Jasmine managed to eat dinner with Nana without acting like she was freaking out. Once she was in bed, Jasmine did everything she could to not think about what she’d read at the library, the bizarre conversation she’d had with Dr. Wilson, and the look on his face. She counted back from one hundred, like Lisa had taught her. And it worked, thankfully.
But then Jasmine woke up.
She hadn’t had a nightmare, as far as she could remember, but she could hear thunder booming overhead. The clock on her night table said 4:25 a.m. Jasmine was getting used to this time of morning. Too used to it. Every roll and rumble of thunder went right through her, as if it were sending vibrations right into her bones.
But wait. Was it thunder? As Jasmine woke up, she began to wonder. It sounded more like drumbeats than thunder.
Jasmine listened harder. No, that sound wasn’t drumbeats either. It was hoofbeats, like there was an angry bull just outside her window. Like thunder, but on the ground.
Wake yourself up! Wake yourself up! This is another one of your nightmares! Jasmine said to herself.
But it wasn’t; it just wasn’t. Jasmine knew. This time, her terror was real.
What if something was coming to get her? Not the bug tonight, but the real bogeyman. The hoofbeats sounded louder and louder, and soon the whole house shook. There’s only one thing I can do to protect myself, she thought. I need to wear the mask, like dad and the book said. Who knows if the mask has turned evil or not—all I know is that wearing it is my only hope of defending myself.
Jasmine knew it would be no use to run into Nana’s room for protection. She had to put on that mask, as terrifying an idea as it was.
Jasmine didn’t even stop to put shoes on. She ran out the back door in her pajamas, thinking only about the mask’s possible power to save her. It was so dark outside. The ground under her bare feet was cold and muddy. Pouring rain soaked her almost immediately, and as she made her way up the tree house ladder, she nearly slipped and fell all the way back down to the ground.
But finally she made it to the top. The wooden door was right in front of her face. She reached out her wet hand to open it. . . .
But it was already slowly opening from the inside.