the pottery room incident, Quentin came over to practice magic tricks. My party was only a few days away. I wanted to rehearse and rehearse until our act was perfect.
After all, Traci Wayne was coming. I wasn’t allowed to get near her. But this was my big chance to impress her.
“Let me show you a hat trick that everyone loves,” Quentin said. “Do you have a real hat I could use?”
I rubbed my chin, thinking hard. “No. I only have baseball caps,” I said. “Oh, wait. My dad has a really good hat he uses for weddings and funerals and things.”
“Go get it,” Quentin said. “You’ll like this trick.”
I hesitated. “But it’s my dad’s only hat, and it’s very expensive. You have to be very careful.”
“No problem,” Quentin said. “The trick is perfectly safe. I’ve done it a thousand times.”
I went down to my parents’ bedroom closet to borrow Dad’s hat. He and Mom were in the den, watching wrestling on TV. They were both shouting at the screen: “Kill him! Kill! Kill! Break him in two!”
They both love wrestling. But sometimes they get carried away. Last week after a big match, Mom jumped on Dad and started slapping his bald head with both hands. He had to pick her up and carry her into the shower to snap her out of it.
I pulled Dad’s hat down from the top shelf. And I also borrowed one of his neckties. He only has three, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear one. I had learned a nifty new necktie trick that I knew Quentin would love.
“Kill! Kill! Ruin him!” My parents’ shouts rang out from the den.
Back in my room, I handed Quentin the hat.
“What’s the trick?” I asked. “Will it be good for the party?”
He nodded. He pulled a few things from his magic kit. He held up two eggs. “I crack these two eggs into the hat,” he said. “Then I pour in this jar of honey. Then I turn the hat right side up, and it’s perfectly dry.”
I gulped. “Are you sure about this?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Quentin said. “It’s an easy trick. Watch.”
He pushed his blond hair off his forehead. Then he cracked the two eggs and let them run into the hat. Then he opened the honey jar and turned it upside down, and the honey slowly oozed into the hat with the egg yolks.
“Say the magic words!” Quentin cried. “Hat be good!” He turned the hat over–and honey and yellow egg yolk came dripping out.
“You–you ruined my dad’s hat!” I wailed.
Quentin squinted at the sticky mess inside the hat. “I don’t get it. That trick always works.”
My heart started leaping in my chest. I shoved the hat under my bed. Later I’d have to figure out a good hiding place for it.
“What’s up with the necktie?” Quentin asked, picking up the tie and pulling it through his fingers.
“Here’s a good trick for the party,” I said. “And this one is totally safe.”
I took the tie from him and picked up a pair of scissors. “See? I make it look like I cut the tie into four pieces. But I don’t really cut it. I cut this piece of cloth instead.”
I pulled the cloth from my magic kit and tucked it under the tie. “Now watch,” I said. “It looks like I’ve cut the tie up. But when I tug on it, it’s all together again.”
“Cool,” Quentin muttered.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I boomed, holding the tie in front of me. “The Amazing Indestructible Necktie!”
I snipped it into four pieces. I balled the pieces up in my hand. And then I gave a hard tug. “Back together again!” I exclaimed.
Wrong.
I’d sliced my dad’s tie into four pieces.
“Oh, wow.” I stared at the pieces of tie in my hand.
Then I pictured my dad, as big as a truck, a bellowing bull when he was angry. When he saw what I’d done to his hat and tie, he’d . . . he’d . . .
I couldn’t even think about it.
Trembling, I shoved the pieces of necktie under my bed next to the hat.
Quentin tried a few easy card tricks. The cards fell from his hands and scattered over the floor.
He tried the trick where he waves his magic wand and it turns into a bouquet of flowers. It didn’t work. The wand broke in two.
He shook his head. “Max, everything is messed up tonight. I can’t figure out why.”
I could.
I knew what was happening. Nicky and Tara were messing up our tricks.
I gritted my teeth and balled my hands into fists. I felt so angry, I wanted to scream.
But no way could I tell Quentin about them.
Nicky and Tara were angry because they couldn’t come to my party. So they were doing their best to mess up our magic act.
We tried a few more easy tricks, and they were ruined too. “It just isn’t our night,” Quentin said. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow night.”
He left, shaking his head, very confused.
As soon as he was out the door, my two ghost friends appeared. “How’s it going, Max?” Tara asked, grinning at me.
“You know how it’s going,” I snapped.
“Did you have a bad night?” Nicky asked, acting innocent.
I realized I was grinding my teeth. I’d never been so angry at them. “You have no right to do that,” I shouted. “You have no right to ruin all our tricks.”
“I’ll bet your tricks will go a lot better if you invite us to your party,” Tara said.
“For sure,” Nicky chimed in. “Invite us to your birthday party, and we’ll be your best friends again.”
“No way!” I cried. “You’re not my best friends. And stop begging me. No way are you coming to my party!”
They both put on these really hurt faces. Tara pulled off her hat, tossed it on the floor, and started stomping on it.
I turned away from them and walked to the window. I took deep breaths, trying to calm down. I didn’t like being angry at them. They were two poor young ghosts, after all. They probably wouldn’t have any more birthdays–because they were dead.
But messing up our magic tricks like that was just plain mean.
I gazed out the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. A few stars twinkled dimly in the night sky. I lowered my eyes–and gasped when I saw the boy in black staring up at me. He stood at the side of my yard, leaning against a tree trunk.
I pulled up the window, stuck my head out, and shouted down at him. “Go away! I’m warning you! Go away!”
He took a few steps closer to the house. Light from the kitchen downstairs washed over him, and I saw his face. An old man’s face, lined and wrinkled and sagging.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and called up to me. “Be careful!”
Gripping the windowsill, I stared down at his ancient face, at his pale, sunken eyes. “What do you want?” I screamed. “Why are you doing this?”
“Be careful,” he repeated in a breathy rasp of a voice. “They are going to kill you. The ghosts are going to kill you!”
A chill ran down my back. I stepped away from the window. Shivering, I turned to Nicky and Tara.
“What did he mean?” I asked. “Why did he say that? Why did he say you are going to kill me?”
I saw the shock on Nicky’s and Tara’s faces.
And then they disappeared.
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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
So-So Scares,
By
This review is from: Let's Get This Party Haunted! (Mostly Ghostly) (Hardcover)
Let's Get This Party Haunted is the sixth (out of eight) in R.L. Stein's Mostly Ghostly series and we join Max (about to turn 12) practicing for the magic show he has planed for his upcoming birthday project...working with Quinten a new friend who shares his love of magic and hoping that he can get Traci (the most popular girl at school) to come to his party. He's got a bit of a problem though...he's got two other friends, Nicky and Tara and they just happen to be ghosts who always seem to get Max into more trouble then he could ever get in on his own.Max's goal is to invite Traci (and her cool friends by proxy), pull off a spectacular party that will wow them and prove that he's not the weirdo everyone thinks he is. Unfortunately, Max seems to have the worst luck of any boy ever written about...he's got a horrible older brother, his father thinks he's worthless because he's smart instead of a jock (like his brother), a mom who is indifferent at best, a best friend who is NEVER then when he needs a buddy (he gets grounded on Max's birthday, typical), and two ghost friends who are always lousing up his plans. Will Max pull off a great party? Will he impress Traci and her friends? Who is that boy in black who is still lurking about? Where did those specters come from? You'll have to read to find out...and this one has more twists and scares than usual, but still this series is leaving me unsatisfied due to the nature of Max's life...I just don't like the abuse that is heaped upon him by his brother and father, it just plays into a poor me, my life is so hard mentality that a lot of kids have. Additionally, each book seems to start out with Max loathing Nicky and Tara for all the problems they cause him and because they are kind of selfish and pushy and ending with Max declaring that they really are the best friends he could have...yet, the next volume puts him back at the loathing point. I guess I would just chalk it up to the kid drama...they do seem to do drama well, but it just irks me a bit. Overall, it's so-so...there is a big revenge twist at the end that left me stunned as it was something I just don't see an adult doing...but probably something a kid would think up that an adult might do as revenge. I give it a C, it's got a few genuine creepy moments...but overall, it's just a boy whose life never goes quite right and it's kind of depressing to continue reading about it...luckily there are only two more books in this series.
5.0 out of 5 stars
good!,
By
This review is from: Let's Get This Party Haunted! (Mostly Ghostly) (Hardcover)
i love it when max tries to talk to traci and the first time nicky and tare make his bike fly and he says no wait! please don't do this! and the second time nicky and tare get clay everywhere in the art room and max says stop this! can't you stop this gulp! and a big glob of clay gets in his mouth and he is forced to swallow it!
4.0 out of 5 stars
Mostly Ghostly - Let's Get this Party Haunted,
A Kid's Review
This review is from: Let's Get This Party Haunted! (Mostly Ghostly) (Hardcover)
I liked the "twists" in this story - thinking one thing was going to happen, and it didn't. I thought the book was scarier than the Goosebumps.
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