BSC09 The Ghost At Dawn's House (9 page)

soap off by pouring cupfuls of water over her head.

"Ow! Ow! Owie!" cried Claire.

"What's wrong?" asked Stacey.

"It stings."

"Keep your eyes shut, okay?"

"Okay," replied Claire, "but it still stings."

It wasn't until Stacey had poured twelve cups of water over Claire's head that she began to feel uneasy again. The shampoo wasn't rinsing out.

Stacey dumped another cupful onto Claire. This time she rubbed Claire's hair vigorously. The foam puffed up as if it were alive. It was thicker than ever.

"Margo? Vanessa?" said Stacey.

"Yes?" they whispered. They were sitting squashed together on the toilet, their hands in their laps. They'd watched the rinsing process wordlessly.

"What shampoo did you use on Claire? The baby shampoo?"

Stacey had given Claire several shampoos when she and Mary Anne had gone to Sea City with the Pikes. She had always used Johnson's Baby Shampoo. Nothing like this had ever happened.

"Um, no," replied Vanessa. "We used . . . we used something new."

"What was it?" asked Stacey.

"I don't remember the name."

"Can you show it to me, please?"

Margo and Vanessa looked at each other. Vanessa nodded at her sister. Margo reached behind her and pulled something out of the wastebasket. She handed it to Stacey.

It was a small plastic bottle. And it was empty.

"You guys/' said Stacey nervously. "I hope this wasn't your mom's. You didn't use up something of your mom's . . . did you?"

They shook their heads.

Stacey read the label on the front of the bottle. It said:

Trial Size Only

Not for sale

CALLADEW'S PERFECTION SHAMPOO Concentrated

On the back, the directions cautioned:

Concentrated shampoo — use sparingly.

Pour several drops onto palm of hand.

Rub hands together vigorously to create foam.

Rub foam into hair.

Rinse twice. Process need not be repeated.

Stacey looked up at the girls. "Where did you get this?" she asked.

"In the mail," Vanessa replied. She didn't

look at Stacey. "Mom and Dad always let us have the samples."

"Last week we got two sticks of gum," added Margo.

"And you guys ate them/' said Claire accusingly from under her cap of foam.

"So this came in the mail today?" said Stacey.

Margo and Vanessa nodded.

"I hate to ask, but how much did you use?"

"The whole bottle," said Vanessa. "We felt bad for taking all the gum. So we gave Claire all the shampoo."

"Oh, Vanessa." Stacey was irritated and couldn't hide it. "You're old enough to know you're supposed to read the directions first. Didn't you look at the label?"

Vanessa hung her head. "No," she murmured.

Stacey realized she ought to see what Nicky was up to. She got to her feet. "I want you two to stay here and keep rinsing. I have to check on Nicky. I'll be right back. Be nice to your sister."

Stacey went downstairs, partly to calm down. That, of course, was when she discovered that Nicky was gone. Forty-five minutes later, Claire still had a head of foam, and Nicky still hadn't returned.

Stacey called me. I was at home alone and

had been hearing one weird sound after another coming from the secret passage. I was delighted to give Stacey a hand. I couldn't wait to get out of my house.

"Oh, thank you for coming!" Stacey exclaimed when I reached the Pikes'. "Mrs. Pike is going to be home in about fifteen minutes, and I have two disasters here. Can you go look for Nicky? I better stay with the mess in the bathroom."

It was getting to be a familiar scene. I walked around our neighborhood calling Nicky at the top of my lungs. He didn't answer. I looked behind bushes and up trees. He was a champion hider.

I had just reached the edge of my property when once again, Nicky appeared suddenly. He was dusty, and a vaguely familiar odor clung to him, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Hi," he said. "Looking for me?" He flashed me a grin, then went on chewing away at an enormous wad of gum.

"Nicky! Where have you been? Stacey was worried."

Nicky wet his hand and rubbed at a scab on his knee. Then he blew a large bubble that popped, leaving wispy pink strings all over his face. But he didn't answer me.

"You are an absolute mess/' I told him. "You're filthy."

"Yeah," he said, sounding pleased.

I shook my head. "Come on. I'll walk you back to your house. Your mom'll be home any minute now."

"Okay." Unexpectedly, Nicky slipped his hand into mine as we walked along. It was dirty, sticky, and wet, but I held on to it.

When we reached his front door, I opened it and called inside to Stacey. Then I left. I didn't think it would look good for me to be there when Mrs. Pike returned.

Stacey was relieved to see Nicky, but Vanessa wasn't. She was in a bad mood. Stacey had said that she would have to tell her mother what she and Margo had done.

"Why isn't Nicky in trouble, too?" she demanded.

Before Stacey could answer, Nicky broke in, "Oh, you're just jealous.' You wish you had a dog friend who could rescue people from avalanches."

"A dog friend! What are you talking about? You don't have any dog friend," scoffed Vanessa.

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Can it, you guys!" ordered Stacey.

I wasn't around to hear any of that, but if I had been, it might have helped me out. As it was, an idea was growing in my mind. Just a little one. A sprout. Just enough to make me think I wouldn't have to worry about sounds in the passage again that day.

As it turned out, I was right.

Chapter 13.

There were no more sounds in the secret passage that afternoon. I even felt brave enough to explore it again. I propped the wall open in my room and entered, carrying a flashlight. I walked purposefully to the spot where I'd found the book the day Mary Anne had been over. I wished I hadn't left it there. I wanted to get a good look at it. But it was gone.

I sighed.

Then I checked out the rest of the passage. The nickel was still gone, the peanut shells were still there, and a crust of bread had turned up. I didn't feel too surprised.

At least — not until I found the key. It was similar to the one I'd found before, but smaller. And a lot older looking. It was shoved into a corner at the bottom of the steps.

It almost ruined my theory.

I left it where it was and tried not to think about it.

I wanted to test my theory, but I didn't have a chance for two whole days. They were the longest days of my life. During that time, the passage was quiet except for very late one night when we had some rain. Then I heard definite moaning coming from the passage. Even though my wall was locked, I grabbed my pillow and blanket and spent the rest of the night on the couch in the living room.

The next day, I had a sitting job at the Pikes'. Mrs. Pike was taking Claire, Margo, and Va-nessa to the mall to get their hair cut before school started. (Claire's hair hadn't looked quite the same since her sisters had washed it with Calladew's.) Mallory and I were left in charge of Nicky and the triplets.

The afternoon got off to a good start. For once, the triplets allowed Nicky to play with them. The four boys tore around on their driveway, shooting baskets. They'd split into teams — the triplets against Nicky — but Nicky seemed satisfied.

"What should we make for lunch?" I asked Mallory.

It was late for lunch, but Mrs. Pike had had a hectic morning and hadn't gotten around to

feeding the kids lunch. She was going to feed the girls at the mall. (That probably happens a lot when you have eight children.)

"Let's do a smorgasbord," said Mallory.

"How?" I asked.

"If s simple. We take everything out of the refrigerator, put it on the table, and let the boys fix whatever they want."

I laughed. "It sounds messy."

"It is," agreed Mallory, "but it's fun. And Mom likes us to use up leftovers."

I looked inside the refrigerator. Then I looked back at Mallory. "Okay," I said. "Let's do it."

We only needed about two minutes to pull everything out of the refrigerator and arrange it on the kitchen table. Then we set out plates, cups, napkins, and forks, and called the boys inside.

"All right!" cried Jordan when he got a look at the kitchen.

"Yeah!" exclaimed Nicky. "All right! We're having a schmurgerbeard!"

"That's smorgasbord, stupid," said one of the triplets.

"Don't call Nicky stupid," I said.

Nobody even heard me.

Adam was glopping mayonnaise onto a piece of bread.

Byron was digging into the peanut butter with one hand, and eating a dill pickle with the other.

And Jordan was standing at the stove, turning the flame up under a frying pan.

'Jordan! What are you doing?" I cried.

"Making fried baloney."

"Well, let me do that."

I was beginning to think that the schmur-gerbeard hadn't been such a good idea. "Does anyone else want fried baloney?" I asked.

"I want fried peanut butter and jelly," replied Byron.

"I want a fried egg," replied Adam.

"I want fried barf," replied Nicky.

"Ha, ha. So funny I forgot to laugh," said Jordan.

The triplets looked at each other, smirking.

"Hey, Nicky," said Adam, "say Mark Twain's initials and point to your head."

"Oh, simple," said Nicky. He pointed to his left ear. "M.T."

The triplets doubled over with laughter.

"M.T. Empty!" hooted Adam. "Get it? You've got nothing in your head, Nicky. Not one little brain. It's empty!"

"Ha, ha. So funny I forgot to laugh," said Nicky.

I thought his comeback was pretty good, considering, but the triplets barely heard him.

"Come on now," I said. "Who wants fried what?"

After much debate, I made fried baloney for Jordan and Adam, and a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Byron. Nicky said he wasn't hungry, but finally fixed himself a potato chip and banana sandwich. I started to say something to him about that, and then remembered that the Pike kids are allowed to eat whatever they want (within reason). Mal-lory made tunafish sandwiches for the two of us.

We carried our lunches to the table on the sun porch. Everything was peaceful until the very end of the meal. Nicky, who had been silent since the Mark Twain incident, stood up and stacked his glass on his plate.

"Here, Nicky. You want the rest of this cupcake?" asked Adam, holding out half of a gooey chocolate concoction. He must have been having an attack of conscience.

"Sure," said Nicky, flattered. He set his plate down.

As he did so, Adam reached behind him and pulled his chair out from under him.

Nicky sat down hard on the floor.

"Adam!" I shouted. The triplets knew I was angry, but they couldn't help laughing silently, their faces turning red and their eyes filling with tears of laughter.

Nicky sat on the floor for a moment, looking surprised. Then he scrambled to his feet and ran off the porch. A second later, the front door slammed.

I counted to ten before I opened my mouth. Then I said very quietly, "You three are in major trouble."

The laughter stopped.

"You've been rotten to Nicky today. Really rotten. I'm going to have to tell your mother about this."

"Aw — " began Jordan.

"Nope!" I cried. "I don't want to hear a word about it. Right now I'm going to look for your brother. Mallory will be in charge. I want to see the porch and the kitchen sparkling by the time I get back. And if you give Mallory any trouble, your mother will hear about that, too."

I marched out of the Pikes' house. The triplets had rarely seen me angry. Thafs because I rarely get angry. Sometimes I pout or feel cross, but I don't often scold. And I had never scolded the Pikes. I felt kind of bad

about it, but the triplets had really been mean to Nicky. I hoped Mallory knew I wasn't angry at her. Oh, well. I'd straighten everything out when I got back.

As I ran down the street, my anger began to turn to excitement. I realized that I was finally going to have the chance to test my theory!

I didn't bother to call for Nicky. I ran right to my own house, darted across the lawn, around to the back, and into the barn. I paused to let my eyes adjust to the dim light.

Just as I expected, the bale of hay that Mom had shoved over the trapdoor had been moved aside. In fact, the trapdoor itself was open. I drew in my breath and stepped boldly down the ladder.

"Nicky?" I called, but my voice was no higher than a whisper.

I jumped down the last two rungs.

"Nicky?"

That was when I realized I didn't even have a flashlight. If Nicky wasn't going to answer me, then I'd have to go after him. I ran into our kitchen, found a flashlight, and ran back out to the barn.

"Nicky!" I called again as I lowered myself through the trapdoor.

I thought I could hear heavy breathing, but when I shined the light around I saw nothing but darkness. An awful thought struck me then: What if I was wrong? What if it wasn't Nicky in the passage? What if it was Jared?

The thought scared me so that I climbed all the way back up the ladder and sat down on the bale of hay.

I considered calling my mother.

I considered calling Mary Anne.

I considered calling the police.

But I didn't call any of them. I wanted to solve the mystery. I turned over the evidence and the clues I had gathered:

I had found some very old things in the secret passage. They looked like they had been there for years. I had kept them.

I had seen some things in the passage that had later disappeared.

Some other things had appeared in the passage and stayed there (like the peanut shells and the bread crust).

I had heard tons of weird noises coming from the passage. I'd heard a lot of them during the day, but I'd heard some of them in the dead of night.

Nicky might be in the passage now . . . and he might not. I decided to take a chance.

I eased myself through the trapdoor again and jumped onto the dirt floor. Now there was something that had always bothered me. Why was the dirt floor so hard-packed? Simple, I answered myself. Because it had been walked on a lot, even before I found it. Someone had been using the passage frequently — and it wasn't Jared, since ghosts don't weigh anything.