The Horror Read online

  I shuddered. What was wrong with me—it was still broad daylight, and bad things never happened until after dark, right?

  That’s what I told myself. But as I stared up at those blank windows, suddenly something moved. At first it was blurry, and then it came into sharp focus.

  A small, pale-looking boy was up there in the attic, looking down at me. He was dressed in old-fashioned clothes, and as I stared up at him he raised his little hand and waved at me.

  Bobby. The dead boy.

  7

  “Spaghetti anyone?” said Katie, holding up a ladle like a tennis racket.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” I said, rubbing my hands together.

  A couple of hours had passed and it was time for supper. I hadn’t mentioned seeing the ghost in the attic window. Katie would just think I was making it up, and there was no way to prove it to her.

  Besides, I didn’t even want to think about the dumb old ghost. All this spooky stuff was making my life miserable. Haunted houses sound cool in made-up stories, but if you have to live in one it’s no fun at all.

  Not when that bony hand reaches out from under the bed and grabs you in the night.

  “This will be fun,” said Katie, getting down a big pot for the spaghetti.

  You could tell that Katie was trying hard. This was the first time she’d ever been an overnight baby-sitter and she was taking the job seriously. The last thing she wanted was for my parents to find out she couldn’t handle it, so she wanted to make friends with me and Sally.

  “We’re in this together,” she said brightly. “We might as well have fun.”

  She filled the pot with water and was lugging it to the stove when she tripped.

  “Look out!”

  The pot tipped over, dousing her with cold water. “Ugh,” she said, looking down at her soaked Levi’s. “Well, that was my own fault. I’ll have to go up to my room and change.”

  I managed to refill the pot and get it on the stove while she was gone. Mr. Helpful, that’s me. I’d just turned the burner on when I heard running feet coming from upstairs.

  “Jayyyy-sonnnnnnnn!” someone screamed.

  It was Katie. She came skidding into the kitchen, her eyes blazing with anger.

  “You little wretch!” she said. “How could you!?”

  Then she burst into tears.

  I was so startled I could only stare at her.

  “Don’t play innocent with me, Jason,” she said, wiping away her tears. “I want an explanation.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “I don’t understand. Really.”

  Something in my face must have convinced her at least a little bit. Her shoulders relaxed and she spun around and headed back upstairs. “Come with me,” she ordered.

  With Sally tagging behind, I followed Katie upstairs, down the hall to the room Mom had given her. It was a nice room with rose-patterned wallpaper and a big four-poster bed. A girl’s room.

  I stopped short in the open doorway. It had been a nice room—but now it looked like a bomb had gone off.

  Her clothes were strewn all over the room, balled up on every inch of floor. Blouses and T-shirts were flung over the rocking chair and a fancy-looking sweater was mooshed up, hanging from the corner of a painting on the wall.

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t me. I haven’t been up here for hours.”

  “Oh? Who was it then?” she challenged. “I suppose you’re going to tell me it was the ghost.”

  I nodded. “I didn’t believe it, either, at first. I don’t blame you for thinking it was me even though I would never do anything like this. But it must have been Bobby.”

  “A ghost? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I think Bobby’s trying to get you out of the house,” I said. “If we could only figure out why …”

  I let my voice trail off. Katie didn’t believe a word I was saying. I couldn’t blame her, really. Before we came to this house, I never believed in ghosts, either—so why should she believe me?

  “I don’t know what you kids have against me,” she said. “But I’m going to stick it out, whatever you do. So you might as well get used to me. I’m not so bad. Really.”

  Sally just stared up at her with wondering eyes.

  I mumbled a protest. “We’re not trying to get rid of you.”

  Katie turned away with a shaky smile. “Forget it. Now let’s go have dinner.”

  We trooped back downstairs.

  The water was boiling. Steam rattled the lid and escaped in big jets out the sides. “I’ll put the spaghetti on,” I said, trying to sound like it was no big deal.

  But the truth was, you never knew what might happen in this house. Sometimes it played tricks, moving things around, and I didn’t want the pot to tip over on Katie again, not when the water was boiling.

  I opened the box of spaghetti, grabbed a fistful, and went to the stove.

  Holding my body well back from the stove, I lifted the lid. The water was bubbling furiously and steam billowed up to the ceiling.

  I dropped the spaghetti in and jumped back. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath till I let it out.

  “Let me give that a stir,” said Katie.

  Before I could stop her or even cry out a warning she lifted the lid and stuck in a long-handled spoon.

  “There.” She set the spoon on the counter and I let myself relax. Nothing had happened. The boiling water wasn’t going to burn her.

  Then Katie picked up the jar of spaghetti sauce. And as she started to tip it into a pan, the jar jerked out of her grasp.

  Katie screamed. The jar landed with a crash on the floor. Glass and gloppy sauce spattered everywhere.

  “It felt like it was yanked out of my hands!” cried Katie, staring at the mess.

  Sally giggled.

  I hushed her and grabbed fistfuls of paper towels. “It looked that way to me, too,” I said, starting to shovel the mess into a dust pan. “Like something grabbed it.”

  Katie gave me a black look. “That’s crazy. I dropped it, that’s all. Must be nerves. It comes from being around you two and wondering what you’ll get up to next.”

  I didn’t say anything, just finished cleaning up the mess.

  “Luckily there’s another jar of sauce,” said Katie, reaching for it.

  I hunched my shoulders, expecting it to go flying against the wall. It didn’t.

  Katie twisted the lid but it wouldn’t budge. She tried again, grunting with effort.

  “Here,” I said, glad to have an excuse to offer. “Let me.” It was our last jar and I was hungry.

  Katie shrugged. “I’ll set the table.

  I got the lid off and the sauce safely into a pan and on the stove while Katie took down a stack of dishes. She picked up the top plate to set it on the table.

  It flew out of her hand, skimmed across the kitchen like a Frisbee, and smashed into the wall.

  Frowning at the shattered pieces on the floor, Katie grasped the second plate. It shot away from her and smashed into the opposite wall.

  Sally watched it all happen, smiling her secret smile.

  “I don’t understand this,” Katie said, staring at the broken crockery. “I’ve never been such a klutz.”

  “Why don’t you sit down with Sally,” I suggested. “I’ll get the food. It’s just about ready anyway.”

  Moving like a sleepwalker, Katie got the broom and began sweeping up the broken plates. “It was weird,” she said in a quiet, puzzled voice. “It was like they came alive in my hand.”

  Holding everything very tightly and moving very carefully, I got the plates and our dinner to the table. Nothing wiggled in my hand or tried to get away.

  My stomach was growling fiercely. I heaped spaghetti on my plate and dumped on some sauce.

  Just as I was putting the bowl of sauce down, the lights went out.

  The kitchen was plunged into pitch blackness.

  “What’s that?” Katie whispered in the dark.

&nb
sp; I heard a plate slither across the table. Then another.

  It was starting. The house was coming alive.

  8

  A glass crashed to the floor.

  It was pitch black—I couldn’t see a thing. Plates clattered. Then there was another noise, a squishy splat kind of noise and someone screamed.

  “STOP IT. Stop it, please.”

  Katie.

  I started up out of my seat. I don’t know what I was going to do—something, anything except just sit there—but just then the light came back on.

  The first thing I saw was Katie, covered from head to foot in red gore. Gobs dripped down from her hair onto her cheeks. Her yellow blouse had turned the color of blood. She was breathing in little gasps and her blazing eyes were fixed on me.

  “You!” she sputtered, sending red drops flying. “You!”

  Just then I noticed the bowl in her lap. The sauce bowl. That was the source of all the gory, bloody-looking stuff. It had been emptied over her head, then dumped in her lap.

  “You did this, Jason!” she said, pointing a finger at me.

  “It wasn’t me,” I insisted. “I swear I didn’t do it.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Katie said disgustedly. “It was a ghost, right?”

  “Bobby’s a bad boy,” said Sally sadly.

  Katie gritted her teeth and glared. “Jason’s the only bad boy around here,” she said.

  It was no use trying to talk sense to her. First, it was easier to blame me, and second, she looked so funny covered in spaghetti sauce, I was afraid I might burst out laughing.

  We finally managed to eat our supper without anything else happening.

  Katie calmed down a bit, but she still didn’t trust me. When I offered to clean up the mess she said, “No way. You’ll break every dish in the house and blame it on ghosts.”

  I got a couple of ice pops out of the freezer and took Sally out on the porch. Maybe with my sister outside, the house would leave us alone for a while.

  We were on the porch for only a couple of minutes when a voice boomed out of the dark. “Jayysssonnnnnn!”

  I recognized the voice right away. Steve, trying to sound spooky.

  “Knock it off,” I said. “The last thing we need around here is a practical joker.”

  Steve came up on the porch, grinning that big grin of his. He slapped me five and said, “This house must be getting to you, bud.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I said.

  Just then the porch stair creaked. It was Lucy, who lived a couple of houses over. Lucy was twelve, like me and Steve, but while Steve was husky and solid, Lucy was tall and long-legged. She wore her dark ponytail pulled through the back of her baseball cap.

  “Is it Bobby again?” she asked.

  Lucy knew about the things that had been happening in the house and took the haunting seriously. She and Steve sat on the porch steps while I told them what had happened when Katie tried to make dinner.

  “That sounds creepy,” said Lucy, frowning thoughtfully at the top of her sandal. “What would Bobby have against her? What’s she like?”

  I shrugged. “She’s okay. In fact, she’s pretty nice. Except she’s blaming everything on me.”

  “Maybe the ghost has something against teenage girls,” Lucy suggested. “Or baby-sitters.”

  “Smart ghost,” put in Steve, blowing a fart noise into his fist.

  I was still laughing when a strange expression came over Lucy’s face. “Hi,” she said loudly, jumping up.

  I turned and there was Katie in the doorway, freshly showered and changed. Her thick red hair was combed and even her freckles looked fresh-scrubbed.

  But the look on her face was anything but sweet. She knew we’d been talking about her. She squinted her eyes at me and I felt a chill.

  Suddenly I knew that crossing Katie could be dangerous.

  9

  Katie went out of her way to be nice to Steve and Lucy. She brought them ice pops and insisted they tell her all about themselves. Lucy’s not much of a talker, but Steve made up for it by going on and on about what a good ballplayer he was, and how he was going to play pro ball when he grew up.

  “The only thing I’m not sure about,” Steve said, “is whether to sign with the American League or the National League.”

  “Depends on how well you bat,” said Katie.

  “What?”

  “American League has the designated hitter, but in the National League the pitcher gets to hit, right?”

  Steve whistled and looked impressed. A babysitter who knew about the DH rule!

  “What about you, Lucy?” Katie asked. “What do you want to be?”

  Lucy smiled shyly. “Maybe a scientist,” she said. “I’d like to investigate unexplained phenomena.”

  Katie just stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. “You mean like poltergeists and ghosts, I suppose?” She glanced over at me and shook her head. “You’ve all been bitten by this ghost bug, I guess. Well, before you start trying to scare me again, I’m going to have to call it a night. It’s time for Sally to go to bed.”

  After Steve and Lucy said good night and left, we went back inside the house. The lights stayed on, there were no creaky noises, and the kitchen was spick-and-span again, as if nothing had happened.

  “Thanks for being nice to my friends,” I said.

  Katie gave me a strange look and then laughed. “Why shouldn’t I be nice? I’m a nice person, even if certain kids try to take advantage.”

  I sighed. She was just never going to believe I wasn’t causing all the trouble!

  Sally had been quiet all evening—her eyes were already half closed and I knew she was ready for bed. I took one hand and Katie took the other and we walked her upstairs to her bedroom. Katie helped her into her pajamas and for a little while she seemed happy and friendly, as if she was glad to have Katie around.

  “When are Mommy and Daddy coming home?” Sally asked as she got into bed.

  “In a few days,” Katie promised. “Until then, we’re going to have lots and lots of fun, okay?”

  “Okay,” Sally said.

  Then the smile froze on her face and her eyes grew round. “Where’s Winky?” she wailed. “I want my rabbit!”

  Her stuffed toy with the floppy ears. She’d left it down on the porch.

  “I’ll get it,” I volunteered.

  As I ran down the stairs I noticed something strange. The lights were out downstairs. And I distinctly remembered that they’d been left on.

  It was so dark. And the tall grandfather clock jumped out at me from the shadowy hallway. Not really, but that’s how it looked.

  It was only a broken clock but it gave me the creeps. As if it was watching me from behind the clock face.

  Go for it, I urged myself.

  I ran past the clock and out the door to the porch.

  The porch light was out, too. The wind was sighing through the grass, and the lawn looked pale and silvery in the moonlight.

  Something moved.

  Creak creak creak.

  The porch rocker was moving. Creaking back and forth. The rocker where Sally had been sitting.

  More than anything, I wanted to run back inside and lock the door. Let Sally cry herself to sleep—was that such a big deal?

  But I couldn’t do that. I had to get Winky or my little sister would keep us awake all night.

  The chair stopped rocking. The way the shadows fell across the porch, I couldn’t tell if Winky was in the chair where Sally had left it. But something was there, that was for sure.

  I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and ran up to the chair.

  The shadows shifted and there it was.

  Winky. It was just a stuffed toy, but it looked almost like it was alive.

  I grabbed it, half expecting it to sink fangs into my hand, but nothing happened. It flopped around in my hand, totally harmless.

  Letting out my breath, I ran back into the house and flipped on the hall l
ights.

  I tucked it under my arm and ran up the stairs two at a time.

  Sally was sitting up in bed, holding out her arms. “Winky!” she cried.

  “Not a minute too soon,” said Katie with a sigh.

  Sally’s anxious look disappeared when I gave her the bunny. She snuggled back under the covers and I tucked Winky in beside her. “My bunny,” she said contentedly.

  As I started to leave, Katie leaned over the bed. “Can I give you a good-night kiss?” she asked, smoothing the hair off Sally’s forehead.

  I looked back. Just in time to see Sally’s face change.

  Suddenly her cheeks bunched and went bright red.

  Her eyes seemed to shoot sparks. Her forehead bulged.

  “No!” she spat, in the same strange, rough voice that had come out of her when Mom and Dad drove away. “I hate you!” she screamed at Katie. “I hate you!”

  Katie backed away, totally at a loss.

  “Go away,” the ghostly voice shouted through Sally’s wide-straining mouth. “Get out of my house!”

  10

  My little sister was snarling like an animal.

  I tapped Katie on the arm and said, “You better leave!”

  Katie looked scared, but she wasn’t ready to give up. “No way!” she said, turning to me with a scowl. “I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you try!”

  All I wanted to do was protect her from the ghost, but she thought I was trying to chase her out of the house.

  “Please,” I begged her, “wait out in the hall, or downstairs. Let me try and get Sally calmed down.”

  Katie wasn’t convinced, but Sally was getting more and more frantic, so she finally left the room.

  As soon as she was out of sight, Sally’s body seemed to deflate. I dropped to my knees beside the bed and gripped her shoulders. “Sally!” I demanded. “Sally, I know you’re in there! Talk to me!”

  The blaze died out of Sally’s eyes and they returned to their normal little-girl blue.

  “Sally?” I said softly.

  She rubbed her eyes with the back of a small fist. “I didn’t know Bobby was going to do that,” she said in a small, troubled voice. “Bobby’s a bad boy, isn’t he?”

  I hugged her to me, feeling my heart thumping. What were we going to do?