“No way!” Peter exclaimed.
I stretched out the opening and gazed inside the mask.
“Oh, gross!” I cried. “Oh, sick!”
I dropped the mask to the grass.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Peter asked.
“The mask … it’s filled with bugs!” I choked out.
“Huh?” He took the mask in his hands and gazed inside the opening. “Oh, wow. It’s totally infested!”
The mask was crawling with fat insects. They scrabbled all over the smooth inside of the mask. They rolled and climbed over each other.
Peter handed the mask back to me. “Monica, you have to put it on,” he said. “Before Screem comes back for it.”
“But — but —” I sputtered again. “I can’t, Peter. All those disgusting bugs. There are hundreds of them. How can I put it over my face?”
“You have to!” Peter cried. “You have to do it, Monica. You heard what Bella said. You have to wear the masks so Screem won’t take them back.”
I gazed into the mask and felt sick. The bugs were fat and brown and slimy wet.
“We’ll take turns,” Peter said. “I’ll put on the next one.”
He pushed the mask to my face. “Go ahead. We want to see Mom and Dad again — don’t we?”
I stood frozen there, the mask in my hands. A bug crawled out of the mask and walked over my hand. My skin prickled. I wanted to scream.
My stomach was doing flip-flops. I shook the bug off my hand. It was sticky. I could still feel it on my skin.
“Do it, Monica,” Peter urged. “Go ahead. Put it on.”
I couldn’t. No way.
“Do it, Monica,” Peter repeated. “Hurry.”
My stomach heaved. My throat tightened. I felt like I was about to puke.
I took a deep breath. I shut my eyes.
And I jammed the mask down over my head.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t open my eyes.
The mask fell loosely over my face. I could feel the tiny insect legs poking at my cheeks. The bugs scrabbled down my cheeks … down my neck.
I could feel them on my chin. Feel them trying to squeeze into my mouth.
I couldn’t stand it.
I wanted to jump out of my skin.
“Peter — help me!” I shrieked. “They’re BITING me! Ohhh … help. They’re BITING my face!”