Ann Martin - The Ghost At Dawn's House

I sighed.

Then I checked out the rest of the passage. The nickel was still gone, the peanut shells were still there, and a crust of bread had turned up. I didn't feel too surprised.

At least — not until I found the key. It was similar to the one I'd found before, but smaller. And a lot older looking. It was shoved into a corner at the bottom of the steps.

It almost ruined my theory.

I left it where it was and tried not to think about it.

I wanted to test my theory, but I didn't have a chance for two whole days. They were the longest days of my life. During that time, the passage was quiet except for very late one night when we had some rain. Then I heard definite moaning coming from the passage. Even though my wall was locked, I grabbed my pillow and blanket and spent the rest of the night on the couch in the living room.

The next day, I had a sitting job at the Pikes'. Mrs. Pike was taking Claire, Margo, and Va-nessa to the mall to get their hair cut before school started. (Claire's hair hadn't looked quite the same since her sisters had washed it with Calladew's.) Mallory and I were left in charge of Nicky and the triplets.

The afternoon got off to a good start. For once, the triplets allowed Nicky to play with them. The four boys tore around on their driveway, shooting baskets. They'd split into teams — the triplets against Nicky — but Nicky seemed satisfied.

"What should we make for lunch?" I asked Mallory.

It was late for lunch, but Mrs. Pike had had a hectic morning and hadn't gotten around to

feeding the kids lunch. She was going to feed the girls at the mall. (That probably happens a lot when you have eight children.)

"Let's do a smorgasbord," said Mallory.

"How?" I asked.

"If s simple. We take everything out of the refrigerator, put it on the table, and let the boys fix whatever they want."

I laughed. "It sounds messy."

"It is," agreed Mallory, "but it's fun. And Mom likes us to use up leftovers."

I looked inside the refrigerator. Then I looked back at Mallory. "Okay," I said. "Let's do it."

We only needed about two minutes to pull everything out of the refrigerator and arrange it on the kitchen table. Then we set out plates, cups, napkins, and forks, and called the boys inside.

"All right!" cried Jordan when he got a look at the kitchen.

"Yeah!" exclaimed Nicky. "All right! We're having a schmurgerbeard!"

"That's smorgasbord, stupid," said one of the triplets.

"Don't call Nicky stupid," I said.

Nobody even heard me.

Adam was glopping mayonnaise onto a piece of bread.

Byron was digging into the peanut butter with one hand, and eating a dill pickle with the other.

And Jordan was standing at the stove, turning the flame up under a frying pan.

'Jordan! What are you doing?" I cried.

"Making fried baloney."

"Well, let me do that."

I was beginning to think that the schmur-gerbeard hadn't been such a good idea. "Does anyone else want fried baloney?" I asked.

"I want fried peanut butter and jelly," replied Byron.

"I want a fried egg," replied Adam.

"I want fried barf," replied Nicky.

"Ha, ha. So funny I forgot to laugh," said Jordan.

The triplets looked at each other, smirking.

"Hey, Nicky," said Adam, "say Mark Twain's initials and point to your head."

"Oh, simple," said Nicky. He pointed to his left ear. "M.T."

The triplets doubled over with laughter.

"M.T. Empty!" hooted Adam. "Get it? You've got nothing in your head, Nicky. Not one little brain. It's empty!"

"Ha, ha. So funny I forgot to laugh," said Nicky.

I thought his comeback was pretty good, considering, but the triplets barely heard him.

"Come on now," I said. "Who wants fried what?"

After much debate, I made fried baloney for Jordan and Adam, and a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Byron. Nicky said he wasn't hungry, but finally fixed himself a potato chip and banana sandwich. I started to say something to him about that, and then remembered that the Pike kids are allowed to eat whatever they want (within reason). Mal-lory made tunafish sandwiches for the two of us.

We carried our lunches to the table on the sun porch. Everything was peaceful until the very end of the meal. Nicky, who had been silent since the Mark Twain incident, stood up and stacked his glass on his plate.

"Here, Nicky. You want the rest of this cupcake?" asked Adam, holding out half of a gooey chocolate concoction. He must have been having an attack of conscience.

"Sure," said Nicky, flattered. He set his plate down.

As he did so, Adam reached behind him and pulled his chair out from under him.

Nicky sat down hard on the floor.

"Adam!" I shouted. The triplets knew I was angry, but they couldn't help laughing silently, their faces turning red and their eyes filling with tears of laughter.

Nicky sat on the floor for a moment, looking surprised. Then he scrambled to his feet and ran off the porch. A second later, the front door slammed.

I counted to ten before I opened my mouth. Then I said very quietly, "You three are in major trouble."

The laughter stopped.

"You've been rotten to Nicky today. Really rotten. I'm going to have to tell your mother about this."

"Aw — " began Jordan.

"Nope!" I cried. "I don't want to hear a word about it. Right now I'm going to look for your brother. Mallory will be in charge. I want to see the porch and the kitchen sparkling by the time I get back. And if you give Mallory any trouble, your mother will hear about that, too."

I marched out of the Pikes' house. The triplets had rarely seen me angry. Thafs because I rarely get angry. Sometimes I pout or feel cross, but I don't often scold. And I had never scolded the Pikes. I felt kind of bad

about it, but the triplets had really been mean to Nicky. I hoped Mallory knew I wasn't angry at her. Oh, well. I'd straighten everything out when I got back.

As I ran down the street, my anger began to turn to excitement. I realized that I was finally going to have the chance to test my theory!

I didn't bother to call for Nicky. I ran right to my own house, darted across the lawn, around to the back, and into the barn. I paused to let my eyes adjust to the dim light.

Just as I expected, the bale of hay that Mom had shoved over the trapdoor had been moved aside. In fact, the trapdoor itself was open. I drew in my breath and stepped boldly down the ladder.

"Nicky?" I called, but my voice was no higher than a whisper.

I jumped down the last two rungs.

"Nicky?"

That was when I realized I didn't even have a flashlight. If Nicky wasn't going to answer me, then I'd have to go after him. I ran into our kitchen, found a flashlight, and ran back out to the barn.

"Nicky!" I called again as I lowered myself through the trapdoor.

I thought I could hear heavy breathing, but when I shined the light around I saw nothing but darkness. An awful thought struck me then: What if I was wrong? What if it wasn't Nicky in the passage? What if it was Jared?

The thought scared me so that I climbed all the way back up the ladder and sat down on the bale of hay.

I considered calling my mother.

I considered calling Mary Anne.

I considered calling the police.

But I didn't call any of them. I wanted to solve the mystery. I turned over the evidence and the clues I had gathered:

I had found some very old things in the secret passage. They looked like they had been there for years. I had kept them.

I had seen some things in the passage that had later disappeared.

Some other things had appeared in the passage and stayed there (like the peanut shells and the bread crust).

I had heard tons of weird noises coming from the passage. I'd heard a lot of them during the day, but I'd heard some of them in the dead of night.