The Terror Behind the Mask by P. J. Night

Author:P. J. Night [Night, P. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Horror
ISBN: 9781481404600
Goodreads: 18689596
Publisher: Simon Spotlight
Published: 2014-08-05T00:00:00+00:00

When Jasmine got home from school, pink mask in hand, she found a note from her dad on the kitchen table:

Jazzy,

Hope you had a good day at school. I bet you made a pretty mask and learned lots of Japanese. I had to leave for the airport earlier than I thought. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say good-bye.

Honey, I hope you are not still feeling scared by the mask. Don’t worry—it’s harmless! And remember, it’s supposed to be there to protect you and Nana, so let it do its job! Also, Lisa is welcome to come over whenever you girls want, but NO MORE SNEAKING AROUND IN THE BASEMENT AT NIGHT!

Nana is at her card game and will be home before dinner. I’ll be home in just a few weeks. I’ll blow you kisses from Siberia!

Love you,

Daddy

Jasmine left her pink mask on the kitchen table and headed upstairs. Her walk was half walk, half stomp: she was annoyed that her dad had left without saying good-bye. Until, that is, she was halfway up the stairs. She looked up and saw the mask staring down at her. Her anger at her father morphed into anger at the mask. I can’t take it anymore, she thought. I hate this thing.

Jasmine couldn’t help herself. She went straight to the mask—suddenly she felt superbrave—and removed it from its hook on the wall. Then she headed straight for the basement, and her dad’s workbench in the corner. It was an old wood table. Tools hung on a rack above. Dad is pretty good at fixing and making things when he isn’t traipsing around the world, Jasmine thought bitterly.

All of a sudden Jasmine felt strongly that the mask had no right to be in her house. If something freaked her out, shouldn’t her dad have respected that and at least kept it in his office, where she wouldn’t have to look at it all the time? Wasn’t it bad enough that he was gone so much? Light-headed with a calm, uncharacteristically daring feeling, Jasmine placed the mask on the cement floor of the basement. Then she grabbed her dad’s hammer and crouched over the mask. And before Jasmine even knew what she was doing, she was banging the mask with the hammer—hard. Over and over, again and again. It reminded her of when her dad had brought her home a coconut and they had used a hammer to break it open. The coconut—and mask—were harder to break than she’d expected. Both times Jasmine had to beat down with all her might.

When the mask finally split into three pieces with a loud crack, Jasmine realized she was sweating and her hair had come out of its loose ponytail.

Well, there’s only one place for the mask now, and it’s called the garbage can, Jasmine thought. And if Nana or Dad notices, I’ll just tell them that I accidentally knocked the mask off the wall as I walked by with my big backpack. Ha! Accidentally on purpose, that

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