Curiosity Killed the Cat (4 page)

In an instant, the lights overhead flicked on, and Allison and Hannah’s dad appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Allison was wearing an oversize T-shirt that read I
HULA
over a pair of lime-green boxer shorts, and Mr. Malloy was wearing plaid flannel pajamas. If she hadn’t been so scared, Hannah might have laughed.

“Hannah!” her dad cried, grabbing her by the shoulders. “What is it?”

“I — I saw a shadow on the porch,” Hannah whispered hoarsely, embarrassed that she had woken everyone up, but still shaking from the scare. Madison was lurking at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed, a sleepy scowl on her face.

“And I heard a scratching sound, too,” Hannah added, remembering the details. “It sounded like someone was trying to break into the house.”

Hannah glanced up at Madison again, fully expecting to see a mean smirk. Instead, Madison’s face had suddenly gone white. She looked as though she had seen a ghost.

“What were you doing on the stairs?” Allison asked, perplexed. The scowl returned to Madison’s face. Hannah wasn’t sure how to explain that Madison had locked her out of the bathroom, so she made up an excuse.

“I, uh, was thirsty and came downstairs to get a drink of water,” she said meekly.

Her dad unlocked the front door and stepped out onto the porch.

“Hello?” he called. “Is someone there? I’ll call the police!”

His threat hung limply in the air as he stepped back inside a moment later.

“I don’t see anyone,” he said. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a shadow from the trees?”

“Y-yes, I’m sure,” Hannah stuttered, her hands still trembling. There weren’t even any trees in front of the house — they were all in the backyard. There
had definitely been someone — or something — on the porch. Didn’t her dad believe her?

Mr. Malloy looked skeptical. “Maybe it was an animal, like a raccoon,” he suggested, gently putting his arm around Hannah’s shoulder. “They love to get into the trash cans at night. I’ll bet that was the noise you heard.”

Hannah brushed his arm off her shoulder. Suddenly, she was angry. She could tell from the look on her dad’s face that he expected her to just agree with him and admit that it had probably been a raccoon, or a squirrel, or her imagination. Her dad was one of the most reasonable people in the world, and he always assumed there was an explanation for every thing. But Hannah knew she hadn’t imagined it. There had been something
unnatural
about that shadow.

“Dad, it
wasn’t
a raccoon,” Hannah insisted stubbornly, her arms crossed defiantly. “There was something else out there — something
weird
. I could tell.”

Hannah’s dad still looked skeptical, but his face softened a bit. “Well, whatever it was, it’s gone now. I say we all head back to bed and try to get some sleep. You girls have school tomorrow.”

Too tired to argue, Hannah allowed herself to be escorted back to her bedroom. She climbed into her bed and tried to fall back to sleep, but as soon as she started to doze off, she realized she had never used the bathroom. Even though she figured it was still locked, something made her slip out of bed one more time to try the bathroom door.

For the first time since she had moved in, it was open.

The next morning in homeroom, Hannah was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. After she had gone back to bed, she had slept fitfully, waking up a few times each hour.

Hannah propped her chin up on her hand and yawned.

“Hannah!” Paisley scolded. “Have you heard a word I just said?”

“Mmmmm,” Hannah mumbled. “Something about soccer tryouts …” She yawned again.

Paisley shook her head. “You’re hopeless, Hannah,” she said. “How do you expect to make it through seventh grade if you’re not getting enough
sleep at night? You’ll never be able to keep up with all your activities!”

“I don’t have activities,” Hannah muttered grumpily through another yawn. “
You’re
the one with the fully loaded schedule.”

Hannah hadn’t meant to sound irritated, but in her sleepy state that’s how the words had come out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paisley asked, her voice rising the way it did whenever she got upset.

“Oh, nothing,” Hannah said offhandedly. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Well, you don’t need to get annoyed with me,” Paisley said huffily.

“Seriously, Paisley, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Hannah said with a sigh. “Don’t get so bent out of shape.”

“Bent out of shape?” Paisley asked, her voice rising again. “I can’t help it if you’re jealous of my busy schedule.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “I’m not
jealous
, Paisley,” she snapped. “I’m
tired
. I barely slept last night. I —”

Hannah stopped herself. Should she tell Paisley about the shadow on the porch? Or would Paisley think she was just making it up?

Suddenly, the bell rang, piercing Hannah’s thoughts before she could say another word.

Paisley picked up her backpack and left the room without saying good-bye.

Hannah shook her head groggily. What had just happened? Had she and Paisley just had an argument?
What had it even been about?
Hannah wondered. She was too tired to fully process any of it. Instead, she dragged herself out of her chair and headed to her English class.

By the end of the day, Hannah was so exhausted she didn’t think there was any way she was going to make it through her guitar lesson. She shuffled into the music shop and took a seat in the waiting room, wishing she could curl up on the row of chairs for a quick nap. But just a few minutes later, her teacher, Mr. Gabrielli, who everyone called Mr. G., popped out of his small studio.

“Come on in, Hannah,” he said warmly.

She stifled a yawn as she followed him inside.

Hannah took her guitar out of its case and tuned it quickly. Then she began strumming a few of her favorite chords to warm up.

As soon as the lesson began and Hannah started playing, it was as though a weight lifted off her shoulders. She completely forgot about how exhausted she was, and her fingers took over, moving across the strings with confidence and ease.

By the end of the lesson, Hannah was more relaxed and energized than she had felt all day.

“Great job today, Hannah,” Mr. G. said. “You played with a lot of feeling, and you’re really improving every week. Keep up the good work!”

Hannah blushed at the compliment. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to practice even more this week if I can.”

“Excellent,” Mr. G. said. “That’s just what you should be doing. You know, every December I organize a recital for all of my students. I know you’ve been playing for less than a year, but you really should think about performing. You would be fantastic. This year, the recital will be on the tenth.”

Hannah’s calm and relaxed mood evaporated instantly. Her eyes grew wide with terror.

“No!” she shouted. “I mean, I don’t think I can make it that weekend.”

Mr. G. looked at Hannah carefully. “Why not?” he asked gently. “Is every thing okay?”

“It’s just, um, I just, er —” Hannah stuttered, unable to get the words out.

“Yes?” Mr. G. asked expectantly, a kind look on his face.

“I can’t play in front of other people,” Hannah whispered softly. “I get terrible stage fright. When I was six, I took ballet and I completely froze during the recital. I stood onstage during the entire dance without moving an inch. It was awful!”

Hannah winced just recalling the mortifying scene. It had been the most embarrassing moment of her life.

“After that, I quit dance and promised myself I would never,
ever
perform in front of an audience again.”

Mr. G. nodded sympathetically. “That must have been very difficult,” he said gently. “But never is a long time to promise not to do something, especially when you’re six. You don’t have to decide about the recital today, but promise me you’ll at least consider it. You still have plenty of time to prepare, so there’s no pressure.”

“Okay,” Hannah agreed reluctantly. She knew she’d never say yes to performing in the recital,
but Mr. G. didn’t need to know that yet. “I’ll think about it.”

She stepped back out into the waiting room and noticed a boy in a navy hooded sweatshirt, jeans, and red sneakers waiting for his lesson to begin.

“Oh!” Hannah cried. It was Ryan, from her English class! “I mean, hey.” Heat rose to her cheeks, and she knew her face looked like a tomato. A tomato with red hair. Ugh. Why did she have to turn bright red whenever Ryan glanced her way?

“Hey,” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t know you took guitar. I haven’t seen you here before.”

“I just switched my lessons to Thursdays because my dad works late on Tuesdays and can’t pick me up,” Hannah told him.

“Well, you sounded really good,” Ryan said. He seemed impressed. Then he glanced down at his sneakers nervously. “Maybe we can, um, play together sometime.”

Hannah tried to open her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so she just nodded.

“Great!” Ryan said with another smile. “See you in English tomorrow?”

“Um, yeah, see you then,” Hannah replied, her vocal cords finally working again.

As she walked outside to wait for her dad, Hannah replayed Ryan’s words in her head. Had she really just agreed to hang out and play guitar with him sometime? Her stomach twisted anxiously at the thought, but she decided to put it out of her mind. She had enough to worry about as it was. She had to find Icky, deal with Madison, figure out where the creepy scratching noise was coming from,
and
make up with Paisley after their silly fight. And on top of all that, she had to work on not turning the shade of an overripe tomato the next time she saw Ryan.

Hannah sighed. She wondered if her life would ever be simple and normal again.

On Friday, Hannah wanted to talk to Paisley about their argument, but Paisley was called into a special student council meeting. And on Saturday, Hannah and her dad were supposed to go on a bike ride, but Mr. Malloy had to cancel at the last minute because he had to stay home to deal with the contractors while Allison attended a baby shower.

Bored and annoyed, Hannah sat in her room, moping about the canceled bike ride and feeling sorry for herself. She hadn’t gotten a single call about Icky yet, which added to her misery. In an attempt to cheer up, she took out her guitar and played a few of her favorite songs. But almost as soon as Hannah began to practice, Madison turned up her stereo and a pounding bass shook the walls of Hannah’s room.

Unable to hear her own guitar, Hannah stormed out of her bedroom and knocked loudly on Madison’s door. She was so angry that she was determined to finally stand up to Madison, once and for all.

Well, I will if she ever opens the door
, Hannah thought dejectedly.

Hannah pounded on the door again, but there was still no answer. Either Madison was ignoring her, or the music was so loud she couldn’t hear anything. Hannah even tried the doorknob, but of course it was locked.

She headed back to her room in frustration and put her guitar away. There was no way she could practice over Madison’s music. In fact, it was so loud she doubted she would be able to concentrate on anything if she stayed in her bedroom, so she took her English and math books down to the kitchen. With nothing better to do, she figured she might as well get a head start on her homework.

Hannah had just solved her first algebra equation when the sound of an electric drill pierced the relative silence of the kitchen. The drilling was followed by a burst of hammering and another round of drilling. The contractors were obviously hard at work,
and they didn’t seem concerned about making too much noise.

“I give up!” Hannah yelled to the empty kitchen. It was impossible to concentrate on her homework while she was inside the house, so Hannah thought she’d try working outside. She was about to head for the swing on the front porch when she remembered the stone bench and arbor she had discovered in the cemetery earlier that week.

Hannah weighed her options for a moment — stone bench in creepy but quiet cemetery, or porch swing directly underneath Madison’s window (loud, terrible pop music included)?

Hannah headed toward the cemetery gate.

The sun felt warm and pleasant, and in the bright daylight, the cemetery wasn’t particularly creepy. Hannah found the tree easily, but the bench was partially obscured by the hanging vines that dangled over the arbor. She pushed aside a few of the vines and settled into her nook. The cemetery was peaceful and quiet, and Hannah finished her algebra homework in record time. Then she pulled out her English assignment, “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” which they would be discussing in class that week.

Hannah finished the story quickly. She’d read it many times and had never found it particularly scary before. This time was no different, despite the fact that she was sitting in the very cemetery the headless horseman had ridden past. Hannah was proud of herself for overcoming her fear of the cemetery, at least.

She closed her eyes for a minute and was suddenly hit with a wave of sleepiness. The past few nights she hadn’t slept well, and her tiredness was catching up to her. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to stretch out on the stone bench for a quick catnap.

A second later, she was sitting in her dad’s backyard on a lounge chair on a sunny afternoon with Icky in her lap. He was purring loudly as she pet his soft, black head.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Icky’s ears pricked up as he heard the scratching sound, and he jumped out of Hannah’s lap and dashed into the cemetery.

“No, Icky!” Hannah cried. “Wait for me!”

Suddenly, it was nighttime. Hannah ran into the cemetery after Icky, tripping over tombstones and pushing aside dangling vines and cobwebs that kept falling in front of her face or brushing against her
bare legs. She stopped running in front of an enormous old mausoleum. It looked like it was made of stone, but when Hannah reached out to touch it, the stone crumbled underneath her fingers as though it was made of sand.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

The scratching was coming from inside the mausoleum!

Hannah watched in horror as the door began to open slowly. She tried to run, but she looked down to see that vines had wound their way around her ankles and legs, rooting her in place. A spider began climbing up one of the vines and jumped onto her arm.

Hannah screamed.

She gasped as she sat up on the bench, her heart pounding wildly. The nightmare had felt so real Hannah could still feel the spider crawling up her arm. She glanced down and was relieved to see there were no vines or cobwebs wrapped around her legs — it really had been just a dream.

Shaken by the nightmare, Hannah decided it was time to brave a return to the noisy house. But when she entered the kitchen, every thing was eerily quiet. Hannah could no longer hear the thumping of
Madison’s music through the ceiling, and the hammering and drilling had stopped as well. There were a few brown paper bags full of groceries on the counter and one bag lying on the floor.

“Hello?” Hannah called. “Anyone home?”

She bent down to pick up the paper bag when it suddenly shifted with a soft crinkling sound.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

The sound had come from behind her, and Hannah whipped around, forgetting about the paper bag. Was someone — or something — at the back door?

She looked out into the backyard but saw nothing. Her pulse was racing as she closed the door and turned back to the paper bag on the floor. It was completely still. Hannah stared at it for a good ten seconds while she gathered up her courage. Finally, she leaned down to try to pick it up again. As soon as she did, the bag skittered across the room.

“Ahhhh!” Hannah yelped, glancing around the kitchen, desperately looking for an open window to explain why the bag had moved. But all of the windows were closed, and Hannah had just closed the back door herself.

Could there be something inside the bag, like a mouse? Allison and her dad
were
doing construction, and Paisley’s family had had a mouse in their basement when they re-carpeted, so Hannah knew it was possible. Still, she shuddered at the thought.

At that moment, her dad entered the kitchen.

“Hi, Hannah,” he said.

“Shh!” Hannah squeaked, pointing to the paper bag. “I think there’s something
in
there! The bag just moved across the floor
by itself
!”

“Okay, relax,” Mr. Malloy said calmly. “It’s probably just a cricket. I find them around here all the time. That’s what happens in an older house.” He looked around the kitchen for something to use as a weapon and settled on a large wooden spoon.

Hannah raised her eyebrows skeptically at his choice. “What if it’s a mouse, Dad?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He smiled and shrugged. Then he leaned over, reached out slowly, and grabbed the bag at the open end.

Hannah held her breath as she waited to see what was inside.

Her dad held up the bag. It was empty.

Mr. Malloy looked puzzled. “There’s nothing in here except the receipt from the store.”

Hannah’s face went pale. “B-but it moved!” she insisted. “I saw it move!”

Her eyes filled with tears. What was wrong with her? Was she seeing things now, in addition to hearing weird, unexplained noises?

“It’s okay, Hannah,” her dad said gently. “It was probably just a breeze.”

“But, Dad, the windows
aren’t even open
,” Hannah pointed out, her panicked voice rising.

Mr. Malloy looked as perplexed as Hannah felt.

“Well, maybe it really was a cricket, and it hopped away before I picked up the bag,” her dad said. “In any case, I’m going to start dinner. It’ll be ready in about an hour.”

Hannah headed upstairs to her room, feeling numb. There was one thing she was sure of — there definitely had
not
been a cricket in the paper bag.