Ulteriori informazioni
Informationen zum Autor A lifelong night owl, P.J. Night often works furiously into the wee hours of the morning, writing down spooky tales and dreaming up new stories of the supernatural and otherworldly. Although P.J.’s whereabouts are unknown at this time, we suspect the author lives in a drafty, old mansion where the floorboards creak when no one is there and the flickering candlelight creates shadows that creep along the walls. We truly wish we could tell you more, but we’ve been sworn to keep P.J.’s identity a secret…and it’s a secret we will take to our graves! Jane and 49 other girls are spending a night in a museum. Soon, one girl dares Jane to take a tour of the museum after lights out. The girls have heard that one of the mummies in the Ancient Egyptian exhibit comes to life when the museum closes. Jane accepts the dare. After all, there's no way a mummy can come to life. Or is there? Off the Wall CHAPTER 1 “I don’t want to go,” Jane whispered to herself. “I don’t want to go.” Ahead of her the huge, cavernous lobby of the Templeton Memorial Museum was ringing with the clamor of fifty other girls Jane’s age. They were lined up in front of a long table, eagerly signing in for the Templeton Lock-In. A poster on the wall above the tables blasted the neon-pink words: THRILL TO AN OVERNIGHT EXPERIENCE BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE MUSEUM! But from her place at the end of the line, Jane was not thrilled. Not at all. Not one bit. “It will be good for you,” her mother had said to her that morning. “You need to socialize with more girls your own age.” But what, Jane wondered, am I supposed to say to girls I’ve never seen before in my life? And how on Earth can I possibly spend an entire sleepover with them? She cast a miserable glance around the lobby—a bustling hive of girls and their parents and all their random good-bye conversations. “Dad, I don’t need an alarm clock! They’ll wake us up, I swear!” And “I don’t see your allergy pillow, honey. Where’s your allergy pillow?” And “Fine, then! I don’t want to hear another word about it!” And “No, Mommy, don’t hug me. Everyone will think I’m a baby.” I’m just not anything like these girls, Jane thought. I can tell just by looking at them. Why, why did I have to— “Are you here to register, dear?” came the friendly voice of a woman in front of her. Jane jumped out of her thoughts. The line had been moving along without her noticing, and now she was standing right at the registration table. “I guess so,” said Jane. Nervously she twisted a hank of her blond hair around one finger. “Okay! What’s your name?” “Jane Meunier.” The woman glanced through a sheaf of papers and checked off Jane’s name. “Have you done a lock-in with us before, Jane?” “No. We—I—uh—just moved here,” Jane stammered. “I don’t know anything about anything.” The woman chuckled. “Well, then, you are in for a wonderful surprise. This is going to be the best night of your life! Now, where’s your sleeping bag?” Jane pointed to a pile of blankets in her basket. “Oh, no sleeping bag?” remarked the woman. “Did you bring a foam pad to put under your blankets? That floor can feel awfully hard.” “Foam pad?” exclaimed Jane. “I’ve never heard of using a foam pad! Oh, I knew something was going to go wrong right away!” “Don’t look so worried!” said the woman. “They’ve got extra foam mattresses in the Great Hall for people who need them. And you’ll have a wonderful time. The lock-in is one of our most popular events. There’s a huge waiting list every time.” “She’s right. The lock-in is really, really fun.” This voice was coming from behind J...
