BSC09 The Ghost At Dawn's House (5 page)

After that had happened three times, Kristy suggested, "Let's read a book instead of play

ing Chutes and Ladders. What should we read?"

"The Little Engine That Could," said Andrew.

"Fantastic Mr. Fox," said David Michael.

"Ramona and Her Father," said Karen.

Kristy rolled her eyes. "How about — "

"How 'bout if I tell a story?" Karen interrupted.

Kristy paused. Karen's stories are notorious. She never means to frighten anyone or to cause any trouble, but she always manages to.

"Do you know any nice, happy stories?" asked Kristy hopefully.

Karen thought for a moment. "Nope," she said.

"I want to hear a scary story," said David Michael bravely.

"You do?" asked Kristy incredulously, as thunder crashed and her brother jumped a foot in the air.

"Um . . . yes," replied David Michael.

"Me, too," said Andrew, not to be undone.

Kristy thought that all of this was a bad idea.

"Oh, we can tell scary stories any old time," she said. "Let's tell jokes instead. Knock, knock."

David Michael, Karen, and Andrew glanced at each other.

"I said, knock, knock," Kristy repeated.

David Michael heaved a great sigh. "Who's there?"

"Banana," said Kristy.

"Banana who?" asked David Michael.

"Knock, knock."

"Huh? Wait, you were supposed to tell the joke part then."

"Trust me," said Kristy. "This one's a little different."

"Oh, all right. Who's there?" asked David Michael.

"Banana."

"Banana who?"

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Banana who?"

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" demanded David Michael.

"Orange."

"Orange who?"

"Orange you glad I didn't say 'banana'?" Kristy burst into giggles.

The three kids looked mystified.

"So," said Karen, "this is the tale of what made old Ben Brewer so weird."

Andrew and David Michael sat up straighter.

Kristy made a face and began to put the Chutes and Ladders game away. When she finished, she left the kids in the playroom, went downstairs, and straightened up the kitchen. She found a package of graham crackers in one of the cabinets, placed it on a tray with four glasses and a carton of milk, and took the tray upstairs to the playroom.

There she found Karen in the middle of her story.

"Ben Brewer had been sitting in his rocking chair by the fireplace in his bedroom for six hours. Just sitting. Outside, there was a big storm going on."

"Like this storm?" asked Andrew, wide-eyed.

"Yup," replied Karen. "And now . . ." (she lowered her voice dramatically) "... it was almost midnight."

"Oh, no!" yelped David Michael.

Karen nodded solemnly. "And you know what that means," she whispered.

Kristy joined the children on the floor. David Michael was leaning against an armchair. Andrew was sitting in the lap of a humungous stuffed panda bear. And Karen, in the center of the room, was also the center of attention. As storyteller, she'd put on a witch's hat and

a sparkly black mask, and was waving a wand around.

"It means," Karen continued, "that — "

KA-BLAM!

An enormous clap of thunder sounded. Everybody jumped — even Kristy.

"It means," Karen tried again, "that the headless ghost was going to come to Ben Brewer . . . and turn him into a crazy man."

"Ew," said Kristy.

"Ben Brewer was doing everything he could think of to keep the ghost away. He had locked the door and the windows, and he wasn't going to leave the room. Not for anything. Not if he had to go to the bathroom. He'd even put garlic all around the room."

"I thought garlic was to keep vampires away," said Kristy.

"Ben wasn't taking any chances," David Michael informed her.

"So imagine this," said Karen. "It's almost midnight, and Ben is locked up in that room. If s all quiet — "

"Except for the storm," said Andrew.

"And the fire crackling," added David Michael.

"And just think," said Karen. "This was happening right here in our house ... in that

room on the third floor." (Ben Brewer is Andrew and Karen's great-grandfather.)

"The room we never go in," whispered Andrew.

At that moment, Boo-Boo, the Brewers' fat cat, waddled in.

Karen pointed to him. "Boo-Boo knows about that room, Kristy. He knows it's haunted."

"The whole third floor is," said David Michael. He shuddered. "Boo-Boo doesn't go up to the third floor — ever."

Boo-Boo plopped down next to Karen. He sat on the floor with his tail twitching.

"Relax, Boo-Boo," said Kristy.

"He can't," Karen said. "Do you know where we're sitting? We're right under Ben Brewer's room."

"Aughh!" cried David Michael.

"Karen," said Kristy, "the last time you told ghost stories, you said Boo-Boo won't go on the third floor because it's under the attic and the attic is haunted."

Karen paused. "Oh," she said. "Well, that's true. But Ben's room is haunted, too. So anyway," she went on. "It was almost midnight. Just eleven more seconds." She paused. "Eleven . . . ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven ... six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . ."

(Kristy noticed that she and the boys were all leaning anxiously toward Karen.)

"One," said Karen.

"What happened then?" whimpered Andrew. He sounded near tears. Kristy pulled him into her lap.

"Ben thought there was no way to get in the room. But he was wrong. The ghost came down the chimney."

Everyone turned slightly and eyed the fireplace in the playroom.

"The ghost began to speak," Karen went on. " 'Oooh,' it wailed. I've come for you, Ben Brewer.' "

At that, Boo-Boo leaped straight into the air, darted through the door, and slid out into the hall, claws flying. Louie awoke, startled, heard Boo-Boo in the hall, and took off after him.

"It's Ben Brewer!" screamed Karen. "It's his crazy ghost! He was haunted — and now he's haunting us!"

"Karen, calm down," said Kristy, whose teeth were chattering. "There is no ghost here."

"Yes, there is! That's why Boo-Boo and Louie are scared! Animals can tell when ghosts are around!"

Andrew burst into tears. "I don't want a ghost here!" he sobbed.

"There's no ghost," said Kristy. She stood up. "Anyway, it's bedtime."

"I want to sleep with you tonight!" wailed Andrew.

"Me, too!" cried Karen.

"Me, too!" cried David Michael.

Kristy admitted (but only to herself and later to the rest of us baby-sitters) that she was glad they wanted to sleep with her. And since she has this mammoth new bed in her room at Watson's, she figured they'd all fit. She hadn't counted on Boo-Boo and Louie joining them, but they did.

Kristy woke up the next morning when she heard whispering and snickering at her door. She blinked her eyes and struggled to sit up. Outside, the sun was shining. Next to her, Karen was sprawled on her back, her mouth open, and one arm slung across Andrew, who was sucking his thumb. On her other side, David Michael was snoring lightly. Louie and Boo-Boo were scrunched up at the end of the bed.

"Look at that!" whispered a voice.

Sam and Charlie were peering into Kristy's room, trying to control their laughter.

.^Kristy.whatwe^gu night?" exclaimed Sam.
   
iou w SLce afraid o, : «he storm, were youj

•fci

fiercely.

"We were just . . ."

"Tust what?" asked Charlie.

," said Kristy. "It's a long story.

Chapter 8.

Okay, so Kristy had a bad night. Maybe it was because of my ghost stories, maybe not. But she wasn't the only one having trouble during the storm. Jeff and I had a little trouble of our own ... an adventure. And we weren't any braver about it than Kristy was with her adventure.

I did a strange thing after I found the secret passage. I didn't tell anyone about it. I'd been so excited — thinking I was like Nancy Drew and all — and then I was so scared when I realized the passageway had a ghost, that by the time I had climbed back into the barn and closed the trapdoor, I was totally confused. So I didn't call any of my friends to tell them the news, and I didn't show the passage to Jeff or my mom. I kept the secret to myself.

But on the night of the second big storm —

the night Kristy was baby-sitting for Andrew, Karen, and David Michael — I was sitting for Jeff, and the haunted passage was weighing on my mind.

My mother left at seven o'clock that evening to go out on a date with this man named Mr. Gwynne, which put me in a bad mood. I don't mind if Mom dates, as long as she dates Mary Anne's father. Mary Anne and I want to be stepsisters. But Mom had been going out with several different men. One of them was the son of friends of my grandparents, two were from her office, and a couple more were men she'd met at some party. I didn't like any of them, and I didn't want any of them for a stepfather. (I only wanted Mr. Spier, because of Mary Anne.) Jeff didn't like any of the new men, either.

Tonight, Mom was going out with the son of my grandparents' friends. They were going to have dinner in a restaurant, then go to Granny and Pop-Pop's for dessert. I didn't like the sound of that — much too serious.

So I wasn't in a very good mood as my mom was rushing out the door. Usually I check her over to make sure nothing is mismatched or out of place. But that evening, I sulked in the living room and didn't look at her. If I'd looked at her and seen something wrong, I'd have to

have told her. I couldn't let her go out wearing one hoop earring and one pearl earring, or just one false eyelash or something. But I figured that what I didn't know wouldn't hurt me — or her (much).

"I'm leaving, kids!" Mom called from the front door.

'"Bye," I said. I was sitting in an armchair, facing away from her. I didn't turn around.

"If it rains, close the windows."

'"Kay."

"Dawn? Everything all right, honey?"

"Yup."

Mom hesitated. I couldn't see her, but I could feel that she was hesitating.

Jeff came crashing down the stairs, taking about three steps at a time.

"'Bye, Mom," he said.

"'Bye, honey. I just told Dawn — close the windows if it rains. Oh, and there's a casserole in the fridge. Remember, Dawn's in charge."

"Good-bye, Mom," I said pointedly.

Mom took the hint and left, and then I felt really bad.

Jeff didn't notice. "Let's eat," he said.

"All right." Maybe it would take my mind off Mom and the ghost.

Jeff and I heated up the casserole and made

a salad. We ate our supper in front of the TV, watching a rerun of All in the Family.

"I hate this show," I commented.

"Me, too," Jeff replied.

"Why are we watching it?"

"I don't know. Because it's — "

CRASH/

Thunder. Then rain poured down without warning.

"Windows!" I cried. We abandoned our meal and ran around, closing windows.

Then we tried to eat again, but we had no sooner settled down in front of the TV than the electricity went off. Since it was almost dark outside, it was pitch black inside.

"Yipes!" cried Jeff.

"I wonder if it's off everywhere or just in our neighborhood," 1 said. Or maybe, I thought, it's just us. I shivered.

We stood at the front door and looked up and down our street. No lights anywhere, so the power was off in the neighborhood, at least.

Maybe my mother would have to come home. Maybe the rest of her date would be off, along with the electricity. The thought cheered me.

"We better turn off the TV set so it won't

come blaring on when the power's restored," I said. "And let's try to rinse off our dishes. Otherwise, they'll be impossible to clean later."

Jeff groped around and found a flashlight. We cleaned up the kitchen as best we could. Then we wandered through the house.

"Well, this is boring," said Jeff.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"What can you do in the dark?"

I thought for a moment. I hadn't returned Ghosts and Spooks, Chills and Thrills to the library yet. I had two more stories to go. And there were a few I wanted to reread. I thought of the ghost in our secret passage and began to feel scared — not the awful kind of scared I'd felt several times earlier in the week — but deliciously scared.

"Hey, Jeff. Want to hear some really great stories?" I asked.

Jeff looked skeptical. (At least by the light of the flashlight, he looked skeptical.) "What kind of stories?" he asked.

"Ghost stories," I whispered.

"Aw . . ."

"I know you don't believe in ghosts, but try to get in the spirit of things," I told him. "Get it? Spirit? Look. It's a gloomy, rainy, spooky night. Besides, what else is there to do?"

"Nothing," replied Jeff.

"Okay. Come on up to my room."

Ghosts and Spooks was waiting for us on my nightstand. We sat on my bed and I took the flashlight from Jeff and opened the book. First I read him "Things Unseen." Then I read him the story about the phantom hitchhiker. Then I read him "The Haunting of Weatherstaff Moor."

Before 1 got to one of the new ones at the end of the book, Jeff turned to me and said, "Let's stop now, Dawn."

"Had enough?" I asked.

He nodded. I couldn't tell if he was bored, scared, or sleepy.

"Now what should we do?" he asked. From the way he sounded, I decided he was bored.

"Let's try to play a game by flashlight," I suggested.

We tried. It was next to impossible. There was never enough light, even after Jeff perched the flashlight in a sort of sling made from a dish towel that he suspended from the edge of a table.

"I give up," I said.

Jeff yawned hugely. "What a waste of a Friday night," he said. "Do you know all the great TV shows we're missing?"

"Wellll," 1 said slowly. "There is something we could do, and all we need is a flashlight."

"What?" Jeff looked mildly interested.

"Back to my room," I ordered.

I led Jeff up the stairs again and straight to the wall with the fancy molding.