by R. L. Stine
• • •
“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 more force than Cally had.
“Cally—help! Stop!” Kody’s frantic screams pierced the air.
Cally raised her eyes to her sister’s frightened face. Saw her hands squeeze the sides of the ladder. Saw her knees bend.
Saw the ladder topple back. Back.
And then Cally could hold it no more.
She let go and jumped out of the way as the ladder fell.
Kody screamed all the way down.
She landed flat on her back. Her arms and legs bounced once. Twice. Her breath seemed to explode from her body in a whoosh.
The ladder clanged as it bounced hard and luckily landed beside her in the tall grass.
“Noooo!” A silent protest escaped Cally’s lips.
How could this happen?
She ran to Kody and bent over her.
“Kody?”
How could this happen? How?
“Kody? Are you okay?”
Cally let out a horrified gasp when she saw that her sister wasn’t breathing.
Chapter 8
Dear Diary,
You can imagine how relieved I felt when Kody opened her eyes. The fall had knocked the wind out of her and she had passed out.
We finally got her on her feet. She was really groggy. Her back and neck were sore, but she was lucky she didn’t break anything.
Of course, she blamed me for letting the ladder tilt over. I tried to explain it wasn’t my fault. It was so horrible. When I held the ladder, it felt as if a strong force—much stronger than me—were pushing the ladder backward.
I felt really bad. As if I had let Kody down. Kody was so angry and upset, it made me feel even worse.
Mom was quiet the rest of the day. And Dad seemed totally freaked. “So many accidents,” he kept saying over and over, shaking his head. “So many accidents.”
There have been a lot of frightening accidents since we arrived. One right after the other.
Thinking about them all gave me the chills.
I mean, why did the ladder move back like that? And why did Dad think I bumped his arm and made him stab himself when I hadn’t even touched him? And why did the window slam shut on Kody’s hands after it had stayed up for a while?
Why? Why? Why?
I keep telling myself it’s just a creepy, run-down old house. And
the things that are happening to us are just accidents. I keep telling myself that. But I don’t know how long I can go on believing it.
I’m really frightened. If one more bad thing happens, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Oh well, it’s getting late. I’ll close for now. I’m sure tomorrow will be a much better day.
Cally closed the diary and tucked it into her desk drawer. Then she made her way to bed.
She yawned wearily, her eyes on the blackness outside the bedroom window. After pulling back the sheet, she slid into bed.
She had been asleep for only a few minutes when the soft knocking started again.
Three light taps on the bedroom door. Then a pause. Then three more taps.
Instantly alert, Cally crept out of bed.
She took a silent step toward the door. Then listened.
Three more soft taps.
This time I’m going to find out who’s there, she told herself.
Three more taps.
Cally grabbed the doorknob and jerked the door open.
“Hey—”
Her voice echoed once down the empty hall.
There was no one there.
• • •
Cally woke up the next morning, Saturday, blinking into the gray light.
What was that dark rectangle across the room?
As her eyes focused, she realized she was staring into her open closet.
She stared at the bare shelves, the white plaster closet walls.
Empty. The closet was empty.
And all of her clothes—jeans, shorts, T-shirts, sweatshirts—had been taken out and strewn all over her room. They were on the floor, over her desk, and across the windowsill.
“I don’t believe this!” she cried out loud. “Who was in here?”
She sat up, startled to alertness. “Kody? Kody? Were you in my room?” she shouted.
No reply.
She leapt out of bed and started to dress quickly, picking up a pair of white tennis shorts from the floor then pulling on a blue- and white-striped tank top.
After she dressed, she picked up the T-shirts and sweaters from the floor and tossed them onto her bed. Then she quickly ran a brush through her blond hair and hurried downstairs.
“Something weird is going on!” Cally shouted, hurrying toward the kitchen.
She entered a scene of shouting and confusion.
“Where’s Cubby?” James was demanding shrilly. Cally’s brother was down on his hands and knees, peering under the kitchen table. “Cubby? Cubby?” he called. “Where is that dumb dog?”
Mr. Hankers hurried past Cally with a nod and a muttered “Good morning.” He closed the basement door behind him. She heard his heavy footsteps clambering down the narrow basement stairs.
“I don’t want eggs!” Kody was saying irritably.
Her mother snapped the plate up from the table. “You told me you wanted scrambled eggs this morning.”
“But these are too runny. They’re sick!” Kody declared. “I’m going to hurl! Really!”
“Fine. I like them runny. I’ll eat them!” Mrs. Frasier snarled, carrying the plate away.
“Where’s Cubby?” James repeated shrilly. “Has anyone seen him?”
“I think he went outside,” Mrs. Nordstrom said, her face hidden behind a pile of bath towels she was carrying in front of her. “I saw him in the backyard a few minutes ago.”
“Are you going to wash those?” Mr. Frasier asked.
“Yes. I’m on my way to the basement,” the housekeeper replied.
“But Mr. Hankers told me the basement is still filled with rats,” Mr. Frasier told her.
Mrs. Nordstrom kept walking toward the back hallway. “I’m not afraid of rats. Rats are afraid of me,” she said, and disappeared, heading down to the washer-dryer.
“Cubby? Cubby? Did she say Cubby went outside?” James demanded. “Cubby isn’t allowed outside!”
He pushed open the kitchen door and ran out, calling the dog’s name.
“James—come back! You haven’t had your breakfast!” Mrs. Frasier called frantically. She blew a strand of hair off her forehead. “Anybody want eggs?”
“Somebody pulled all the clothes out of my closet!” Cally reported, managing to get a word in. “My room is a total mess!”
“Later,” Cally’s mother said. “Let’s get breakfast out of the way, then—”
“But, Mother—” Cally cried sharply. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“What’s going on here?” Kody demanded. “Why is everyone screaming and running around like a maniac?”
“Cubby? Cubby?” James’s desperate shouts floated in from the backyard.
“If that stupid puppy has run off . . .” Mr. Frasier muttered. He set his coffee cup down, frowning. “Cally, do me a favor. Go look in the front yard. Maybe Cubby ran around to the front.”
Cally obediently pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. “I wish someone would listen to me,” she said angrily. “Someone was in my room and—”
“Please check the front for the dog,” Mr. Frasier urged impatiently. “So maybe James will shut up.”
With an unhappy groan, Cally headed to the front of the house.
Has everyone in this house gone totally psycho? she wondered.
She pulled open the front door, stepped onto the porch, turned around—and gasped.
The porch was splattered with blood.
Cally raised her hands to her face as she saw the huge blood-scrawled number on the house wall.
99
Chapter 9
Kody was the first to hear Cally’s screams. She burst onto the porch, and her eyes bulged wide with horror as she saw the blood streaks.
Mr. and Mrs. Frasier stopped just outside the doorway, staring in silent shock. “Who—” Mrs. Frasier managed to choke out.
“I knew the house was haunted,” Kody said, her voice just above a whisper. “I could feel the evil as soon as we arrived. And now it’s starting to come out.”
“Do you think it was neighborhood kids?” Mrs. Frasier asked her husband. “Some kind of prank?”
Mr. Frasier swallowed hard but didn’t reply. Cally could see the fear in his eyes. His face appeared pale and drawn in the gray light filtering down through the trees.
“Is it really blood?” Kody asked quietly.
Cally took a few steps toward the front door. Her legs weak and rubbery. Timidly, she raised a finger to the wall of the house and rubbed it across one of the nines.
“No. It’s not blood,” she announced quietly. “It’s paint.”
“Paint?” Mr. Frasier repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before.
“The ghost is trying to communicate,” Kody murmured.
“Who would smear red paint all over our porch?” Cally’s father demanded. “Mr. Hankers and I spent all yesterday afternoon sanding and putting primer on.
“Such a mean joke,” Mrs. Frasier murmured, chewing her bottom lip and shaking her head.
“It’s not a joke,” Kody replied in a low, solemn voice. “It’s a message. It’s not a joke.”
“Cubby? Cubby?” James’s voice floated onto the porch. Cally saw her brother wander into the front yard, trudging along slowly, searching everywhere. “Cubby?”
James turned when he saw everyone huddled on the porch. “Come out and help me!” he cried in a trembling voice. “We’ve got to look for Cubby! He’s run away!”
Poor James is about to lose it, Cally thought, seeing her brother’s chin tremble and tears form in his eyes. “I’ll help you look!” she called to him.
Anything to get out of here! Cally told herself.
“Wait there, James,” she called. “I’ll be right there. We’ll search the whole neighborhood.”
“Cubby! Cubby?” James continued to call the puppy, his voice becoming more and more shrill.
Cally ran upstairs to her room. Ignoring the clothing tossed everywhere, she pulled on a pair of white sweat
socks, and then searched under a pile of jeans for her sneakers.
When she returned to the front yard, Kody and Mr. Frasier were already opening cans of white primer, preparing to paint over the ugly red scrawls.
Cally said, “I’m going now,” and hurried out to join James.
“Why did Cubby run away?” James demanded as Cally came jogging down the driveway to him. “Why did he do that?”
“I’m sure he didn’t get far,” Cally told her brother, tenderly putting a hand on his slender shoulder. “Come on. We’ll find him.”
Keeping her hand on his shoulder, Cally guided James down to the street. “We’ll search all the front and backyards,” she said. “Keep your eyes peeled.”
As soon as they stepped away from their yard, sunlight appeared. The morning sky was cloudless and bright. The air instantly became warm and fresh smelling.
“Cubby! Cubby!” James called the dog’s name as Cally led him from house to house.
The houses are all pretty old and ramshackle on this street, Cally noticed.
But none of them, she realized unhappily, were as run-down and as covered in darkness as her new house.
“Is that Cubby?” James cried, pointing to a front lawn choked with tall weeds.
Cally turned her gaze to follow where he was pointing. “No. Sorry. It’s only a squirrel,” she reported.
James uttered an unhappy moan.
“Don’t get discouraged,” Cally said. “We’ll find him. Let’s check out this backyard.”
The square-shaped brick house was dark and empty. But as Cally followed her brother up the driveway, she heard the buzz of a power lawn mower.
As she and James turned the corner behind the garage, a boy came into view. He had his back to them as he pushed the mower. It crackled and roared as he guided it through the tall grass.
“I don’t see Cubby,” James shouted over the noise.
Cally’s eyes were on the dark-haired boy. As he turned the lawn mower and started toward them, she recognized him.
“Anthony!” Cally shouted, smiling.
He stopped pushing but kept both hands on the mower handle. His eyes narrowed in surprise. “Hi!” he called. He bent down and shut off the mower.
“Anthony—do you live here?” Cally called, jogging over to him.