Ann Martin - The Ghost At Dawn's House

Sam and Charlie were peering into Kristy's room, trying to control their laughter.

.^Kristy.whatwe^gu night?" exclaimed Sam. iou w SLce afraid o, : «he storm, were youj

·fci

fiercely.

"We were just . . ."

"Tust what?" asked Charlie.

," said Kristy. "It's a long story.

Chapter 8.

Okay, so Kristy had a bad night. Maybe it was because of my ghost stories, maybe not. But she wasn't the only one having trouble during the storm. Jeff and I had a little trouble of our own ... an adventure. And we weren't any braver about it than Kristy was with her adventure.

I did a strange thing after I found the secret passage. I didn't tell anyone about it. I'd been so excited — thinking I was like Nancy Drew and all — and then I was so scared when I realized the passageway had a ghost, that by the time I had climbed back into the barn and closed the trapdoor, I was totally confused. So I didn't call any of my friends to tell them the news, and I didn't show the passage to Jeff or my mom. I kept the secret to myself.

But on the night of the second big storm —

the night Kristy was baby-sitting for Andrew, Karen, and David Michael — I was sitting for Jeff, and the haunted passage was weighing on my mind.

My mother left at seven o'clock that evening to go out on a date with this man named Mr. Gwynne, which put me in a bad mood. I don't mind if Mom dates, as long as she dates Mary Anne's father. Mary Anne and I want to be stepsisters. But Mom had been going out with several different men. One of them was the son of friends of my grandparents, two were from her office, and a couple more were men she'd met at some party. I didn't like any of them, and I didn't want any of them for a stepfather. (I only wanted Mr. Spier, because of Mary Anne.) Jeff didn't like any of the new men, either.

Tonight, Mom was going out with the son of my grandparents' friends. They were going to have dinner in a restaurant, then go to Granny and Pop-Pop's for dessert. I didn't like the sound of that — much too serious.

So I wasn't in a very good mood as my mom was rushing out the door. Usually I check her over to make sure nothing is mismatched or out of place. But that evening, I sulked in the living room and didn't look at her. If I'd looked at her and seen something wrong, I'd have to

have told her. I couldn't let her go out wearing one hoop earring and one pearl earring, or just one false eyelash or something. But I figured that what I didn't know wouldn't hurt me — or her (much).

"I'm leaving, kids!" Mom called from the front door.

'"Bye," I said. I was sitting in an armchair, facing away from her. I didn't turn around.

"If it rains, close the windows."

'"Kay."

"Dawn? Everything all right, honey?"

"Yup."

Mom hesitated. I couldn't see her, but I could feel that she was hesitating.

Jeff came crashing down the stairs, taking about three steps at a time.

"'Bye, Mom," he said.

"'Bye, honey. I just told Dawn — close the windows if it rains. Oh, and there's a casserole in the fridge. Remember, Dawn's in charge."

"Good-bye, Mom," I said pointedly.

Mom took the hint and left, and then I felt really bad.

Jeff didn't notice. "Let's eat," he said.

"All right." Maybe it would take my mind off Mom and the ghost.

Jeff and I heated up the casserole and made

a salad. We ate our supper in front of the TV, watching a rerun of All in the Family.

"I hate this show," I commented.

"Me, too," Jeff replied.

"Why are we watching it?"

"I don't know. Because it's — "

CRASH/

Thunder. Then rain poured down without warning.

"Windows!" I cried. We abandoned our meal and ran around, closing windows.

Then we tried to eat again, but we had no sooner settled down in front of the TV than the electricity went off. Since it was almost dark outside, it was pitch black inside.

"Yipes!" cried Jeff.

"I wonder if it's off everywhere or just in our neighborhood," 1 said. Or maybe, I thought, it's just us. I shivered.

We stood at the front door and looked up and down our street. No lights anywhere, so the power was off in the neighborhood, at least.

Maybe my mother would have to come home. Maybe the rest of her date would be off, along with the electricity. The thought cheered me.

"We better turn off the TV set so it won't

come blaring on when the power's restored," I said. "And let's try to rinse off our dishes. Otherwise, they'll be impossible to clean later."

Jeff groped around and found a flashlight. We cleaned up the kitchen as best we could. Then we wandered through the house.

"Well, this is boring," said Jeff.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"What can you do in the dark?"

I thought for a moment. I hadn't returned Ghosts and Spooks, Chills and Thrills to the library yet. I had two more stories to go. And there were a few I wanted to reread. I thought of the ghost in our secret passage and began to feel scared — not the awful kind of scared I'd felt several times earlier in the week — but deliciously scared.

"Hey, Jeff. Want to hear some really great stories?" I asked.

Jeff looked skeptical. (At least by the light of the flashlight, he looked skeptical.) "What kind of stories?" he asked.

"Ghost stories," I whispered.

"Aw . . ."

"I know you don't believe in ghosts, but try to get in the spirit of things," I told him. "Get it? Spirit? Look. It's a gloomy, rainy, spooky night. Besides, what else is there to do?"

"Nothing," replied Jeff.

"Okay. Come on up to my room."

Ghosts and Spooks was waiting for us on my nightstand. We sat on my bed and I took the flashlight from Jeff and opened the book. First I read him "Things Unseen." Then I read him the story about the phantom hitchhiker. Then I read him "The Haunting of Weatherstaff Moor."

Before 1 got to one of the new ones at the end of the book, Jeff turned to me and said, "Let's stop now, Dawn."

"Had enough?" I asked.

He nodded. I couldn't tell if he was bored, scared, or sleepy.

"Now what should we do?" he asked. From the way he sounded, I decided he was bored.

"Let's try to play a game by flashlight," I suggested.

We tried. It was next to impossible. There was never enough light, even after Jeff perched the flashlight in a sort of sling made from a dish towel that he suspended from the edge of a table.

"I give up," I said.

Jeff yawned hugely. "What a waste of a Friday night," he said. "Do you know all the great TV shows we're missing?"

"Wellll," 1 said slowly. "There is something we could do, and all we need is a flashlight."

"What?" Jeff looked mildly interested.

"Back to my room," I ordered.

I led Jeff up the stairs again and straight to the wall with the fancy molding.

"Watch this," I said. "Here, hold the light."

I pressed a corner of the molding (it hadn't taken long to figure out how the catch worked), and the wall swung inward.

Jeff gasped. "Hey! Hey, what . . .?"

"I discovered this a couple of days ago," I told him. "It's a real, honest-to-goodness secret passage."

"I don't believe it," said Jeff flatly.

"Come on. Want to see it?"

I'd taken the button and buckle and key out of the passage and hidden them in one of my bureau drawers. Somehow, without the evidence of the ghost, the ghost himself seemed less scary.

"Come on," I said again. I grabbed Jeff's hand and pulled him into the passage. "I didn't say anything because I — I just wanted a secret, I guess. But anyway, isn't this great?"

Wide-eyed, Jeff followed me through the passage to the rickety old steps. He had to walk behind me. The passage wasn't wide enough for two.

We were just about to start down the stairs when Jeff said, "Stop, Dawn. Look at that!"