BSC09 The Ghost At Dawn's House (11 page)

Stacey laughed. She and I stopped in the kitchen for flashlights. We turned them on, aimed the beams out the back door, and crept outside as quietly as possible. I led Stacey into

the barn, shoved aside the bale of hay, and showed her the trapdoor. We lowered ourselves down the ladder.

"I don't believe it," whispered Stacey slowly. "This is awesome."

"Are you scared?" I asked. I hadn't told her about Jared Mullray.

"Not really. I'm not wild about the dark, but . . . let's go!"

When we'd climbed the flight of stairs and turned the corner, we paused to listen. Very faintly we could hear the voices of Mary Anne, Claudia, and Kristy.

"Now?" whispered Stacey.

"Now," I replied. "And when they've had enough, just follow me."

"Okay."

Stacey rapped lightly on a wall of the passage. I scratched on another.

We paused. The girls were still talking.

"Louder," I whispered.

We rapped and scratched more loudly. The talking stopped, then started again.

"Closer," I suggested.

We crept down the passage. Our friends' voices grew louder.

Rap, rap. Rap, rap, rap.

Scritch, scratch.

Then I distinctly heard Claudia say, "Did you guys hear something?"

Stacey and I tried not to laugh.

"Try wailing/' said Stacey.

"Oooooo-eeeeee. Heeeeeelp meeeeee!" I wailed.

"Whoooooo-oooooo-eeeeee. I caaaaaannot reeeeeest!" cried Stacey. It was a brilliant choice of words.

"Aughh!" cried one of the girls in my room, but I couldn't tell which one.

"Oh, no! If s Jared! Ifs the ghost of the secret passage!" yelped Mary Anne.

"What?" asked Kristy. "What ghost?" (She was probably thinking of old Ben Brewer.)

"What secret passage?" added Claudia.

Rap, rap, rap. Bang, bang, bang.

I noticed a pipe, and tapped my flashlight on it. Clink, dink.

"Aughh!" The shrieking in the bedroom sounded more frightened. We heard a crash.

"I think thaf s enough," I said. "Come on."

I dashed to the end of the passage and released the catch. The wall of my bedroom slowly opened inward.

Stacey and I were looking in on a disaster area. A chair had been knocked over. A container of eye shadow was on the rug. The

sleeping bags were rumpled, as if they'd been run over by galloping horses. And Kristy, Claudia, and Mary Anne were huddled on my bed.

"I told you it was the ghost," Mary Anne was moaning.

Then Stacey and I stuck our heads in the room. When Kristy saw us, she fell off the bed.

There was a moment of silence.

"You!" shrieked Mary Anne. "It was you!"

"You stinkers!" Kristy exploded, rubbing one elbow. She got to her feet.

Stacey and I laughed so hard that tears ran down our faces. We couldn't speak. We dropped our flashlights on the bed and I closed the wall behind me.

"You found a secret passage," was all Claudia could say. "How?"

I explained. I told my friends the story — Nicky, Jared Mullray, the nickel. But I left out the parts about the small key, and the nighttime noises.

"Oh, let's go inside!" exclaimed Claudia. "Please? I've never been in a true secret passage. And I've always wanted to have the chance."

"Okay," I said. "Sure. We'll all go."

I was reaching for the wall when . . .

Rap, rap, rap.

It had come from the passage. Wide-eyed, I whirled around. All four of my friends were behind me. I dashed out of my room. Mom was reading in bed. Jeff was sound asleep.

I looked at my watch. Almost one o'clock. It wasn't Nicky.

In a panic, I went back to my room and fastened the lock on the wall. "Come on, you guys. Bring your sleeping bags. We'll stay in the living room tonight."

And we did. But it took us forever to fall asleep.

Did my secret passage have a ghost? I hoped I'd never find out.

The next morning dawned clear and sunny. I was awakened by the sound of a catbird outside the open window. The scent of newly mown grass drifted in and mingled with the smells of toast and eggs coming from the kitchen.

I rolled over sleepily.

"Hi," whispered Kristy from her sleeping bag.

"Morning," I replied.

Stacey, Claudia, and Mary Anne were still asleep.

"You know," said Kristy, "we only have a

few, and I mean a few, more days until school starts again."

I made a face. "I know."

"We better use them wisely."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we've just had a slumber party. While there's still time, we better try to cram in a few more good activities. Like swimming."

"Going to the movies," I said.

"Having a gossip-fest."

"Lying around in the sun reading magazines."

"Playing tennis."

"Swinging on the rope in the barn."

"Going to the mall," murmured Stacey, without bothering to open her eyes.

"Making s'more s'mores," mumbled Clau-dia.

"Having a cookout," said Mary Anne, only her face was buried in her pillow and it sounded like she said, "Havee a fuh-fow."

"Boy," I exclaimed, "we've got a lot to do and very little time. We better get going!"

I felt excited, exhilarated. With friends like these, and so much to look forward to, who could worry about a crazy two hundred-year-old guy named Jared Mullray? Not me!

About the Author

ANN M. MARTIN did a lot of baby-sitting when she was growing up in Princeton, New Jersey. Now her favorite baby-sitting charge is her cat, Mouse, who lives with her in her Manhattan apartment.

Ann Martin's Apple Paperbacks are Bummer Summer, Inside Out, Stage Fright, Me and Katie (the Pest), and all the other books in the Babysitters Club series.

She is a former editor of books for children, and was graduated from Smith College. She likes ice cream, the beach, and / Love Lucy- and she hates to cook.