The Ghost at Dawn's House Read online

  “Don’t you want to see it?” I asked her. I took her by the arm and edged her toward the wall.

  We turned our flashlights on and stepped into the passage. I shoved Mary Anne ahead of me. “You go first,” I said.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Absolutely not. I know if I go first you won’t follow. I’ll find you lounging around on my bed or something. Now go. I’ll be right here.”

  Trembling, Mary Anne led the way toward the stairs. By the time we reached them, she was fine, but I was in a panic. I didn’t say anything, but I hadn’t seen the Indian-head nickel. And I knew very well that I’d tossed it back in the passage after the Trip-Man had given it to me. I wasn’t sure how hard I’d thrown it, but it couldn’t have gone too far. Certainly not down the stairs. Where was it?

  Answer: It was missing. Jared had it. He’d wanted it back. He wanted to give it to Mathias Bradford.

  I tried to convince myself I was being ridiculous. As we stepped gingerly down the stairs, I swept the beam of my flashlight carefully from side to side, just in case.

  No coin.

  Mary Anne and I had almost reached the spot where Jeff and I had heard the weird noises the other night, when Mary Anne stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Shh!” she hissed. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Shh!”

  We stopped to listen. I didn’t hear a sound, but I saw something at my feet. I leaned over for a look. Peanut shells. They were kicked off to the side and were kind of grimy looking, but I knew they hadn’t been in the passage before.

  “Uh-oh. Oh, no,” I moaned. I couldn’t help it.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Mary Anne suspiciously.

  “Those peanut shells weren’t here the last time I was in the passage. I’m positive they weren’t. Oh, it’s Jared!”

  “Jared?” repeated Mary Anne.

  “The — the ghost.”

  “What ghost?” said Mary Anne in a quavery voice.

  “The ghost of the secret passage.” It was too late for secrets. Besides, Mary Anne is my best friend. I had to tell her.

  Now I know Mary Anne is timid, but I hadn’t really expected her to desert me in the darkness. That’s just what she did, though. Without another word, she squeezed by me, clattered along the passage, up the steps, and back to my room.

  “How do you close this thing?” I could hear her yelling.

  I reached the top of the stairs in time to see the patch of light at the end of the passage growing smaller. Mary Anne was shoving the wall in place.

  “Don’t close it, you dope!” I yelled. “I’m still in here.”

  “Oh, sorry,” said Mary Anne. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  I slipped through the opening and closed off the passageway.

  “Now who’s the crazy one?” I gasped, flopping onto my bed.

  Mary Anne flopped down beside me. “Not me!” she exclaimed. “You! You brought me some place where there’s a ghost!” Suddenly, she stopped and looked at me. “Wait a second. A real ghost? Are you sure you haven’t just been reading too many of those weird stories?”

  “I’m sure,” I replied, starting to get my breath back. “I better tell you every thing, though. All right, here’s the story.”

  “The whole story?” interrupted Mary Anne.

  “Yes, the whole story. Okay. For starters, I’d been hearing a lot of weird sounds. They were coming from the direction of the passage, only I didn’t know there was a passage at first. Then I discovered the passage, just like I told you. The first time I was in it — the day I found it — I came across a button, a buckle, and a key. They were all really old. Here, I’ll show you.” I got the things out of my bureau drawer and laid them on the bed.

  Mary Anne sat up. She peered at the objects. But she wouldn’t touch them.

  “I bet they’re more than a hundred years old,” I said. “Maybe more than two hundred years old.”

  “Wow!” whispered Mary Anne.

  “And, see,” I continued, “what happened is that someone once hid out in the secret passage. His name was Jared Mullray, and he ‘wasn’t right in the head.’” I showed Mary Anne the last chapter in A History of Stoneybrooke. Then I added in a low, spooky voice, “And now that poor old angry ghost haunts the passage and maybe our house, too, scavenging around for food and for anything he thinks might be valuable.”

  “Oh, Dawn,” said Mary Anne. “You don’t have any proof.” But she didn’t sound very sure of herself.

  “Well,” I admitted, “not really. But Wood Acres could be our house and barn. And the secret passage would be the perfect hiding place. Anyway, listen to this. The second time I went in the passage, I was with Jeff, and he found an Indian-head nickel. You know what that is?”

  Mary Anne nodded.

  “I know it wasn’t there before. And while we were in the passage, we heard all these weird sounds, moaning and stuff.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. And when we were in again just now, I looked everywhere for the nickel and it wasn’t there.”

  “You didn’t take it out of the passage?”

  “Well, I did. I mean, someone did, but I threw it back.” I told her about the Trip-Man.

  “Did you put the locks on like he suggested?” Mary Anne wanted to know.

  “Only on the entrance to my room,” I said. “And I only lock it at night. We couldn’t figure out a way to lock the trapdoor, so we just set a bale of hay on top of it.

  “Anyway,” I went on, “the peanut shells weren’t in the passage before. They just appeared. And no living person has been in this passage except you, Jeff, and me!”

  Mary Anne nodded. Then suddenly she stiffened.

  “What?” I asked.

  We didn’t even have to keep quiet to hear it. The next sound was loud enough to wake the dead.

  THUMP.

  It definitely came from the secret passage.

  Mary Anne started to scream, but I clapped my hand over her mouth. I didn’t want Jared to hear us.

  The thump was followed by another thump, then nothing.

  When the passage had been quiet for ten entire minutes, I jumped up. “I’m going back in there!” I exclaimed.

  “Not me,” said Mary Anne. “See you later.” But she must have felt guilty because a moment later she added, “I’ll guard the entrance for you.”

  I took my flashlight, marched into the passage, and kept going. At the bottom of the stairs, I screamed. Lying at my feet was a book. It was called Great Dog Tales. It looked about a hundred years old. I had never seen it before in my life. I turned around and ran back to Mary Anne.

  Tuesday

  The Pikes strike again! Today I baby-sat for Nicky, Vanessa, Claire, and Margo. Since just the four of them were there, Mrs. Pike decided she needed only one sitter. Believe me, I could have used ten or twelve more. Vanessa and Margo did something to Claire I will never, ever be able to forget. To top it off, Nicky disappeared. I didn’t worry at first, but when he didn’t turn up after almost an hour, I got nervous. I’m sure he breaks that two-block rule, but I can’t prove it. Anyway, get a load of what the girls did.

  Oh, boy. Am l glad I wasn’t sitting at the Pikes’ that day. As it was, I got called in to look for Nicky, but Stacey sure had her hands full with the girls, even before she knew Nicky was gone.

  It started when the mail arrived. Usually, the mail in our neighborhood is delivered just before lunch, but that day it was late. The mail truck pulled up at the Pikes’ at about three o’clock in the afternoon.

  “I’ll get it!” cried Vanessa. She tore out the door with Claire and Margo at her heels. Nicky was on the sun porch, alone as usual, reading a book.

  Stacey took advantage of the quiet to start in on the list of chores Mrs. Pike had left her. (Sometimes, if Mr. and Mrs. Pike are behind with the housework, us baby-sitters pitch in with the laundry and stuff, and then we earn mother’s helpers wages, which are better than plain old b
aby-sitters wages.)

  Stacey got into the rhythm of folding clean clothes and folded two basketsful. Then she moved on to the kitchen, where she unloaded the clean dishes in the dishwasher and loaded up the dirty ones.

  The house was quiet. Stacey sighed contentedly. She checked on Nicky. He was still reading on the porch. She thought she remembered hearing the girls come in.

  “Vanessa?” she called. “Claire? Margo?”

  “We’re upstairs!” Vanessa shouted back.

  “Okay!”

  Stacey returned to her chores.

  Fifteen minutes later, things were still quiet. Quiet wasn’t unusual for Nicky those days, but it was for the girls. Three girls generally make some sort of noise, but Stacey hadn’t heard so much as a giggle.

  She started up the stairs — and that was when the thing came flying down at her. It was little and shrieked and had a head of white foam. When it collided with Stacey, it left foam all over her Hawaiian shirt.

  “Yikes!” cried Stacey. She backed against the wall.

  The foam-thing was rubbing at its eyes. It stumbled forward and Stacey caught it before it fell down the stairs.

  “Claire!” Stacey exclaimed. “Is that you?”

  “Yes,” wailed the foam-thing. “It’s (gulp) meeeeeee!”

  Stacey glanced at the top of the stairs. Margo and Vanessa were standing there solemnly, looking down at their little sister. Stacey said later that that’s when she first thought something was really wrong. If the older girls had pulled some sort of prank, they would have been laughing hysterically at the sight of the foam. But they were as somber and silent as rocks.

  “Margo? Vanessa?” Stacey said. She steadied Claire and began to lead her upstairs.

  “It’s not our fault!” Margo cried. “Really.”

  “Honest,” added Vanessa, wide-eyed. “Don’t blame us.” She was so upset, she forgot to rhyme her words.

  Stacey made a huge effort to control her temper. “What happened?” she asked.

  Nobody said a word.

  “Claire?” Stacey peered into Claire’s face, wiping away some foam.

  “Shampoo,” Claire managed to reply.

  “Shampoo? Is that all?” said Stacey, suddenly feeling better. “You guys tried to give your sister a shampoo? Well, what’s wrong with that? It was very thoughtful. I just wish you’d asked me first. Come on, Claire. All we have to do is wash it out.”

  Still the girls remained quiet. Stacey noticed that the foam was unlike any she’d seen before. It was thick, almost as thick as shaving cream, and just slightly blue in color. But Stacey didn’t pay any attention to that. She simply drew a bath for Claire, stripped off her clothes, and sat her in the tub. Then she began to rinse the soap off by pouring cupfuls of water over her head.

  “Ow! Ow! Owie!” cried Claire.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Stacey.

  “It stings.”

  “Keep your eyes shut, okay?”

  “Okay,” replied Claire, “but it still stings.”

  It wasn’t until Stacey had poured twelve cups of water over Claire’s head that she began to feel uneasy again. The shampoo wasn’t rinsing out.

  Stacey dumped another cupful onto Claire. This time she rubbed Claire’s hair vigorously. The foam puffed up as if it were alive. It was thicker than ever.

  “Margo? Vanessa?” said Stacey.

  “Yes?” they whispered. They were sitting squashed together on the toilet, their hands in their laps. They’d watched the rinsing process wordlessly.

  “What shampoo did you use on Claire? The baby shampoo?”

  Stacey had given Claire several shampoos when she and Mary Anne had gone to Sea City with the Pikes. She had always used Johnson’s Baby Shampoo. Nothing like this had ever happened.

  “Um, no,” replied Vanessa. “We used … we used something new.”

  “What was it?” asked Stacey.

  “I don’t remember the name.”

  “Can you show it to me, please?”

  Margo and Vanessa looked at each other. Vanessa nodded at her sister. Margo reached behind her and pulled something out of the wastebasket. She handed it to Stacey.

  It was a small plastic bottle. And it was empty.

  “You guys,” said Stacey nervously. “I hope this wasn’t your mom’s. You didn’t use up something of your mom’s … did you?”

  They shook their heads.

  Stacey read the label on the front of the bottle. It said:

  Trial Size Only

  Not for sale

  CALLADEW’S PERFECTION SHAMPOO

  Concentrated

  On the back, the directions cautioned:

  Concentrated shampoo — use sparingly.

  Pour several drops onto palm of hand.

  Rub hands together vigorously to create foam.

  Rub foam into hair.

  Rinse twice.

  Process need not be repeated.

  Stacey looked up at the girls. “Where did you get this?” she asked.

  “In the mail,” Vanessa replied. She didn’t look at Stacey. “Mom and Dad always let us have the samples.”

  “Last week we got two sticks of gum,” added Margo.

  “And you guys ate them,” said Claire accusingly from under her cap of foam.

  “So this came in the mail today?” said Stacey.

  Margo and Vanessa nodded.

  “I hate to ask, but how much did you use?”

  “The whole bottle,” said Vanessa. “We felt bad for taking all the gum. So we gave Claire all the shampoo.”

  “Oh, Vanessa.” Stacey was irritated and couldn’t hide it. “You’re old enough to know you’re supposed to read the directions first. Didn’t you look at the label?”

  Vanessa hung her head. “No,” she murmured.

  Stacey realized she ought to see what Nicky was up to. She got to her feet. “I want you two to stay here and keep rinsing. I have to check on Nicky. I’ll be right back. Be nice to your sister.”

  Stacey went downstairs, partly to calm down. That, of course, was when she discovered that Nicky was gone. Forty-five minutes later, Claire still had a head of foam, and Nicky still hadn’t returned.

  Stacey called me. I was at home alone and had been hearing one weird sound after another coming from the secret passage. I was delighted to give Stacey a hand. I couldn’t wait to get out of my house.

  “Oh, thank you for coming!” Stacey exclaimed when I reached the Pikes’. “Mrs. Pike is going to be home in about fifteen minutes, and I have two disasters here. Can you go look for Nicky? I better stay with the mess in the bathroom.”

  It was getting to be a familiar scene. I walked around our neighborhood calling Nicky at the top of my lungs. He didn’t answer. I looked behind bushes and up trees. He was a champion hider.

  I had just reached the edge of my property when once again, Nicky appeared suddenly. He was dusty, and a vaguely familiar odor clung to him, but I couldn’t quite place it.

  “Hi,” he said. “Looking for me?” He flashed me a grin, then went on chewing away at an enormous wad of gum.

  “Nicky! Where have you been? Stacey was worried.”

  Nicky wet his hand and rubbed at a scab on his knee. Then he blew a large bubble that popped, leaving wispy pink strings all over his face. But he didn’t answer me.

  “You are an absolute mess,” I told him. “You’re filthy.”

  “Yeah,” he said, sounding pleased.

  I shook my head. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your house. Your mom’ll be home any minute now.”

  “Okay.” Unexpectedly, Nicky slipped his hand into mine as we walked along. It was dirty, sticky, and wet, but I held on to it.

  When we reached his front door, I opened it and called inside to Stacey. Then I left. I didn’t think it would look good for me to be there when Mrs. Pike returned.

  Stacey was relieved to see Nicky, but Vanessa wasn’t. She was in a bad mood. Stacey had said that she would have to tell her mothe
r what she and Margo had done.

  “Why isn’t Nicky in trouble, too?” she demanded.

  Before Stacey could answer, Nicky broke in, “Oh, you’re just jealous! You wish you had a dog friend who could rescue people from avalanches.”

  “A dog friend! What are you talking about? You don’t have any dog friend,” scoffed Vanessa.

  “Do too!”

  “Do not!”

  “Can it, you guys!” ordered Stacey.

  I wasn’t around to hear any of that, but if I had been, it might have helped me out. As it was, an idea was growing in my mind. Just a little one. A sprout. Just enough to make me think I wouldn’t have to worry about sounds in the passage again that day.

  As it turned out, I was right.

  There were no more sounds in the secret passage that afternoon. I even felt brave enough to explore it again. I propped the wall open in my room and entered, carrying a flashlight. I walked purposefully to the spot where I’d found the book the day Mary Anne had been over. I wished I hadn’t left it there. I wanted to get a good look at it. But it was gone.

  I sighed.

  Then I checked out the rest of the passage. The nickel was still gone, the peanut shells were still there, and a crust of bread had turned up. I didn’t feel too surprised.

  At least — not until I found the key. It was similar to the one I’d found before, but smaller. And a lot older looking. It was shoved into a corner at the bottom of the steps.

  It almost ruined my theory.

  I left it where it was and tried not to think about it.

  I wanted to test my theory, but I didn’t have a chance for two whole days. They were the longest days of my life. During that time, the passage was quiet except for very late one night when we had some rain. Then I heard definite moaning coming from the passage. Even though my wall was locked, I grabbed my pillow and blanket and spent the rest of the night on the couch in the living room.

  The next day, I had a sitting job at the Pikes’. Mrs. Pike was taking Claire, Margo, and Vanessa to the mall to get their hair cut before school started. (Claire’s hair hadn’t looked quite the same since her sisters had washed it with Calladew’s.) Mallory and I were left in charge of Nicky and the triplets.