Then I heard something scratching in the walls. Nofarm did, too, and raced to the back of the apartment. He barked and tried to paw his way through the wall.
“It’s okay,” I said to Nofarm. “It’s just Thin Mint and Samoa, the cats that live downstairs.” I knocked on the wall. “Time to go home now, guys.”
“Who are you talking to?” asked Finn.
“There are a couple of cats that like to hang out on the other side of this wall,” I said.
“Of course there are,” said Finn, turning back to the LEGOs.
“Make this one bigger,” said Beckett, pointing to the smallest tower.
“Whatever you say, boss,” Finn replied. “This is awesome, by the way. I don’t know why I ever gave this up.”
Beckett’s eyes got wide. “You mean you used to play with LEGOs, too?”
“Of course, dude. LEGOs are the best!”
I glanced at my watch. “Hey, Beckett. It’s time to brush your teeth, okay, buddy? Then you’ve got to go to bed.”
Beckett stood up and stomped his foot. “But I don’t want to,” he whined.
“Of course you do, dude,” said Finn. “If you don’t brush your teeth every night and every morning, they’re gonna get all green and rotten and fall out, and then you won’t be able to chew and you’ll talk like this.” Finn stretched his lips over his teeth and made his voice all low and scratchy, like an old man’s. “I have no teeth. Will you hang out with me still?”
Beckett giggled.
“It’s not so bad,” Finn went on, standing up and hobbling across the room, hunched over and leaning on a pretend cane. “I get to have soup at every meal.”
“I hate soup!” Beckett yelled, jumping up and running into his bathroom.
“Nice work!” I said to my brother as we high-fived.
“What can I say? I’m a natural,” he said.
“Ha! I’d say don’t let it go to your head, but I know I’m too late.”
Finn shrugged, not able to deny a thing.
After we helped Beckett change into his red-and-blue-striped flannel pajamas, we each read him a story. Finn was totally excited to revisit Where the Wild Things Are after so many years. And I chose a new book called B is for Brooklyn.
“Good night, Beckett,” I said.
“’Night, dude,” said my brother, tucking Beckett in and leaning in to give him a quick hug.
“Will you leave the closet door open?” asked Beckett.
“Sure,” I said. “Think Margaret will come visit you tonight?”
“Probably,” said Beckett.
“Who’s Margaret?” asked Finn.
“She’s my friend,” said Beckett.
Finn looked at me, confused.
“I’ll explain about Margaret later,” I whispered as I propped Beckett’s closet door open with one blue sneaker.
As Finn and I went back to the living room, I explained, “He’s friends with the ghost, apparently.” I was feeling pretty flippant about the whole thing. Now that I knew about the cats roaming around inside the walls, the whole thing seemed comical. That’s why I laughed. And Finn did, too.
At least until we heard the eerie voice of an old woman.
Both of us went silent.
My ears perked up. Finn’s did, too.
We looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
My first thought was, I must be hearing something, like maybe the neighbor’s television or someone from outside. Except the voice was definitely coming from Beckett’s room. And Beckett doesn’t have a TV in his room.
“What’s that?” asked Finn.
“Don’t know,” I said, watching the little hairs on my arms stand on end.
“Someone’s singing, but I can’t make out the song,” Finn said, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
I looked toward Beckett’s room, confused and, okay, I’ll admit it, completely freaked out. Then it dawned on me. “It’s ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,’” I said.
“Why would we be hearing that song from Beckett’s room?” asked Finn.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But we need to go in.”
Finn gulped and stood up. Then we grabbed hands and walked to the bedroom. As we slowly opened the door, we found ourselves face-to-face with the ghost of Margaret.
Chapter 17
“AAAHH!!”
We screamed and hightailed it out of Beckett’s room faster than you can say “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Standing in the living room, panting and looking at Finn, I realized something. We’d just broken the cardinal rule of babysitting: keep the baby safe.
Surely that could also be interpreted to mean do not leave the baby with a ghost.
Even if said baby claims to be friends with the ghost.
“We’ve got to go back in there,” I told Finn.
He widened his eyes. “You’re joking, right?” Then he took a deep breath and reconsidered. “No, you’re right. Of course we need to go back. Come on.”
We hurried back to Beckett’s room and opened the door. The ghost was gone, and Beckett was sitting up in his bed, not scared or alarmed in any way. He just looked confused.
“Why’d you guys scream?” he asked, blinking at us calmly.
I checked in the closet and behind the drapes and under the bed. Then I looked out the window. The curtains in the window in the building across the street were wavering in the breeze, but otherwise all was still and silent.
“She’s gone,” I said.
“You guys scared her,” said Beckett.
“We scared the ghost?” I asked.
“She’s not a ghost,” Beckett insisted. “She’s Margaret.”
I looked at Finn, who looked back at me.
Neither of us knew what to do.
Beckett yawned.
“Um, do you want to go to sleep?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Beckett.
“Do you think Margaret will be back?” I asked.
“No. She’s going to sleep, too,” said Beckett.
“Has she ever bothered you or hurt you?” Finn asked.
Beckett looked at Finn as if he were a crazy person. “Of course not,” he said. “She’s my friend.”
Finn looked at me and shrugged. Then we searched the room again, even though Beckett insisted his friend had gone home.
Apparently he was right. Finding nothing, I said, “Okay, good night, buddy.”
“Good night,” said Beckett before collapsing back on his bed.
Finn and I stayed in his room for a minute, unsure of what to do.
“You can go now,” said Beckett.
“You’re sure about that?” I asked.
“Yes,” Beckett said. His voice had an edge to it, as though the little guy was losing patience with us. “I’m fine.”
Back in the living room, Finn and I sat down on the couch, both of us staring at Beckett’s door in silence.
“That was nuts,” said Finn.
I had to agree. “Totally insane.”
“And we both saw the same thing?” asked Finn. “Pale, scary figure with no legs?”
“Yup,” I said. “That about covers it.”
“Should we call the police?”
“And tell them what? We saw a ghost in this three-year-old’s room, and we were the only ones who were scared? The kid is unharmed, and now the ghost is gone?”
“Okay, maybe that’s a bad idea,” said Finn. “But what are we supposed to do?”
“We’ll just tell Caroline and Lisa,” I said.
“Tell us what?” Lisa asked as she walked through the front door and made us both jump. Doubly scared, the two of us yelled and grabbed hold of one another.
Caroline and Lisa stared at us, and then at each other.
“Rough night?” Caroline asked.
“We saw a ghost,” Finn cried.
I giggled out of nervousness.
Caroline and Lisa looked as though they couldn’t figure out the punch line
to our joke. And I so, so, so wished that were the case—that we were joking. But we weren’t, and we had to come clean.
“You know this Margaret that Beckett keeps talking about?” I asked.
“His imaginary friend,” said Caroline. “Sure, we’ve discussed her with you before.”
“Yeah, except she’s not imaginary,” I said, looking to Finn for confirmation. He nodded. “We know, because we saw her just a little while ago.”
“In Beckett’s room,” Finn added.
“I thought it was the cat at first, but then I saw her. Margaret. The ghost of Margaret, I mean.”
Lisa and Caroline ran to Beckett’s room and we followed, all of us bursting through the door at once to reveal Beckett all alone and fast asleep.
Caroline checked in his closet and under his bed and even behind the dresser while Finn and I stood there, embarrassed.
“I know we sound crazy,” I whispered as we all made our way back into the living room. “But we were eyewitnesses.”
“Maybe you two should go home now,” Caroline suggested gently as she squeezed my shoulder. “Get some rest.”
Lisa handed us some folded bills and sent us on our way.
“Think they’re going to ask us to babysit again?” asked Finn moments later as we walked home in the dark.
“I would say there’s about zero chance of that,” I said.
Finn shrugged. “Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted.”
“It’s too bad, because Beckett is crazy about you,” I said.
“Yeah, I like him, too,” said Finn. “He’s got some awesome energy for a three-year-old. And he’s a very cute kid.”
“A cute kid who conjures ghosts,” I said.
“Right,” said Finn. “That’s about the only downside of the night.”
“I’m so going to have nightmares tonight,” I said.
“You’re lucky,” Finn replied, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “ ’Cause I’m not going to sleep at all.”
Chapter 18
Some kids—like my brother—don’t like spending the night in new places, but I can’t think of anything more exciting.
I love everything about sleepover parties. The midnight movies with popcorn and other junk food; the silliness and late-night high jinks; the going to sleep surrounded by your closest friends, all wearing their cutest pajamas, knowing you’re going to wake up in the morning right next to them.
Tonight was Beatrix’s first sleepover party—and it was her birthday, too, so that meant we were going to have all sorts of fun. More important, I still hadn’t come up with a logical explanation for the ghost in Beckett’s room, so I definitely needed a distraction. Even if that distraction happened to be taking place directly next door to the supposedly haunted mansion. I tried not to think about that, but couldn’t help but tense up when I walked past the old Adams place.
Okay, I lied.
I didn’t just walk by the Adams mansion. I ran.
“Hey, you’re the first one here,” said Beatrix, opening the door to her apartment and giving me a quick hug.
“Happy birthday!” I said as I handed her a present wrapped in red paper with blue twine. “I’m not going to tell you what it is,” I joked.
“Let me guess,” she said, putting the book-shaped package next to her ear and giving it a shake. “Is it an airplane? No, wait a minute. I think it’s a chocolate-covered banana.”
“Oh, I can’t believe you guessed,” I said as we both laughed. I’d actually gotten her the first two books in a new gothic horror series. Not my thing—especially these days—but Beatrix likes scary stuff, and this was supposed to be good. At least that’s what the lady who works at Community Bookstore down the street told me, and she’s usually right.
We headed to Beatrix’s room and she showed me her new iPad, a gift from her dad.
“Fancy,” I said.
“I know,” Beatrix agreed. “Ever since the divorce, his presents have been way over the top. Not that I’m complaining. It’s all the guilt, my mom tells me.”
We played a few rounds of Angry Birds before the doorbell rang again. This time it was Lulu and Sonya. They’d arrived together.
Sonya handed Beatrix a big bakery-style box as soon as she walked through the front door.
“What’s this?” asked Beatrix.
“My famous chocolate-chip-peanut-butter cookies,” she said. “Joshua’s famous, I mean. He just taught me how to make them.”
“Oh, are these from your new bakery?” asked Beatrix.
“It’s a soda fountain, not a bakery,” said Sonya, frowning slightly.
“What’s the difference?” asked Beatrix.
Sonya’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?” she asked. “There are a gazillion differences, which you’d know if you bothered to visit. But since you haven’t, I figured I had to bring some cookies to you.”
“Does this mean you tracked down the chocolate chips?” I asked.
“I didn’t, but Joshua did,” said Sonya. “Turns out they were delivered to the wrong address. Rather than going to one-eighty-seven Seventh Avenue, they were sent to one-seventy-eight Eighth Avenue.”
“That’s right next door to my building,” said Beatrix.
“I know. It’s the Adams mansion,” I said.
“Right,” Sonya agreed. “And the crazy thing is, Joshua found the entire case of chocolate chips in the alleyway between this building and the Adams mansion. Not like they got lost; it was more like someone was trying to get rid of them.”
“Weird,” said Beatrix.
“Totally,” said Sonya. She patted the box in Beatrix’s arms. “There’s enough for everyone, if you want to open it now.”
“I’m not really hungry,” said Beatrix, setting the cookies down on the front table. “Let’s save them for after dinner.”
Sonya shrugged. I could tell she was hurt but trying to hide it. “Whatever you say.”
Lulu handed Beatrix a gift bag stuffed with pink and green tissue paper. “Thank you,” said Beatrix.
“Wait until you see what’s inside,” said Lulu. “Then you’ll really thank me, because I made them myself.”
“Cool!” said Beatrix.
“It’s a pair of mittens with a matching hat,” said Lulu, too excited to contain herself. “Whoops. Guess I spoiled the surprise.”
“That’s okay.” Beatrix laughed. “I still don’t know what color they are.”
“Purple and red,” said Lulu, before covering her mouth with both hands. “Ah, I can’t believe I did it again!”
We all laughed, and then Beatrix’s mother came into the entryway.
“Oh, I’m so glad everyone is here,” she said.
“Hi, Mrs. Williams,” I said.
“Hi, Maggie, girls. Please call me Jessica. And please come to the dining room, because dinner is served.”
We followed Beatrix’s mom into the next room and sat down to a surprisingly delicious dinner of vegetable stir-fry with tofu.
“So, Maggie. Tell us about the ghost,” said Lulu.
“Ghost?” asked Beatrix, raising her eyebrows.
“Yup. Maggie and Finn babysat at the haunted mansion last night,” said Lulu. “And they saw the ghost of Margaret.”
“No!” said Beatrix.
“‘No’ is right,” I said. “We saw something that looked like a ghost, and, yes, it was scary at the time; but the more I think about it, the more I realize it couldn’t have been a ghost.”
“I don’t know,” said Beatrix. “There are some weird things happening at that place. I heard the lady in the top-floor apartment died a few months ago.”
“Seriously?” I asked. “How old was she?”
“Like, ninety or something,” said Beatrix.
“That’s ancient,” said Lulu. “She probably died of natural causes.”
“Perhaps,” said Beatrix. “Or maybe the ghost of Margaret scared her to death! I heard they didn’t find her body for weeks. She’s p
robably haunting the place now, too.”
Beatrix was just kidding around, but after the weirdness of last night, I wasn’t in the mood.
“Stop,” I said. “One ghost is plenty for me to worry about, and I don’t even believe in ghosts.”
“Not even after you saw one?” asked Lulu.
“I don’t know what I saw,” I said, glad to see Beatrix’s mom coming into the room with a large bowl of strawberries so we could change the subject.
“Dessert is ready,” she said. “Now, who wants to sing ‘Happy Birthday’?”
“That’s so not necessary, mom,” said Beatrix, cringing with embarrassment.
“Of course it is,” said Lulu.
We sang “Happy Birthday” to Beatrix, and she blew out the candle lodged in the largest, plumpest berry with a single quick breath.
“No birthday cake?” asked Lulu.
“I don’t like cake,” said Beatrix, crinkling her nose.
“Since when?” asked Sonya.
“I don’t know. Since always,” Beatrix said defensively. “It’s no big deal.”
“You’re right,” Sonya agreed. “We can just open up the cookies I brought.”
“You brought cookies?” asked Beatrix’s mom. “That’s so sweet.” She turned to Beatrix. “You didn’t tell me.”
“Why is everyone making such a big deal out of the cookies?” Beatrix grumbled.
“They’re by the front door,” said Lulu.
“I’ll get them.” Beatrix’s mom hurried out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a plate of cookies stacked neatly in a beautifully sweet, buttery pyramid.
I grabbed one right away, and so did Lulu and Sonya.
Beatrix took one reluctantly and put it on her plate.
“I’m not super hungry,” said Beatrix, squirming in her seat and tucking her hair behind her ears. “Mind if I save mine for later?”
“It’s your birthday,” said Sonya. “Do whatever you want.” She smiled, but we could all tell her feelings were hurt by the tone of her voice.
We ate our cookies in an awkward silence, all of us wondering why things had gotten so weird. At least, I wondered. As soon as I finished my last bite, Beatrix pushed her chair away from the table and said, “Let’s pick out a movie for later tonight.”
Secrets at the Chocolate Mansion Page 12