Scaredy Kat (14 page)

“Probably,” I replied. “But sometimes that’s an issue, too. I don’t know. Sometimes I just feel like I need to start being
more independent. It doesn’t have anything to do with her personally.

“It’s just, I don’t know. Ever since I turned thirteen, I’ve felt like I had to kind of establish a little space between us.
I need to be me by myself—not attached to her all the time. She’ll help me through everything. Regular stuff and supernatural
stuff. And for some reason I just feel like I have to not let her. Does that make any sense?”

“Maybe a tiny bit,” Jac said. “But I’d still rather be you any day of the week.”

“You’ve got a better nose,” I said.

“You’ve got better hair,” Jac countered.

“Your butt is smaller,” I stated.

“You’re taller,” she shot back.

“You’ve got cuter feet,” I declared.

Jac grinned.

“Well now, that is true. I
do
have cuter feet.”

We laughed, and I threw one of my pillows at Jac’s head.

“I can’t believe we have to go back to school on Monday,” Jac said, throwing the pillow back at me. Max opened one eye, then
closed it again.

“I know,” I said. “And we need to finish the basic communications project today,” I reminded Jac.

“You got the pages I e-mailed you, right?” Jac asked.

“Yeah. They’re really good. But we have to get the whole thing into a finished form. Choose which pictures to use. Lay out
the text and pictures. Print it.”

“That’ll only take an hour,” Jac said, snuggling under her blanket.

“Maybe two,” I said.

“We’ll do it this afternoon. First, let’s do something fun,” Jac said. “Let’s take the bus into town. We can go shopping.”

“I can’t afford to go shopping,” I said.

“Well, you can afford to take the bus,” Jac replied. “Let’s go into town and have some fun.”

I agreed. We dressed quickly, stopping for a quick detour in the kitchen.

“No one bakes like this,” Jac said, her mouth full of blueberry muffin. “Your mom could make a fortune if she ever opened
a bakery. Remind me to kiss her feet the next time I see her. Is she still asleep?”

“She’s probably meditating,” I said. “She does that for an hour every morning.”

Jac said something I couldn’t make out, because she’d taken another large bite.

“Can we go already?” I urged her.

Jac nodded, and we left the kitchen and headed out the front door. On the sidewalk, I stopped by the van Hecht’s mailbox and
put something inside it.

“What was that?” Jac asked.

“Something I found in the backyard,” I explained. “A little toy tank. I’m guessing it belonged to our Tank. Seems like it
ought to stay with the house.”

We stood for a moment, looking up at the peeling clapboards.

“It is a nice house,” Jac said, and I nodded.

We were turning to go when we saw a car slow down and turn into the van Hechts’ driveway. A man got out of the driver’s seat
and opened the back door. He helped someone else get out of the back of the car. The man caught sight of me and Jac and waved
hello. When we waved back, he walked over to us.

“’Morning,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied. “I’m Kat. I live right here,” I told him, pointing at our house.

“Ah, good!” he said. “I’m Marcus van Hecht. I own this house. We moved away a few years back and were going to sell the place,
but we’re thinking about moving back in now.”

Someone walked up behind Mr. van Hecht, and the man turned and put his arm around the boy.

“And this is my son, Tank,” he said, grinning broadly.

I took a sharp breath, and felt fortunate that I hadn’t accidentally blurted out a shocked sound.

“Hi,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’m Kat, and this is Jac.”

“Hey,” Tank said. “Nice to meet you.”

He was taller than I thought he’d be. He looked exactly my age now, no longer the skinny boy I’d seen upstairs. He was a bit
frail, and leaned on a cane for support. His face was quite handsome, though there was something funny about his eyes. He
had the slightly confused look of someone who’d just woken up abruptly, which I supposed, in a way, he had.

“Well, hopefully we’ll see you around,” Mr. van Hecht said. “My wife will be coming by later. She was worried the house would
be nothing but a heap, imagining people were vandalizing it and breaking in every day.”

“Oh, we don’t have many break-ins around here,” I said, feeling guilty. I was probably the only culprit.

“Yes, of course. Excellent,” Mr. van Hecht said. I tried to return his smile, but it was hard. I couldn’t help remembering
how he’d dismissed Orin. I still felt kind of mad about it.

We said our good-byes, and I started to turn away when Tank spoke.

“I . . . do we know each other?” Tank asked. “I mean, have we met before today?”

It was hard to meet Tank’s gaze, but I made myself do it.

“You just seem sort of familiar,” Tank added, because I hadn’t responded. “When did you move here?”

“Two years ago,” I said, and Tank wrinkled his forehead.

“Oh,” he said. “Well then I wouldn’t . . . I guess we couldn’t have met, then.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “It’s a strange world. Anything is possible.”

Tank gave me a funny look, then nodded and waved a good-bye.

It certainly was a strange world. But I wasn’t terrified of what was in mine anymore. The butterflies in my stomach had gone.

Tomorrow, I had my first lesson scheduled with Orin, and I had already decided what I’d do afterward. I would go to the van
Hechts’ house and break in for the last time. I would face the old man, not because he was scaring me into it, but because
I was choosing to help him. After that, I wouldn’t be a Scaredy Kat anymore.

I had no doubt that there would be new things that would frighten me. But, with help, there was nothing supernatural I couldn’t
handle. I would always see dead people. But now it would be on my terms, not theirs.

It was a strange world. I’d met a ghost, and soon he’d be moving in next door.

If that could happen, then anything was possible.