The First Horror

Jimmy Lunt stumbled in the darkness. He grabbed the banister with his free hand and caught himself.

"Look out, man," his friend Andy Skowski warned from the top of the stairway. "We don't need any more accidents on this job."

"How come there are no basement lights?" Jimmy called over his shoulder as he carefully continued down the narrow stairway.

"How come? How come nothing works on this job?" Andy replied with some bitterness. His work boots thudded loudly as he followed Jimmy down to the basement. "How come nothing has gone right? How come we lost three guys building this stupid house?"

"Morrison is getting out of the hospital today," Jimmy reported. "After that shock he got, I never thought they'd get him breathing again." Jimmy shuddered. "Morrison turned blue, man. I saw him. He really was blue."

"I don't want to think about it," Andy muttered, his flashlight darting over the concrete basement floor. "You know, I was there when that big guy Jones fell off the roof. No wind, no breeze, no nothing--but off he went, sailing headfirst. Poor guy."

"I'm just glad school is starting in a week and we'll be done with this stupid summer job," Jimmy said, shifting the heavy gallon can to his other hand. "Now, where are these cracks we're supposed to caulk?"

"This foundation was just poured two months ago. And already there are cracks. This is a bad-luck job," Andy muttered, still thinking about all the trouble they had had.

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed quickly. "Ninety-nine Fear Street. I wouldn't live here, man. Not on a bet. This place is bad news."

"Well--you know what they say about Fear Street. And you heard about the bodies they found here when they were digging the foundation."

"Huh? Bodies?" Jimmy reacted with surprise.

"Yeah. They had to stop the bulldozers. There were all these unmarked graves down here." Andy pointed straight down.

"Uh--Andy--can we stop talking about it?" Jimmy replied with a shudder. "No more stories, okay? I just want to patch up these cracks. Then I'm going to jump into my Impala and bomb over to Waynesbridge. There's a Beach Boys concert tonight."

"Huh?" Andy grabbed his friend's shoulder. "Since when do you drive an Impala?"

"Well, it's my dad's," Jimmy admitted reluctantly. "He let me drive it today."

Andy's flashlight swept over the white concrete walls. "There are the cracks," he said. "Open the can. Let's get started."

Jimmy dropped to his knees beside the wall. Andy held the flashlight. Jimmy began prying a screwdriver under the lid to open the can of caulking. "Ow!" Jimmy cried out as the screwdriver slipped--and the blade drove deep into his hand. "Oh, man!"

"Careful!" Andy cried too late.

Jimmy pulled the screwdriver blade from his throbbing hand. As his friend raised the light to it, he watched the dark blood trickle onto the concrete floor.

"Ow, man! That hurts!"

Andy leaned down to examine the wound. "You really stabbed yourself, Jimmy. You'd better run upstairs and get a bandage."

"Yeah, I guess," Jimmy replied quietly, staring at his hand. "Stupid screwdriver!" He tossed the tool against the wall. "I don't believe this!"

Climbing to his feet, he let out an angry groan--and furiously kicked the wall with the toe of his heavy work boot.

Both boys uttered cries of surprise as a crack appeared in the wall.

"Oh, man--more work for us!" Andy complained.

In the circle of yellow light they watched the crack grow wider. An inch. Two inches.

And then they heard scuttling sounds. The scratch of tiny footsteps.

"Hey--" Jimmy exclaimed as the first long-snouted rat poked its head out of the crack. "This is a new house. Where'd the rat come from?"

The rat scuttled out into the light. Followed by another rat. Then three more.

Jimmy gaped down at the tiny black eyes, the glowing gray fur, the snakelike pink tails.

"Hey--get lost!" Andy shouted. He kicked at the nearest rat.

Missed.

Then he raised his eyes in time to see the black shadow start to wriggle out from the crack.

Jimmy saw it too. Both boys stepped back, their eyes wide with surprise.

At first they thought it was a snake.

But the shadow grew and changed shape. It floated out of the crack in the wall, darkening, rising up--then sweeping around them.

It swirled faster and faster. Surrounding the two boys. Then lowering and covering them like a dark, heavy blanket.

They didn't even have time to struggle or cry out.

When the billowing shadow lifted a few seconds later, they were dead. Both of them. Sprawled open-mouthed and wide-eyed on the concrete floor.

Surrounded by the screeching rats.

Chapter 1

"How old is the house?" Cally Frasier asked. "Is it really old?"

"It's pretty old," Mr. Frasier replied, slowing the car for a stop sign. "I think it was built in the early sixties."

"It needs work," Cally's mother chimed in, her eyes focused out the passenger window on green lawns. "The house hasn't been lived in for years."

"I don't think it's ever been lived in," Mr. Frasier said, making a left onto a street called Park Drive.

"Huh? The house is over thirty years old, and no one has ever lived in it?" Cally's twin sister Kody asked shrilly, leaning forward from the backseat. "How come?"

"Stop shoving me," their nine-year-old brother James said grumpily. He was sitting between Cally and Kody and had been complaining the whole way to Shadyside. "Don't touch me."

"I'm not touching you," Kody declared,

"Yes, you are!" James insisted. "Move over!"

"I wouldn't touch you. You've got cooties!" Kody exclaimed.

"Well, you've got dog breath!" James shouted. "You stink!"

"Stop it, James!" Mr. Frasier called back sharply. "We're almost there--I think." He glanced over at his wife. "Could you check the map? Are we going the right way?"

"What school is that?" Cally asked, staring out at a long, redbrick school building.

"I think that's the high school," her mother replied, struggling to unfold the map.

"That's Shadyside High?" Cally cried, "I didn't picture it like that. It's so--"

"Old-fashioned looking," Kody finished her sister's sentence for her.

Cally and Kody were fraternal twins--not identical. But they were always finishing each other's sentences and thinking the same things at the same time.

They passed by the school quickly. Its windows were dark, the doors all shut. Cally caught a glimpse of an empty football stadium behind the school. Two teenage girls on bikes rode slowly along the sidewalk, laughing happily.

Cally sighed. She wondered what it would be like to start eleventh grade in a new school.

Oh, well. I have all summer to worry about it, she told herself.

"These houses are nice. Is this our new neighborhood?" Kody asked.

"Can I have a dog?" James demanded. "You promised I could have a dog when we moved."

"We're going the wrong way, dear," Mrs, Frasier said softly, biting her bottom lip. "I think you have to turn around. Fear Street is the other way."

Mr. Frasier uttered an unhappy groan.

"What kind of a name is Fear Street?" Kody demanded. "That's so weird. Who would name a street Fear Street?"

"When can I get the dog? Can I get it today?" James asked.

"I think the street was named after one of the town's early settlers," Mrs. Frasier replied fretfully, still studying the road map.

"It was named after Mister Street?" Cally joked. She took pride in her sense of humor. She was always cracking jokes and making puns. It was one of the ways she differed from her twin. Kody was smart and quick. But she didn't have much of a sense of humor.

James gave Kody's shoulder a hard shove. "Stop pushing me!" he screamed. He leaned toward the front seat. "What about my dog?"

"The dog will be for all of us," Kody told him.

"No way!" James insisted. "He's mine! They promised!"

Mr. Frasier braked the car and eased it to the curb. "Please!" he wailed. "Could we please have five minutes of silence? Just till I find the house? Please?"

Everyone was silent for at least ten seconds.

Then, as his father eased the car away from the curb, James asked, "So when do I get the dog?"

Mr. Frasier pulled the car up the gravel driveway about ten minutes later. Cally strained forward to see her new house through the windshield.

But there were so many old shade trees covering the front yard, the house was nearly buried in darkness.

"Ninety-nine Fear Street! Everybody out!" Cally's father announced cheerfully.

They piled out of the car, stretching their arms and gazing through the trees at the sprawling house that awaited them.

"Well--it's big at least," Kody said quietly. Cally could see the disappointment on her sister's face,

"It's really big," Mr. Frasier said enthusiastically. "Wait till you see your bedrooms!"

"Just think," their mother chimed in, "you two won't have to share a room anymore! We were so cramped in that old apartment. You kids won't know what to do with all this space!"

"I'll know what to do!" James declared. "I'm going to have my own game room, with a wide-screen TV for my Super Nintendo--and a real pinball machine!"

"Good luck!" Cally told James sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She reached down and messed up his wavy red hair.

He jerked away from her, playfully swinging a fist in her direction.

"Isn't this great!" Mr. Frasier exclaimed, his dark eyes glowing behind his silver-framed glasses. "Isn't this great! Our own house!"

Cally forced a smile to her face. She could see that everyone else in the family was forcing a smile too.

The house wasn't exactly great.

In fact, it was really dark and depressing.

Between the gnarled old trees, the lawn's wild, tall weeds poked up at every angle through thick clumps of uncut grass. Fallen tree limbs littered the ground.

The two-and-a-half-story house was nearly as wide as the yard. Its gray shingles were stained with brown streaks and were weather-beaten. The dark window shutters were peeling. Several were missing.

Two upstairs windows appeared to stare back at Cally like dark, unseeing eyes. The gutter at the side of the house was bent and hanging loose.

Stained-glass windows on either side of the front door had once been beautiful. But now the panes of glass were faded and cracked. The pillar supporting the roof of the small porch tilted at an awkward angle and appeared about to topple.

Cally swept her blond hair behind her slender shoulders. She felt a cold shiver run down her back.

It's such a beautiful, sunny day, she told herself, staring up through the thicket of trees. Yet no sunlight filters down to the house. No light at all. It's nearly as dark as night in this yard. And the house is so cold and uninviting.

"It's going to take some work," Mr. Frasier said suddenly, as if reading Cally's gloomy thoughts. "But that's why we got such a good deal on it."

"I think it's cool!" James chimed in. He picked up a piece of gravel from the driveway and heaved it at a fat tree trunk. The stone made a loud thonk as it hit.

"Get those worried expressions off your faces," Mrs. Frasier said to Cally and Kody. "We'll work on the house till it feels like home." She raised her eyes to the overhanging trees. "First thing we'll do is cut down some trees and let the light in."

"The house is haunted! I know it is!" Kody burst out all at once.

Cally laughed. "You and your ghosts!" she said, rolling her eyes. "You thought our apartment was haunted too--remember? And it turned out to be a squirrel trapped in a wall."

"But this house is old!" Kody insisted. "Old and creepy. I've read so many books about haunted houses. One book said--"

"You've really got to stop reading those books," Mrs. Frasier murmured.

"Lots of old houses are haunted by spirits of the people who used to live in them," Kody continued, ignoring her mother. "Lots!"

"But no one ever lived in this house!" Cally declared. "You're going to be the first one to haunt it, Kody!" Cally stretched her hands straight out and let out a long, ghostlike wail. "Oooowooooooo!"

"Give me a break," Kody moaned. "You're not funny, Cally. I get a little sick of you making fun of me all the time--you know?"

Cally cut her ghost howl short, startled by Kody's anger. "Sorry," she murmured. "Really."

Cally never wanted to hurt her sister's feelings. She knew that Kody was jealous of her in some ways.

Cally is the pretty one. Cally is the funny one. Cally is the one with all the friends.

Those were Kody's complaints when she was feeling down, feeling sorry for herself. Cally always tried to encourage her sister, always tried to boost her spirits, to remind her of her own terrific qualities.

"Maybe there's a ghost in my room!" James exclaimed excitedly. "Then I'd have someone to talk to at night!"

"Enough ghost talk. You guys are giving me the creeps," Mr. Frasier said. He placed one hand on Cally's shoulder and one hand on Kody's shoulder and gently guided them back to the driveway. "Let's start unpacking and go inside."

"Yeah!" James cried enthusiastically, following them to the U-Haul trailer hitched behind the car. "I want to see my new room. And I want to see where my game room is going to be. And I want to see where my dog is going to sleep!"

"Whoa," Mrs. Frasier said softly. "One thing at a time."

Mr. Frasier pulled the trailer door open. He handed Cally the first carton.

"Hey, this is heavy!" Cally cried.

"Be careful with it," her mother warned. "It's got our good china inside."

James stuck his foot out and pretended to try to trip Cally.

"You're a riot," Cally told him, making a face at her brother. "Remind me to laugh later."

Walking unsteadily, both hands gripping the bottom of the heavy cardboard carton, Cally made her way toward the front door.

"What do I get to carry? Give me something heavy too!" she heard her brother declare behind her on the driveway.

Cally was nearly to the front door when she heard the loud cracking sound above her head.

It sounded like dress fabric ripping. Only much louder.

She looked up in time to see a heavy tree branch break off the tree.

No time to scream.

She dropped to her knees, and her hands shot up to cover her head.

First the shadow from the branch fell over her.

Then the branch itself plummeted--and landed with a shattering crash.

Chapter 2

Cally heard the shrill screams of her family.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She sucked in a deep breath of cool damp air.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Cally forced herself to take another breath. Then another. Until her breathing started to happen automatically.

Gazing down, she saw that the crash had been the crash of china. When the branch fell, she had dropped the carton.

She gazed at the branch. One end had caught on the porch roof. The porch roof had stopped it from falling on her.

The roof, she saw, was damaged. The heavy branch had driven a hole right through it.

The crash of china. The crunch of the branch through the shingled roof.

Not her skull.

I'm alive, Cally thought.

She turned to her family. Her legs trembled. Her knees felt all rubbery. She didn't know if she could stand.

With cries of relief and joy, they had all surrounded her.

Her mother wrapped her in a tight hug,

"You're okay? You're okay?" her father repeated like a chant.

They all stood still for a long time in the shade in front of the house. Stood gratefully. Glad to be alive.

"You broke the china." James's accusing voice cut through the silence finally.

Cally glanced down at her brother. He was bent over the open carton, shaking his head, studying the shattered contents of the box.

Then suddenly they all began to talk at once.

"What a great greeting!" Cally declared shakily. She stared at the fallen branch tilting out from the porch.

Mr. Frasier made his way over to it and, with great effort, hoisted it off the roof and lowered it to the ground. "Now we have even more work to do," he said, sighing. "Now we have to fix the porch."

Cally opened her mouth to say something--but stopped when the man appeared behind her father.

The man stepped silently out of the darkness, his face almost all in shadow. His eyes fixed on Cally. And as he drew closer, she saw that he had the strangest smile on his face, a tense smile that appeared to be painted in place.

"Hello. Everyone okay?" the man said in a thin, scratchy voice.

Mr. Frasier spun around, startled. But his expression quickly softened. "Mr. Lurie? When did you arrive?" he asked.

Mr. Lurie, Cally remembered, was the real estate agent. The man who had sold her parents this house.

As he stepped over the fallen tree branch and made his way toward them, his smile didn't waver. He was a short, wiry man dressed in an expensive-looking gray suit. He appeared to be fairly young, but his hair was white and cut very short, almost like brush bristles. He had round black eyes that remained locked on Cally.

"I came to welcome you," the real estate agent said, finally turning his gaze to Cally's parents. "But just as I pulled up, I saw the branch fall. I'm so sorry." He shook his head, but his smile didn't fade.

"We're okay," Cally's father replied. He shook Mr. Lurie's hand. "The kids are seeing the house for the first time."

"And you're disappointed?" Mr. Lurie asked, staring again at Cally.

"A little," Cally confessed. "It's kind of dark."

"And run-down," Kody answered glumly.

"I'm sure your parents will do a wonderful job with it," Mr. Lurie replied. "It's basically a very solid house. It just hasn't been lived in."

"How come?" James demanded. "How come no one ever lived here?"

Mr. Lurie's smile faded. "Just unlucky," he muttered, lowering his eyes to the ground.

Cally didn't understand what he meant. Did he mean the owners were unlucky? The house was unlucky? The real estate people were unlucky?

Who was unlucky?

She started to ask, but Mr. Lurie was handing her father an extra set of keys and saying his farewells. "I won't keep you," he said, backing away. "I just wanted to say welcome to Shadyside--and best of luck."

With a quick wave, he headed down the driveway, walking briskly, swinging his arms sticklike at his sides. Cally watched him until he disappeared into the shadows of the trees that lined the street.

Then she picked up the carton of china and shook it. The shattered plates made a jangling sound inside. "Sorry about that," Cally told her mother.

"Put it down and let's go inside," Mrs. Frasier replied. "I want you to see your new home."

The inside of the house was even less inviting than the outside, Cally thought.

As the family explored their new house, Cally couldn't help but notice every stain on the plaster, the cracks in the walls, the loose floorboards that creaked and groaned as she stepped on them.

The house is so dark, Cally thought unhappily. So dark and damp. It feels as if the sun has never shone on it, as if the house is blanketed in darkness.

Cally shivered. How will I ever feel at home in this ugly, dark place? she wondered.

"Cally--what's wrong?" Her mother's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Huh?" Cally blinked hard. "What, Mom?"

"You were making the sourest face," Mrs. Frasier said, putting a hand on Cally's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sure, Mom," Cally answered quickly. She didn't want to say that the house could be a set in a horror movie. What would be the point? Her parents had bought it. They were stuck there. "I'm just tired, I guess," she told her mother.

"Well, come see your room," Mrs. Frasier said, pushing open the door.

The floorboards creaked as they all trooped into Cally's new room. Cally stopped in the doorway. The walls were dark and peeling. The closet door was warped and stuck open. The brown carpet had a round black stain in the center of the room.

"Big, huh?" Mr. Frasier asked eagerly, smiling at Cally.

"Yeah, it's big all right," Cally replied without enthusiasm.

"It's a lot bigger than my room," Kody complained. "How come Cally got the biggest room?"

Cally struggled to close the closet door. But it was too warped to move. "Want to trade rooms?" she asked her sister.

"Well--no," Kody decided. "But I don't see why you should automatically get the bigger room."

"Stop complaining, Kody," Mrs. Frasier said sharply. "We're all tired. And I know this house is a bit of a shock. But it'll feel like home before you know it."

"Right," Mr. Frasier agreed quickly. "A little paint, a little wallpaper, some new carpet, and--"

"Where's my game room?" James interrupted. "We've seen all the bedrooms. So where's the game room?"

"Well--there isn't really room," Mr. Frasier replied. "I'm sorry, James, but--"

"How about the basement? Could we have a game room in the basement, Dad? Remember Billy Marcus's house? He had a Ping-Pong table and a pool table downstairs. Remember?"

"I don't know," Mr. Frasier said thoughtfully. "The basement in this house isn't finished. It would take a lot of work, James."

"Let's check out the basement!" James exclaimed. He shoved Cally out of his way as he burst toward the door. "Come on! Let's check it out! I'll bet there's room for a pinball machine and everything down there!"

"Girls--go with him," Mrs. Frasier ordered.

"And be careful," their father added. "It's probably filthy down there."

Cally and Kody obediently hurried after their brother. James was already halfway down the stairs to the first floor, the banister swaying slightly as his hand slid over it.

They found the stairs to the basement behind a door in the back hallway. James clicked the light switch, and a dim lightbulb flickered on at the bottom of the stairs.

Holding on to the walls, the three of them made their way down the narrow, steep wooden stairs. Cally led the way, followed by James, then Kody.

It took Cally a moment to realize why her face had started to tingle and itch. "Yuck! Cobwebs!" she cried, frantically trying to brush the sticky webbing off her face.

"This is really creepy," James said softly.

They stopped under the cone of yellow light from the bare lightbulb. Cally had brushed most of the cobwebs off, but her face still itched. She stared into the gray basement that stretched around them.

Cobwebs hung down from the metal beams that dotted the large room. Against the far wall, a huge dust-covered furnace hovered, its vents reaching up to the ceiling like arms.

Cally heard the scratching sounds first.

"What's that?" she asked, grabbing James by the shoulders.

"Huh? What's what?" he cried,

"Shhh. Listen," Cally ordered.

"I hear it," Kody said.

Soft, scratching sounds.

Cally gasped as three rats scuttled into view. Their eyes glowed red in the light. Their long pink tails swept the concrete floor as they ran.

"Ohh!" Cally heard Kody utter a low cry right behind her.

"Rats!" James exclaimed.

Eyes glowing angrily, the three rats charged forward, hissing as they ran.

"They--they're attacking!" Kody shrieked.

"Get upstairs!" Cally shoved James toward the steps.

And then she let out a terrified wail as the biggest rat leapt onto her leg.

Chapter 3

"Noooooo!"

Ignoring her terror, Cally kicked out with all her might.

The rat hissed shrilly as it went flying, its four legs scrabbling in the air. It hit the floor with a disgusting plop.

Cally stumbled to the stairs as the other two rats darted toward her. Kody and James were ahead of her, screaming all the way up the stairs.

Up the narrow stairs. Into the hallway. Breathing hard, her chest heaving, Cally slammed the basement door behind her.

"What's wrong? What's going on?" Mr. Frasier called, hurrying into the hall. "What's all the screaming?"

"Rats!" All three of them shouted at once.

"Rats in the basement!" Cally cried breathlessly.

"One of them jumped on Cally's leg!" James exclaimed excitedly. "It was fat and disgusting!"

"Three rats! They attacked us!" Kody added.

"Did they bite you?" Mrs. Frasier cried, appearing behind her husband. "Are you okay?"

Cally shook her head. "It didn't bite me. It just jumped on me."

"I never heard of rats doing that!" her mother said, shaking her head fretfully.

Mr. Frasier sighed. He pulled off his eyeglasses and rubbed his eyes. "One more problem to add to the list. We'll have to get an exterminator here right away."

"Yes. Right away," Mrs. Frasier echoed, biting her lower lip. She forced a smile. "Is anyone hungry?" Mrs. Frasier asked. "We should go into town and get some food."

Before anyone could answer, the doorbell rang.

"Now, who could that be?" Mr. Frasier asked, frowning.

Cally followed the others to the door. Her heart was still racing. She shuddered. She could still feel the rat's spidery legs gripping her leg, still hear its shrill hiss.

Mr. Frasier pulled open the front door. A young man smiled in at them from the other side of the screen door.

He had straight black hair down to the collar of his gray T-shirt. He wore gray denim overalls. His eyes were small and black beneath bushy eyebrows, and he had a black mustache.

"Can I help you?" Mr. Frasier asked.

"I saw the U-Haul," the man said, pointing. "You just moving in?"

Mr. Frasier nodded.

The man shifted his weight. Cally saw that he was big, very athletic looking. "My name is Glen Hankers," he said, his dark eyes peering in through the screen door. "I'm a handyman. I mean, I do all kinds of work. I wondered if--"

"There's lots to be done here!" Mrs. Frasier exclaimed, not waiting for Hankers to finish. "We could probably keep you busy for months, Mr. Hankers!"

Mr. Hankers smiled at that.

Cally's father studied Mr. Hankers's face. "Do you have references?" he asked.

Mr. Hankers nodded. "I can supply them. I've done a lot of work for people on Fear Street."

"Can you kill rats?" James piped up from beside Cally.

"James--!" Mrs. Frasier cried.

"Got a rodent problem?" Mr. Hankers asked, smoothing his mustache with the fingers of one hand.

"The kids saw rats in the basement," Mr. Frasier reported unhappily.

"I can deal with them," Mr. Hankers said. "I've got traps and I have a spray."

"Well, we need someone to help," Mr. Frasier told him, eyeing him suspiciously. "But if you're expensive . . ."

Mr. Hankers shook his head. "I'm very reasonable, Mr.--"

"Frasier."

"I'm very reasonable, Mr. Frasier. You can pay me by the hour, or by the week, or even by the month."

Cally's father glanced at his wife. She nodded. He turned back to Mr. Hankers, pushing open the screen door. "I think you've got yourself a load of work here. Beginning with killing those rats. When can you start?"

"Right away," Mr. Hankers replied, smiling. He shook Mr. Frasier's hand. "Just show me to the basement. Those rats are history."

Later that night, her first night in her new bedroom, Cally sat in bed, writing in her diary.

Dear Diary,

I wish I could tell you how happy I am and how much I love my new house. But I can't. I never expected such a run-down, dark, gloomy, tacky place!

Would you believe that my very first day here a tree nearly fell on my head--and I was attacked by rats?!! I get the deep shivers just thinking about it.

Kody seems just as miserable as I am. James is the only one who's the least bit excited. But that's James. He gets excited about a new flavor of bubble gum!

The movers arrived about an hour after we did. We all worked unpacking cartons tonight. What a mess! I've never seen everyone so stressed. Now I'm up in my big, ugly room, writing in bed.

Confession Time: All day I kept thinking about Rick. I've been in Shadyside only one day, and I miss him already. I wonder if he's been thinking about me. A couple of times I started to tell Kody how much I missed him--but I caught myself in time.

I keep forgetting that Kody went out with Rick first. I keep forgetting that she accused me of stealing him away from her. I mean, they went out on only one date! And it was Rick's choice to start seeing me. I didn't force him or anything.

Poor Kody. I hope she'll have a better time here in our new town. She has such a messed-up attitude. Always blaming me for her problems. I hate it that she's so jealous of me! What am I supposed to do?

Tomorrow we're going into town to look for summer jobs. I hope I find something great! I hope Kody does too.

Cally wanted to write more, but her eyelids were heavy, and her hand started to ache. She set the diary on the floor, turned out the light, and settled down under the covers.

The ceiling creaked above her. The house seemed to let out a long, low groan.

Why do old houses do that? she wondered sleepily. Probably just to scare the people inside?

Well, I'm not going to get scared, Cally told herself, shutting her eyes. I'm too sleepy to get scared.

The scrabbling sound made her eyes pop open. Quick, scratching noises. Above her head.

She shuddered. Were there rats in the attic too?

Ugly, hairy rats running around right above her head?

Was the whole house crawling with the disgusting creatures?

Mr. Hankers will have to check out the attic tomorrow, she told herself.

She ignored the soft, scraping footsteps and forced herself to think about Rick. A few minutes later she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

"Are you going to wear that to look for a job?" Mrs. Frasier exclaimed, rolling her eyes in disapproval.

Cally hunched over the card table her dad had set up in the kitchen. She blinked her eyes, struggling to wake up. "These jeans are clean," she told her mother irritably. "And so is the T-shirt. The rest of my clothes are still packed."

"I don't think you'll make a very good impression--" Mrs. Frasier started to say.

Cally's father cut her off. "Cally looks fine," he said curtly. "So does Kody."

"Thanks," Kody said, yawning. She had appeared in the kitchen wearing a pale pink polo shirt and crisp white denim jeans. Her short blond hair was neatly held back in a white headband.

"Cold cereal for breakfast," Cally's mother announced. "I have to go grocery shopping this morning. Also, I couldn't find the bowls. So you have to have it on a plate."

Cally laughed. "Cold cereal on a plate. It doesn't get any better than this!"

"Very amusing," her mother said, setting the box of cornflakes in front of Kody.

"I look gross," Kody whined, staring down miserably at her reflection in her plate. "I couldn't sleep. I kept hearing the scariest sounds. I know this place is haunted. I know it is!"

Cally ignored her sister. "I'm going to find a great job today," she said, giving herself a pep talk. "I'm going to find a job where I'll meet all kinds of interesting, glamorous people, and it'll make me rich and famous before summer's over!"

Cally's parents laughed. They were used to her wild fantasies.

Kody continued to stare down at her plate. "I'm hoping maybe I can find a waitressing job," she grumbled.

"Are you sure you're twins?" Mr. Frasier demanded, reaching for the cornflakes box. It was a question he asked a lot.

"Where's James?" Cally asked.

"Still asleep," her mother replied, taking her place at the card table. "I think he's afraid if he comes downstairs, we'll put him to work unpacking cartons."

"He'll probably sleep all day!" Cally exclaimed.

They ate their plates of cornflakes in silence for a while.

"Know what we need in here?" Mrs. Frasier said, putting down her spoon. "This kitchen is so damp and cold. We need some fresh air." She turned to Kody. "Would you open the window? Let's see if it helps."

"We'll cut down that big maple in front of the window," Mr. Frasier said as Kody walked across the kitchen to the window. "A little sunlight will help a lot."

Cally watched Kody slide the window up. Leaning on the windowsill, Kody peered out into the backyard, taking deep breaths of fresh air. "It's a pretty day," she reported.

Cally turned back to her cereal. She was spooning cornflakes into her mouth when she heard the loud slam.

It sounded like a heavy knife blade slicing into a butcher block.

A second later Cally heard her sister's scream of agony. "My hands! My hands!"

Chapter 4

Mrs. Frasier got to the window first. Her husband was right behind her.

Kody's screams were softer now, hoarse whispers of pain. "My hands! My hands!"

Mrs. Frasier tugged the window up. Kody stumbled back, holding her arms out stiffly like those of a marionette.

Cally had her hands clamped tightly over her mouth. She felt sick. She lowered her eyes, praying that her sister was okay.

"Ohhh--my wrists!" Kody moaned, still holding her arms in that strange position, sort of like a begging dog. "My wrists--"

Mrs. Frasier hugged Kody. "How awful, how awful," she murmured.

"Try moving your hands," Mr. Frasier instructed. "See if you can move them. If your wrists are broken--"

"No. I can move them," Kody announced. She winced in pain as she demonstrated, wiggling both hands.

"Thank goodness they're not broken," her father said, letting out a long whoosh of air. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb.

"We'll put ice on them," Mrs. Frasier said. She started to the refrigerator, but stopped. "Oh. We don't have any ice. We haven't made any yet."

"I think they're going to be okay," Kody said, testing first one wrist, then the other. "I--I mostly was scared. It slammed down so fast. I don't think my hands are too badly hurt." She continued bending them, testing the wrists.

"How did it happen?" Cally asked, finally finding her voice.

"It was so strange," Kody replied, returning to the card table. "The window was up. No problem. I was leaning on the sill to smell the fresh air. The window suddenly came crashing down--with such force--it was as if someone were pushing it!"

Mr. Frasier examined the window. He raised it, then lowered it a few times. "Weird," he commented. "Seems okay," He turned back to the others, "When he finishes with the rats, I'll have Mr. Hankers take a look at it."

Kody groaned, rubbing her tender wrists. "Well, one good thing," she murmured to Cally. "The rest of the day has got to be better!"

At five that afternoon Cally found the place where she and Kody had agreed to meet. It was a small coffee shop called The Corner, located a few blocks from the high school.

Cally stepped inside, breathed in the thick aroma of frying hamburgers and french fry grease, and searched for her sister.

Not here yet, she realized, disappointed. She was bursting to tell Kody about her day.

She slid into a booth in front of the window and glanced around. The restaurant was empty except for two teenage couples squeezed into the booth against the wall. They were laughing, sliding a salt shaker back and forth across the table as if it were a hockey puck.

I wonder if they go to Shadyside High, Cally thought.

She was startled to see a boy standing beside her table. He was very good looking, with wavy black hair, dark, friendly eyes that sort of crinkled at the sides, and a nose that looked as if it had been broken at least once.

He had a small silver stud in one ear. He wore a grease-stained white apron over faded denim jeans and a blue T-shirt.

"How's it going?" he asked Cally.

"Great!" she replied, then immediately felt like a jerk for being so enthusiastic.

"You--uh--want something?" he asked, gesturing toward the kitchen behind the counter.

"Just a Coke," Cally told him. "I'm waiting for my sister," She glanced out the window. No sign of Kody.

"Hey, Anthony! Pick up!" a man's raspy voice shouted from the kitchen. Through the window behind the counter, Cally saw two hands set down plates with hamburgers.

"Is your name Anthony?" she asked the boy.

"Hey--how'd you guess?" he shot back, grinning.

Cally laughed. "I'm psychic." She gazed up at him playfully. "Guess my name."

Anthony's dark eyes lit up. "You already told me," he said. "It's Psychic. Weird name!"

Cally laughed.

"I haven't seen you here before," he said, fiddling with his apron.

"I just moved to Shadyside," she told him. "My real name is Cally. Cally Frasier."

"Are you going to go to Shadyside High in the fall?" Anthony asked.

Cally started to reply. But she was interrupted by the impatient voice from the kitchen. "Anthony! Pick up!"

"Okay, okay! Coming!" Anthony shouted. He turned back to Cally. "I'll get your Coke." He hurried behind the counter to pick up the plates of hamburgers.

Kody arrived a few seconds later, a little bedraggled. She had removed her headband, and her hair was windblown and disheveled. She was rubbing one wrist.

"How'd it go?" she asked Cally, sliding into the seat across from her. "Did you get a job?"

Cally nodded. A wide grin spread across her face. "I got a pretty good job," she told her sister. "It's in a boutique called Two Cute."

"Huh? Two Cute? What's that mean?" Kody demanded, fiddling with her bangs.

"It's supposed to be a clothing store for couples. Two. Get it? Two Cute?"

Kody stuck her finger down her throat and pretended to puke. "Real cute," she muttered. Then she added, "I knew you'd find a job."

"How about you?" Cally asked.

Kody shook her head. "No luck."

"Well, you'll probably find one tomorrow," Cally said quickly.

Kody glared across the table at her. "Don't you ever get tired of trying to cheer me up?" she snapped.

Cally opened her mouth to answer. But Anthony leaned over the table, interrupting. "Here's your Coke, Cally," he said, setting it down. He turned to Kody. "Hi, Cally's sister. What can I get you?"

"Uh--fries and a Sprite," Kody replied, her eyes on Cally.

As soon as Anthony left, Kody leaned forward and whispered to her sister. "He knows your name? You've already met a guy? He knows I'm your sister?"

Cally couldn't keep the smile from spreading across her face. "We were just talking for a minute before you came in," she told her sister. "He's kind of cute, don't you think?"

Kody leaned over the booth to study Anthony. "Yeah. Kind of," she said. She turned back to Cally, frowning. "Why didn't I get here first?" she grumbled. "Why are you always so lucky?"

"It's not like he asked me out or anything," Cally replied defensively.

"He will," Kody said glumly, unable to hide her jealousy. "He will."

The sun was just starting to dip behind the treetops as Cally and Kody returned home. But as soon as they began to make their way up the gravel driveway, Cally noticed that it became dark as night.

"We're home!" Cally called, leading the way into the front entryway. She tossed her bag down on the floor beside the coat closet and started into the dark living room.

"We're in the kitchen!" Mrs. Frasier called.

"Any luck?" Cally's father shouted.

"Yeah. Bad luck," Kody muttered behind Cally.

"Why doesn't anyone turn the lights on in here?" Cally complained.

Cally made her way through the dark room. Their old furniture looked small and unfamiliar in the big living room.

As Cally hurried toward the kitchen to tell her parents her news, she didn't see the small, dark creature perched on the arm of the couch.

She didn't see it until it leapt onto her chest.

Chapter 5

A lamp flashed on.

The creature raised its snout to Cally's throat.

"Down, Cubby!" she heard James shout. "Get down, Cubby!"

It's a puppy! Cally realized, laughing.

The little dog licked her neck. Then it dove to the floor and scampered across the room to James. He scooped it up in his arms.

"For a moment, I thought . . ." Cally started to admit.

Behind her in the living room entryway, Kody laughed. "You thought it was a rat? It does kind of look like a rat!"

"Don't say that about Cubby!" James said angrily. "Cubby is not a rat. Cubby is a Labrador retriever." He gave the dog some nose kisses.

"Where did you get him?" Cally asked, her heart still racing.

"Dad got him for me at the ASPCA. He's mine," James said, hugging the dog tightly. The dog squirmed and struggled to get down to the floor.

"He's cute," Kody said. "Why did you name him Cubby?"

"Because he looks like a Cubby," James replied.

Cally knew better than to question her brother's logic.

"Our first dinner in our new home," Mrs. Frasier said, smiling. She pulled her chair closer to the dining room table. "Isn't this great?"

"It's starting to feel like home," Mr. Frasier said, unfolding his napkin.

"I can't believe Cally thought Cubby was a rat," James announced, rolling his eyes.

"Let's not talk about rats at the table," their mother replied. "Let's have a civilized dinner--okay, James?"

James burped loudly, then burst into giggles.

"That's not funny," Cally told him sharply.

"It's pretty funny," James shot back.

"Did Mr. Hankers get rid of the rats in the basement?" Kody asked.

"He's working on it," Mr. Frasier replied. "He was down there all day."

"Why are we talking about rats?" Mrs. Frasier complained, "I made a beautiful dinner. A big roast beef--your favorite. Let's have some pleasant conversation."

"Cubby is the cutest dog in the world," James boasted.

"I'm glad you like him," Mr. Frasier replied, smiling across the table.

"We hired a housekeeper today," Mrs. Frasier told the girls, ignoring James. "Would you believe she popped up on the front steps? Just like Mr. Hankers."

"What's her name?" Kody asked, spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"Her name is Mrs. Nordstrom," their mother replied. "She's starting tomorrow morning. She's kind of stern and sour faced. But I have a hunch she'll be a really good housekeeper."

Mr. Frasier pulled the roast beef platter closer and picked up the big carving knife. "Hey, I just had an idea," he said, his eyes on Kody. "Kody, how would you like to have a job right here?"

Kody's eyes opened wide with surprise. She dropped the serving spoon back into the mashed potato bowl. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well, there's so much work to be done," Mr. Frasier said, gesturing with the big black-handled knife. "Way too much for Mr. Hankers and me to do on our own. And you love woodworking and painting and everything."

Kody narrowed her green eyes at her father. "You mean you want me to stay home and work on the house?"

Mr. Frasier nodded. "Yeah."

"While Cally gets to dress up and go to town every day and meet people?" Kody demanded.

"You know you like fix-it work," Mrs. Frasier chimed in.

"I'll pay you by the hour," Mr. Frasier offered. "It'll be like a real job. Lunch hour and everything."

"Well . . ." Kody's expression turned thoughtful. "It might be hard to find a job this late in the summer," she murmured, thinking out loud. "I mean, everyone isn't as lucky as Cally."

"I'm the lucky one," James broke in. "I got Cubby. And he's all mine."

"Okay, Dad. I'll do it," Kody decided, smiling for the first time that evening.

"Great. Now, carve the roast beef, dear," Mrs. Frasier said impatiently to her husband.

Mr. Frasier climbed to his feet and bent over the meat platter, fork in one hand, carving knife in the other. "This meat looks perfect," he said.

"It'll be cold if we don't eat it soon," Cally's mother urged. She raised her eyes to Cally. "Would you do me a favor? I forgot the salt and pepper shakers. They're in the kitchen."

"Okay." Cally slid her chair back and started making her way around the table.

"Don't step on Cubby!" James warned.

"Where is that puppy anyway?" Mrs. Frasier asked.

"Under the table," James replied. "He's licking my shoe." James giggled.

"We have to teach that dog not to bother us while we're eating," Mr. Frasier said, leaning over to slice the meat. "You can't let a puppy develop bad habits."

Cally pressed back against the wall to squeeze behind her father's chair to get to the kitchen.

She was nearly past him when she saw him lift the knife to start to carve.

But then Mr. Frasier jerked forward as if being shoved. His eyes bulged wide with shock.

And the knife blade plunged deep into his side.

Chapter 6

"Owww!"

Mr. Frasier let out a wail.

The carving knife fell and landed heavily on the floor. Cubby went scampering away.

"Cally--you pushed me!" Mr. Frasier cried.

"No!" Cally exclaimed, raising her hands to her face as she backed away. She watched a bright red circle of blood form on the side of her father's shirt.

"You shoved my arm!" Mr. Frasier accused her, gripping his side.

"No! I--I didn't touch you!" Cally told him. "Really, Daddy. There's no way I could have shoved the knife into you."

"I know, but . . ." Mr. Frasier's voice trailed off.

"He's bleeding!" James announced. "Yuck! Look at it!"

Mrs. Frasier was on her feet. She grabbed her husband's arm. "Stop arguing with Cally. Let's get you upstairs and get that shirt off. See if you need stitches."

"Stitches?" Mr. Frasier's eyes were unfocused behind his glasses. He didn't seem to understand what Mrs. Frasier was telling him.

Is he in shock? Cally wondered. She leaned her back against the dining room wall as she stared at the widening circle of blood on her father's shirt.

Why did he accuse me of pushing him?

Blood dripped onto the floor as Mrs. Frasier led her husband out of the dining room.

Cally turned her gaze on Kody. To her surprise Kody was still in her chair and had a terrified expression on her face. "It was a ghost," she murmured. "A ghost pushed his arm, I know it."

"Why did you say it was a ghost?" Cally demanded.

"Huh?" Kody narrowed her eyes at her sister.

It was later that night, after eleven. Cally had just finished writing her diary entry. Kody had wandered into her room to chat.

Their parents had returned from the emergency room at Shadyside General at about nine. Now they were in their room, asleep.

Cally was sprawled on her bed, wearing the long striped nightshirt she liked to sleep in. Kody, still dressed, sat on the windowsill, a light breeze through the open window fluttering her hair.

"When Daddy stabbed himself, you said it was a ghost," Cally reminded her sister.

Kody crossed over and sat down on the foot of Cally's bed. "Poor Daddy--he needed twelve stitches."

Cally pulled herself up higher against the headboard. "Answer my question," she insisted. "Why did you think it was a ghost?"

"Well, you didn't shove Daddy's arm. I saw you, Cally. You didn't even come close to him. So . . ."

Cally groaned. "So that made you automatically think it was a ghost?"

Kody's cheeks darkened to scarlet. "I felt a presence in the room, Cally," she said, lowering her voice to a solemn whisper. "A cold presence. Mistlike. I felt it float over the table. And then, a second later, I saw the knife plunge--into Daddy,"

"Stop it, Kody," Cally warned. "Please. Just stop it right now. Your ghost talk will only upset everyone."

"What makes you think you know everything?" Kody demanded with sudden passion. She leaned close to her sister, her nostrils flaring angrily. "Stop rolling your eyes, Cally. You don't know everything! I hate it when you act so smug and superior." Kody let out a frustrated cry. "Mom and Dad didn't believe me either."

"Kody--you told them this wild ghost story when they got back from the hospital?"

Kody nodded. "It isn't a wild story. I felt something in the room. I thought they should know." She sighed. "But they laughed at me too."

"Kody, listen to me," Cally pleaded. "There are no such things as ghosts. Really. You--"

"I've read books that say there are ghosts!" Kody shot back. "Books by real scientists."

Cally laughed.

Kody jumped to her feet. She balled her hands into fists. "Don't laugh at me, Cally. I don't like everyone in this family laughing at me."

"Then don't be such a jerk," Cally replied. She shook her head. "Ghosts," she muttered scornfully.

"You really are a pain!" Kody cried.

"So are you!" Cally shot back, feeling herself lose control.

Kody stomped toward the door.

"Hey--if a moaning white sheet comes flying down the hall at you, be sure to duck!" Cally called after her.

Kody stormed into the hall, then slammed the door behind her.

What is her problem? Cally thought, shaking her head.

Sometimes I can't believe we're twins. How can a sister of mine believe in ghosts?

She clicked off her bedside lamp. Then slid down into the bed and pulled the sheet over her.

Through the open window, Cally could hear the whisper of wind through the trees in the backyard. She forced herself not to think about Kody, not to think of the frightening incident at dinner.

Instead, she thought about the boutique, about Sally and Gene, the young couple who had hired her to work there. And as she began to relax and feel drowsy, she found herself thinking about Anthony.

Maybe I'll stop at The Corner after work, she thought, smiling. Just to say hi. Maybe I'll remind him I'm new in town and don't know anybody. Maybe I'll ask him to show me around.

Thinking these pleasant thoughts, Cally drifted to sleep.

Three hours later she woke up, startled by a sound.

The sky was black and starless outside her window. A heavy silence hovered over the house.

Then she heard the sound again.

A soft knocking on her bedroom door. Three knocks, then a pause. Then three more knocks. Faint and weak.

"Who's there?" Cally's voice came out in a sleep-choked whisper. She cleared her throat. "Who's there? Kody?"

No reply.

Silence.

Then three more faint knocks. Gentle scrapes, as if from someone too weak to pound.

"Who's there?" Cally demanded more loudly. She lowered her feet to the floor. And listened.

No reply.

Am I dreaming this? she wondered. What's going on?

Three more knocks. A pause. Three more knocks.

Cally took a deep breath and held it. She tiptoed quickly across the room.

Then she grabbed the doorknob--and yanked open her door.

Chapter 7

No one there.

Cally stared into the dim orange light cast by a tiny night-light halfway down the hall.

No one.

An empty, silent hallway.

"Who's there?" she whispered, suddenly chilled.

No one there.

Kody's door was closed.

James's door stood open a crack, revealing only darkness.

"Weird," Cally muttered softly. She pulled her door shut, hurried back to bed, and pulled the sheet up to her chin.

Shivering, she shut her eyes.

And heard three soft knocks. And then three more.

"Who's there?" she demanded shrilly.

Silence. Then three more knocks.

Catty pulled the sheet over her head and pressed her ear into the pillow, trying to shut out the sound.

"I couldn't sleep. I heard strange noises all night," Kody complained. She rested her chin in her hands. She hadn't touched her toaster waffles.

"You'll get used to the sounds," Mr. Frasier said casually, wiping orange juice off his upper lip. "Is there any more coffee, dear?"

"Plenty." Mrs. Frasier stepped behind him with the coffeepot. "How does your side feel this morning?"

"Not great," Cally's dad admitted. He turned to Kody. "I'm afraid you're going to have to go up on the ladder this morning when we work on the porch roof. I don't think I can."

He gripped his side. "This thing is still throbbing, and I don't want to tear open the stitches."

"No problem," Kody told him. "I like climbing ladders." She glared at Cally. "Did you hear anything weird last night?"

Cally finished her orange juice, then shook her head. "No," she lied. "Not a sound." She didn't tell Kody about the strange knocking on the door. She wasn't in the mood to hear any more ghost talk from her sister.

Mrs. Nordstrom, the new housekeeper, entered a few moments later. She was a short, squat, gray-haired woman with lively dark eyes and a short stub of a nose.

As she was pulling out mops and sponges to clean the kitchen, Mr. Hankers arrived at the back door. He greeted everyone with a solemn nod. Then he hurried down to the basement, closing the door behind him.

The phone rang as Cally got up from the table. "Hey--our first call!" she exclaimed. She picked up the receiver and talked for a few minutes.

When she turned back to the others, her expression revealed her disappointment. "That was Sally at the boutique," she told them. "They're doing inventory. They don't want me to start work till Monday."

"Great!" Mr. Frasier cried cheerfully. "You can help Kody on the porch. I don't think I'm going to be too useful today."

Cally wasn't a skilled worker like her sister, and she didn't enjoy carpentry. But she knew she had to pitch in, and she knew it was important to get the house in better shape.

So, after changing into a pair of baggy, faded jeans and an old Gap single-pocket T-shirt, she tied her hair back with a rubber band. Then she followed her sister to the front of the house.

The sun was already high in the sky. But little sunlight filtered down through the old trees to the front yard.

"The tree guys are coming later this morning," Kody said, staring down toward the street. "They're going to start cutting down some trees in the back."

"Good. Maybe we'll get a little sunlight in our bedrooms," Cally replied. "I was cold last night."

She stopped and brushed her sister's shoulder with her hand. "Hey, Kody?"

"What?" Kody asked coldly.

"Sorry about last night," Cally said softly. "I mean, losing my temper and everything."

Kody avoided her sister's eyes. "It's okay," she muttered. "Let's get to work."

"Maybe we can drive to town later," Cally suggested. "You know. Just you and me. Check out the stores. Maybe grab some lunch at that little restaurant near school."

Kody's eyes lit up. "You just want to see that boy again. Anthony." She laughed.

"Maybe," Cally replied. She could feel her face growing hot.

"Let's see how much we can get done," Kody said, turning to the porch. "I'm getting paid by the hour, remember?"

A tall aluminum ladder was already propped up against the edge of the porch roof, stretching above it. The tree limb had been pulled away. The hole it had made in the roof was visible from the ground.

"I'm going to climb up and pull off all the damaged shingles," Kody said. "The limb crashed right through, which means the wood under the shingles is probably rotted."

She started up the ladder, her eyes on the roof. "I may have to tear the wood planks out too."

"What should I do?" Cally asked, brushing a spider off her T-shirt sleeve.

"Just hold the ladder," Kody instructed. "Hold it against the porch. Real steady."

"No problem," Cally told her sister. She grabbed the sides of the aluminum ladder with both hands.

Kody doesn't have much respect for my abilities, she told herself, watching her sister climb to the roof. So whenever we work together, I'm the one who holds the ladder.

Kody is so confident when it comes to this kind of work, Cally thought, gripping the ladder tightly as her sister continued to climb. Why can't she have the same confidence in everything else?

"Wow," Kody called down. "The shingles are rotted. They all have to go."

"Be careful," Cally said.

"Hold the ladder steady. I'm going to see if I can stand on the roof." Kody let go of the ladder and reached for the roof edge.

As Kody reached out, Cally felt the ladder start to shake. A gentle trembling at first, then harder, until the aluminum hummed and vibrated.

"Hey--what's your problem?" Kody called sharply. "Hold it steady. I--"

Cally gripped the side pieces tightly. But the ladder began pulling away from the porch.

"Hey--stop!" Kody yelled, alarmed. "Stop doing that!"

"I'm not doing it!" Cally cried.

"Hold it steady!" Kody screamed.

Cally pressed all her weight against it. But the ladder continued to swing away from the house.

Kody's hands flailed at the air. "Help me!"

The ladder was standing straight up now.

Cally struggled to push it back against the roof. But it resisted with

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 923