cry of surprise escaped my throat.
And then I took off after him.
“You—you’re not getting away!” I tried to shout.
But my voice came out in a muffled whisper.
He whipped around the corner, a flash of green. Gasping for breath, I raced after him.
The school was deserted. The only sounds were the rapid, sharp slap of his bare feet on the floor and my wheezing breaths.
“Help me! Can anyone help me?” I shouted.
My shrill cry rang out through the hall. But there was no one there to reply.
We rounded another corner. And then I saw him flying up the back stairs.
The hall was darker there. The classroom doors were all shut. I realized I had never been in this back hall.
I followed the imp up the stairs. His bouncing body was a dim ball of green against the darkness.
I stopped at the top of the stairs and squinted down the long hall. The ceiling was low. The hall cluttered with stacks of cartons, piles of old books.
The rooms were all empty and dark.
I heard the slap of the imp’s feet up ahead. But I couldn’t see him.
I forced myself to move.
Stumbling over a box of file folders, I lurched after the creature.
I heard a door slam hard.
I turned and found myself in a narrow, short hallway. I saw only two doors against the wall. Two solid black doors.
I stepped up between them.
The imp had to go into one of these rooms, I knew.
But which one?
Had I followed the imp to his home?
My eyes moved from one door to the other.
Which one? Which one?
Finally, I grabbed the handle of the door on the left—and pulled open the door.
“Tim!” I cried.
23
Tim Poster was curled up in a black desk chair against the back wall of the small room. As I burst into the room, he dropped the book he had been holding and jumped to his feet.
“Sam—?” he called out, blinking in surprise.
The room was some kind of supply closet. Old computers were stacked in front of the window. Several folding chairs and two desks were pushed against one wall.
A single lamp behind Tim’s desk chair provided the only light.
“Tim—it’s you—isn’t it!” I cried. “I—I followed you here! And you—”
His face twisted in confusion. “Huh? What’swrong? What are you talking about?”
He bent to pick up the book he had dropped.
“Tim—I saw you run in here,” I said breathlessly. My whole body shook with fear—and excitement. “I—I know your secret.”
“Don’t tell,” he said. He slumped into the desk chair. “Okay, Sam?”
“Don’t tell?” I repeated.
“Please don’t tell,” Tim begged. “I hide up here to read and do my homework after school every day.”
“But—but—” I sputtered. This wasn’t making any sense.
“I can explain,” Tim said. “You see, my house is too noisy and crowded. And my dad thinks I’m on the soccer team. I don’t have the nerve to tell him that I never even tried out.”
My mouth dropped open. “Your dad thinks you’re at soccer practice?”
He nodded. “I found this room,” he said. “It’s just for storage. No one ever comes up here. So I come here after school.”
“You … you hide up here?” I asked. My heartbeat was starting to slow to normal.
Tim nodded again. “I do my homework. Then I read. I love to read. I never have a chance at home.”
I stared hard at him, studying his face.
He was lying. He had to be lying.
I had chased him up here. He was the imp. Iknew he was. There was no other explanation!
He had slammed the door behind him. Changed into his human form. Picked up the book and waited for me to arrive.
“You’re the Imp, Tim,” I said. “I’m not falling for your dumb story. You’re the imp, and I’ve caught you.”
He set down the book and climbed slowly to his feet. “No way, Sam,” he said softly. “I’m not the imp. I’m just me.”
“You were doing something at my locker. I chased you up here,” I insisted. “I heard you slam the door.”
Tim shook his head. “No. It wasn’t me. I heard a door
And then I took off after him.
“You—you’re not getting away!” I tried to shout.
But my voice came out in a muffled whisper.
He whipped around the corner, a flash of green. Gasping for breath, I raced after him.
The school was deserted. The only sounds were the rapid, sharp slap of his bare feet on the floor and my wheezing breaths.
“Help me! Can anyone help me?” I shouted.
My shrill cry rang out through the hall. But there was no one there to reply.
We rounded another corner. And then I saw him flying up the back stairs.
The hall was darker there. The classroom doors were all shut. I realized I had never been in this back hall.
I followed the imp up the stairs. His bouncing body was a dim ball of green against the darkness.
I stopped at the top of the stairs and squinted down the long hall. The ceiling was low. The hall cluttered with stacks of cartons, piles of old books.
The rooms were all empty and dark.
I heard the slap of the imp’s feet up ahead. But I couldn’t see him.
I forced myself to move.
Stumbling over a box of file folders, I lurched after the creature.
I heard a door slam hard.
I turned and found myself in a narrow, short hallway. I saw only two doors against the wall. Two solid black doors.
I stepped up between them.
The imp had to go into one of these rooms, I knew.
But which one?
Had I followed the imp to his home?
My eyes moved from one door to the other.
Which one? Which one?
Finally, I grabbed the handle of the door on the left—and pulled open the door.
“Tim!” I cried.
23
Tim Poster was curled up in a black desk chair against the back wall of the small room. As I burst into the room, he dropped the book he had been holding and jumped to his feet.
“Sam—?” he called out, blinking in surprise.
The room was some kind of supply closet. Old computers were stacked in front of the window. Several folding chairs and two desks were pushed against one wall.
A single lamp behind Tim’s desk chair provided the only light.
“Tim—it’s you—isn’t it!” I cried. “I—I followed you here! And you—”
His face twisted in confusion. “Huh? What’swrong? What are you talking about?”
He bent to pick up the book he had dropped.
“Tim—I saw you run in here,” I said breathlessly. My whole body shook with fear—and excitement. “I—I know your secret.”
“Don’t tell,” he said. He slumped into the desk chair. “Okay, Sam?”
“Don’t tell?” I repeated.
“Please don’t tell,” Tim begged. “I hide up here to read and do my homework after school every day.”
“But—but—” I sputtered. This wasn’t making any sense.
“I can explain,” Tim said. “You see, my house is too noisy and crowded. And my dad thinks I’m on the soccer team. I don’t have the nerve to tell him that I never even tried out.”
My mouth dropped open. “Your dad thinks you’re at soccer practice?”
He nodded. “I found this room,” he said. “It’s just for storage. No one ever comes up here. So I come here after school.”
“You … you hide up here?” I asked. My heartbeat was starting to slow to normal.
Tim nodded again. “I do my homework. Then I read. I love to read. I never have a chance at home.”
I stared hard at him, studying his face.
He was lying. He had to be lying.
I had chased him up here. He was the imp. Iknew he was. There was no other explanation!
He had slammed the door behind him. Changed into his human form. Picked up the book and waited for me to arrive.
“You’re the Imp, Tim,” I said. “I’m not falling for your dumb story. You’re the imp, and I’ve caught you.”
He set down the book and climbed slowly to his feet. “No way, Sam,” he said softly. “I’m not the imp. I’m just me.”
“You were doing something at my locker. I chased you up here,” I insisted. “I heard you slam the door.”
Tim shook his head. “No. It wasn’t me. I heard a door
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