Lucky for me, there’s some kind of huge beetle rolling what looks like a baseball-sized ball of mud down a dirt road. I learned about them in sixth grade. It’s an Egyptian dung beetle.
Joey parks himself on the edge of Dad’s recliner, elbows on knees, chin balanced on his fists.
The last thing Kerry and I want is for Joey to know the Ghosterswill be here in two days. He’d never agree to keep the secret, and even if he did, I know it would slip out. Unlike me, the kid’s too darned honest. I look at Kerry.
“Hey, Joey,” she says, giving me a wink. “You know a lot about insects and such. What type of creature is that?”
“A dung beetle,” he answers, eyes never leaving the screen.
“And what’s that thing it’s rolling?”
“A ball of poop.”
Even though we never told Joey why we were bouncing on the sofa, Kerry’s questions seem to have wiped it from his mind. Do sins still count if they’re done for a good reason?I squeeze my eyes shut and pray that they don’t. Saturday night can’t come soon enough.
CHAPTER 27
ON THE BIG night, I get permission for Kerry to sleep over again. Dad agrees, but only after I’ve promised him not to do anymore ghost chasing. It’s not exactly a lie, since we have a good idea where the ghost will be, but close enough that the greasy feeling comes back. Since I’m way too excited to cook, I mention to Joey that I’m planning on making his most hated dish, chow mein. As I expect, he talks Dad into ordering pizza.
Dad always eats a bunch of pizza, and even though Joey has to take it completely apart before eating, he has no trouble finishing three slices. Kerry’s stomach must be fluttery, because she barely finishes one. And me? I can’t even gag down a glass of soda, never mind the pizza. Lucky for me, nobody notices, and after a sorry attempt at dinner, we leave Dad in the living room and Kerry and I accept Joey’s invitation to play his favorite video game, Real-Pro Wrestling, upstairs in his room. We’re both too wound up to focus, and after an hour of being body-slammed by Joey, we head downstairs, leaving him to play solo.
Even though the Ghosters aren’t due till ten, at eight p.m. the two of us are already staring out the front window. Along with the Ghosters, we’re also waiting for the first big rainstorm of the season. Dad sits in his usual spot on the recliner behind us, watching his baseball.
“Worried about the storm?” he calls out during a commercial.
“Nah. Just interested.” I peer up at the steel-gray sky, then turn and make myself smile. “Why?”
“You girls look nervous. All night you guys have been acting like long-tailed cats in a roomful of rocking chairs.”
“The clouds are really getting thick,” I say. “Bet it starts coming down any minute.”
Not wanting to look any more suspicious than we already do, I drag Kerry away from the window. Joey’s sitting in the middle of the sofa eating ice cream, so we plop down on either side of him. Who cares if it’s just baseball on the TV? No matter what show is on, we’re in no shape to follow it.
“I’m curious,” Joey says, balancing the bowl on his lap. “Where would a cat find a roomful of rocking chairs?”
I roll my eyes, too nervous to explain Dad’s weak joke.
After what seems like fifty years, my heart skips at the sound of wheels on gravel. Kerry and I have our noses pasted to the front window when the two big Ghosters vans pull to a stop, the first sprinkles of rain dotting their windshields. I recognize them from the show, but anyone with eyes can figure out what they are. Both vans are painted bright purple with the Ghosters logo across the side, a glowing green ghost under a giant magnifying glass. And as if that isn’t enough, the word GHOSTERS and WE BELIEVE circle the spirit in huge letters that seem to glow supernaturally.
Three people get out of the first van, raising umbrellas. One, I recognize. It’s Erin, the pink-haired Junior Ghoster. She’s scowling, probably because the rain is starting and she’s in charge of bringing all the computer stuff into the house.
Dad pushes in between Kerry and me as two slightly older guys climb out of the second van and begin giving instructions to the other three. “Why are all those people here?”
I lick my lips. “Th-they’re the crew from Ghosters, Dad. See the one with all the tattoos? That’s Billy Joe Francisco.” Joey’s still back on the sofa, so I call to him, “Jojo, d-don’t you want to see the Ghosters?”
He loads his spoon with ice cream. “Are they going to come inside?”
“Well, yeah, I hope so, but—”
Dad’s staring at me, eyebrows pushed together like two warring caterpillars. “Theresa Martinez, what have you done?” He frowns at the scene in the driveway, then back at me.
“Crikey!” Kerry shouts, ecstatic over the show outside. “Tyson O’Seanesey is looking at me.”
Preferring not to maintain eye contact with my dad, I turn back to the window. Tyson, younger than Dad but about the same height, is squinting up at the house. His dark spiky hair reminds me of a cartoon character who’s just seen a ghost. Dressed in his usual black jeans and tee-shirt, he waves and smiles as he pulls on a hoodie.
Kerry starts to run for the door, but stops. She looks back at me and my dad, hands clasped behind her.
This is what I’ve been dreading. It’s time to explain things. I step away from the window, struggle to make eye contact with my father, who’s glaring down on me, arms crossed.
“Dad . . . ?” Why did I think this would be easy?Again, I run my tongue over my lips and take a deep breath. “Remember the recordings Kerry and I made up on the third floor? The Ghosters are here because we entered those recordings in their video contest.”
“What?” Dad looks at me like I’ve just told him I’ve joined the army. “You didn’t record any ghosts.”
Someone knocks at the door. Nobody moves to open it. In fact, it’s so quiet I can hear Joey’s spoon clinking against his bowl as he scrapes up another mouthful of ice cream.
Kerry shuffles toward us, hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans. “But we did, Mr. Martinez, remember? You refused to look at our recordings.”
Dad tromps toward the door. “Well, I don’t care. I’m not having that bunch of ghost huggers roaming around my house.” He throws open the door and there stands a smiling Tyson O’Seanesey, raindrops dotting his blue sweatshirt. He tucks a clipboard under his arm, dries his hand on his jeans, then sticks it out, ready to shake. “Hi there. Tyson O’Seanesey from Ghosters. I’m looking for Theresa Martinez and Kerry Sullivan.”
Dad ignores the hand. “How can you just show up like this?” he growls. “Don’t you need parental permission?”
Kerry and I edge closer, peeking around him.
Since Billy Joe Francisco has just reached the top of the steps, Tyson turns to him. “Hey, Billy, it sounds like Theresa and Kerry are this guy’s kids.”
Billy looks at Dad and grins. “Dude. You’re their dad?” Even though it’s sprinkling, all Billy’s wearing is his classic “Billy Joe” outfit, a brilliant white sleeveless undershirt, and knee length cargo shorts, both speckled with raindrops. Except for Billy’s face, tattoos cover every inch of him.
“Just Theresa’s,” Dad answers. “And I’m not some young looking old guy. The girls are twelve.”
I grab Kerry’s hand and squeeze it hard.
“Twelve?” Billy uses his hand to squeegee the mist dotting his shaved head. Down in the driveway, the three Junior Ghosters huddle beneath their umbrellas.
“Yeah, twelve,” Dad says. “Sorry if you folks have traveled a long way to get here. It looks like we’ve all been tricked.” He grabs the door and starts to close it.
“Wait. Let’s talk. Maybe we can work this out.” Tyson places his palm on the door, stopping it from closing.
“I doubt it,” Dad says. “I am not having my kid on any fake ghost chasing programs.”
“Mister Martinez,” Tyson dips his chin and looks at Dad as if he’s peering over the top of invisible gl
asses, “Ghosters is totally on the level, I assure you.”
Since it doesn’t look like they’re going to work things out by themselves, I step out from behind my dad, pulling Kerry with me.
“Sorry for tricking you into coming here, Mr. O’Seanesey. We said we were eighteen because my dad doesn’t believe in ghosts, and we knew he wouldn’t have . . .”
Thunder rumbles in the distance. With the look Dad gives me I leave the sentence half said and stare out at the pouring rain.
“You’re right,” he tells me. “I would never have let you enter that contest.”
“Not even if you could win $100,000?” Billy asks through the shrinking gap.
Lightning flashes as Dad tugs the door back open. It’s all Kerry and I can do not to scream.
“What are you talking about?” Dad asks. “How could some stupid kid video be worth that much money?”
“First prize is actually $200,000,” Billy says. “But it’s a shared submission. Haven’t you seen the recordings? They’re incredible.”
“No, I, uh . . .” Dad clears his throat, coughs into his hand.
“They’re the best pieces of paranormal evidence Tyson and I have ever seen.” He looks at Kerry and me and winks.
Maybe this is going to work out after all. I cross my fingers. Heck, I’d cross my toes too if my shoes would let me.
“Please,” Tyson says. “We really have driven a long way. Across five states, if you want to know. So if it’s alright, may Billy and I please come in? We won’t take up too much of your time.”
“Oh, all right.” With a sigh, Dad lets the door swing wide. “But just because the rain’s starting to fall a lot harder now. Tell your crew they can come up on the porch.”
“Thanks. Billy, tell the guys.”
As Billy calls the crew up out of the rain, Tyson sticks his hand out to me. “Theresa?”
I nod and giggle as we shake. OMG, they’re here. They’re really here.
As if reading my mind, he grins. “You must be Kerry.” Again, he offers his hand. Since she has him by at least five inches, Tyson has to look up at her, but the smile he gives her is just as bright as the one I got, and Kerry’s knees bend like old shoe laces.
Once he’s got us thoroughly melted, Tyson focuses on my dad. “You have an amazing house here, Mister Martinez.”
“Thanks.” Dad waves us all into the living room. “Have a seat.”
I huddle next to Kerry on the love seat. With Joey still sitting in the middle of the sofa, Billy Joe and Tyson take the spots on either side of him.
“Hi, Tyson O’Seanesey.” He holds his hand out to Joey, who looks at it as he continues to eat his ice cream.
“That’s Joey,” I explain, hugging a throw pillow to my chest. “He’s . . . he’s my brother.”
Tyson nods and turns to Dad. “Mr. Martinez, please allow me and my crew to explore your home. If we experience anything like what we saw on the girls’ recordings, they’ll win our contest, hands down.”
Dad sits on the edge of his recliner, hands clasped between his knees. “I’m sorry, but it all seems like a scam to me. I’ve been living here for weeks, and I haven’t seen anything unusual. Those recordings must have been some sort of trick of the light, a reflection.”
“You could be right,” Tyson says. “But isn’t it worth a few hours of your time to find out?”
Dad peers at me. The look makes me feel like a convicted murderer waiting for sentencing. I can’t help but squirm.God, what’s he thinking?
“Fine, you can look,” he mutters as if the words taste bad.
It worked! I want to scream, bounce on the sofa. From the look on Kerry’s face, she does too. Instead we stand up with everyone else and stare intently as Tyson hands Dad the clipboard he’s been carrying. Attached is a stack of papers. Probably some sort of contract. Great. Dad hates filling out forms. I hold my breath.
Dad looks the papers up and down, frowns. “What’s all this?”
“Just a formality,” Tyson explains, “It states that you agree to let us use whatever we record here today.”
“And,” Billy adds, “that you won’t sue Ghosters for damaging anything we break by accident if we’ve used reasonable care.”
Tyson raises one finger. “Regardless, if something does get broken, we promise to repair or replace it.”
Billy nods. “Oh, and also that you’ll only be awarded the prize money if we decide the evidence we record here is better than those submitted by the other two finalists.” His gaze flicks to Kerry and me, then back to Dad. “That’s fair, don’t you think?”
After a quick scan, Dad blows his cheeks out, scribbles his name at the bottom, and looks up at Tyson. “Okay, as long as you stick to the areas where the girls have had paranormal experiences, I guess you can all start doing whatever you—”
“Terrific.” Tyson shakes Dad’s hand and shoots me a wink as Billy heads outside to get things going.
Everyone follows Billy out onto the porch. With a half-dozen neighbors gawking, we watch too as the Junior Ghosters drag their equipment from the vans. Erin carries her computer towers into the house one at a time. A blue plastic cover protects them from the rain. The others haul up some plastic cases, spools of wire, even a folding table and chairs. Once they’ve gotten everything inside, Tyson claps his hands. “Okay, there’s a lot to do before midnight.”
CHAPTER 28
IMMEDIATELY, THE JUNIOR Ghosters spring into action. Erin picks up a computer tower, and Kerry dashes down the stairs toward her.
“Need any help?” she asks.
“No thanks, kid. I’ve got it.” Erin slides past Kerry and into the living room, pink hair bouncing.
The other two junior members, a skinny guy with a ponytail and a chunky bald guy, throw open what look like hard, plastic suitcases. By the time it’s a quarter to twelve, the Junior Ghosters are almost ready to start. A command center, the folding table, now stands in the middle of the living room where the coffee table used to be. On top, Erin has placed the two computers, some walkie-talkies, and a half-dozen other gadgets that I remember from the show. Cables snake along the floor and Joey helps Erin by sticking duct tape over them so nobody trips.
The ponytail guy hoists his camera up on one shoulder, and the bald guy crouches beside him, fiddling with a second camera at his feet. He glances over at us.
“You girls might want to check your hair,” the bald guy suggests. “You are going to be on national television.”
Oh, god. My hair. I was so worried about Dad letting the Ghosters in, I forgot they’d be interviewing us for the show. Kerry and I bolt for the stairs. If my hair’s anything like Kerry’s, we both could use a good brushing.
“You did it,” Kerry says as we race side by side up the main staircase.”
“We’re not finished yet,” I tell her. “We got the Ghosters inside the house. Now, let’s see if the ghosts are as happy about that as we are.”
We quickly brush our hair and rush back down.
Billy Joe calls us into the foyer for last minute instructions. “You two know how we do this, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, we watch the show every week.”
“Okay, so, we stand here in front of the stairs, I introduce you, and then I ask you to take us around the house to tell us about all your paranormal experiences. Got it?”
What’s not to get? We’re going to be on TV. We stare at Billy, then at each other. That’s when the giggles come. They burst out of us like popcorn in a microwave.
“Hey, serious up.” Billy chuckles. “You don’t want to go on national TV looking like a couple of goofy school girls, do you?”
“No . . . we don’t.” I bite my lip to get rid of the permanent grin that’s been attached to my face since Dad let them through the front door.
“We’ll behave properly,” Kerry tells him, obviously struggling to keep her face straight.
Billy peers at each of us through narrowed eyes. “Okay. We’re going to start
our introductions at the bottom of the main staircase.” He leads the way. Tyson and Billy Joe stand on opposite sides of the group with Kerry and me between them. The cameramen are set up over by the front door, cameras perched on their shoulders like big silver vultures.
“Just look into the camera with the red light,” Billy tells us.
“What about Joey?” I ask.
His forehead crinkles. “Joey?”
“My brother. He was with us when we filmed the ghost.”
Billy shrugs. “Sure, why not.”
I peer over at the command station. Joey has already staked out a folding chair alongside Erin, and he’s parked in front of one of the computers, chin on his hands.
“Joey,” I holler. “Don’t you want to be on TV?”
“No, thank you,” he says. “I’d rather watch you guys from here.”
I look at Billy and shrug.
“Action,” the ponytailed cameraman shouts. He holds up three fingers, then two, then one . . .
“Hello, and welcome to a special Halloween edition of Ghosters. I’m Tyson O’Seanesey and that guy over there is Billy Joe Francisco. Tonight we’re at the home of Theresa Martinez. Together with her friend Kerry Sullivan, these young ladies are finalists in our Third Annual Ghosters Video Contest.”
Both Kerry and I do a great job of speaking and neither of us gets the giggles. Tyson asks me to show them the parts of the house where I’ve had paranormal experiences. Since I’m not really sure whether to blame the closed drapes in the dining room on ghosts or Joey’s memory, I decide not to mention it.
Kerry and I escort Tyson and Billy Joe into the kitchen where they ask me to go into more detail about the brownie mix. Then we all march down to the basement. I show them where we found the key and explain what happened with the tricycle. After that, we go up to Grandma Carmen’s room where I do my best to describe what I saw inside the wardrobe.
Finally, it’s time to head up to the third floor. I could tell them about the time I felt something touch my ankle when I accidentally locked myself in there, but I’m in enough trouble with Dad as it is. This is the first time he’s heard anything about what happened in the basement and my grandma’s room. Throughout the interview, I’ve sneaked peeks at him, and every time his face has shown a different expression, shock, anger, and what surprises me most, fear.
Ghosters Page 13