32 - The Barking Ghost (4 page)

Listening to the two dogs barking.

And to my horror, I realized that this time the barking wasn’t outside my
window.

This time it was coming from
inside my house!

Frantically, I searched for a weapon. Something to protect me from the
barking dogs.

I found my aluminum baseball bat in the closet. I gripped it tightly and
crept across the room to my bedroom door.

I pushed it open. And listened.

Yes.

The barking was definitely coming from inside the house. From the living
room, I decided.

I took a deep breath and slipped into the hallway. Where were my parents?
Their bedroom is directly over the living room on the second floor. They had to
hear this.

Why hadn’t they come running out?

Mickey’s room was on the first floor down the hall from mine. I peered down
the hall and saw that his bedroom door was closed.

What’s his problem? I wondered. Where
is
everyone?

I crept quietly down the hall, inching my way to the living room. I could
hear the dogs racing around in there.

I gasped when I heard a loud crash.

Something clattered to the floor. Great-grandma’s lamp, I guessed.

I stared up at the ceiling—to my parents’ bedroom. Were they deaf or
something?

Holding the bat in front of me, I jumped into the living room and snapped on
the ceiling light.

The dogs were…

The dogs were…

NOT THERE!

The room stood empty.

“Huh?” I blinked a few times from the sudden brightness of the light, then
stared around the room.

No dogs.

No growling. No barking.

But, wait! Great-grandma’s lamp lay on its side on the floor.

I took a step over to the sofa. Something crunched under my bare feet.

Potato chips?

Yes. Potato chips. Scattered across the room.

I spotted the potato chip bag—ripped to shreds on the floor.

My heart thumped so hard, I thought it might burst out of my chest.

As I bent to pick up the torn bag, a shadow fell over me.

I heard heavy breathing.

And I felt a gust of hot, smelly breath shoot across my neck.

“Drooper, what are you doing?”

I straightened up and spun around.

“Mickey!”

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” he replied.

“Mickey! Did you hear them? Did you?”

Mickey glanced around the room. “Hear who?” he asked. Then, before I could
answer, he snapped, “Cooper, you jerk, why did you throw potato chips around the
living room?”

“The dogs!” I cried. “The dogs did it! Did you hear them?”

Mickey shook his head. “No way. I didn’t hear anything.”

I was stunned. “You didn’t hear wild dogs running around the room a few
minutes ago?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and whistled. “You’re losing it, Cooper. Hearing
invisible dogs is one thing. But feeding them potato chips? You’re really messed
up, man.”

“I didn’t do this!” I said angrily. “I told you. The dogs did.”

Mickey shook his head. “Just promise me one thing,” he said seriously.

“What?” I asked.

“Promise me when school starts next week, you won’t tell anybody you’re
related to me.”

I wanted to throw something at him. I wished I had Great-grandma’s lamp in my
hand, but I didn’t. So I threw what I did have—the empty potato chip bag.

It flew about three inches, then dropped at my feet.

“You’re pathetic!” Mickey laughed. “I know why you’re doing this, too. You’re
trying to make Mom and Dad think the house is haunted. So then they’ll move back
to Boston, and you can see your dweeby little friends Gary and Todd again.”

He made a face at me. “Dumb, Drooper. Really dumb.”

He shuffled away, shaking his head.

Just you wait, Mickey, I thought. I’m going to get even with you. Just you
wait.

And I’m going to make everyone believe me about the dogs. I’m going to make
everyone believe that I’m telling the truth.

But how? I wondered, gazing around the empty, silent living room.

How?

Sunday morning I woke up early as usual. I had only a few more things to
unpack, and I knew I could finish before breakfast.

I unrolled my Red Sox poster and tacked it to the wall, over my bed. Same
place I’d hung it in Boston.

Then I rummaged through a box, searching for my lucky pair of red socks. As I
was slipping them on my feet, I heard the doorbell ring.

“Cooper!” my mother called to me a few seconds later. “There’s someone here
to see you!”

Who could it be? I didn’t know anybody here.

Then I had a thought. Maybe Gary asked his dad to drive him and Todd up to
Maine to surprise me!

Wow! What a great surprise!

I closed the box and charged out of my room, down the hall, and to the front
door. I was so excited!

But no Gary and Todd.

Fergie stared at me from the front doorway. I could see at first glance that
she was kind of nervous. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to the
other. And she twirled a lock of her bright red hair between her fingers.

“Oh. Hi,” I mumbled, unable to hide my disappointment.

“I need to talk to you,” she said. “Right away.”

“Okay, sure,” I replied.

“Not here,” she said, nudging her head toward the den where my mom and dad
were reading the newspaper.

I sighed. “Okay, wait a sec.” I ran back to my room and pulled on a pair of
sneakers.

“Let’s go out back,” I suggested. She nodded solemnly and followed me
outside.

I swung on the tire and listened to Fergie. “It was all your brother’s idea!”
she blurted out.

“Excuse me?” I cried.

“I don’t know why I agreed to do it, but it was really all his idea. Every
bit of it.”

“What was?” I asked.

“Everything I told you yesterday. About your house. And the woods.”

“You mean they’re not haunted?” I asked, confused.

Fergie shook her head. “Of course not.”

“But why did you tell me they were?” I asked.

“I told you, it was all Mickey’s idea. I met Mickey the day you moved in,”
Fergie explained. “He told me it would be funny if I played this trick on you.”

“He
what?”
I cried.

“He told me the two of you always played all kinds of tricks on each other,”
Fergie replied. “He said you would think it was a riot.”

“A joke?” I asked. “It was all one of Mickey’s jokes?” I couldn’t believe it.

Fergie bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Mickey said to tell you the woods were
haunted. He said to tell you the house was haunted, too.” Fergie sighed. “So I
did it. But when I saw how scared you were, I felt really bad about it. I wished
I hadn’t listened to your brother.”

Mickey. That jerk.

“But how did you know about the dogs?” I asked.

Fergie stared blankly at me. “Dogs? What dogs?”

“That’s the word you whispered to me,” I explained. “Dogs.”

Fergie twisted her face, thinking hard. “No, I don’t remember saying that.
Are you sure I said ‘dogs’?”

I nodded. “Definitely. That was all you said. Dogs. And, then, after you ran off, two mean-looking black Labradors chased
me through the woods.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “They chased me all the way home. Then they just vanished.”

“Weird,” Fergie mumbled.

“Tell me about it,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Where did you first see the dogs?” Fergie asked me.

I pointed into the woods. “Back there. Near a stream.”

“That’s the stream that leads to the Martells’ house,” Fergie said. “They’re
friends of my parents. They don’t own any dogs, Cooper.”

I shrugged, then batted a fly that buzzed in my ear. “Well, someone around
here must have dogs,” I told her.

“I’m scared of dogs,” Fergie admitted. “I’m glad I didn’t see them
yesterday.”

“They weren’t nice dogs,” I muttered. “You wouldn’t like them.”

“Hey, did you see a big rock in the shape of an arrowhead when you were near
the stream?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.”

“It’s really cool,” she gushed. “You should check it out. I go there all the
time. It’s a great rock for climbing.”

“Let’s check it out now,” I suggested. I still thought the woods were scary—haunted or not. But I didn’t feel like hanging around the house.

I hopped off the tire and followed Fergie into the woods. I spotted a long,
thick stick and picked it up. “In case the dogs come back,” I told Fergie.

We walked a little while until we reached the stream. Fergie searched around
for her rock.

“I know it’s here somewhere,” she said, turning to me.
“I can never—”

She stopped short when her eyes met mine.

“Cooper!” she whispered. “What is it?”

I stumbled backwards. My hand trembled as I pointed to the trees directly
behind Fergie.

“Mar—Margaret!” I whispered in terror. “The dogs! Look out! They’re coming!
They’re coming right at us!”

Fergie spun around. She let out a frightened cry.

“Here they come!” I shrieked.

Fergie froze in terror. “Oh, no! Help me, Cooper! I told you! I’m afraid of
dogs!”

“Run!” I shouted at her. “Run!”

In a flash, Fergie dashed past me. I’ve never seen anyone run so fast.

She ran about ten steps. Then her hands flew up as she tripped over a rock.

She uttered a shrill cry of panic and went sprawling on the ground.

I had to laugh. “Got you back!” I cried gleefully.

“Huh?” Fergie lifted her head.

“I got you back,” I repeated. “For playing that mean trick on me. For helping
Mickey.”

I watched as the color slowly returned to Fergie’s face. “You scared me to
death,” she muttered. “How could you play such a horrible joke?”

“Easy,” I replied, still grinning.

Fergie growled at me. “I told you, it wasn’t totally my fault. Your brother
said you played tricks on each other all the time.” Then she stood up and shook
her head. “That was mean, Cooper. Really mean.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. I know. But now we’re even.”

Fergie brushed some dirt off her jeans and examined a scrape on her elbow.
“You know, we should both get back at Mickey,” she said.

“I’ve been thinking about that all morning,” I told her. “And yesterday, too.
Mickey’s been playing really mean tricks on me since we moved here. And I have
to get back at him. But it has to be something totally awesome.”

We walked along the stream a while longer, trying to figure out how to get
back at Mickey. Then Fergie found the arrowhead rock.

She climbed up first, and I followed. It was a big, craggy rock, great for
climbing.

We hung out on the rock, thinking up ways to get Mickey back. Fergie wanted
to drag him deep into the woods blindfolded and leave him stranded. But I didn’t
think that would scare Mickey one bit.

I jumped off the rock and began circling it. Sometimes I think better on my
feet.

On my third trip around, I got my foot caught in a thick, leafy plant. I
glanced down—and cried out. “Oh, perfect! I’m standing in poison ivy!”

Fergie laughed. “It only looks like poison ivy,” she assured me. “My science
teacher checked it out last year. She told us it’s a harmless weed.”

I smiled a really evil smile.

“I think I have a great idea. What if we pulled out a bunch of this stuff?
What if it somehow ended up in Mickey’s bed? Would he freak—or what?”

“He might,” Fergie agreed, grinning down at me.

We gathered a bunch of the weeds. They grew all along the stream. So we
picked some more as we walked slowly back to my house.

Just past the stream, Fergie showed me a clearing in the trees I hadn’t
noticed before. A small clearing filled with wildflowers.

I knew right away Mom would flip out if she saw them. She always bought
flowers at the Faneuil Hall market back in Boston. I started to pick some for
her.

I reached down for a few pretty violet and yellow flowers when something
moving through the trees caught my eye. I glanced up just in time to see Mickey
stagger into the clearing.

Fergie and I both cried out when we spotted him.

Mickey’s clothes were ripped and shredded.

Dark scratches covered his face and arms. And bright red blood trickled down
his neck.

“Cooper,” he croaked weakly, barely able to talk. “Cooper—the dogs—”

Those were the last words he spoke before he crumpled to the ground.

“Mickey!” I screamed in horror.

I dropped the wildflowers and weeds and ran to his side.

Fergie and I knelt down beside him. “Is he okay?” she asked, her voice barely
above a whisper.

I leaned over him and, with both hands, tugged on his tattered shirt. But I
couldn’t pull him up. With each try, his limp body slumped back to the ground.

“Mickey! Mickey!” I cried his name again and again. “Are you all right? The
dogs! Did they—?”

As I leaned in closer, Mickey’s arms shot up and clamped around my neck. He
yanked me to the ground. Then he jumped up and sat on top of me.

He was giggling like an idiot.

“Oh, Mickey! Mickey!” he shrieked in a high voice. “Mickey! Are you all
right?”

I started to sputter, but no words came out.

“What a wimp!” he teased. “Do you have to fall for the fake blood every
single time?” He let out another long, high-pitched giggle.

I shut my eyes and prayed that I’d disappear. I couldn’t believe my brother
had tricked me again. In front of Fergie.

My face grew hot. “I’ll pound you for this!” I shouted, struggling to push
him off me.

“Ooooh! I’m shaking!” Mickey snorted.