Ann Martin - Kristy And The Haunted Mansion

Now, for Cokie to say something like that — well, it’s sort of a miracle. Cokie and I are not friends and we probably never will be. I stared at her. "Well, thanks, Cokie," I said. "That’s nice of you to say." Then I started to walk off. I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Kristy, wait," she said, running after me. "I just have to ask you — did you really feel the cold, slimy hand of the ghost just as the clock struck twelve?"

"What?" My first thought was that Cokie had gone crazy. But my second thought was that she had heard about my night at the Sawyer house. Now, I was pretty proud of myself for getting through that night. Not because of ghost stories, but because I'd been responsible

for eight kids and they'd all survived. However, I figured that if Cokie wanted to give me credit for being a Ghostbuster, I'd take it. "Uh, yeah, sure I did," I said. "Well, got to run!" I escaped from her as quickly as possible and headed for the cafeteria to meet my friends.

"Dawn," I said, setting my tray down next to her a few minutes later, "I have a feeling you've been telling people about my night in the haunted house." I knew Dawn was responsible, because she's the only one who would make up details like that "cold, slimy hand."

"Um, well — " Dawn began hesitantly. She looked down at her sprout-and-tomato sandwich.

"It's okay," I said. "But you'd better tell me what I supposedly did."

Dawn's eyes lit up. "I guess I might have exaggerated a little," she said. "Or at least, I filled in the details of the story you told us." She grinned at me. "I hope you don't mind," she added.

I didn't mind. It was fun being a hero at school. Anyway, as I walked back into my room after ordering the pizzas that night, I heard Claudia telling a ghost story.

"So then, three days later, the guy goes to the house that the hitchhiking girl had pointed out," she was saying, "and he knocks on the

door, and when this woman answers he holds up the sweater." She took a deep breath. "And he tells the woman that her daughter left it in his car."

"Yeah?" asked Dawn eagerly. "And then what?"

Claudia leaned forward. "The woman tells him that her daughter has been dead for fifteen years!"

Everybody gasped.

"She takes him to the cemetery and shows him her daughter's grave," Claudia finished. "Isn't that wild? it’s true, too. It happened to my cousin's friend, out on this road near Greenvale." She shuddered.

"Awesome," said Dawn. "I'm going to have to remember that one."

"You should write a book of ghost stories," Mallory said to Dawn. "Claud and I could do the illustrations."

"Great idea," said Mary Anne.

"Maybe I will someday," said Dawn. "For now, it's fun just to tell them — and listen to them — on nights like this."

Half an hour later, we'd finished with ghost stories and had started in on makeovers, when suddenly there was a knock on my bedroom door. "I bet the pizza's here!" I said. I jumped up and opened the door. A delivery boy stood in the hall, holding two boxes of pizza.

"Two large pizzas," he said. "Double anchovies on both!"

My jaw dropped, and I heard my friends squeal. "Anchovies?" I asked.

Sam popped out from behind the delivery boy. "Gotcha!" he cried.

I paid the delivery boy. "How much did he give you to come up here and say that?" I asked. "Just out of curiosity."

"A dollar," the boy said, grinning.

"And there really aren't any anchovies on these pizzas, right?" I asked.

"Nope," he said, still grinning.

I took the pizzas from him and stuck out my tongue at Sam. "Thanks," I said. "See you." I closed my bedroom door behind me and put the pizzas on my desk. We'd already brought paper plates, napkins, and sodas to my room, so we dug right in.

As soon as everybody had grabbed a slice, Claudia held up her hand. "Wait a second," she said. "I think we should have a pizza toast, to Kristy." She held up her slice, point out. "Here's to our president, who survived a night in a haunted house."

"And a night with eight kids," added Mary Anne, holding up~Tier slice.

We all held up our slices and bumped the points together. Then we cracked up. It's a silly tradition, but we love it. I took a big bite

of my pizza. "Mmm," I said. "This makes up for a night of bread, water, and apples."

"Too bad you didn't have me along on that trip," said Claudia. "I've always got plenty of food with me."

"That is, if you call Doritos 'food,' " said Stacey, smiling.

"Doritos are food!" said Claudia. "They are! I mean, you eat them, right?" She looked as if she was ready to defend Doritos to the death.

Just then, we heard a knock on the door. "Who's there?" I called, hoping it wasn't Sam and the delivery boy again.

"It's me, Karen."

Karen and Andrew were staying at Watson's that weekend. Nannie had promised to keep the little kids out of our hair for the night, and she'd done a great job so far. I glanced at the clock, then opened the door. "Karen, do you know what time it is?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"It's after ten. You should be in bed."

"I know," she said. "Nannie put me to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I keep thinking about Dorothy Sawyer."

"Have you been having bad dreams?" I asked, looking at her closely. Maybe the ghost stories had been too much for her, even though she loves creepy stuff.

"No, it's not that," she said. "It's — " She stopped and looked around at my friends, who were listening closely. "It’s just that I keep thinking she reminds me of somebody. Don't you think so, too?" Karen held out her hand, palm up. In it was a small picture of Dorothy, one that had been in the album we'd found.

"Karen!" I said. "I can't believe you took that."

"I know I shouldn't have," she said. "I'll send it back."

"And anyway," I said. "Who could she possibly remind you of? Dorothy is dead."

"Not necessarily," said Dawn suddenly. "They never found her body, remember?" Dawn's cheeks were pink, and her eyes sparkled.

I took the picture from Karen and looked at it carefully. My friends crowded around to see it. Then I heard Mary Anne gasp.

"I know her!" she said. I looked at her, and her face was white as a sheet. "What do you mean?" I asked. "She's the woman who runs the sewing store downtown. You know, the one where I buy needlepoint patterns sometimes?" Mary Anne took a closer look at the picture. "That's her, I swear!" she said. "Only in this picture she's much, much younger."

"You're right,” said Karen. "That's who I thought she looked like. I go to that store all the time, with Mommy."

I looked back and forth between Karen and Mary Anne. They seemed so sure about what they were saying. "Well," I said, "now what do we do?"

Chapter 15.

We talked for a long time that night. The possibility that Dorothy Sawyer was actually alive, after all this time, was really awesome.

"You know," I said, at one point, "when I first saw Will Blackburn I thought he looked kind of creepy and mean. But once we got to know him a little bit, I saw that he wasn't so bad. And now that I think about it, he's probably just a really lonely, sad old man."

"So what are you saying?" asked Mary Anne. She could tell I had something on my mind.

"I'm saying that maybe we ought to try to get the two of them together," I said. "Like maybe I should ask Charlie to drive me back to Sawyer Road. I'll tell Will where Dorothy is, and make him happy."

"Whoa," said Stacey. "Not so fast. I mean, what if it isn't really her? He'd be so disappointed."

"It's her," murmured Mary Anne. "I just know it is."

Claudia held out a bag of M&M's, offering them around. "I think it's such a romantic story," she said. "And it would be really cool if we could get the two of them together again. But we should be careful, too. For all we know, she could be married to somebody else by now."