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curled his fingers into claws. He floated over to Oliver’s closet and scraped his nails across the wood, making skritching noises. The sound of skeletons trying to dig through your closet door to get you.
    Robbie touched the door hinges with ghost fingers. Creak! Creeeek! Rusty hinges, opening slowly . . . slowly . . .
    To let in the night things!
    Robbie called up footsteps—to run around Oliver’s bed.
    Then whispers! The sizzling whispers of creatures planning mischief! Plotting near the bed where asleeper could almost understand what they were talking about—but not quite!
    Oliver turned over and sighed in his sleep.
    Fine. Robbie was just warming up!
    Hmmmm. What next? Ah! Owl hoots. First far away, then coming closer.
    Now heavier footsteps. Clomp clomp clomp clomp! The Frankenstein monster, stomping and stumbling his way here.
    Then a frightful, long moan.
    Oh, yes! All the good stuff!
    The howls of a whole pack of wolves under a full moon.
    Just setting the scene!
    Robbie summoned ghost chains. He shook them once and listened to the sound they made, links hitting each other. Clash, jingle, clink!
    Nice.
    Robbie rattled the chains harder! He imagined something chained up because it was too wild and bad to be loose. It ached to escape! It struggled against the chains.
    Rattle, clang . . .  snap!
    One chain broke!
    Rattle snap snap snap!
    All the chains burst open!
    Thump! Thwop! Something coming! Something with two legs, and . . . swish, swish . . . wings wide enough to brush the ceiling!
    It muttered and snorted. “Tasty,” Robbie growled in his best monster voice. “Tasty boy! Nice nibbleicious fingers and toes! Nice munchy nose! Yuuuuum!” He tweaked Oliver’s nose.
    If Robbie had been in the bed, he would have woken up screaming!
    Oliver brushed his hand across his nose. His eyes stayed closed, and he still breathed slowly.
    He sure was a heavy sleeper!
    Robbie glanced around. He knew he was making all these noises himself. But they were so good, he almost expected to see the goblins and skeletons and giant cannibal bats and the Frankenstein monster crowded around the room, leaning over to smile hungrily at Oliver. Their next victim!
    Or maybe even stare hungrily at Robbie!
    But no, Robbie reassured himself. Nothing else was here.
    Just Oliver, asleep in the bed, and Robbie, drifting in the air.
    Whew!
    Okay. Robbie hadn’t pulled out all the stops yet!
    Robbie had summoned all kinds of pretend monsters to the room, but they weren’t really here.
    But I am! Robbie thought with a grin.
    Ghosts were real, no matter what Oliver believed. And there was a ghost in here all right!
    Robbie moaned. He groaned. He cried out in terror and agony.
    â€œOh, it hurts. It hurts!” he shrieked. “It’s killing me! And it’s coming for you!”
    He howled so loudly that the covers of comic books on the floor flipped open and pages fluttered.
    He screamed. He gurgled with a horrible wet, choking noise, then stopped as if his throat had been cut.
    Oliver lay quietly on the bed below Robbie. So quiet. He wasn’t snoring anymore.
    Was he even breathing?
    Oh, no! What if he wasn’t?
    What if Robbie had scared Oliver to death?
    Robbie dropped down and stood on the floor by Oliver’s bed. He leaned over to listen.
    What if Oliver wasn’t breathing?
    He’d seen TV shows where people did CPR and brought other people back to life. But he didn’t know anything about CPR! He never watched a TV program long enough to learn how to do it!
    â€œOliver?” Robbie reached out to shake Oliver’s shoulder. But he couldn’t. He’d used up all his energy on sound effects! His hand went right through Oliver!
    Panic rose in Robbie like a scream.
    â€œOliver?” he whispered urgently. “Please wake up! Oliver? Are you okay?”

11

    R obbie stood frozen beside Oliver’s bed. Was