Don't Close Your Eyes! Read Free Page A

searched for Nicky and Tara. No sign of them.
    Maybe I'll try to do some homework, I decided. I'll force myself to work so I won't be able to think about what just happened.
    I pulled out my science notebook. I had a worksheet to fill in. I spread it out on my desk. Then I searched my drawer for a pencil.
    The worksheet had about twenty elements to identify. Easy stuff. I could do it with my eyes closed.
    I leaned over the paper and started to write.
    Whoa. Wait.
    I stopped and stared at the page. What were those black spots?
    I pushed my finger into one. Wet.
    Black ink. Several black ink spots on the page. Another one dropped near my finger.
    “Oh nooooo,” I moaned.
    The black ink was dripping from my nose.

6
    MYNOSE , I jumped up from the desk. I staggered across the room and grabbed up big wads of toilet paper off the floor.
    I jammed the toilet paper up my nose.
    The black ink dripped from my nose for another minute or two. I wadded the toilet paper tighter. Finally, it stopped.
    Breathing hard, I dropped onto the edge of my bed.
    What am I going to do? I let out a moan.
    I had never felt so weird or so frightened. I could feel the evil ghost moving inside me … inside my head. Now it felt like a snake slithering around in my skull.
    Even though the dripping had stopped, I held the wadded-up paper to my nose. Maybe I should tell Mom and Dad what happened, I thought.
    But—no. I'd told them too many ghost stories.
    All true. But my parents thought I made them up. They thought I had a thing about ghosts. And a wild imagination.
    No way would they believe me about Inkweed.
    I gasped when I saw Mom poke her head into my room. “Max? What are you doing?” she asked, gaping at the tall pile of toilet paper on the floor. “What is this mess?”
    “Uh … it's an art thing,” I said. “I'm making papier-mâché. For a sculpture I'm doing of you. For Mother's Day.”
    She squinted at me. “But Mother's Day is six months away.”
    “It takes a long time to dry,” I said.
    Mom stared at the toilet paper for a long moment. Then she disappeared down the hall.
    “Good one, Max.” Nicky slapped me on the back.
    “Yeah. Fast thinking,” Tara said, suddenly reappearing beside her brother.
    “I
have
to think fast—ever since you two arrived,” I grumbled. “But this is the worst. Look what you've
done
to me!”
    “We can deal with it,” Nicky said.
    “There has to be a way to get Inkweed out of you,” Tara said. She gave me a push toward my computer. “Google him, Max. Hurry.”
    I blinked. I felt the snake slither to the front of my head.
    “Google Inkweed,” Tara said. “Let's see what we can find out about this ghost.”
    “Okay,” I said. I felt the snake crawl behindmy forehead to the back of my skull, then down the back of my neck.
    Somehow I kept myself from screaming.
    I sat in front of the keyboard. I raised my hands to the keys.
    And felt myself lose control.
    As I started to type, I realized I wasn't the one typing. My fingers hit the keys. But someone else was telling them what to write….
    “I
know who you are, Nicky and Tara Roland. As soon as I escape this body, I will cover all three of you in my inky blackness. Once this boy's body falls asleep, I come alive! And all three of you will
sleep forever!”
    My hands dropped heavily to my sides. I was gasping for breath, my chest heaving.
    “I … I didn't write that!” I cried.
    Nicky and Tara leaned over me, staring at the screen.
    “I didn't type that,” I gasped. “Inkweed made my fingers move.”
    My whole body shuddered. “I… I don't have control of my own hands.” I stared at the words on the monitor. But I was too frightened to focus. They were a blur to me.
    “What are we going to do?” I cried.
    Tara put a hand on my shoulder. “We have to keep you awake, Max. We can't let you fall asleep until we find a way to send Inkweed back where he came from.”
    “I have to stay awake?” I said in a trembling voice. “But…