Ann Martin - Claudia And The Phantom Phone Calls

she knew that was unlikely. Mr. Spier is so strict about letting his daughter talk on the phone after dinner.

"Hello?" said Kristy timidly. ". . . Hello?"

She thought she could hear light breathing on the other end of the phone.

"Hello?" Nothing. Kristy dropped the receiver into the cradle as if it were burning her hand. She ran from the library. She knew she should check the upstairs windows, but she was too afraid. I just know the Phantom Caller is going to sneak onto the second floor, she told herself. He's probably leaning a ladder against the outside of the house at this very moment. He's —

Ring! The phone again.

Ring. . . . Ring.

At last Kristy reached for it. She knew she had to answer it. The caller could be Watson or her mother. She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. But she couldn't get any words out.

"Kristy?" asked the caller.

"Claudia?" she whispered back. (The caller was me!)

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"I just got one of those calls."

"Oooh."

"And Watson's house is so huge and scary."

"Put on lots of lights," I suggested.

"What do you think the calls mean?" Kristy asked. She couldn't stop thinking about them. I knew just how she felt.

"Well," I said, "they could be wrong numbers. People are pretty rude when they reach the wrong person. They usually just hang up. Or they could be little kids making goof calls."

"I guess," said Kristy.

"In case there's any trouble, do you remember our code?"

"No."

"Kristy! You were the one who made us rehearse. Where's your sheet with the code words?"

"At home. I didn't know how it would feel to be so nervous. I can't even remember my last name."

"It's Thomas."

"Thanks a lot."

"Kristy. You are the baby-sitter. You're in charge. You better act like it."

Silence. Then, "You're right. Okay, Claud, I'm going to get off this phone and go read The Witch of Blackbird Pond."

"Are you sure you want to read that?"

"I have to. It's for school. Besides, there are no such things as witches, and I'm through being scared. I'm a baby-sitter."

"Right."

"Right."

"See you in school tomorrow."

"Right. Good-bye." Kristy hung up brusquely. She marched out of the library, got her book, and curled up with it on the living room couch. But she couldn't concentrate. She kept looking outside. The branches of the trees in Watson's yard moved eerily back and forth in front of the street lamps. They looked sort of like hands — gloved hands.

One little branch kept tap-tapping on the bay window right by Kristy's head. Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

Kristy could imagine all sorts of Halloweeny creatures in Watson's yard. Cackling witches, howling goblins, silent, watching ghouls.

Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

Then Kristy heard another sound. Or thought she did. A sort of swooshing. It was followed by an angry yowl at the front door. "Boo-Boo!" cried Kristy. She was glad he was coming in on his own. She could stop worrying about Mrs. Porter and her garden.

Kristy ran into the front hall and flung the door open.

There was Boo-Boo all right. But he wasn't alone. He was in the black-clothed arms of ... Morbidda Destiny!

It was the first time Kristy had actually seen her, although she had imagined her vividly after Mary Anne's encounter. No wonder Karen thought she was a witch. An old, whiskery face with snappish little eyes sat under a mop of frowsy gray hair. And sure enough, she was wearing a long, black dress. Watson said Mrs. Porter was just eccentric, but Kristy was not at all sure.

She gasped when she saw her.

"This cat," said Morbidda Destiny, "was on my front porch."

"I — I'm sorry," said Kristy. "He got out by accident. I hope he wasn't bothering you."

Morbidda Destiny deposited Boo-Boo in an ungraceful heap in Watson's front hall. Boo-Boo tore out of the hall, heading for the laundry room.

"Wasn't bothering me?" cried Morbidda Destiny. "Do you know what he was doing on my porch, girlie?"

Kristy shook her head.

"He was eating a field mouse, that's what. And do you know what's left on my porch now?"

Kristy shook her head again, shuddering.

"A bit of fur, a bit of tail, and — "

"I'm so sorry, Mor— Mrs. Porter," Kristy interrupted. "I'd like to come over and clean

it up, but I'm baby-sitting here and I can't leave the — "

"Never you mind. I've taken care of it." Morbidda Destiny reached into her robes, pulled out a small paper bag, and thrust it at Kristy. "These are the remains. You get rid of them."

She turned and flapped into the night.

Now I'll prove to you just how smart Kristy is. Kristy said that right then, when Mrs. Porter shoved that bag into her hands, she was really scared. And she was really disgusted by what was in the bag. But you know what her first thought was? It was that if Mrs. Porter were a true witch, she would have kept the bag for herself because she could have used the mouse fur and mouse tail in her spells. So even though Kristy was shaking all over, she was relieved, too.

She checked on Boo-Boo and found him curled up in a laundry basket in front of the washing machine. He wasn't asleep — he was just resting and staring — which was a little creepy, but he seemed fine.

When Watson got home, Kristy told him about Boo-Boo and the field mouse and the paper bag. Watson said he would speak to Mrs. Porter the next morning. Then Kristy told him about Karen and the freckle-spell.

"I can't tell whether she believes in the spell

or whether it's all a big game, but I thought you should know," she said.

"Thank you, Kristy. I appreciate your concern. It seems that she's been talking about witches at school, too."

"Well, I better call Mom," said Kristy.

She had to wait fifteen minutes for her mother to pick her up, and even though Watson was there with her, Kristy said that the whole time she kept waiting for the phone to ring again.

Chapter 8.

Hmphh. If that's what Stacey calls keeping her head, I wouldn't want to see her lose it.

Stacey left for the Johanssens' after an early supper. She was going to be sitting until ten, the latest she's allowed out. If you cut through Stacey's backyard and turn right, the Johanssens' house is just two doors down — a three-minute walk. If you use the streets and go around the long way, it takes about ten minutes. Stacey used the shortcut, even though the night seemed darker than usual and she had to carry a flashlight.

Mr. Johanssen met her at the front door. (His wife is hardly ever around. She's a doctor and spends a lot of time at Stoneybrook General Hospital.) "Hi, Stacey," he greeted her. "I'm glad you could come. I'll be meeting Dr. Johanssen at the theater. The number is there by the phone. We're going to see an early movie and then have a bite to eat at Renwick's. That number is posted, too. I know you need to be home by ten.

"Charlotte has finished her dinner and ought to be in bed by nine-thirty, okay?"

Stacey nodded.

"I guess you know everything else."

Stacey nodded again, and smiled as Charlotte came into the kitchen. "Charlotte and I will have lots of fun, won't we?"

"Yes," replied Charlotte uncertainly. "Daddy, do you have to go?"

Mr. Johanssen put his arm around Charlotte. "Mommy and I have been looking forward to this movie. It's a treat for us. But you'll have a treat when you wake up tomorrow."

"What?" asked Charlotte excitedly.

"Mommy will be here, and she's not working this weekend."

"Goody!"

Now, all the time Stacey and Charlotte and Mr. Johanssen were talking, Stacey had been noticing something. If the evening had seemed dark on her way over to the Johanssens', it was positively black just ten minutes later. And it was only six-thirty. It seemed rather windy, too. The branches of the trees, already half bare, were being tossed back and forth. Stacey thought she heard thunder in the distance, but she tried not to worry about it. We'd had a lot of late-season storms, and most of them didn't last long.