The Haunted

Her mom frowned. “It’s kind of far. I’m not sure I want you to—”

“I’m going to be in eighth grade, Mom. Jeez! You think I’m such a baby that I can’t walk down the street by myself?”

“No. I’m just saying that it’s a little far away. And maybe the streets of Jardine aren’t as safe as we thought they were.”

Megan knew her mom was thinking about what had happened at their house, and she had no ready answer for that. On impulse, she put the phone back to her ear. “My mom says I can go, but she’s worried about me walking there. Can your mom drive us?”

“Where are we really going?” Zoe asked.

“Zoe says sure, her mom’ll take us.”

“Okay, then.”

Megan gave Zoe her grandparents’ address, then hung up, smiling her thanks at her mom and ignoring James’s hostility. She felt guilty for the deception but was determined not to show it.

It occurred to her that this was a trap, that she was being lured back to the house deliberately, but that worry was fleeting, displaced almost instantly by the need to ascertain whether or not the house was still haunted.

I will kill you both.

Zoe lived only a few blocks away from her grandparents’ place, and she showed up on the doorstep less than ten minutes later. Megan had taken the key to her house from her purse and put it in her pocket, which was hard to accomplish surreptitiously with James following her like a puppy everywhere she went, begging her to take him with her. Ordinarily, she would be taking great delight in his suffering and would be milking it for all it was worth, making him dance through hoops before finally telling him that he could not accompany her, but she had more important things on her mind this morning and ignored him completely, pretending he wasn’t there.

Her grandma offered Zoe some orange juice, but Megan said they had to get going, and after promising to be careful and to be back for lunch, she and Zoe finally made it out the door.

It was a long way to their house and the old downtown, and though to do so was unsafe and wobbly, the two of them rode together on Zoe’s bike, which, luckily, had a retro banana seat that could accommodate both of them. Zoe pedaled slowly, staying on sidewalks as much as possible, and it was nearly a half hour before they turned onto Rainey and pulled to a stop in the driveway of Megan’s house.

She hopped off the bike. The van was gone, which meant that her dad wasn’t home. She didn’t like that. She thought about waiting outside for him, or even coming back later, but it had taken a lot of subterfuge to get here, and this might be her only chance. She’d known that already, which was why she’d brought her key, but the prospect of going in alone still made her nervous, and she looked from window to window, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary.

“So, why are we here?” Zoe asked. They hadn’t been able to talk on the bike, and while that should have given Megan enough time to come up with a plausible explanation, she hadn’t done it. Although she didn’t want to lie to her friend, she didn’t want to spell everything out, either. She wanted Zoe to go in cold, wanted to get her honest, unbiased opinion of the house.

“I need to … get something out of my room,” Megan said lamely.

Zoe looked at her. “Really?” she said dryly. “You called me up, lied to your mom about where you were going, had me sneak you out here on my bike … so you could get something out of your room.” She was about to say something else sarcastic when a strange expression crossed her face. “Wait a minute. You’re not … I mean …” Zoe looked at once worried and suspicious, shocked and scared. “We’re not here to get drugs or something are we? Marijuana?”

“No!”

“What is it, then? You didn’t go through all this effort for nothing.”

“I can’t tell you yet. Just … just trust me.” Before her friend could respond, Megan was taking out her key and walking up to the front door. Her heart was pounding. She really didn’t want to go in, but …

She turned the key in the lock, opened the door.

The two of them walked inside.

Everything was where it was supposed to be. Nothing had been moved. She wasn’t sure why this surprised her, but it did. The morning was bright, and sunlight streamed through the windows, but Megan turned on the light in the living room anyway.

Something about the house had changed.

She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the feeling she got from being here was different from what it had been before. Not better, necessarily. But different. The discomfort she felt now seemed less intimate, less immediately threatening, although it was still there. She said nothing to Zoe, not wanting to frighten her friend, but she could tell that Zoe felt something, too.

It wasn’t gone.