R. Stine - The Barking Ghost

I found my aluminum baseball bat in the closet. I gripped it tightly and crept across the room to my bedroom door.

I pushed it open. And listened.

Yes.

The barking was definitely coming from inside the house. From the living room, I decided.

I took a deep breath and slipped into the hallway. Where were my parents? Their bedroom is directly over the living room on the second floor. They had to hear this.

Why hadn't they come running out?

Mickey's room was on the first floor down the hall from mine. I peered down the hall and saw that his bedroom door was closed.

What's his problem? I wondered. Where is everyone?

I crept quietly down the hall, inching my way to the living room. I could hear the dogs racing around in there.

I gasped when I heard a loud crash.

Something clattered to the floor. Great-grandma's lamp, I guessed.

I stared up at the ceiling — to my parents' bedroom. Were they deaf or something?

Holding the bat in front of me, I jumped into the living room and snapped on the ceiling light.

The dogs were…

The dogs were…

NOT THERE!

The room stood empty.

"Huh?" I blinked a few times from the sudden brightness of the light, then stared around the room.

No dogs.

No growling. No barking.

But, wait! Great-grandma's lamp lay on its side on the floor.

I took a step over to the sofa. Something crunched under my bare feet.

Potato chips?

Yes. Potato chips. Scattered across the room.

I spotted the potato chip bag — ripped to shreds on the floor.

My heart thumped so hard, I thought it might burst out of my chest.

As I bent to pick up the torn bag, a shadow fell over me.

I heard heavy breathing.

And I felt a gust of hot, smelly breath shoot across my neck.

"Drooper, what are you doing?"

I straightened up and spun around.

"Mickey!"

"That's my name. Don't wear it out," he replied.

"Mickey! Did you hear them? Did you?"

Mickey glanced around the room. "Hear who?" he asked. Then, before I could answer, he snapped, "Cooper, you jerk, why did you throw potato chips around the living room?"

"The dogs!" I cried. "The dogs did it! Did you hear them?"

Mickey shook his head. "No way. I didn't hear anything."

I was stunned. "You didn't hear wild dogs running around the room a few minutes ago?"

Mickey rolled his eyes and whistled. "You're losing it, Cooper. Hearing invisible dogs is one thing. But feeding them potato chips? You're really messed up, man."

"I didn't do this!" I said angrily. "I told you. The dogs did."

Mickey shook his head. "Just promise me one thing," he said seriously.

"What?" I asked.

"Promise me when school starts next week, you won't tell anybody you're related to me."

I wanted to throw something at him. I wished I had Great-grandma's lamp in my hand, but I didn't. So I threw what I did have — the empty potato chip bag.

It flew about three inches, then dropped at my feet.

"You're pathetic!" Mickey laughed. "I know why you're doing this, too. You're trying to make Mom and Dad think the house is haunted. So then they'll move back to Boston, and you can see your dweeby little friends Gary and Todd again."

He made a face at me. "Dumb, Drooper. Really dumb."

He shuffled away, shaking his head.

Just you wait, Mickey, I thought. I'm going to get even with you. Just you wait.

And I'm going to make everyone believe me about the dogs. I'm going to make everyone believe that I'm telling the truth.

But how? I wondered, gazing around the empty, silent living room.

How?

Sunday morning I woke up early as usual. I had only a few more things to unpack, and I knew I could finish before breakfast.

I unrolled my Red Sox poster and tacked it to the wall, over my bed. Same place I'd hung it in Boston.

Then I rummaged through a box, searching for my lucky pair of red socks. As I was slipping them on my feet, I heard the doorbell ring.

"Cooper!" my mother called to me a few seconds later. "There's someone here to see you!"

Who could it be? I didn't know anybody here.

Then I had a thought. Maybe Gary asked his dad to drive him and Todd up to Maine to surprise me!

Wow! What a great surprise!

I closed the box and charged out of my room, down the hall, and to the front door. I was so excited!

But no Gary and Todd.

Fergie stared at me from the front doorway. I could see at first glance that she was kind of nervous. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other. And she twirled a lock of her bright red hair between her fingers.

"Oh. Hi," I mumbled, unable to hide my disappointment.

"I need to talk to you," she said. "Right away."

"Okay, sure," I replied.

"Not here," she said, nudging her head toward the den where my mom and dad were reading the newspaper.

I sighed. "Okay, wait a sec." I ran back to my room and pulled on a pair of sneakers.

"Let's go out back," I suggested. She nodded solemnly and followed me outside.

I swung on the tire and listened to Fergie. "It was all your brother's idea!" she blurted out.

"Excuse me?" I cried.

"I don't know why I agreed to do it, but it was really all his idea. Every bit of it."

"What was?" I asked.

"Everything I told you yesterday. About your house. And the woods."

"You mean they're not haunted?" I asked, confused.

Fergie shook her head. "Of course not."

"But why did you tell me they were?" I asked.

"I told you, it was all Mickey's idea. I met Mickey the day you moved in," Fergie explained. "He told me it would be funny if I played this trick on you."

"He what?" I cried.

"He told me the two of you always played all kinds of tricks on each other," Fergie replied. "He said you would think it was a riot."

"A joke?" I asked. "It was all one of Mickey's jokes?" I couldn't believe it.

Fergie bit her bottom lip and nodded. "Mickey said to tell you the woods were haunted. He said to tell you the house was haunted, too." Fergie sighed. "So I did it. But when I saw how scared you were, I felt really bad about it. I wished I hadn't listened to your brother."

Mickey. That jerk.

"But how did you know about the dogs?" I asked.

Fergie stared blankly at me. "Dogs? What dogs?"

"That's the word you whispered to me," I explained. "Dogs."

Fergie twisted her face, thinking hard. "No, I don't remember saying that. Are you sure I said 'dogs'?"

I nodded. "Definitely. That was all you said. Dogs. And, then, after you ran off, two mean-looking black Labradors chased me through the woods."

"Really?"

I nodded. "They chased me all the way home. Then they just vanished."

"Weird," Fergie mumbled.

"Tell me about it," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Where did you first see the dogs?" Fergie asked me.

I pointed into the woods. "Back there. Near a stream."

"That's the stream that leads to the Martells' house," Fergie said. "They're friends of my parents. They don't own any dogs, Cooper."

I shrugged, then batted a fly that buzzed in my ear. "Well, someone around here must have dogs," I told her.

"I'm scared of dogs," Fergie admitted. "I'm glad I didn't see them yesterday."

"They weren't nice dogs," I muttered. "You wouldn't like them."

"Hey, did you see a big rock in the shape of an arrowhead when you were near the stream?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No, I didn't."

"It's really cool," she gushed. "You should check it out. I go there all the time. It's a great rock for climbing."

"Let's check it out now," I suggested. I still thought the woods were scary — haunted or not. But I didn't feel like hanging around the house.