The Ghost of Cutler Creek (4 page)

The entire summer lay before them, but Allie and Dub weren't experiencing the lighthearted, happy feeling they ordinarily had on the last day of school. As they walked home, they discussed their promise to Mr. Henry.

“We were goners the second he brought up Mrs. Hobbs,” Dub said.

Allie nodded gloomily. From her pocket she took the piece of paper on which Mr. Henry had written L.J.'s address and phone number. “He lives on Dundee Road,” she read. “I've never even heard of it.”

“I think it's way out past the old bean packing plant,” Dub said.

“There's nothing out there,” Allie said.

“Not much,” Dub agreed. “There's a place we go every year to cut our own Christmas tree. But that's about it.”

“I say we go see him tomorrow,” Allie declared. “We'll show up, he'll tell us to get lost, and that will be it. We can tell Mr. Henry we tried.”

“Excellent idea,” said Dub. “Then we can get on with our plan for making a million dollars selling dog treats.”

They were approaching Luv'n' Pets. “You want to stop in and see what they think of our idea?” Allie asked.

“Sure, why not?” answered Dub.

“Look,” Allie said, pointing excitedly toward the window, where six furballs now lay curled together on the newspapers. “One of them is gone!” She imagined the scene: the happy puppy in its new home, being cuddled by its loving owner, a girl Allie's own age.
If only Michael weren't allergic,
she wished for what had to be the thousandth time.

When they got inside, Dub went up to the red-haired woman behind the counter, whose nametag said
ENID
, and asked, “Is James here?”

“Tomorrow,” Enid answered. “He works all day on Saturdays.”

“Oh,” said Dub.

Allie, unable to help herself, said, “I see somebody bought one of the puppies.”

Enid hesitated for a moment before answering. “That's right.”

“Did a family buy it? People with kids?”

Enid didn't answer but asked pointedly, “Is there something I can help you with?”

Allie was still caught up in her fantasy of the puppy and its new owner. “Was it somebody from around here?”

Enid frowned. “That's none of your business. It's private information.”

“Oh,” said Allie, stung by the woman's sharp tone. “I wasn't trying to be nosy. I was just wondering if I might see the puppy in the neighborhood, you know, out for a walk or something, that's all. It was so cute…” Her voice trailed off under Enid's disapproving glare.

Dub jumped in then, much to Allie's relief. “Uh, you're the owner of the store, right?”

Enid nodded. “I bought it six months ago. Why?”

“Well, the reason we stopped in,” Dub began, “is that we have developed a wonderful new pet product, and we wanted to give Luv'n' Pets the opportunity to carry it.”

Enid eyed him with suspicion. Lots of kids would have faded under that steely gaze, but Dub just smiled and waited. Allie was enjoying his performance.

“What exactly is this ‘wonderful product'?” Enid asked at last.

Allie heard the sarcastic edge to the question, but Dub kept on talking as if he and Enid were old buddies.

“Did you know that three-quarters of American dogs are overweight?” Dub asked. Without waiting for Enid to answer, he went on. “I know, it's shocking, isn't it? So we have developed a low-calorie dog treat made from one hundred percent natural, healthy ingredients,
and
—” Here Dub paused dramatically, smiling broadly at Enid, who stared back stone-faced. “The best part is, people can still indulge their pets without making them fat!”

Enid didn't say anything, but Allie thought she looked interested. At least she hadn't told them to leave. Allie knew she should pitch in and give Dub a little help, but she was distracted by a pathetic whimpering in her head. “Dogs really love them,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

There was a long silence, during which Allie began to wonder if Enid had pushed a secret buzzer under the counter and was waiting for the police to arrive and drag them away. She was about to say, “Come on, Dub, let's go,” when Enid spoke in a loud, nasal voice.

“You gotta package the stuff in something appealing. Something interesting-looking. And you've got to have a label with a complete list of ingredients.”

“No problem,” said Dub.

“Bring some in. I'll look them over, maybe test them out on some of the stock.
If
I decide to carry them, you don't get any money up front, understand? You'll get paid only when they sell.”

She turned away and began clicking on a computer.

Allie looked at Dub and raised her eyebrows. Enid kept on typing, ignoring them. Finally Dub said cheerily, “Okay, then, we'll see you soon with the first delivery.”

Enid didn't answer, so Dub and Allie exchanged a glance and started to leave. When they were almost out the door, Enid spoke again. “I assume, of course, that these things are made under the strictest sanitary conditions.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Allie said. “The kitchen at our headquarters is immaculate.”

She felt herself starting to smile, and Dub pushed her quickly out of the shop. Once outside, she collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“Oh, that's real businesslike, Al,” Dub said. “Are you trying to blow the whole deal?”

“Sorry,” Allie said, gasping, “but she was too much!” She imitated Enid's loud, grating voice.

Dub began to grin, too. “But we're in!” he said. “She's going to carry them.”

Allie nearly choked. “Dub! You actually want to do business with her?”

“Why not? We don't have to be her best friend. All we need is some space on her shelf. Our treats will sell themselves! We'll make millions, remember?”

Allie looked at him dubiously.

“Well, hundreds, anyway,” he amended sheepishly.

Allie laughed.

“Possibly thousands. You'll see.”

Allie didn't have the heart to burst his bubble. She supposed it couldn't hurt to make another batch of dog treats and bring them to the store. But there was something creepy about that place, something other than Enid.

“Dub,” she said, “the whole time we were in there, I heard dogs whimpering.”

“So?” said Dub, looking puzzled. “It
is
a pet store. And there
were
six puppies there.”

“I know,” said Allie. “But they were all asleep.”

“You mean—?”

“Yeah. This was the ghost again.”

Allie woke from the very same horrible dream she'd had two nights before. As she lay on her back, trying to calm herself, Michael came into her room and climbed under the blanket with her, sniffling miserably. He curled up beside her and let out a sneeze that shook the bed.

“Mike!” Allie cried, sitting up and turning on the light. When she saw his red, swollen face, she reached over to hug him. “What's the matter, big guy?”

“It was awful,” Michael said, his lower lip trembling as he struggled not to cry.

“What was awful, Mikey?” she asked, continuing to hold his small, warm body.

“My dream,” he said, before exploding with another sneeze.

An uneasy feeling swept through Allie. “You had a scary dream?” she asked.

She felt him nod against her chest.

“What happened in your dream?” she asked, afraid that she already knew.

“I was in a place, a bad place, and it was lost,” Michael said. “And I was looking for it, but I was lost, too, and I could hear it, but I couldn't find it.” He took a hiccuping breath and continued. “And I kept getting more lost, and I
couldn't find it
, Allie, I
couldn't
!” he finished with a shuddering sob.

Allie let him cry for a minute. When he had settled down, she whispered, “What was it you were looking for, Mike? Could you tell?”

“I couldn't see it,” he said shakily. “I could only hear it.”

So it was true. She and Mike were dreaming the same dream. She had discovered a couple of weeks before that Mike could see ghosts, too. And now this. Allie needed to think, but first she had to comfort Michael. She hugged him fiercely, wanting to protect him from all scary, hurtful things.

“Ow, Allie! You're squishing me!”

“Oops, sorry, Mike. You want to know something weird?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise to keep it a secret?” Allie knew Michael loved secrets.

“Yeah!” He sat up, looking eager.

“I had the exact same dream.”

Michael's eyes grew big. “Really?”

“Yes. And I had it once before, too. Did you?”

Michael looked thoughtful for a moment, as if he were trying to remember something. Then he nodded.

“Was it two nights ago?” Allie asked.

Michael shrugged and shook his head. “I don't know.”

“Was somebody crying in your dream?”

Michael nodded.

“What did it sound like?”

Michael made a low whimpering sound, very much like the one Allie had heard both in her dream and afterward in her head.

“That's what I heard, too,” said Allie. “What did you think it was?”

Michael's expression grew solemn. “I don't know,” he said. “But it was sad.”

Allie felt sad, too—for Michael, who had been badly frightened, and for whoever was trying so desperately to tell them something. “Do you want to stay in here with me tonight?” she asked.

Michael nodded sleepily.

“Okay, here.” Allie reached over to the night table and grabbed a tissue from the box. “Blow.”

Michael gave a noisy honk on the tissue, but he still sounded stuffy when he whispered good night to her. She could hear him sniffling and breathing loudly through his mouth as he fell into a restless slumber beside her.

There was no way Allie could go to sleep. She lay awake, making a mental list of everything she knew so far about this new ghost.

One: It was sad.

Two: While the other two ghosts she'd encountered had communicated in words, sometimes even in writing, this one had not, at least not so far.

Three: This ghost had communicated through dreams, sounds, and, she was pretty sure, that odd, yucky smell.

Beginning with the weird feelings she'd gotten at school, she tried to recall everything that had been going on whenever she'd felt the presence of the ghost.

The first time had been on Thursday, right after L.J.'s arrival, when Mr. Henry had told L.J. to sit beside Allie and he had made his rude remark. Allie had been angry with L.J., and a little frightened by him.

The next communication at school had taken place on the last day. All the kids had been at their desks, talking about the past year's events. L.J., she remembered, had acted thoroughly bored until the subject of Hoover came up, when he had begun talking to Mr. Henry about Hoover having puppies. Hoover, Allie recalled with a smile, hadn't liked that idea. But her smile faded as she remembered Hoover's odd behavior, behavior that had reminded her that Hoover, as well as Michael, could sense the presence of ghosts.

Then Allie thought about the three times she'd had ghostly feelings at the pet shop. Twice when she and Dub were outside watching the new puppies in the window, and then again when they were inside talking to Enid.

Two of the incidents featured L.J. Four of them involved dogs or puppies. The dreams had contained the same whimpering that Allie had heard both at the pet shop and at school. All the communications had come from a ghost who wouldn't talk to her.

Allie ran these facts over and over through her tired brain. Then, lying in the dark beside Michael, she took a sharp breath. The pieces of the puzzle fell together and she
knew
.

The ghost wasn't talking because it couldn't.

It was trying to reach her through sounds and smells because those were all it had.

Michael had awakened with allergy attacks both times he had had the scary dream.

Michael was allergic to dogs.

This ghost was a dog.

It seemed so obvious all of a sudden that Allie felt stupid for not figuring it out earlier. At the same time, it struck her as almost silly—a
ghost dog
? Who could blame her for not thinking of
that
? She almost laughed, until she remembered the sound of those pleading cries.

Okay, so her ghost was a dog. And it needed her help.

Allie awoke next to Michael. It was the first day of summer vacation, the first day of doggy-sitting for Hoover, and the first day she knew that her latest ghost was a dog. She couldn't wait to talk to Dub.

During her previous adventures with ghosts, she and Dub had used the computer to find facts about the spirit world. They had learned that a ghost returned to the world of the living because it had a mission to fulfill. A spirit might have to right a wrong or an injustice, reveal important information, exact revenge, or accomplish something else that would allow it to rest in peace.

What pressing business could cause a dog to have a restless spirit? She
had
to talk to Dub.

“Mike,” she said softly. “Come on, get up.”

Michael wriggled around a bit, then opened his eyes sleepily. Allie could see that the allergic reaction to his dream encounter with the ghost dog hadn't worn off completely yet. She handed him another tissue.

“You okay?” she asked.

Michael nodded, wiping his nose.

“Remember, the dream is our secret, okay?”

Michael nodded again.

Allie felt guilty about making Michael join her in a secret from their parents. But she had never figured out how to explain to them that she and Michael were both ghost magnets.

Her mother and father were basically great. They were nice and funny and always tried to understand her, but they tended to worry about her “overactive imagination.” Once she'd heard them talking in worried voices about having her see a psychiatrist. She didn't even want to imagine trying to tell a shrink she saw ghosts. It was one of those things that grownups, parents and probably doctors in particular, just wouldn't get.

Allie didn't want her mother and father to be concerned about her now, not when summer vacation had just begun. She needed as much freedom as possible to solve the mystery of this latest ghost.

It was easier all around to let them think everything was fine. Which it was, really, she told herself. Except for the matter of poor Michael having an allergy attack every time the ghost showed up.

But before anything else, she needed to call Dub. She let him grumble a little about being awakened so early on the first morning of vacation. Then she hit him with the news. She told him how she had figured it out, taking him step by step through her reasoning process.

“Wow!” he said, immediately sounding fully awake. “Weird. But it makes sense, I guess.” He added thoughtfully, “As much sense as anything else about ghosts.”

“I thought my other two ghosts were frustrating,” Allie said ruefully. “I didn't realize until now how helpful it was that they could
speak
.”

“Don't worry, we'll figure it out,” said Dub. “But first things first. You have to walk Hoover. And we said we were going to L.J.'s today to get that over with. I was thinking we could kill two birds with one stone. We could walk to L.J.'s with Hoover on the leash. Then we'll have the rest of the day to try to crack the case.”

Allie loved when Dub used expressions such as “crack the case.” It made what they were doing sound so official. Even better was the confidence with which he said
they
would figure it out.

“Great idea,” she said. “Except isn't it kind of far to walk?”

“Not really,” said Dub. “It's probably only a mile and a half, maybe two miles each way.”

“We can take some food and drinks in our backpacks,” said Allie, warming to the idea. “And some water for Hoover.”

“It'll be good exercise for her. Part of her healthy new lifestyle. Don't forget to pack lots of low-cal treats,” Dub added slyly.

“When will you be here?” Allie asked.

“Half an hour.”

“Perfect.”

Allie went downstairs and joined her mother and Michael at the kitchen table.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Morning, sweetie.”

“Did Mike tell you he got into bed with me last night?”

“Yes. He said he had a bad dream, but he won't tell me what it was about. He says it's a secret.”

Allie looked at Michael and he gave her a conspiratorial smile. She didn't want to start talking about the dream. Michael loved the idea of secrets, but he wasn't very good at keeping them. He'd already said more than Allie would have liked. Quickly, she held her finger to her lips, then turned back to her mother.

“Well, he was really stuffed up again. Don't you think he should start taking his allergy medicine? I'll be seeing Hoover a couple times every day for the next week or so, and I'll probably have dog cooties or whatever you call them all over me.”

Mrs. Nichols looked at Michael, who did appear miserable. “You know, I think you're right, Allie.”

She got up from the table and went to the phone. Allie heard her leaving a message on Dr. Waheed's answering machine, saying that she was starting Michael on the pills the doctor had prescribed.

Good, Allie thought. Even if the effect of the dream dog wore off later in the day, there was no telling when its ghost might appear to her or to Michael again. This way, Michael would be protected, at least from sniffles and red eyes.

“Michael and your dad are going fishing today,” Mrs. Nichols said, returning to the table. “Do you want to go with them? I'm sure they'd wait until you got back from Mr. Henry's house.”

“Well, I would, but Dub and I talked about taking Hoover for kind of a major walk. The vet told Mr. Henry she needs to lose weight, so we thought it would help. We're going to pack a lunch and everything. Is that okay?”

“Where are you going?” her mother asked.

“Over to this kid L.J.'s house. He showed up at school for the last two days, and Mr. Henry asked us if we'd be nice to him this summer 'cause he didn't have time to make any friends.”

“That was thoughtful of Mr. Henry,” said Mrs. Nichols. “And you and Dub, too.”

“Well, Dub and I don't really want to do it,” Allie confessed.

Her mother looked surprised. “Why not?”

“We didn't like L.J. too much.”

“Really?” Mrs. Nichols asked. “Why is that?”

“We think there's something creepy about him,” Allie said.

Her mother looked at her and scolded gently, “Allie, you're not letting your imagination run away with you again, are you? After all, you've only seen the boy at school—what?—twice? How could you know what he's like?”

“That's what Mr. Henry said,” Allie admitted with a sigh. She wanted to add,
But sometimes even a cool teacher like Mr. Henry can be kind of clueless.
She didn't, though. And she certainly didn't want her mother to get started on her “runaway imagination” again. Instead she said, “We promised Mr. Henry we'd give him a chance, so that's what we're doing.”

“Well, I think that's very nice.”

Easy for you to say,
Allie thought.
You've never met L.J.