The Red Ghost

by Marion Dane Bauer

  • • •

  When she awoke the next morning, the first thing Jenna remembered was that Rocco was trapped in her closet. She sat up quickly and looked at the closet door. It was closed, as it had been last night. It was tightly closed, and all was quiet.

  Then she drew in her breath. At the bottom of her bed lay Rocco, curled into a familiar black-and-white ball. He was sleeping peacefully. He was even snoring just a bit.

  So what had she heard last night in her closet?

  And what was it Dallas thought she had heard yesterday?

  Jenna reached for her clothes. She had to go talk to Dallas!

  5

  “Already Full”

  Dallas looked up from her bowl of Cheerios. “Tell me again what it sounded like,” she said.

  “I don’t know!” The truth was Jenna didn’t want to say it again. She knew what she had heard last night. Now, though, with the morning sun spilling across Dallas’s kitchen table, saying it sounded silly. So she said instead, “Tell me what you heard yesterday … when we were leaving the house.”

  “Nothing,” Dallas said. She stirred her Cheerios so hard that the milk sloshed out of the bowl. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Yes, you did! Jenna wanted to say. But she knew Dallas just didn’t want to say it, either. So she took a deep breath and said it herself. “What I heard was like paper rattling. Like someone crying.”

  “What did the someone say?” Dallas asked.

  Jenna shrugged. “Nothing. It was just a voice … that’s all. No words. I thought it was Rocco.”

  “But it wasn’t Rocco.” Dallas picked up a spoonful of Cheerios. She held it in the air in front of her mouth. “Rocco was on your bed this morning.”

  “And the closet door was still closed,” Jenna pointed out.

  Dallas plopped the spoon back in the bowl. “We’ve got to get rid of that doll,” she announced. “Right now.”

  Irritation fizzed through Jenna’s veins. She had come to see Dallas because she wanted to talk about what happened. But she hadn’t asked Dallas to take over.

  “I don’t want to get rid of the doll,” she said. “What would I give Quinn for her birthday?”

  Dallas’s eyebrows lifted until they disappeared under her backward-turned cap. “What do you want to do, then?”

  “I …” But Jenna didn’t know what she wanted to do. All she knew was that she didn’t want to spend another night with that thing in her closet.

  “I know!” Dallas clapped her hands. “Let’s give the doll to Quinn this morning. It can still be a birthday present. Just a little early.”

  Jenna ignored the “let’s.” Dallas acted as if the doll were a gift from her, too. But it didn’t matter who gave Quinn the doll. It was still a great idea. And Dallas could come with her to get the doll out of the closet. Then she wouldn’t even mind if Quinn thought it was a gift from both of them.

  It wasn’t that she really thought a doll was a threat, of course. She just didn’t feel like getting her out of the closet by herself. That was all.

  “Come on,” she said.

  The girls found Quinn in her room, playing with Raggedy Ann and a Barbie. It was an odd combination, but that didn’t seem to bother Quinn.

  “This is for you!” Jenna said, holding up the package wrapped in newspaper comics. “It’s a birthday present,” she added. She hoped Quinn would like it.

  Quinn got to her feet, slowly. She looked confused. “What is it?” she asked. She made no move to take the gift.

  “What difference does it make what it is?” Jenna asked.

  “It’s a birthday present for you!” Dallas reminded her.

  Quinn shook her head. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

  Jenna sighed. What was Quinn’s problem? “I know it’s a little early. But if we give it to you now, you can start playing with it.”

  Quinn’s hands stayed behind her back. “How come it’s wrapped so funny?” she asked.

  “Because we couldn’t find any gift wrap,” Dallas told her. She sounded as impatient as Jenna felt.

  “We thought you wouldn’t mind,” Jenna added. She said it in a way that told Quinn she wasn’t supposed to mind.

  Quinn’s hands came out from behind her back. She took the package from Jenna. She sat down on her bed and tugged at the tape. She pulled at it slowly … very slowly. And this was the girl who usually sent gift wrap flying in every direction! Now she couldn’t have possibly taken more care.

  When at last Quinn pulled the doll out of the newspaper, she held it up. She stared, long and hard. The red-velvet doll stared back.

  Suddenly Quinn rose and thrust the doll into Jenna’s hands. “Here,” she said.

  “But it’s for you,” Jenna told her.

  “Isn’t she pretty?” Dallas said.

  Quinn took a step back. She said, “No!”

  “No?” Jenna repeated, astonished. “What do you mean?”

  Quinn shook her head violently. “No, I mean … thank you. She’s pretty. But I don’t want her.”

  “Why not?” Dallas asked. “Is it because she’s old? She’s practically an antique, you know.” Dallas sounded irritated. Jenna was irritated, too.

  “Being old makes her special.” Jenna held the doll up so Quinn would see how special she was. “I bought her from Miss Tate.” The lie made her cheeks go warm. But what did it matter that she hadn’t paid any money for the doll? At least it was true that she had gotten her from Miss Tate. “She used to belong to Miss Tate’s little sister.”

  Quinn studied the doll from a careful distance. “I guess that’s why she’s full,” she said.

  “Full? What are you talking about?” Jenna’s cheeks grew warmer, but it wasn’t embarrassment warming her face now. It was pure anger. She couldn’t believe Quinn was refusing her gift! And she couldn’t imagine what her little sister was talking about. How could a doll be full?

  Quinn plopped down on the floor with her other dolls. She held up Raggedy Ann, who stared at them with blank button eyes. “I like my dolls empty,” Quinn told them. She said it slowly, as if explaining the obvious to someone who wasn’t very bright. “If they’re empty, I can pretend. But”—she pointed to the doll in Jenna’s hands—“that one’s already full.”

  “Full of what?” Dallas and Jenna asked together.

  Quinn shrugged. “I don’t know. She just is. I can tell.”

  6

  “The Answer Is No”

  “There’s only one thing to do,” Dallas announced.

  Jenna waited. At this point, she didn’t care if Dallas took over. If Dallas had an idea—any idea at all—Jenna was ready to hear it.

  “We’ll give the doll back to Miss Tate,” Dallas said.

  Of course! Jenna was delighted. Why hadn’t she come up with that herself? It was the perfect solution. She would just tell Miss Tate that her sister didn’t want the doll. She would tell her that Quinn said the doll was “full.” That would give Miss Tate a good laugh. Little kids could be so funny!

  Jenna picked the doll up and smoothed her velvet dress. It was a shame Quinn didn’t want her. She was one of the prettiest dolls Jenna had ever seen.

  “Come on,” Dallas said. She had already started for the door.

  Jenna followed.

  Miss Tate’s garage sale was over, but that didn’t matter. She could put the doll back in her attic. Or she could give it to some other little girl. It wouldn’t be very hard to find someone whose imagination wasn’t as odd as Quinn’s.

  Dallas walked up to Miss Tate’s door first and rang the bell.

  Jenna looked down at the doll in her arms. The doll looked back at her. There was something odd about those blue eyes, that was for sure. Jenna wouldn’t be sorry to see the thing go.

  The door opened, and tall, skinny Miss Tate stood in the doorway. She wasn’t looking at them, though. She was staring at the doll.

  Jenna waited for Dallas to explain, but Dallas stepped aside. Jenna was on her own.


  “Uh …,” Jenna said. “I brought your doll back.”

  “I told you. It’s not my doll,” Miss Tate said. She sounded a bit cross.

  Jenna didn’t know what to say to that. She looked at Dallas, who didn’t seem to know, either. “But she was in your garage sale. And you gave her to us.”

  Miss Tate nodded. At least she agreed with that.

  “You said I could have her for Quinn … for her birthday,” Jenna went on.

  Again Miss Tate nodded.

  Jenna took a deep breath. “Well, I gave her to Quinn, but Quinn doesn’t want her.”

  “She says she’s full,” Dallas added.

  “Full of what?” Miss Tate asked.

  But Jenna could only shrug. Dallas did, too. Who knew?

  Miss Tate sighed. She stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind her. You would think she was afraid the girls would dash inside and drop the doll in her house. Or throw the thing past her like a football.

  She didn’t say anything more, just stood there with her arms crossed in that way she had.

  “Maybe your sister would like to have her back,” Jenna suggested.

  Miss Tate shook her head no. “My sister’s dead,” she told them.

  “Oh,” Jenna replied. And then she said, “I’m sorry.” That’s what she’d heard her mother say when someone died. I’m sorry. As though she were apologizing.

  But Miss Tate shook her head again. “She died a long time ago. Hazel was just a little girl,” she said. “Scarlet fever.”

  “Oh,” Jenna said again. Did you say you were sorry when someone had been dead for a long time?

  “She loved that doll,” Miss Tate continued. “She slept with it every night. She carried it everywhere.”

  “And you’ve kept it ever since she died?” Jenna asked.

  “I didn’t keep it!” Miss Tate spoke sharply. “My mother was the one. She used to sit and rock that thing all day long … all night, too. Like she was rocking Hazel. Everybody told her she had to burn it, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  Dallas, at last, found something to say. “Burn it? Why was she supposed to burn it?”

  “It’s what you did with scarlet fever,” Miss Tate explained. “It was supposed to protect the other children. Back then no one knew what caused it. The sickness just popped up here and there without warning. They thought it must be germs carried on toys, on bedding. So they burned everything. Mama did, too. Everything Hazel had touched—except for that doll.”

  “Didn’t she care that you might get sick?” Jenna asked.

  “No.” Miss Tate’s voice was sharp. “She didn’t seem to care about anybody except Hazel. And when Hazel was gone, she cared about that silly doll instead.”

  Miss Tate’s eyes narrowed. “Mama even made a new dress for it … just like one she’d made for Hazel. The same bright red velvet. It’s what Hazel wanted, though she looked terrible in red. She was a carrot-top, you know. Carrot-tops shouldn’t wear red. Even I knew that.”

  She pursed her lips and glared at the girls. She acted as though all that had happened so long ago was their fault.

  Jenna said nothing. What was there to say?

  “Her skin was all red splotches from the fever, too,” Miss Tate went on. “But that’s how Mama dressed her, even for the funeral. In red velvet, no less.”

  Jenna looked down at the doll in her arms, at the red-velvet dress, the red-velvet bonnet.

  Miss Tate was looking at it, too. Her look was fierce. “Mama wouldn’t let anybody else touch that doll. Not even me. Especially not me. For years and years, she kept it on her bed. She held it when she rocked in her chair. All the years I took care of Mama, that doll stayed close beside her. She even talked to it … like she was still talking to Hazel.”

  Miss Tate took a deep breath. “The day Mama died, I put the thing away in the attic,” she said. “Yesterday I remembered it was there. I decided it was time for it to go.”

  She turned away and opened her door. She spoke with her back to them. “So if you want me to take it, the answer is no. I don’t care what Quinn says that doll is full of. I don’t want it in my house. Do whatever you like with it. I won’t have it here again.”

  And she went inside and slammed the door.

  7

  A Solution

  Jenna and Dallas stood on Miss Tate’s porch. Their mouths were open, but neither spoke. What were they supposed to do now?

  Dallas finally broke the silence. “Do you have any other ideas?” she asked.

  Jenna shook her head. She didn’t have another idea in the world. All she knew was that she wasn’t going to keep this thing in her closet another night!

  She started down the steps. “We could give it to your brothers,” she said. Dallas’s little brothers were rough. They didn’t play with toys. They destroyed them.

  “To use for target practice?” Dallas asked. She followed Jenna.

  Jenna shrugged. “Sure, if that’s what they want to do. Why should we care? Miss Tate doesn’t want the thing. She hates it.”

  But Dallas shook her head. “No way. I don’t want it at my house, either.”

  Jenna didn’t argue. She didn’t really want to see the fragile old doll in the boys’ hands, anyway. If something bad was going to happen to it, she didn’t want to have to look at it afterward.

  Jenna and Dallas crossed the street. As they approached Jenna’s house, Jenna saw it. Right in front of them. It was the perfect solution. She would never have to see the doll again!

  “Hey!” she said. She put a hand on Dallas’s arm. “What do you think of that for an idea?” She nodded toward the large plastic garbage can at the curb. Dad had set it out for trash day.

  “What do I think …?” Dallas frowned at the garbage can. When she looked at Jenna again, her eyes were wide. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Why not?” Jenna marched up to the can. She lifted the lid. It was full of white plastic bags fat with garbage. The one on top had split. Some stuff poked through.

  She looked back at Dallas to see what she would say.

  Dallas pulled off her baseball cap and pushed her hair back. She settled the cap on her head again. “You’re going to throw Miss Tate’s doll in the garbage?” she asked. “Really?”

  “Of course!” Jenna said it cheerfully, as though she threw away dolls every day.

  “Well … okay.” Dallas shrugged. “I guess.” She came closer and peered into the can, too. “I mean … why not?”

  Dallas was right. Why not? Jenna pressed down the top bag to make more room.

  “Nobody wants this old doll,” she said. She was talking to herself as much as to Dallas. “Not Miss Tate. Not even Quinn. That’s what you do with stuff nobody wants, isn’t it? You throw it away.”

  “Sure,” Dallas said, though she seemed anything but sure.

  It didn’t feel quite right. But it was the only idea Jenna had. So she laid the doll on top of the garbage. The velvet dress and bonnet seemed to glow a deeper red against the white plastic. A curl of browning potato peel poked out of the slit in the top bag. It wrapped around the doll’s arm.

  Jenna shuddered and picked away the peel. Then, before she could change her mind, she lowered the lid.

  Dallas gasped. “Are you really going to leave her there?” She said it as if they hadn’t talked about it. As if she hadn’t agreed.

  “Of course.” Jenna tried to sound more certain than she felt. It was just an old doll after all. A doll nobody wanted. What was the big deal? “Come on,” she added, and she headed up the driveway. She tried to ignore the fact that Dallas wasn’t following.

  “Jenna,” Dallas called. “Did you hear—”

  “No!” Jenna interrupted. Her voice came out too loud. “I didn’t hear anything.” And she hadn’t. She was certain she hadn’t!

  Dallas didn’t reply. For once she must have decided not to argue. She started after Jenna.

  That was when Quinn came around the corne
r of the garage. “Where is she?” she cried. “I heard her. What did you do with Miss Tate’s doll?”

  Dallas stopped again. “You heard the doll? What did you hear her say?”

  “‘Help me!’” Quinn said. She made her voice small and thin. “‘Please, help me!’”

  Dallas whirled to face Jenna. “That’s what I heard, too,” she said.

  A shiver crawled up Jenna’s spine. What choice did she have? She ran back to the garbage can and lifted the lid.

  When she picked the doll up, the blue eyes came open with a sharp clunk. This time Jenna could have sworn they were saying, Gotcha!

  8

  Gone!

  “What are you going to do with her?” Dallas and Quinn said it in one breath. Then they both stood there, waiting for an answer. And Jenna hadn’t even been the one who had wanted the doll in the first place!

  It was Dallas who had told Miss Tate that Jenna wanted to buy the thing. It was Quinn who’d decided the doll was “full.” But there they both stood, waiting for Jenna to do something. She looked down at the doll. The doll looked back at her.

  And while Jenna stood there, staring right into the doll’s eyes, she heard it. This time it wasn’t a wail. It was a whisper, as soft as rustling leaves. But Jenna heard it perfectly.

  “Help!” the doll begged. “Please, help me!”

  Jenna jumped so violently the doll almost flew out of her hands. And even as she scrabbled to keep from dropping the thing, her hands were still trying to get rid of it.

  She would have thrown it. She would have done exactly what her hands wanted except for one thing. Miss Tate. At that instant, their neighbor stepped out onto her front porch again. She came down the stairs and stood there on the other side of the street, her arms crossed, watching.

  “Let’s go!” Jenna cried. And holding the doll as far away from her body as possible, she began to run.

  “Where?” Dallas asked.

  Jenna didn’t answer. She didn’t know where. She just let her feet choose the path. And as if they knew no other place to go, her feet took her across the lawn … up the front steps … through the door … down the hall … and into her room. Dallas and Quinn followed.