For George and Marian Kirby Have You Met My Ghoulfriend 2 page

How could those two stupid ghosts leave me up here? I really had no idea how to get down. I knew there was no way I could slide down without ripping my whole body to pieces.

And then I realized something else—I'm afraid of heights!

As I gazed down, the gym started to spin. The kids, Coach Freeley, the bleachers, the gym floor—it all became a whirling blur.

Fighting off my dizziness, I raised my eyes to the ceiling. And felt my hands slip a little more. My heart pounded in my chest.

Coach Freeley is going to have to call the fire department, I thought. That's the only way I'll ever get down. But how can I hold on long enough for the firefighters to get here?

Coach Freeley turned and headed across the gym to get his clipboard. That's when I saw the ladder at the side of the gym start to move. It was a tall metal painter's ladder that had been leaning against the far wall. As I stared down, the ladder lifted itself away from the wall and appeared to move on its own—sliding toward me.

Yes—!

Kids let out startled cries as the ladder edged across the gym floor. They scrambled to get out of the way. The ladder moved past them and came to a stop at the wall beneath me.

Okay, okay, Max. This should be a piece of cake. Just hold on to the rope and lower your feet to the ladder. No prob, right?

Well, it sounded easier than it was.

I held on to the rope, lowering my hands inch by inch until my sneakers bumped the top rung of the ladder. Then slowly, slowly I lowered myself. With a final step of courage, I let go of the rope. I quickly grabbed the ladder's sides with my hands. Then I climbed down the rest of the way.

When my shoes hit the gym floor, I let out a triumphant cheer. I stopped when I realized everyone was staring hard at me.

“Max, that ladder,” Traci said, pointing. “It—it walked across the gym on its own!”

Think fast, Max. Think fast.

“Of course,” I said. “It's a step-ladder!”

Groan.

Well … that was the best I could do.

Up in my room that night, I waited for Nicky and Tara to appear. Why didn't they help me down the rope? I wanted to know. Why did they make me flunk the rope test?

But more important than that, I needed to tell them about Phears. I had to tell them about the Berserker Ghoul he was going to send to break me.

Break me.

I don't want to be broken, I thought, shuddering. I want my life to be normal again.

Nicky and Tara had to step up. They had to help protect me from Phears and this ghoul he was sending. After all, whose fault was it that I was in this mess?

I didn't ask to be haunted. I didn't ask for any of this. And if I was going to protect Nicky and Tara, it was only fair for them to protect me.

But where were they?

They didn't show up all night.

I tried to write in my journal. But everything I wrote about my day sounded like some kind of scary novel. No one would believe any of it. I tore out the page and promised myself I'd think of something to write tomorrow.

Finally, I tucked myself into bed, shut my eyes, and tried to forget about this awful day. But just as I started to drift off to sleep, I heard a low howl.

And then a long, shrill cry.

The cat. Again.

“Where is that cat?” I bolted up in bed.

Another low howl. Sounding so sad and lonely.

“Where are you, cat?” My muscles tensed.

Wait a minute. Maybe I'm hearing Edgar, the Swansons' black cat next door. Sometimes Edgar stands in the backyard and howls to be let inside.

I could feel my body relax. That's it, I told myself. It's just Edgar.

“Yeeeeeeeeoooow.”

That sad howl again. No, not Edgar. The cry was too nearby to be the Swansons' cat. “Where are you, cat? What do you want?”

Silence now.

I fell back into bed, turned onto my stomach, and pulled the blanket up to my neck. I shut my eyes and settled into the pillow.

I heard heavy footsteps. Felt a whoosh of cold air. And something leaped out of the darkness.

I tried to turn over. I tried to see what was there. But I couldn't. Something landed heavily on my back. An animal? A ghoul?

Before I could move, it grabbed my neck with two powerful claws.

“NOOO—!” I LET OUT an angry cry and tried to fight it off. Squirming and thrashing, I tugged its heavy claws off me. With a groan, I struggled onto my back.

The bedside lamp flashed on—and I gasped as I saw the creature in all its gruesome horror.

Colin. My brother, Colin.

Colin sat on top of me, fingernails still digging into my throat. Seeing my shock, he tossed back his head and laughed. His blue eyes flashed gleefully in the bright light. “Wahoo!” He let out a victory cry and pounded on my head for a while with both hands. He always thinks it's fun to use my head as a bongo.

“Okay. You scared me,” I said. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

He grinned down at me. “Where'd you get those pajamas, Maxie?”

“What do you mean? They're my Star Wars pajamas. They're my favorites. I've had them forever.”

“But they're torn,” Colin said.

“No, they're not,” I protested.

Colin grabbed my pajama shirt and ripped it down the front. “See? They're torn.”

I tried to shove him off me, but he was too heavy and too strong. He works out about twenty hours a day, watching himself in a mirror the whole time. Colin loves himself, and just about everyone else does too. Because he's such a macho hunk.

Puke.

“Why'd you rip my shirt?”

“To teach you a lesson,” he said.

“Excuse me? A lesson? What lesson?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Beats me.” He climbed off me, leaning all his weight on my ribs, and glanced around the room. “You have a cat in here, don't you, Fat Face?”

“Don't call me Fat Face. I hate that,” I said.

“It's your real name. Fat Face Doyle. I saw your birth certificate.”

“How funny are you, Colin? Not!”

“Where's the cat, Fat Face?”

So Colin could hear the cries too. Weird.

“I don't have a cat,” I said. “What makes you think I have a cat?”

“Because I heard it meowing. It woke me up.”

“Funny. I didn't hear anything,” I lied.

“Maxie, if you have a cat, you're in major trouble,” Colin said. “You know Mom is allergic.”

He crossed the room to my closet and began heaving stuff out, tossing it all over the floor. “Is it in here? Where is it?”

I sat up. “Get your paws off my stuff. I told you, I don't have a cat.”

What could I do? He was pulling everything out of my closet. He knows I always get into trouble with Mom and Dad when my room is a mess. I had to think of something to get him out.

“You know what I think it was?” I said. “It wasn't a cat. I think it was just my stomach growling real loud.”

“Oh, really?” He backed out of the closet and turned to me. “Stomach growling? I know how to cure that, Maxie.” He leaned forward, took a running start, and gave me a ferocious head-butt in the stomach.

I yelped in pain. It hurt so much, I thought his head had gone all the way through me!

Giggling and pumping his fists in the air, Colin ran out of the room.

A few minutes later, I started breathing again. I slid back under the covers and listened for the cat. Silence.

I knew where its cries were coming from. I think I knew all along, but I didn't want to admit it.

The cat was in the tunnel. The tunnel hidden behind a panel in my bedroom wall. Nicky and Tara and I discovered the tunnel one night. It led to some kind of terrifying ghost world, all dark and cold and filled with lurking ghosts and spirits.

Nicky and Tara forced me to go into the tunnel to find a box of Nicky's belongings. I still have nightmares about it. I was trapped in the tunnel, trapped in the ghost world. Nicky and Tara had to pull me out, pull me back to my room.

The tunnel opening has been paneled up ever since. I never want to go back to that terrifying place again.

“Please go away,” I whispered to the cat. “Please—stop crying. No one wants you here.”

As I struggled to fall asleep, little did I know that I'd be pulling off that wall panel in just a few hours.

THE NEXT MORNING, DAD jumped up from the breakfast table as soon as I stepped into the kitchen. “Max, are you hiding a cat in your room?”

“Huh?”

That was my best reply for first thing in the morning.

I saw Colin grinning at me over his bowl of shredded wheat. Mom leaned against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee between her hands.

“Your brother heard a cat in your room last night,” Dad said.

Colin's grin grew wider. He loved getting me in trouble.

“He's a dirty liar,” I said.

Mom choked on her coffee. Dad hurried over to slap her on the back. Dad is a big, beefy guy, built like a buffalo. And Mom looks sort of like a frail little bird. So when Dad slaps Mom on the back, believe me, she stops choking right away. She never wants a second helpful slap.

“Don't call your brother names,” Dad said.

“Yeah. Don't call me names, you big piece of garbage,” Colin chimed in.

Dad laughed at that. He thinks Colin is a riot.

“Maxie, I know you want a pet,” Mom said, setting her mug on the counter. “But I'm terribly allergic to cats.”

“Besides, you have Buster,” Dad said.

“Buster?” I cried. “Buster hates me! He thinks I'm one of his chew toys!”

Buster is a big, furry wolfhound we got a few years ago. He stays mostly outside or in the garage. Whenever I come near him, he growls and sinks his teeth into my leg.

Dad says he's just being friendly. He says I have to get over my fear of dogs.

I'm not afraid of dogs. I'm afraid of being eaten!

Colin loaded his spoon with cereal and snapped it toward me. He got me right in the forehead with a big wet wad of shredded wheat.

Dad laughed. To him, everything Colin does is golden.

Mom shook her head at Colin. “Don't play with your food. And stop picking on Maxie.”

“What about the cat in his room?” Colin insisted.

“Give me a break. I don't have a cat,” I said through gritted teeth.

And at that moment, a loud meeeeow floated into the kitchen from upstairs.

Everyone froze.

And listened.

And heard another long cat cry, shrill and sad.

It's a ghost cat, I thought. It has to be a ghost cat. So why can everyone hear it?

This cat must really want to be heard!

Colin jumped up from the table. “I told you! Did you hear it? We all heard it, right?”

“Heard what?” I said. “I didn't hear anything.”

But the three of them were already hurrying out of the kitchen. They went running up to my room, and I had no choice but to follow them.

What should I do? I asked myself. How can I explain this?

I decided to tell them the truth. Come clean and tell them the whole story. Then maybe they'd finally believe me about the ghosts in the house.

When I reached my room, Colin was tossing things out of the closet again. Dad was down on the floor, searching under the bed. Mom stood with her arms crossed, listening for the cat.

“Whoa. Stop!” I shouted. “I'll tell you the truth.”

They turned to me. Mom raised her hands to her cheeks. “Oh no. Maxie, you really are hiding a cat in here?”

“It's a ghost cat,” I said.

Dad and Colin groaned. “Not another crazy ghost story,” Dad said. “I warned you, Max—”

“Just listen to me!” I cried. “I can prove it to you.” My heart was thudding in my chest. Would I finally be able to make them believe me?

“The cat must be in the tunnel,” I said.

Dad stood with his powerful arms crossed over his chest. The fire-breathing dragon tattooed on his right bicep seemed to stare at me. “What tunnel?” he asked.

“There's a tunnel in my room. It's hidden behind that wall panel.” I pointed. “I just discovered it a few weeks ago. The tunnel is very long and dark. It leads to some kind of ghost world. It—”

Colin burst out laughing. “You're talking about a PlayStation game, right?”

“No, it's true!” I screamed.

Dad rolled his eyes. “Max, I warned you about these babyish ghost stories….”

“I'll prove it!” I cried. “I'll prove it to you.” I darted to the wall, wrapped my hands around the edges of the wall panel, and tugged.

Stuck.

“The tunnel is right behind this panel,” I said. “You'll see.”

I tugged harder.

The panel still wouldn't budge.

“You'll see,” I repeated. “Then you'll be sorry you didn't believe me.”

With a groan, I bent lower, tightened my hands around the edges, and yanked the panel with all my might.

“Yes!”

I pulled the panel away.

And everyone gasped.

SOLID WALL.

No sign of any tunnel.

I dropped the wood panel to the floor and slapped the wall with my hand. Hard plaster. I slapped at it frantically with both hands. Where was the tunnel? Where?

Mom came up from behind and put her arms around me. “Max, I'm very worried about you. Why are you making up these crazy ghost stories?”

“Because he's totally mental!” Colin exclaimed. He let out a high horse whinny. “He's gone looney tunes!”

Dad shook his head. “It isn't funny, Colin. Max needs help. I know he'll get it at the Plover School.”

“Maybe you're right,” Mom said. “Maybe he does need to get away from this house and go to a place with some structure.”

Structure? What is structure?

What was she talking about? I couldn't believe it. Mom never wanted me to go away to that horrible boarding school. Why was she suddenly agreeing with Dad?

Just because the tunnel disappeared?

“You're both going to be late for school,” Mom said. “We'll talk about this later. Get your backpacks and go.”

I trudged across the room to get my backpack. I saw Dad staring hard at me. And the fire-breathing dragon on his arm was staring at me too.

I realized I was trembling. Now I'll never get them to believe me, I thought. I'm totally on my own—with two ghosts haunting the house. And a ghost cat. And an evil ghost who is going to bring a ghoul to break me.

Totally on my own …

Dear Diary,

Not much happened today.

Sorry I don't have any exciting things to write about.

I may be going to another school soon. But I don't want to write about that. Bye for now.

Max

That night, the cat appeared.

Well, it wasn't the cat. But it was enough of a cat to get me into major trouble.

The four of us were home having dinner. Dad brought home a bucket of chicken, and Mom microwaved some vegetables to go with it. When they weren't looking, Colin shoved a handful of string beans down the front of my shirt.

“Hey—!” I let out a shout. The string beans tickled!

That's when we heard the cat. A loud meow from upstairs. I glanced quickly around the table. Everyone had heard it.

I tried to make them forget about it. “I got an A on my health quiz today,” I said.

But they were all listening hard. And when the cat meowed again, Dad jumped up from the table. He pointed a finger at me. “Max, I told you—no cat. No more crazy stories about a tunnel in your wall. If I find a cat up there, you're grounded for a year, maybe two.”

“I don't have a cat,” I protested. “Why would I hide a cat up there when I know I'm not allowed to have a cat?”

“Because you're dumb?” Colin chimed in.

“Don't call Maxie dumb,” Mom said.

“He is dumb,” Colin said. “He doesn't want to eat his string beans. So he's hiding them in his shirt.”

“That's a lie!” I shouted.

But Colin jerked my shirt up out of my jeans, and the string beans tumbled out onto the floor.

“Those are Colin's string beans!” I cried.

Dad frowned at me. “Why did you put Colin's string beans down your shirt?” he asked.

Before I could answer, the cat meowed again.

And now everyone jumped up from the table and hurried to the stairs. “Hey, wait—” I called after them.

I shoved my chair back and climbed to my feet. Something crunched under my shoes. String beans. I ignored it and chased after my family.

Dad led the way up the stairs to my room. He clicked on the ceiling light, and we all jammed into the room.

“This is totally stupid,” I said. “I don't know where those meows are coming from, but I don't have a cat. I swear.”

“He's lying. He's definitely got a cat,” Colin said, glancing around. “It has to be up here somewhere.”

“I don't have a cat up here!” I cried. “I can't believe—”

Another meow.

We all turned toward the sound. Dad stepped up to my dresser. He pulled out the top drawer …

All four of us gasped as a black cat leaped out of the dresser.

WITH A SHRILL CRY, the cat jumped onto Dad's chest.

Startled, Dad staggered back. The cat let out a shriek and jumped to the floor. It ran through Mom's legs and darted under my bed.

Colin grinned. “Told you.”

I recognized the cat instantly. It was Edgar, the Swansons' black cat from next door.

How did Edgar get in my dresser drawer? Hello. That wasn't hard to figure out.

Colin.

Had to be Big Fat Sneak Colin.

But how could I prove it?

I turned to Dad. He was steaming. Smoke didn't come out of his ears. But his face was an angry red, the color of raw hamburger. His big chest was heaving up and down like a bomb about to explode.

“Uh …,” I started.

Mom suddenly looked very pale. She had her hands pressed to the sides of her face. “It … it brushed against me,” she said to Dad. “Did you see? It brushed against my legs.”

Then she turned to me. “Isn't that the neighbors' cat?”

“Yes,” I said. “It's Edgar. I'm sure Colin—”

Mom sneezed.

Dad stormed toward me. “I don't care what its name is. Get that cat out from under your bed.”

“Okay. No problem.”

I dropped to my knees and pushed my head under the bed. “Edgar, it's okay. Come here,” I said softly. I tried coaxing him for a while, but he didn't budge. “Edgar, psst psst psst. Come here, kitty. Nice kitty. You know me—right, Edgar?”

I stretched out my hands to grab him, but he was all the way back against the wall.

I heard Mom sneeze again.

And again. Loud sneezes that shook the whole bedroom.

I slid further under the bed. “Come here, Edgar. It's okay, fella. Come to Max.”

I made a grab for him—and he sprang away, out into the room.

Mom let out a cry. I climbed to my feet and saw Edgar on top of my dresser. Mom opened her mouth in a violent sneeze. Her cheeks and forehead were bright red and swollen.

“Get that cat!” Dad screamed.

Colin moved quickly across the room. He picked up Edgar in both hands and held him against his chest. “That's a good cat,” he whispered, petting Edgar's back. “What did that bad Max do to you?”

“This isn't fair!” I shouted.

Mom sneezed so hard, both of her contact lenses flew out.

Colin carried Edgar to the door. “I'll take him back where he belongs,” he said. “Then I'll vacuum around here, Mom, so you'll feel better soon. I'm sure Max didn't mean to make you so sick.” He disappeared down the stairs.

“But—but—but—” I sputtered.

Mom and Dad were on their hands and knees searching for Mom's contacts. “Colin is a take-charge kinda guy,” Dad said to Mom.

“Colin is a take-the-cat kinda guy!” I cried. “I know you won't believe me, but he's the one who hid Edgar in my dresser drawer.”

“Keeping a cat in a drawer is really cruel,” Dad said. “You're grounded for life, Max. No arguments. Maybe you can go out again when you're thirty. We'll see.”

I opened my mouth to protest. But I knew there was no point.

How could I ever pay Colin back for this little joke? There had to be a way.

That's what I was still thinking about late at night when I couldn't fall asleep. How can I get my revenge? How?

And then I heard the sad meow of a cat. Not Edgar. The other cat, the mystery cat. A soft animal cry, so close and far away at the same time.

What else can go wrong? I asked myself.

The next morning, I found out.

“TARA? ARE YOU HERE?”

I blinked, trying to get used to the darkness. Where was I? How long had I been away?

“Nicky, is that you?” I heard Tara's whisper nearby.

I turned to her. Pale gray moonlight poured in from a window. Tara had a floppy hat pulled down over her hair. Her face was covered in shadow. All I could see were the long, dangling plastic earrings she always wears.

“Where are we, Nicky?”

I squinted, struggling to focus. I heard a cat meow, a soft, sad cry. “We're back in Max's room,” I said. “I don't know how long we've been away.”

Tara stepped into the ray of moonlight. Her expression was sad. “Think we'll ever get better at being ghosts? I hate not knowing when I'm going to appear and disappear.”

The cat meowed again.

I watched Max sleeping, the blanket pulled up over his head. He groaned in his sleep. Maybe he was having a bad dream.

Tara stepped close to me. “Something I forgot before we disappeared,” she said. She slapped my arm. “Touched you last.”

She scooted away. I chased after her. She tripped over Max's Darth Vader wastebasket, and it clattered to the floor. I glanced at the bed. Max didn't wake up. I tagged Tara. “Touched you last.”

She slapped me back. “Touched you last.”

Sometimes our “touched you last” game lasted for hours. It was a serious sport. We never wanted to be the loser. Now here we were—ghosts—and we couldn't stop playing it. Sick, huh?

Suddenly, Tara slumped down on the edge of Max's bed. She cupped her face in her hands and let out a long sigh.

“What's wrong?”

“We're nowhere, Nicky. We've been back here in our old house for weeks. And we haven't come any closer to finding Mom and Dad.”

I sprawled on the floor and leaned against the bed. “That ghost named Phears is our only clue,” I said. “He knows our parents. Maybe he even knows where they are. But he's too evil and too frightening. No way to talk to him.”

Tara shook her head. Her earrings rattled. “We don't know how we died. And we don't know if Mom and Dad are dead or alive. We can't just sit here in our old house waiting for them to return.”

“Well … I know,” I said. “I thought your new boyfriend here was supposed to help us.”

Tara bonked me on the head with her fist. “Don't call him that.”

“You have a crush on Max,” I said. “It's obvious.”

She bonked me again, a little harder.

“Ow.” Yeah, sure, I'm a ghost. But it still hurts to be bonked on the head.

Above me, Max stirred in his sleep. The cat meowed again, its voice hoarse, tired.

“Max did help a little,” Tara said. “He went in the weird tunnel in the wall and brought out that box of your stuff.”

“Oh, yeah. The box.” I'd hidden it under the bed. I pulled it out and opened it. It had a lot of stuff I'd saved back when … back when I was alive.

I sifted through it. Some keys I didn't recognize … a Spider-Man action figure … a small comic book …

I pulled out a framed photograph of Mom and Dad and held it up to the moonlight. Tara leaned her hands on my shoulders and gazed at it with me.

“They look so young and happy,” I said. Dad had an arm around Mom's shoulders. They were standing on a beach, grinning at the camera. I could see the ocean behind them. They both had wavy dark hair. Dad looked very tanned.

“I don't remember saving this photo,” I said. “How did it end up in the box?”

Tara reached into the box and pulled out the red-jeweled ring. It glowed dimly, like a night-light in the dark bedroom. “The wishing ring,” she murmured. “Remember? Max used it for Halloween?”

“I don't know how that ring got in the box,” I said. “Did it belong to Mom and Dad? They were scientists—not magicians.”

Tara slid the big ring onto her finger. The glow grew a little brighter. Under her cap, her dark eyes reflected the light. “Maybe we can make a wish, Nicky.”

“Maybe,” I said.

Tara raised the ring close to her face. The red glow washed over her. She stared hard at the shimmering jewel. “I wish we could find our parents.” Her voice came out in a hushed whisper.

Silence now.

Tara held the ring close to her face, not taking her eyes from it. Neither one of us moved.

The light from the jewel dimmed to purple, then gray.

I realized I was still gripping the framed snapshot tightly between my hands. Suddenly, it began to vibrate.

Startled, I cried out—and dropped the photo to the carpet. I grabbed for it—and saw something flutter out of the back.

A slip of paper.

“Nicky, what is that?” Tara asked. “Did the frame break?”

I unfolded the slip of paper. “No. It's a note,” I said. I held it up to the moonlight to see it better. “It's a note from Mom.”

Tara dropped down beside me. “Huh? What does it say?”

MY HANDS STARTED TO shake. I gripped the small piece of paper tightly between them. I read the handwritten note in a trembling whisper:

“‘We are very close, as close as your heart. We miss you. Find us.'”

“That's all?” Tara asked.

I turned the paper over. Nothing on the back. I turned it over again and reread the note.

“What does it mean?” Tara asked. “‘As close as your heart'? Does that mean they're here in the room with us?”

I shook my head. “I don't know what it means. I guess it's some kind of clue.” I picked up the photo and studied it. “‘As close as your heart …'”

What a puzzle.

Tara grabbed the photo from me. “Maybe there are more clues inside.” She started to tug off the back of the frame.

A clattering sound from downstairs made her stop. We both froze.

Max didn't seem to hear it. He was snoring lightly now, the blanket over his head.

But I heard it. Banging and scraping noises. Kitchen sounds. Someone was moving around down there.

“Lulu!” Tara cried. “Maybe Lulu is back.”

She dropped the picture frame and the ring back into the box. We slid the box under Max's bed. Then we both took off, floating over the floor, flying down the stairs.

Yes, Lulu was back, standing over the stove, waving her spatula.

“Lulu! We're so happy to see you!” Tara cried. Lulu turned to hug us, and we hugged her back. Our hands went right through her.

Lulu is a ghost too. She is our old housekeeper. She is short and round, and her dark eyes glow beneath her silver-white hair, which is tied tightly on top of her head in a bun. She wore a long white apron over a loose-fitting gray blouse and a pleated skirt that hung down to the floor.

When we saw her a few weeks ago, she told us she died soon after we did, but she kept coming back to our old kitchen, waiting for us to return. We tried to ask her about Mom and Dad. But Lulu was old and weak, so she kept fading in and out.

Once again, she faded from view until only her dark eyes and the floating spatula remained. After a few seconds, we could see her again.

“Glory, glory, I've missed you,” she said. “Are you getting along okay without me?”

“Not really,” I said.

“Other people live in our house now,” Tara told her. “A boy named Max is our friend. But the rest of his family can't see us. We can't get used to being ghosts. And we really miss Mom and Dad.”

Lulu poked at invisible eggs in a frying pan on the stove. “Glory, what wonderful folks. I'd do anything for your ma and pa.”

“Lulu, where are they?” I asked. “How can we find them?”

“Glory … glory …” Her voice grew faint as she faded away again.

Tara and I stood there staring at each other in the empty kitchen. Would she return?

Yes. A moment later she was back. Tara grabbed at Lulu's apron strings. “Lulu, you have to help us. Nicky, show her the note. It's from Mom. But we don't know what it means.”

I held the note up close to her face. Her dark eyes slid back and forth as she read it. “Glory,” she murmured. Then she flickered from view once again.

“So weak … Sorry, children. I'm just so weak.”

“Can you help us, Lulu?” Tara begged. “Do you know what it means?”

Silence.

Then Lulu shimmered into view. “What a shock it was. What a shock when everything happened.”

“But what happened?” I cried. “Can you tell us? What happened to us? What happened to Mom and Dad?”

“Phears,” she answered in a whisper. “Your ma and pa, they captured all the ghosts. But Phears let them out. They all escaped. And then the four of you—you all disappeared.”

Tara gasped. “You mean … You mean Phears killed us?”

Lulu opened her mouth to answer. But a loud cry from upstairs made her stop. The cat. We heard it again, another long, mournful howl.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 438