“Yes, but the thing about child ghosts,” said Lucy, “is that only other children can see them.”
“My mom and dad sure can’t see this one,” I said. “But then again, neither can I.”
“You can hear it, though,” said Lucy. “You can feel its presence in the house.”
“That’s for sure,” I said dejectedly. “And Sally can see it. I’m sure of that.”
“That’s what scares me,” said Lucy, leaning forward. “What if the little boy ghost wants another child for company. Permanently.”
I stared at her, my mind a wordless blank.
Even Steve looked horrified.
“Oh, my God,” I said.
“I think you’d better keep an eye on her,” Lucy said. “You’re the only one who can keep her safe.”
19
That night I pretended to be asleep when my parents came up to bed.
They couldn’t help—it was up to me.
Once the house was quiet—as quiet as it ever got—I dragged the chair from my room out into the hall and down next to Sally’s door, which was open just enough for me to see her bed.
I sat in the chair with a baseball bat across my knees, waiting. Let it come! I was pumped up. Nothing was going to hurt my little sister, not if I had anything to say about it.
Nothing happened. The house remained quiet. Sally slept peacefully. The hours slowly passed.
My eyes grew heavy. I fought to stay awake but it was no use. I drifted off listening to the slow, rhythmic sounds of Sally breathing gently as she slept.…
Suddenly I woke up with a start. At first I couldn’t remember where I was, or what I was doing there. Then my mind cleared and my hands gripped the baseball bat.
A glance told me Sally’s door was still open a few inches exactly as it had been. I was getting up to go inside and check on her when a noise from downstairs stopped me cold.
Screeeeek.
There was a scrape on the floor as if someone down there had bumped into a chair.
Eeeeeerk.
That was the sound of a drawer opening very slowly.
Steve. Maybe he was down there playing a prank after all that spooky talk.
Crouching close to the wall, I started hesitantly for the stairs, clutching the bat. More shuffling, stirring noises, then an eerie, echoey voice.
“Mama. My mama.”
A child’s voice! Sally must be down there!
I bolted down the stairs and tripped. Hanging on to the stair rail, I lost the bat. It was so loud thumping down the steps that surely it would wake my parents. And Steve would be scared off, right?
Right?
The noises stopped. I fumbled around for the light switch and clicked it on.
Nothing happened. The lights weren’t working. It remained so dark I could barely see my own hands.
I heard a rustling noise. Cloth on cloth, somebody moving.
“Who’s there?” I called out, my voice echoing in the darkness.
No answer.
I advanced slowly into the downstairs hall. A movement at my shoulder made me jump.
The clock. It was just the grandfather clock rearing up out of the dark, moonlight catching on its face. Just the clock—but my heart thudded.
“Sally?” I called softly.
No answer. I moved farther into the dining room.
Behind me a floorboard creaked. I whirled around. The shadows under the stairs stirred and parted. Cloth whispered against cloth.
If only I hadn’t dropped the baseball bat.
“Dad?” I breathed, hopefully.
From under the stairs came a raspy, whispery voice. “Where is it? You stole it from me, give it back!”
My skin crawled. It was like the voice was getting inside me, making my blood freeze.
“Who—” My voice cracked. “Who’s there?”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Above me a child let out a piercing scream. It sounded as if it came from the top of the stairs. The scream seemed to free me and I tried to run up the steps.
Something hurtled out of the darkness. I ducked and it whistled past my ear, just missing me.
“Ahhhh!”
Behind me, right behind me, there was a cry of pain as the object connected with something and bounced, striking an end table and knocking it over.
An antique lamp smashed to pieces.
I dropped to the floor, feeling around for the missing bat. My hand closed over something heavy and coldly metallic. I held it up. A bronzed baby shoe.
Something had hurled the heavy shoe at me—or maybe at something else on the stairs. Something behind me.
Then the shoe was torn from my grasp. Wham—it flew into the air and smashed into the chandelier, raining glass everywhere.
A piece of glass hit my leg and glanced off, cutting me slightly.
Got to get out of here! I stumbled for the stairs. The air seemed to crackle around my ears. My only thought was to reach my room. It wanted me, I had to get away!
Long, cold fingers came out of the shadows and snagged at my pajamas.
I jerked free and tried to run.
It was right behind me, gaining. Another whispery touch grazed my ankles.
Then I was at the top of the stairs, my room only steps away. My breath wheezed in my chest. I reached for my bedroom door, threw it open and dived inside.
I flung myself against the door and held it closed. Don’t come in, I prayed, don’t come in!
Ghostly fingernails scraped along the door—skreeeek, skreeeek—and then moved on to rake the length of the wall.
On the other side of the door a hollow voice spoke right into my ear. “I’ll get you, Jason. You can’t hide. I’ll get you.”
Then the ghostly voice slowly faded and the house settled into silence as deep and soundless as the grave.
20
My skin was clammy and hot. When I opened my eyes the sun was beating down on me, already high. I had overslept, no surprise.
I dressed as fast as I could, eager to tell my parents what had happened last night. This time it would be different. They’d have to believe me, with all the damage downstairs. Finally they’d have to listen, they’d have to realize that both me and Sally
