32 - The Barking Ghost (3 page)

“But—but—but—” I sputtered.

“It’s too dangerous here,” Fergie warned. “Get away, Cooper. As fast as you
can!”

With that, she turned and walked away in the direction of her house.

I didn’t follow her this time.

I should have. I totally forgot that I was lost.

I turned around. My house is probably in the opposite direction, I decided.

She disappeared through the trees. Fine with me, I thought angrily. It would
be fine with me if I never saw her again.

Why did she tell me all that?

Why did she say the woods were haunted?

Because it was true?

Leave it to my parents to buy a haunted house in haunted woods!

I continued on, unable to shake the creepy feeling I had. I felt as if a
hundred eyes were stalking me through the trees.

I wished Fergie had kept her mouth shut.

The longer I walked, the more frightened I became. Now I was
positive
that the woods were haunted. Haunted by ghosts tracking every step I made.

Then, in the distance, I heard a faint banging. It startled me at first. When
I realized it was Dad working on the grill, I shrieked with joy.

“All right! I’m almost home!” My plan had worked.

I followed the hammering sounds.

Something rustled the branches above my head and made me jump.

I gazed up.

Just a bird.

Staring up at the trees, I nearly fell headfirst into a stream.

The water lapped quietly against the grassy shore. It reflected the pale blue
morning sky above it.

Funny, I hadn’t seen this stream here before.

I bent down to touch the water. Cold.

This is awesome! I thought. A real stream, practically in my own backyard.

Then I remembered that it wouldn’t be my backyard for long. As soon as I told
my parents what Fergie had said, we’d pack up and move back to Boston.

As I dried my hand on my shirt, I had that creepy feeling again. The feeling
of eyes watching me. My head jerked up, and I gasped.

There
were
eyes watching me.

Four dark eyes glared at me from across the stream.

The eyes of two enormous black Labradors.

One dog panted loudly, its tongue hanging out. The other dog flashed its
teeth at me. Ugly, yellow teeth.

They both uttered low, menacing growls.

Not friendly. Not friendly at all.

Run! I urged myself. Run!

But my legs wouldn’t budge.

Growling, the dogs eyed me hungrily.

Then they attacked.

Their heavy paws thudded the ground as they came bounding toward me. Their
eyes glowed with excitement. Their large heads bobbed up and down.

With a terrified cry, I turned and ran.

If only I could fly!

“Helllllp!” Was that
me
letting out that frightened wail?

Yes. I think it was.

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of light through the trees. Sunlight glistening
off the jungle gym slide!

Yes!

Almost home.

The two black Labs ran at my heels. I could feel their hot breath on the
backs of my legs. I felt a pair of sharp teeth scrape my ankle.

With one last gasp of speed, I burst through the trees and out of the woods. “Dad!” I yelled, racing toward my father.

“Help me!” I shrieked. “The dogs! The dogs!” I threw my arms around his waist
and held on.

“Cooper, calm down! What’s gotten into you?” my father asked, grabbing me by
the shoulders.

“The dogs!” I wailed, refusing to let go of him.

“Cooper,
what
dogs?” Dad demanded.

I blinked at him in confusion. Didn’t he hear them? Couldn’t he see them?

I let go of him and pointed toward the woods.

“Wild dogs. Big, black Labs, I think. They chased me, and—”

I scanned the yard frantically. Dad and I were alone.

No barking.

No snarling.

The sunlight glistened off the slide.

The tire swung lazily from its rope.

The dogs had vanished.

“Cooper, this is a joke—right?” Dad asked, shaking his head.

“Huh? No way!” I cried. “They were right behind me. One
almost bit me, and—”

“And then they disappeared into thin air!” Dad declared.

“Come into the woods with me,” I pleaded. “They’ve got to be there.” I ran to
the edge of the woods, desperately searching for some sign of the dogs. Dad
followed right behind.

But there was nothing to see.

I turned and slunk back to the house.

Dad didn’t say anything until we were back in the yard. He sat down on the
jungle gym slide. His eyes studied me.

“Cooper, tell me what’s wrong,” Dad said in a low voice. I could tell he
thought I had made all this up.

“I
told
you, Dad. Two dogs chased me through the woods. They were
inches from me! One tried to tear my leg off!”

Dad continued to stare up at me, his expression thoughtful.

“Dad, listen,” I pleaded. “We have to move. We can’t live here!”

He climbed to his feet. “What are you talking about, Cooper?”

“We have to move back to Boston,” I insisted. “We can’t stay here!”

“Why not?” Dad asked.

“It’s this house!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “It’s haunted!”

“Now, Cooper—”

“Dad! Listen to me,” I begged. “The woods… this house… they’re all
haunted. Everybody around here knows it already! We never should have moved
here!”

“Cooper, you’re not making any sense,” Dad replied, keeping his voice low and
calm. “You know, walking in the woods by yourself can be scary. Why don’t you
come inside and calm down? Mom made a big breakfast. Have some French toast.
You’ll feel better.” He put his arm around my shoulders.

Now I
really
felt upset. My own father didn’t believe me.

“But, Dad, it’s true!” I insisted. “The woods are haunted, and this weird
girl I met warned me to move out! She—”

“Cooper, I know you’re unhappy about the move,” Dad said. “But these wild
stories aren’t going to change anything. This is where we live now.”

“But—”

“When school starts, you’ll make some new friends and everything will be
fine. So come on in and have breakfast. You’ll feel better. You’ll see.”

He led me back to the house.

As Dad held the door open for me, I glanced back and took one last look at
the woods.

Two big black dogs stared at me from the trees.

When I blinked, the dogs vanished.

Shaking my head, I made my way into the kitchen.

Mickey had already finished half his breakfast when Dad and I entered the
room. He leaned over his cereal bowl, snickering about something. I ignored him.

“Cooper, have some French toast,” Mom said. “It’s on your plate, waiting for
you.”

I sat across from Mickey, trying hard not to look at his dumb face. I was
still really steamed at him.

“Mom, do you know who our neighbors are?” I asked, pouring maple syrup over
the toast.

“Why, sure,” Mom answered. “Your father and I met some of them a few weeks
ago when we came to see the house.”

“Did you meet the Fergusons?” I asked.

Mom squinted her eyes, thinking. Then she shook her head. “No, I don’t think we met them. We met the Martells. Joel and
Shirley. Very nice people.” Then she asked, “Who are the Fergusons?”

I didn’t answer. I pressed on. “Did the Martells tell you our house was
haunted?”

Mom laughed. “No, Cooper, they didn’t. It must have slipped their minds,” she
joked.

“Ha-ha. It’s nothing to laugh about,” I insisted. “Our house
is
haunted. And so are the woods!”

“Cooper, what are you talking about?” my mother demanded.

“Enough, Cooper,” my father warned. “Eat your breakfast.”

“Yeah,” Mickey said with a snort. “Eat your breakfast, Drooper.”

I could feel my face turn red. I hated when Mickey called me Drooper. He
called me that because of my big droopy ears.

“Shut up,
Sickey,”
I replied.

“Cut it out, you two,” Dad snapped.

I dug my fork into the French toast. How could they not believe me? Did they
really think I made this story up?

I lifted a chunk of toast to my mouth and stuffed it in.

“Aghhhh!”

Choking and coughing, I spit the food out on my plate.

“Gross!” Mickey cried, grinning. “Gross! A guy could lose his appetite around
here.”

My eyes teared, and I coughed a few more times.

“You okay, Cooper?” Mom asked.

“Somebody dumped salt on my French toast!” I exclaimed angrily.

Mickey started to laugh.

That creep.

My father climbed up from the table. Without saying a word, he stomped out of
the room.

That’s how my Dad acts when he’s angry. He gets all quiet, then just walks
away. Punishments come later.

I gulped down a glass of milk, trying to wash the salt out of my mouth. Mom
returned to the stove to make another batch of French toast for me.

“Mickey,” she said, sighing, “you know that wasn’t funny. Now apologize to
your brother.”

“Apologize? But it was just a joke!” Mickey complained.

“We’re all cracking up,” I muttered bitterly, gulping down a second glass of
milk. “You’re a real riot.”

“Apologize!” my mother insisted again.

Mickey hung his head and stared at the floor.

I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m waiting!” I sang happily.

Mickey made an ugly face at me. When Mom turned around, he changed his
expression to an innocent smile.

“I’m so sorry, Cooper,” Mickey oozed. “It won’t happen again.” He blinked
innocently.

Satisfied, Mom turned back to the stove.

As soon as she did, Mickey pulled on his ears, trying to stretch them as big
as mine.

I’d had it with Mickey. I pushed my chair away from the table and hurried out
of the room. I didn’t want to get into another fight with my stupid brother now.

I had more important things to do. I had to talk to Dad about the dogs. I had
to make him believe me.

Dad sat in his favorite chair, which just didn’t look right in our new living
room. Even he seemed to notice. He kept shifting uncomfortably.

“Maybe it’s time for a new chair,” he muttered.

“Dad, can I talk to you for a second?” I asked.

“What is it, Cooper?” he asked as he moved Great-grandma’s lamp closer to the
chair.

“It’s about the dogs,” I said.

Dad sighed. “Really, Cooper. Aren’t you making too big a deal about this? So
what
if you saw dogs in the woods? They could belong to anybody!”

“But they chased me!” I replied, getting all worked up again. “And then they disappeared into thin air! And after that
girl told me the woods were haunted—”

“What girl?” my dad demanded.

“She said her name was Margaret Ferguson,” I told him. “She said her family
lived next door.”

Dad rubbed his chin. “That’s strange,” he said. “The real estate broker never
mentioned the Fergusons.”

“Well, I met her this morning, and she told me everyone around here knows
that our house is haunted!”

“Maybe that’s why we got such a good deal on the house,” Dad muttered,
chuckling.

I didn’t see what was so funny.

He stopped laughing and stared at me seriously. “Forget about the dogs for
now, Cooper. We’ll deal with it if you see them again. In the meantime, I’ll ask
around in town if anyone knows who owns them. Okay?”

“But what about the house?” I asked. “Margaret said we should move as fast as
we can.”

“French toast is ready!” Mom called out, interrupting me. “Come on, Cooper.
Before it gets cold.”

“Go eat,” my father urged. “And please. Not another word about dogs or the
house being haunted.”

With a sigh, I headed back to the kitchen. As I stepped through the door,
Mickey jumped in my face and let out a roar.

Naturally, it scared me to death.

“Mom!” I cried.

“Mickey, enough!” my mother screamed. “Stop teasing Cooper. He’s having a
hard time adjusting to the new house.”

“No, I’m not!” I yelled at her. Why wasn’t anybody taking me seriously? “This
house is haunted. You’ll be sorry you didn’t listen to me. You’ll be sorry!”

Then I stormed out and stomped off to my room. I collapsed on my bed and
gazed around. Same old stuff, but the room didn’t feel like my own.

I stayed in there all day. I didn’t want to see Mickey. I didn’t want to see
Mom and Dad. And I really didn’t want to see those dogs again.

By dinnertime, I’d unpacked most of my things. The room felt a little better.
More like my old bedroom back in Boston.

After dinner, I lugged all seventy-seven snow domes into the bathroom and
washed them, one by one. People don’t realize that you have to take care of snow
domes and keep them clean and filled with water or they’ll dry out.

When they were all sparkling clean, I arranged them carefully on my new
bookcase.

They looked awesome!

I tried to organize them in some sort of size order, but that didn’t work.
Instead, I alphabetized them—from Annapolis to Washington, D.C. Of course, I
placed my absolute favorite dome—a Boston Red Sox snow dome—on the middle
shelf, front and center.

I finished at eleven, then got ready for bed. All that unpacking had tired me
out.

I had closed my eyes and was just drifting off to sleep when I heard it.

Loud and clear.

Barking.

And growling.

Outside my window.

I bolted straight up in bed.

I waited for my parents and Mickey to come running in. This time, they must
have heard the dogs, too.

I waited. And waited.

The barking grew louder.

No one else in the house stirred.

I lowered one foot to the floor, then the other. I stood up, listening hard.