Baby-sitters Club - The Ghost At Dawn's House Part 6

Ghosts and Spooks was waiting for us on my nightstand. We sat on my bed and I took the flashlight from Jeff and opened the book. First I read him "Things Unseen." Then I read him the story about the phantom hitchhiker. Then I read him "The Haunting of Weatherstaff Moor."

Before 1 got to one of the new ones at the end of the book, Jeff turned to me and said, "Let's stop now, Dawn."

"Had enough?" I asked.

He nodded. I couldn't tell if he was bored, scared, or sleepy.

"Now what should we do?" he asked. From the way he sounded, I decided he was bored.

"Let's try to play a game by flashlight," I suggested.

We tried. It was next to impossible. There was never enough light, even after Jeff perched the flashlight in a sort of sling made from a dish towel that he suspended from the edge of a table.

"I give up," I said.

Jeff yawned hugely. "What a waste of a Friday night," he said. "Do you know all the great TV shows we're missing?"

"Wellll," 1 said slowly. "There is something we could do, and all we need is a flashlight."

"What?" Jeff looked mildly interested.

"Back to my room," I ordered.

I led Jeff up the stairs again and straight to the wall with the fancy molding.

"Watch this," I said. "Here, hold the light."

I pressed a corner of the molding (it hadn't taken long to figure out how the catch worked), and the wall swung inward.

Jeff gasped. "Hey! Hey, what . . .?"

"I discovered this a couple of days ago," I told him. "It's a real, honest-to-goodness secret pa.s.sage."

"I don't believe it," said Jeff flatly.

"Come on. Want to see it?"

I'd taken the b.u.t.ton and buckle and key out of the pa.s.sage and hidden them in one of my bureau drawers. Somehow, without the evidence of the ghost, the ghost himself seemed less scary.

"Come on," I said again. I grabbed Jeff's hand and pulled him into the pa.s.sage. "I didn't say anything because I - I just wanted a secret, I guess. But anyway, isn't this great?"

Wide-eyed, Jeff followed me through the pa.s.sage to the rickety old steps. He had to walk behind me. The pa.s.sage wasn't wide enough for two.

We were just about to start down the stairs when Jeff said, "Stop, Dawn. Look at that!"

"What?" I cried.

"Let me have the flashlight for a sec."

I handed it to him and he shined it against the wall near the top step. I could see something gleaming there. An image of the things I'd squirreled away in my bureau came to mind.

Jeff brushed aside a dust bunny with his foot. Then he stooped down and picked up the object.

"What is it?" I asked. I tried to sound calm, but if my heart was beating as loudly as I thought it was, my brother could probably hear it, too.

Jeff examined the object in the light.

"It's a nickel," he said, sounding puzzled. "At least, it says 'five cents' on it, but it doesn't look like any nickel I've ever seen. There's a picture of an Indian on one side and a buffalo on the other. Maybe it's foreign. . . . No, it's from the U.S."

"Indian-head nickels are real old," I informed him. "They made those nickels before the ones they make now. Let's see the date on that."

Jeff and I turned the nickel over and over and around and around, but it was rubbed so smooth we couldn't find a date.

"It must have worn off," said Jeff.

"Gosh, if it's worn off, this nickel must be ancient. It takes forever for metal to wear down."

"Yeah," agreed Jeff. "I wonder how it got here."

"Good question," I muttered, but Jeff didn't hear me.

"Well, let's go," he said.

Jeff was in front now and he led the way down the stairs. We had rounded the corner and were heading through the long tunnel to the barn when something crunched under my foot. I let out a cry. I was sure it was bones . . . part of a skeleton.

"What was that?" cried Jeff.

"Oh, I don't want to know," I moaned.

Jeff played the flashlight beam around on the floor. A few inches from my left foot, it lit up a small brown mound. Jeff and I bent down.

"I think it's part of an ice-cream cone," I said, although Jeff and I have eaten maybe two cones in our health-food lives.

"Really?" Jeff replied. "I thought ice-cream cones were kind of yellow and, you know, airy looking. And they have flat bottoms. Don't they? Remember that time Dad took us to Dairy Queen? What's left of that thing," he went on, touching the mound with the toe of his sneaker, "is brown and hard and has a pointed bottom."

"You know, I think this is an old-fashioned ice-cream cone," I said. I felt scared, awed, and excited at the same time. I wondered how long the cone had been in the pa.s.sage. More important, I wondered why I hadn't seen either the cone or the nickel the other day. Can ghosts make things materialize? I was sure they hadn't been there before.

"Um, Jeff," I managed to say, "I don't want to scare you, but this pa.s.sage is haunted - by an angry ghost. The ghost of someone who was locked up here to die a long time ago."

"Oh, for cripe's sakes," said Jeff. He gave me a really disgusted look. "You have got to be kidding."

"No, I'm not," I replied in a hushed voice.

"Okay," said Jeff, "the pa.s.sage is haunted. . . . Prove it."

"I don't think I can prove it," I told him, "but I have been hearing an awful let of weird noises lately. Mom keeps saying things like 'the house is settling.' "

"She's right," said Jeff.

"Houses moan when they settle?"

Jeff looked startled. "Moan?"

"Yeah. Like this." I tried to imitate the moaning I'd heard.

"It could have been the storm," Jeff said, but he didn't look convinced, especially when I added disdainfully, "I do know the difference between something howling outside and something moaning inside."

"Well . . ."

"And," I went on, "the cone and the nickel weren't here the day I discovered the pa.s.sage. I went looking pretty carefully, and I found a buckle and a b.u.t.ton and a key. But these things weren't here."

"What are you saying?" asked Jeff, looking nervous in the flickering light.

"I'm saying that until right now, I didn't tell anyone about the pa.s.sage. So no one's been in it except me, right?"

"Right."

"So where did the cone and the nickel come from?"

Jeff didn't answer. His eyes were growing wide, and he couldn't seem to close his mouth.

"There's only one answer," I told him. "A ghost. And I'll tell you something else. I don't think I should have taken those other things out of the pa.s.sage. I think the ghost is mad and wants them back. And we better not take these, either. Go put the nickel back where you found it."

"Me? I'm not putting it back. Not alone, anyway." Jeff now looked truly terrified. His voice had risen to a squeak.

"Well, I'm not coming with you. We're much closer to the other end of the pa.s.sage. I want to get out of here."

Jeff scowled at me. "Look at it this way," he said. "I've got the flashlight. If I go, the light goes with me. You'll be left alone in the dark."

I paused. He had a point. "Okay," I said. "Anyway, I just realized that we might as well both turn around now. We have to take the pa.s.sage back to my room after all. It's pouring outside."

"Where is the other end of the pa.s.sage?" asked Jeff.

"In the barn."

And at that moment we heard a creak, followed by a moan.

"Aughhh!" we yelled. Without another word of discussion, we turned and ran headlong through the pa.s.sage, up the stairs, and back to my room. Jeff dropped the nickel somewhere as we ran.

Chapter 9.

Somehow Jeff and I had managed to forget about the power failure. We had burst out of the pa.s.sage and into my room, and I had slammed the wall shut behind us before we realized we were still in total darkness. It wasn't very comforting.

We flopped down on my bed, breathing heavily.

"It was the ghost!" I cried. "And he's carrying a grudge that's probably a hundred years old."

Cre-e-e-ak. Cre-e-e-ak.

Jeff and I jumped a mile. "I think the ghost's in the pa.s.sage right now!" Jeff cried.

I'm sure I turned pale. I felt my knees go weak. "I'm calling Mom!" I announced, wondering if I could stand up without collapsing.

"Oh, good," said Jeff. He grabbed me at the waist, and followed me out of my room and into Mom's. We looked like two little kids playing choo-choo train.

As I reached for the phone, Jeff said helpfully, "I hope the telephone is still working."

I drew my hand back. "What if it isn't?" I whispered.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. At last, I reached my hand out again. I picked up the receiver and brought it to my ear very slowly. Halfway there, I could hear the dial tone. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," I said to no one in particular.

I figured Mom and her date would be at Granny and Pop-Pop's by then, so I called their house. Pop-Pop answered the phone, and I got carried away and told him we were having an emergency.

When Mom got to the phone, she sounded breathless and nervous. "Honey? Are you and Jeff all right?" she asked.

"Mom!" I exclaimed. "The power's off here, it's all dark, and there's this secret pa.s.sage from my room to the barn - I know I should have told you about it, but I didn't - and Jeff and I looked in it, and we have a ghost."

"We heard noises!" Jeff shouted into the receiver from behind me.

"Dawn. Slow down. What are you saying?" asked my mother.

"I found a secret pa.s.sage in our house. A real one." I paused. "Mom, the power's off here. Jeff and I are in the dark, except for a flashlight."

"I understand that, honey. But we've had power failures before. Now what is this about a secret pa.s.sage?"

"You know how I'm always looking for one?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Well, I found one the other day. I promise it's not a figment of my imagination or anything. But I kept it a secret. I didn't even tell Mary Anne."

"And where is this pa.s.sage?"

"It runs from under the barn - there's a trapdoor in the floor - to my room. You know the wall with all the molding? It swings out into my room when you press a corner of the molding."

"Are you positive, Dawn?"

"'Yes. Cross my heart and hope to die. And tonight Jeff got bored, so I decided to show him the pa.s.sage. We'd almost gotten to the other end when we heard these noises. It really did sound like - "

Mom interrupted me before I could finish. "Trip and I will be right there. Sit tight, stay calm, and don't go back in the pa.s.sage." She hung up.

"So?" Jeff said as soon as I'd hung up the phone, too. We both felt a little more relaxed. "What'd she say?"