The Ghost of Cutler Creek (2 page)

Allie barely heard a word of the book Mr. Henry was reading to the class that morning. So far, it was a great story, and it was building to an exciting conclusion, but between L.J. and the ghost, there was no way she could relax and listen.

She was almost afraid to look in L.J.'s direction. Actually, she didn't have to look; she could feel him beside her, a dark, threatening cloud at the edge of her vision.

“Allie?”

Uh-oh. Mr. Henry must have asked a question about what he'd been reading, and was now waiting for her answer. She felt her face flush with embarrassment. But to her relief, Mr. Henry continued talking. “Would you please introduce L.J. to Mrs. DeMarsh?”

“What? Oh, sure,” she said. She glanced at the clock, and realized that Mr. Henry must have announced that it was time for music.

The rest of the class began lining up at the door. Quickly, Allie looked at L.J. He was still sitting, as if deciding whether or not he
wanted
to go to music class. Finally he rose and, without a glance at Allie, sauntered over to join the line behind Dub. Allie followed.

“Hey, L.J.,” said Dub in his friendly fashion.

Allie winced, and waited to see what L.J. would say. After his comment to her, she wondered what kind of response Dub was going to get.

L.J. gave no indication that Dub had even spoken.

With his chin up and his eyes narrowed, he stared toward the door. He wasn't looking at anything or anybody in particular, as far as Allie could tell. He acted as if he were alone, as if the rest of them weren't there.

Dub looked at her, shrugged, and mouthed the words “What's with him?”

Allie made a sympathetic face and shrugged back. The line of kids moved out into the hallway, and Mrs. DeMarsh ushered them into her room. When Allie introduced L.J., Mrs. DeMarsh welcomed him warmly. “But I'm afraid, L.J.,” she said, “that this is both hello and goodbye.”

She looked at the rest of the class and said sadly, “Today is your last music class at Seneca Heights School. If I think about it, I just might start to bawl. So let's sing instead. Why don't we do all our old favorites.”

Turning back to L.J., she said, “We'll start with one of
your
favorites, L.J. Name it and we'll see if we know it.”

L.J. shook his head and looked away.

Allie saw a flicker of surprise pass quickly across Mrs. DeMarsh's face. Allie thought she knew how her music teacher felt. L.J.'s attitude was definitely unsettling.

Allie watched him from the corner of her eye all through music class. He never said a word or sang a note.

Afterward, the class went to lunch. On the way down to the cafeteria, Allie was certain that L.J. was right behind her. As she passed through the line with her tray, she planned to introduce him to Mrs. Hobbs, the cafeteria lady. But when she turned to present L.J., he wasn't there.

Allie joined Dub and some of the other kids from her class at a table, and looked around. “Where's L.J.?” she asked.

Karen Laver said carelessly, “I don't know, and I really don't care. You can move to another table if you want to eat with him.
I
certainly don't.”

For once, Allie agreed with Karen. But she wasn't going to say so. She stood up and scanned the lunchroom one more time, but L.J. was nowhere to be seen.

She shrugged and sat down. “Maybe he got sick or something,” she said.

“He's probably smoking in the bathroom,” said Karen. “Or trying to burn down the school. He seems like the psycho type.”

Allie had been the target of Karen's cruel teasing many times herself, so she always stuck up for other victims. Now that Karen was picking on L.J., Allie felt a rush of sympathy for him. “Give him a break, Karen,” she said. “It's his first day.”

“What is he, your new boyfriend or something?” Karen taunted.

“That is ridiculous, Karen, and you know it!” Allie said. “I've barely said two words to the guy.”

“Whatever,” Karen said, sounding bored. “Anyway, it looks like he took off. And you were supposed to be watching out for him.” She smiled sweetly, adding, “But don't worry. Mr. Henry won't blame you. You're his little pet, after all.”

Allie turned away, refusing to get sucked into Karen's stupid games. To the other kids at the table she said, “What I keep wondering is why L.J. bothered coming for the last two days of school.”

“Isn't there a law that says kids
have
to go to school?” Joey Fratto asked.

“I think so,” Allie said. “But for the final two days? I mean, it's not like we're going to do any work. Mr. Henry will probably finish reading us the book this afternoon, and tomorrow is the party.”

“It does seem dumb,” Dub agreed. “That's probably why L.J. left. But you've got to admit, it takes guts to just walk out of school.”

When L.J. didn't return to the room after lunch, Mr. Henry asked the class where he was. The kids all shook their heads, and Allie explained that no one had seen him since music class. Mr. Henry picked up the phone and called the office, a worried expression on his face. Then he finished reading the book, and the class spent the rest of the afternoon discussing it. L.J. never returned.

When Mr. Henry dismissed them, the kids reminded him that he had promised to bring Hoover to school for the last-day party.

“You don't think she'd let me leave without her tomorrow, do you?” Mr. Henry asked. “That dog never misses a party if she can help it.”

As Allie walked past his desk, Mr. Henry said, “Allie, can you stay for a minute?”

“Sure.” She glanced toward Dub and said, “Wait for me, okay?”

Mr. Henry smiled at her. “I was wondering if you might be available to doggy-sit Hoover next week.”

Allie didn't even have to think about it. She loved the big shaggy dog, and had watched her once before when Mr. Henry had gone away for a weekend. “You bet!” she answered.

“Great! A friend of mine was supposed to teach a summer seminar at Iowa State, but her son is sick and she can't do it. She's asked me to fill in for her. I'd like to help her out, but only if I can make arrangements for Hoover. If you could take care of her, it would really put my mind at ease.”

“I'd love to,” Allie said. “Really.”

“You're not going to camp or on vacation?”

“Nope. Not until August.”

Mr. Henry held up one finger and shook it at her playfully. “And don't say you won't take any money, the way you did last time.”

“But it's like getting paid for what I want to do anyway! I'd give anything to have a dog.”

“I know. But I'll be gone for nine or ten days, and that's a lot of responsibility. Part of the deal is that I pay you for your time.”

“Okay,” Allie said with a shrug. “If you insist.”

“You talk it over with your parents tonight and let me know. I'll be happy to call them if they'd like me to.”

“I'll tell them,” Allie promised.

She met up with Dub in the hallway and they headed for Allie's house. She started to tell him what Mr. Henry had said, but he stopped her, saying, “I heard. Hey, if there's a day when you can't watch Hoover for some reason, I'll sub for you.” He paused and leered greedily, adding, “And I
do
expect to be paid. Big bucks.”

Allie laughed. “Deal.”

They were passing by the Luv'n' Pets store window, and stopped again.

“Look, the puppies are all still there,” said Allie after counting the furballs on display. She tensed as a familiar shiver crept down her spine and vanished as quickly as it came. “It just happened again,” she said.

Dub's face grew alert. “Really? The same feeling you had this morning?” His voice turned thoughtful. “We were right here, too, in the exact same place.” After a moment, he said, “It would be kind of creepy, but maybe your ghost died in this very spot. Like in a car accident, or a murder or something.”

Allie and Dub both stepped backward, away from “the spot.” Then they looked around, as if a mysterious person or other clue might be lurking nearby.

“No yellow police tape,” Allie said with a nervous laugh. “No bloodstains on the sidewalk. Besides, I had the same feeling today in school, not just here.”

“Stay tuned for further developments in the Allie Nichols Ghost Case,” Dub intoned in the deep, mellow voice of a TV news announcer.

Allie said goodbye to the puppies, and she and Dub walked the rest of the way to her house. Michael was zooming around the driveway on his Big Wheel.

“Hi, Mike,” Allie called. “Guess you're feeling better, huh?”

Instead of answering, Michael charged full-speed toward her, making a roaring engine sound.

“I would say the answer to that is yes,” said Dub with a grin.

Michael screeched to a halt in front of them. “Watch this!”

He pedaled as hard as he could in the opposite direction, toward the garage. When it appeared that he was going to run straight into the closed garage door, Allie shrieked, “Mike! Stop!”

Michael wrenched his handlebars to the right, and the Big Wheel skidded around in a half-circle. Michael beamed at them, his cheeks pink from exertion and excitement.

“Cool move, Mike!” said Dub.

At the same time, Allie said, “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Watch! I'll do it again!” Michael shouted.

“No, Mike!” She put her hands over her eyes. “I can't look.” She and Dub went into the kitchen, where Mrs. Nichols was putting away groceries.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Allie. Hi, Dub.”

“Hi, Mrs. Nichols. I'm no doctor, but I'd say Michael's feeling better.”

Allie's mother laughed. “It's the oddest thing. He was a mess this morning—stuffy nose, swollen eyes, sneezing, the works. We got in the car, and by the time we got to the doctor's office, he was perfectly fine. Dr. Waheed said he certainly didn't seem sick. We're supposed to watch him for signs of allergies and begin his medicine if he seems to need it. The whole thing was kind of embarrassing, really, after I begged the secretary to squeeze us in.”

“Did you have a chance to get the stuff for the dog treats?” Allie asked.

“I got everything on the list.” Mrs. Nichols pointed to some items on the countertop. “I had to go to three different places to find it all.”

Dub looked through the pile of bags, jars, and boxes and read the labels out loud. “Defatted soy flour, buckwheat groats, brewer's yeast, ground bone meal, bean curd, wheat germ…This stuff sounds nasty, Al. I thought you said these cookies are supposed to be
good
for dogs?”

“They are,” Allie answered indignantly. “Those things are all super-healthy.”

“Low-calorie, too, you said?”

Allie nodded. “For dogs like Hoover, who need to lose weight.”

“Oh,
now
I get it,” said Dub. “They lose weight because they never eat more than one!”

Mrs. Nichols laughed and said, “I have to admit I had the same thought when I was shopping for the ingredients, Dub.”

Allie scowled. “Dub, I thought you came over to help.”

“I did,” Dub said. “I'm trying to help poor Hoover.”

Mrs. Nichols covered her mouth and quickly left the room, but Allie knew she was smiling behind her hand.

Allie glared at Dub. “Can we get started now?”

Making the dog treats was a lot like baking cookies. Allie and Dub mixed the dough, rolled it out, and used the bone-shaped cookie cutter. When the first batch came out of the oven and had cooled, Allie took one of the lumpy, brown bone shapes for herself and handed one to Dub.

“You're kidding, right?” Dub asked wide-eyed.

“We've got to at least
try
them.”

Dub sniffed the bone a few times. “I promise you, Allie, if this thing kills me, my ghost will definitely come back to haunt you.”

“Except I'll be dead, too. So there,” said Allie. “Here goes.” She took a crunchy bite of the cookie and began to chew.

Dub watched for a second, then did the same.

“Yuck!” cried Allie, reaching for a paper towel. She spat the rest of the cookie into it.

“Double yuck!” Dub grabbed for a paper towel of his own. He fell to the floor, shaking all over, his tongue hanging out, eyes rolling back in their sockets. Then he stiffened, looked up at Allie, and whispered, “Am I dead?”

“Unfortunately not,” said Allie breezily, stepping over him to begin rolling out another batch of dough. “If you think about it, it's actually a good sign that we think they taste bad.”

“How do you figure?” asked Dub, reaching for the edge of the countertop to pull himself to his feet.

“Dogs
like
disgusting things,” Allie answered. “You wouldn't believe the gross stuff Hoover tries to eat when I take her for walks. Like, one time—”

Dub cut her off. “Okay, okay, I get the point. I don't need to hear the gory details.”

“Now, don't laugh,” Allie warned. “But I was thinking that if Hoover does like these, I—or we, if you want to—could go into business over the summer. I read that three-quarters of the dogs in America are overweight.”

Dub had looked dubious when Allie began, but she could see he was already warming to the idea. “Maybe we could get Luv'n' Pets to sell them,” he said. “You know James, the kid who lives next door to me? He works there part-time.”

“Do you really think it will work?” asked Allie.

“We'll make millions!”

They smiled at each other for a minute, imagining it. Then Allie said, “Before we get carried away, let's see how Hoover reacts tomorrow. Maybe she'll hate them more than we did.”

When three batches had come out of the oven and there was just a little dough left, they cut it in strips and made letters: two
H
's for Hoover and Mr. Henry, an
A
for Allie, and a
D
for Dub, which came out looking more like an
O
after it was baked.