The Haunted House Next Door

by Andres Miedoso

  Then, almost like he was reading my mind, Desmond asked, “Have you discovered any secrets at the new house?”

  Whoa, that was all I needed to hear. I was off running again, this time away from Desmond. Sure, I was making a complete fool out of myself, but I just wanted to leave him and his mind-reading questions behind.

  I found the way back to my house, sprinted inside, and closed the door behind me.

  That’s when it hit me: I wasn’t safe here, either.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Flying Table

  Inside the house, everything looked normal. The furniture was where it was supposed to be, and nothing appeared to be moving on its own.

  Mom and Dad were hanging up pictures and asked for my help. They know I love hammering nails!

  After the last picture was hung, Mom said it was time for lunch and asked me to set the table.

  I walked to the kitchen as slowly as possible and peeked inside. Luckily, there weren’t any scary silverware people.

  As I put out plates, Dad poured his world-famous lemonade, and Mom heated up Mrs. Cole’s lasagna.

  Mom put the dish on the table, and that lasagna looked and smelled delicious. I wanted to dig right in, but I could hear Desmond in my head, warning me to stay away from it.

  So I let Mom and Dad get some first, and I watched as they ate. They both took little bites at first, and then they started shoveling the food into their mouths, like it was the best thing they had ever eaten.

  First I heard: “Ooh” and “Yum” and “Ahhh.”

  Then I heard: “Uh-oh” and “Oh no” and “Ugh.”

  That was when Mom and Dad sprang from the table. Their stomachs were making awful gurgling noises like tiny angry monsters. Then they ran out of the kitchen like two bolts of lightning and headed in opposite directions toward the two bathrooms.

  Right away, both bathroom fans went on. But that didn’t stop me from hearing way too many noises coming from inside.

  “Ew, gross,” I said to myself.

  I pushed my plate away and got up from the table. On the counter, there was a bowl of—what else—grapes. I grabbed a handful and took a bite of one.

  That was when I felt a cold gust of wind behind me. What could it be now?

  I hoped it was just my mind playing tricks on me again. But it wasn’t. What I saw was all too real.

  The entire kitchen table—dish of lasagna and all—was floating high into the air.

  I dropped my grapes on the floor and screamed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A Most Haunted Lasagna

  As the table rose higher and higher, so did my scream.

  I tried to move, but it took me a few long seconds to make my legs work.

  Then, just like before, I ran from the room.

  And, just like before, I opened the front door.

  And, yes, just like before, Desmond Cole was standing there.

  This time I didn’t slam into him, which was a good thing because he was carrying some weird gadget. It made a whirring noise, and it had blinking lights.

  I was shaking too much to talk, but Desmond had a huge smile on his face. “I knew it!” he exclaimed. “You brought a ghost with you, didn’t you?”

  He was so excited, he didn’t even wait for me to invite him inside. He just pushed past me and ran into my house.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Me? Bring a ghost? A ghost? ”

  Desmond ran into the den and looked around. “Well, if you didn’t bring it, then you’re one lucky guy.”

  “Lucky?!” I said. Okay, this kid was bonkers.

  “Yeah!” Desmond smiled as he waved his machine around. “Don’t you get it? You are living in a haunted house!”

  My heart stopped. “A haunted what?”

  “Stop asking so many questions,” Desmond said, walking through the den, pointing his gadget at the walls and the sofa and the TV. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a haunted house.”

  “I’ve heard of them,” I said. “But I don’t want to live in one. Can you do something about it?”

  “Of course!” Desmond said. “You moved to the haunted house next door to the right kid.”

  Desmond’s gadget was making louder and louder beeps as he moved closer to the kitchen. I followed behind him. Far behind him.

  “Whoa,” he exclaimed, stepping into the room. “Does your table always fly like that?”

  I shook my head. “Not usually.”

  “Good,” Desmond said. “Because that would be really weird. But also kind of cool!” He didn’t look scared at all. In fact, he looked like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

  Desmond jumped up and grabbed one of the legs of the table and pulled it back down to the floor. We were face-to-face with the lasagna.

  To be honest, it still looked really delicious.

  “You didn’t actually eat that, right?” Desmond asked.

  “Not me.” I motioned to the bathrooms. “My parents did and . . .”

  Desmond shook his head and gagged a little. “Say no more.”

  Then without warning, the lasagna lifted out of the dish and floated above the table. I ducked behind Desmond and whimpered, “A haunted lasagna? Now I’ve seen everything!”

  But I hadn’t seen everything. Because when I looked again, the lasagna wasn’t floating by itself. No. A ghost appeared out of thin air, and it was holding the lasagna in its ghostly hands. It sniffed the food with its ghostly nose and then gobbled the whole thing up with its ghostly mouth.

  “This is not good,” whispered Desmond. “This is not good at all.”

  Suddenly, the ghost turned green; puffed out its ghostly cheeks; and let out a loud, wet, disgusting burp.

  It. Was. Gross.

  If you’ve never smelled a ghost burp, consider yourself lucky!

  “Ewww,” I moaned.

  The ghost puffed its ghostly cheeks again, but before it could burp again, Desmond yelled, “Run!”

  And that was exactly what we did!

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ghost Gunk

  So here we are, where the story started. I wish I could say the ghost stayed in the kitchen. Or went back to wherever ghosts come from. But we weren’t that lucky.

  The ghost followed us into the den. And that’s how I ended up here, hiding behind the brand-new sofa. Shivering and quivering.

  Don’t judge me, though. You would be hiding too if there was a large gross burping ghost floating over your head. The ghost looked like it was going to be really, really, really sick all over the brand-new sofa.

  And me.

  Good thing Desmond was there. That kid wasn’t scared at all. He looked up at the ghost and said, “Hello, I’m Desmond Cole, Ghost Patrol. You are in a home that is owned by this human, Andres Miedoso.”

  The ghost let out another burp, and this one stank even worse than the last. I covered my nose with my hand, but I could still smell it. That was when the ghost turned its head to look at me. I started to shiver and quiver at top speed.

  “You own this house?” the ghost asked me in an eerie, raspy voice.

  A ghost was talking to me.

  “Um,” I began. “My, uh, parents own the house.”

  “Are your parents human?” the ghost asked as it moved closer to me.

  “Yes, I think so.” I looked over to Desmond, who nodded and gave me a duh look, as if to say, Of course your parents are human.

  Then the ghost turned back to Desmond. “What did I eat? It looked good, but it makes me feel so bad.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Desmond said. “My mom made it, but it wasn’t for you.”

  “Is that what human food always tastes like?” the ghost asked, and it burped again.

  “No,” Desmond said. “Only when my mom makes it.”

  As the ghost hovered above us, I could hear its stomach making the same kind of monster noises my parents’ stomachs had made.

  Desmond cleared his throat. “I know you are
not feeling well,” he told the ghost. “But I need you to leave this house. Do you have anywhere else to go?”

  “No,” said the ghost. It lowered its ghost eyes. “I move from one house to another all the time. I do not have a home.”

  Well, well, well, I couldn’t believe it. I actually started to feel sorry for that ghost because I knew exactly how it felt to move all the time. Now the ghost didn’t seem so scary. It just looked sad.

  “Um, maybe you can stay here . . . in our basement?” I did not expect to hear those words come out of my mouth, but they did. “I mean, if you promise not to do any spooky stuff, like what you did with the silverware and the kitchen table. Do you think you can not do that?”

  That was when the ghost smiled. “Yes! Yes! Thank you! Thank you!” It looked so happy. It raised its arms to give me hug and said, “I promise to always be on my best behav—”

  It was the loudest, ghostliest belch on the planet. It was followed by the ghastliest, grossliest gunk in the universe. And it landed all over our brand-new sofa.

  And all over me.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Meet the Ghost Patrol

  Turns out, the ghost’s name is Zax, and he’s actually pretty cool . . . well, for a ghost. He tries to keep his promise and not scare me, and he never bothers my parents at all.

  Actually, living with Zax is like having a little brother. He always floats through my walls uninvited, takes my stuff without asking, and reads my books before I’m finished with them. But I don’t mind . . . most of the time.

  Even if I did, I wouldn’t say anything. Let me tell you, it’s really hard to wash off ghost gunk. It’s something I only want to do once!

  As for Desmond, he’s my best friend now. Even though he couldn’t stop me from being, um, slimed, he did solve my haunted house problem. Well, my house is still haunted, but now I know it’s only because of Zax.

  Life in Kersville is getting better and better. I have a ghost and a new best friend. Oh yeah, I have a new after-school job, too. I joined the Ghost Patrol. Desmond says it’s easier with more than one person.

  Right now, my biggest fear is that my parents will tell me it’s time to move again. That would be the worst because I kind of really like it here.

  Desmond gets calls all the time from kids who need his help—no, our help. That’s what makes Kersville such an unusual place. You never know what’s going to happen next.

  And believe it or not, I like that.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR AND ILLUSTRATOR

  Andres Miedoso is still afraid of everything as a grown-up, even after all his adventures with Desmond Cole. He lives in New York City with his family, and he remains very close friends with Desmond but returns to Kersville only when he’s needed.

  Victor Rivas was born and raised in Vigo, Spain, and he lives outside of Barcelona. He has been a freelance illustrator for thirty years, illustrating children’s and teen books, concept art for multimedia and animation, and comics.

  Little Simon

  Simon & Schuster, New York

  Visit us at

  simonandschuster.com/kids

  Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Andres-Miedoso

  Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Victor-Rivas

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  LITTLE SIMON

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  First Little Simon paperback edition December 2017

  Copyright © 2017 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Also available in a Little Simon hardcover edition.

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  Designed by Steve Scott

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Miedoso, Andres, author. | Rivas, Victor, illustrator.

  Title: The haunted house next door / by Andres Miedoso ; illustrated by Victor Rivas.

  Description: First Little Simon paperback edition. | New York : Little Simon, 2017. | Series: Desmond Cole Ghost Patrol ; 1 | Summary: When supernatural things start happening in the house timid Andres and his parents just moved into, next-door neighbor Desmond Cole, eight, comes to the rescue.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017016655 | ISBN 9781534410381 (paperback) | ISBN 9781534410398 (hc) | ISBN 9781534410404 (eBook)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Haunted houses—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | Moving, Household—Fiction. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Action & Adventure / General. | JUVENILE FICTION / Imagination & Play. | JUVENILE FICTION / Readers / Chapter Books.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.M518 Hau 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017016655