Ann Martin - Stacey And The Mystery Of Stoneybrook

Claud got them home just as Mrs. Perkins returned from the doctor's office. Dr. Dellenkamp had given her a prescription for Laura and said that she'd be fine in no time.

By then it was almost time for the Babysitters Club meeting, so Claud ran home as soon as she'd said her good-byes to the girls and to Mrs. Perkins. She was excited about what she'd found out and proud of herself for sticking with the research. She was dying to tell us all about Mr. Ronald Hennessey.

Chapter 10.

While Claudia was doing her research at the library, Charlotte and I were doing some research of our own.

It was Monday afternoon. I'd gotten home from school to find Charlotte feeling "all well," as she had put it. My mom, who had spent the day with Charlotte, headed out to do some errands.

"There's a snack set out for you on the table, honey," she said. Sometimes she still treats me like a fourth-grader, which isn't such a terrible thing. It's nice to feel taken care of.

I sat down with Charlotte and ate my fruit and crackers while she told me about her day. Since she'd been home all day, her story wasn't that exciting: She'd watched TV, read, and taught my mom how to play War. But it was nice to come home to find my "little sister" waiting for me. I'd really been enjoying Charlotte's company, probably even more

than if she really were my little sister. Real sisters do things like fight and tease each other, and we never do that. We just have a good time together.

After I'd eaten, Charlotte followed me upstairs. I wanted to change out of my school clothes, since I'd worn a new outfit that day and I wanted to keep it nice. I'd gotten this pink polka-dotted short skirt with suspender straps and had worn it with an oversized white T-shirt. I had on my pink high-top sneakers, folded down to show their striped lining. I'd also worn these great earrings Claud had given me for my last birthday. They had all these little pink plastic hearts dangling down from one bigger heart. In case you haven't noticed, I do like the color pink!

By the time I'd finished changing, Charlotte and. I had decided to take a walk. Charlotte was feeling great — she'd be able to go to school the next day, for sure — and she wanted to get outside. Guess where we went. That's right. There was something about that old house. We just couldn't stay away from it.

When we got there, the workmen were packing up their tools and getting ready to leave. It was early again, not even four o'clock yet, but .they seemed to be in a hurry. Charlotte and I stayed out of their way until they had driven off.

We decided to walk around the house again, just as we had the last time we were there. It didn't look all that different. The workmen must have still been taking things out from the inside. A couple of windows had been pulled from the walls and they were leaning against the house. The bushes around the sides looked a little beaten down where the workers had been walking. And the railing on the back porch had come loose and was hanging at a crazy angle.

"You know, Charlotte," I said, "I think all those noises we heard last time were just in our imaginations."

She looked at me. Maybe she could tell by my tone of voice that I was really just trying to convince myself — and her — that there was nothing to be scared of. "But what about the things we saw, Stacey?" she asked. "What about the flies, and that face at the window?"

"I'm sure there's an explanation for everything," I said. "Maybe those flies were actually termites." The face I wasn't so sure about. Maybe I'd just imagined that. After all, I'd been the only one to see it. That must be it. My imagination had just run away with me last Friday.

'Tire! Fire!" yelled Charlotte all of a sudden. She sounded terrified.

She was pointing toward a window on the first floor. Sure enough, flames were shooting out of it. Uh-oh. This was not my imagination. This was serious.

I looked around frantically. How could I put out the blaze? What if the whole house started burning? There was no hose, and even if there had been one, I didn't see any faucets on the outside of the house. Finally I saw a wheelbarrow off to the side, almost hidden in the weeds. It was full of rainwater! I ran to grab it and started to push it toward the house. Water sloshed around and spilled all over my legs, but I kept on pushing.

Charlotte had been shrieking all this time, but suddenly she stopped. I'd gotten the wheelbarrow almost up to the house. Now I looked at the window and saw that the flames had disappeared. I felt like I was going crazy. What was happening here?

My heart was pounding like mad, and I could hardly catch my breath. I set the wheelbarrow down and walked toward the window. Charlotte hung back. I looked at the empty frame. The wood wasn't charred, and the paint wasn't blistered. I didn't smell smoke. I reached up gingerly and touched the sill. It

wasn't even warm. I couldn't see inside the window, but I could tell that where there once had been fire there was no fire now. The house stood silent and cold.

I turned to look at Charlotte. Her face was white and she was hugging herself as if to keep warm. "Our imaginations again?" she asked in a small voice.

I just shook my head, bewildered. Why had we ever come back to this place? Something very weird was happening here. This house was not at rest. I grabbed Charlotte's hand and walked home quickly, without looking back.

At the Baby-sitters Club meeting that afternoon, we told everybody what we'd seen, and Claud filled us in on her research. That was one meeting where not much business got done.

I tried to shut the house out of my thoughts completely for the rest of the evening, and I think Charlotte did, too. We were both pretty quiet at dinner that night, but luckily my mom didn't ask any questions. I didn't want to have to try to explain anything.

At bedtime I read to Charlotte for awhile, and then we talked. We talked about her going back to school the next day. We talked about her parents and how they'd be home in just

a few days. We talked about her grandpa. We did not talk about the house.

When I went to bed I was still feeling pretty keyed up. I didn't think I'd ever get to sleep, but finally I drifted off. ...

I was standing outside the old house. This time the flames shot out of every window and up through the roof. It was really burning this time. I tried to yell "Fire!" but my mouth wouldn't form the word. Then I tried to run for help, but my feet were stuck to the ground. I looked helplessly at the house and saw, to my horror, a figure at one of the windows. The person, whoever it was, dearly needed help. Again, I tried to move, but I was frozen in position. I could only watch as the person gestured to me, pleading to be rescued.

I sat bolt upright in bed. What a nightmare! My heart was beating wildly. I tried to calm myself. The dream had seemed so real. I still felt the terror of seeing that helpless person trapped in the incredible blaze. If only I could have saved him. I lay back down, but my eyes were wide open. I didn't really want to go to sleep. What if the nightmare came back?

I almost wished I were a little kid again, so I could tiptoe into my parents' room and wake up Mom. I would tell her all about my night-

mare and she'd tell me it was just a bad dream and that she'd take care of me. Then I'd snuggle up in the big warm bed and go back to sleep, feeling safe. But I wasn't a little girl anymore. I was an eighth-grader who should be able to sleep alone without being scared.