10 - The Ghost Next Door (7 page)

“I see,” Hannah replied awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Danny. I didn’t know. I
thought… well, I didn’t know
what
to think.”

“Mom doesn’t like people to know,” Danny continued, backing toward his house.
“She thinks people will feel sorry for her if they know. She hates to have
people feeling sorry for her. She’s a really good lip-reader. She usually fools
people.”

“Well, I won’t say anything,” Hannah replied. “I mean, I won’t tell anyone. I—” She suddenly felt very stupid.

Her head lowered, she made her way up the driveway toward her front walk.

“See you tomorrow,” Danny called.

“Yeah. Okay,” she replied, thinking about what he had just told her.

She looked up to wave good-night to him.

But he had vanished.

Hannah turned and began jogging around the side of the house toward the back
door. Danny’s words troubled her. She realized all of her thoughts about ghosts
may have been a big mistake.

Her parents were always predicting that some day her imagination would run
away with her.

Now maybe it has, Hannah thought unhappily.

Maybe I’ve totally lost it.

She turned the corner of the house and started toward the back door, her
sneakers squishing on the soft, wet ground.

The light over the porch sent a narrow cone of white light onto the concrete
stoop.

Hannah was nearly to the door when the dark figure, wrapped in black shadow,
its red eyes glowing like hot coals, stepped into the light, blocking her path.

“Hannah—stay away!” It whispered, pointing menacingly at her with one long,
shadowy finger.

Gripped with horror, Hannah thought she saw the shadow of an evil grin inside
the deeper shadow that hovered over the stoop. “Hannah, stay away. Stay away
from DANNY!”

“Noooooooooo!”

In her panic, Hannah didn’t even realize that the howl came from her own
throat.

The red eyes glowed brighter in reaction to her scream. The fiery stare
burned into her eyes, forcing her to shield her face with both hands.

“Hannah—listen to my warning.” The dreadful dry whisper.

The whisper of death.

The sinewy black finger, outlined in the white porchlight, pointed to her,
threatened her again.

And again Hannah cried out in a voice hoarse with terror:
“Nooooooo!”

The dark figure swept closer.

Closer.

And then the kitchen door swung open, throwing a long rectangle of light over the yard.

“Hannah—is that you? What’s going on?”

Her father stepped into the light, his features knotted with concern, his
eyes peering into the darkness through his square eyeglasses.

“Dad—!” Hannah’s voice caught in her throat. “Look out, Dad—he—he—” Hannah pointed.

Pointed to empty air.

Pointed to the empty rectangle of light from the kitchen door.

Pointed to nothing.

The shadow figure had disappeared once again.

Her mind spinning in confusion, feeling dazed and terrified, she hurried past
her father, into the house.

She had told her parents about the frightening dark figure with the glowing
red eyes. Her father carefully searched the back yard, his flashlight playing
over the lawn. He found no footprints in the soft, wet ground, no sign at all of
an intruder.

Hannah’s mother had gazed intently at her, studying her, as if trying to find
some kind of answer in Hannah’s eyes.

“I—I’m not crazy,” Hannah stammered angrily.

Mrs. Fairchild’s cheeks turned pink. “I know that,” she replied tensely.

“Should I call the police? There’s nothing back there,” Mr. Fairchild said,
scratching his thinning brown hair, his eyeglasses reflecting the light from the kitchen ceiling.

“I’ll just go to bed,” Hannah told them, moving abruptly to the door. “I’m
really tired.”

Her legs felt trembly and weak as she hurried down the hall to her room.

Sighing wearily, she pushed open her bedroom door.

The dark shadow figure was waiting for her by her bed.

Hannah gasped and started to back away.

But as the hall light fell into the bedroom, she realized she wasn’t staring
at the frightening figure after all.

She was staring at a longsleeved, dark sweater she had tossed over the
bedpost at the foot of her bed.

Hannah gripped the sides of the doorway. She couldn’t decide whether to laugh
or cry.

“What a night!” she exclaimed out loud.

She clicked on the bedroom ceiling light, then closed the door behind her. As
she made her way over to the bed to pull the sweater off the bedpost, she was
shaking all over.

She pulled off her clothes quickly, tossing them onto the floor, and put on a
nightshirt. Then she climbed under the covers, eager to get to sleep.

But she couldn’t stop her mind from whirring over all that had happened. She
couldn’t stop the frightening pictures from playing in her head, over and over.

The shadows of tree limbs from the front yard shifted and bobbed across the
ceiling. Normally, she found their silent dance soothing. But tonight the moving
shadows frightened her, reminded her of the menacing dark figure that had called
her name.

She tried to think about Danny instead. But those thoughts were just as
troubling.

Danny is a ghost. Danny is a ghost.

The phrase repeated again and again in her mind.

He
had
to be lying about his mother, Hannah decided. He made up the
story about her being deaf because he doesn’t want me to figure out that
she’s
a ghost, too.

Questions, questions.

Questions she couldn’t answer.

If Danny is a ghost, what is he doing here? Why did he move in next door to
me?

Why does he hang out with Alan and Fred? Are they ghosts, too?

Is that why I’ve never seen them at school or in town before? Is that why
I’ve never seen any of them? They’re all ghosts?

Hannah shut her eyes, trying to force all the questions from her mind. But
she couldn’t stop thinking about Danny—and the dark shadow figure.

Why did the dark figure tell me to stay away from Danny? Is it trying to keep
me from proving that Danny is a ghost?

Finally, Hannah fell asleep. But even in sleep, her troubled thoughts pursued
her.

The sinewy black shadow followed her into her dreams. In the dream, she was
standing in a gray cave. A fire burned brightly, far in the distance at the
mouth of the cave.

The black figure, its red eyes glowing brighter than the fire, moved toward
Hannah. Closer. And closer.

And when the black figure came so close, close enough for Hannah to reach out
and touch it, the shadow figure reached up with its sticklike arms and pulled
itself apart.

It reached up with its ebony hands and with bonelike fingers, pulled away the
darkness where its face should be—revealing Danny underneath.

Danny, leering at her with glowing red eyes that burned into hers—until she
woke up gasping for breath.

No,
she thought, staring out the window at the gray dawn.
No. Danny
isn’t the black shadow.

No way.

It isn’t Danny.

It can’t be Danny. The dream makes no sense.

Hannah sat up. Her bedclothes were damp from perspiration. The air in the
room hung heavy and sour.

She kicked off the covers and lowered her feet to the floor.

She knew only one thing for certain after her long night of frightening
thoughts.

She had to talk to Danny.

She couldn’t spend another night like this.

She had to find out the truth.

The next morning, after breakfast, she saw him kicking a soccer ball around
in his back yard. She pulled open the kitchen door and ran outside. The screen
door slammed loudly behind her as she began to run to him.

“Hey, Danny—” she called. “Are you a ghost?”

“Huh?” Danny glanced at her, then kicked the black-and-white soccer ball
against the side of the garage. He was wearing a navy-blue T-shirt over denim
shorts. He had a blue-and-red Cubs cap pulled down over his red hair.

Hannah ran full speed across the driveway and stopped a few feet from him.
“Are you a ghost?” she repeated breathlessly.

He wrinkled his forehead, squinting at her. The ball bounced across the
grass. He stepped forward and kicked it. “Yeah. Sure,” he said.

“No. Really,” Hannah insisted, her heart pounding.

The ball bounced high off the garage, and he caught it against his chest.
“What did you say?” He scratched the back of a knee.

He’s staring at me as if I’m nuts,
Hannah realized.

Maybe I am.

“Never mind,” she said, swallowing hard. “Can I play?”

“Yeah.” He dropped the ball to the grass. “How ya doing?” he asked. “You okay
today?”

Hannah nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

“That was pretty wild last night,” Danny said, kicking the ball gently to
her. “I mean, at Mr. Chesney’s.”

The ball got by Hannah. She chased after it and kicked it back. Normally, she
was a good athlete. But this morning she was wearing sandals, not the best for
kicking a soccer ball.

“I really got scared,” Hannah admitted. “I thought that car that stopped was
the police and—”

“Yeah. It was kind of scary,” Danny said. He picked the ball up and hit it
back to her with his head.

“Do Alan and Fred really go to Maple Avenue School?” Hannah asked. The ball
hit her ankle and rolled toward the driveway.

“Yeah. They’re going to be in ninth grade,” Danny told her, waiting for her
to kick the ball back.

“They’re not new kids? How come I’ve never seen them?” She kicked the ball
hard.

Danny moved to his right to get behind it. He snickered. “How come they’ve
never seen
you?”

He isn’t giving me any straight answers, Hannah realized. I think my questions are making him nervous. He knows I’m
starting to suspect the truth about him.

“Alan and Fred want to go back to Chesney’s,” Danny told her.

“Huh? They what?” She missed the ball and kicked up a clod of grass. “Ow. I
can’t play soccer in sandals!”

“They want to go back tonight. You know. To pay Chesney back for scaring us.
He really hurt my shoulder.”

“I think Alan and Fred are really looking for trouble,” Hannah warned.

Danny shrugged. “Nothing
else
to do in this town,” he muttered.

The ball rolled between them.

“I’ve got it!” they both yelled in unison.

They both chased after the ball. Danny got to it first. He tried to kick it
away from her. But his foot landed on top of the ball. He stumbled over it and
went sprawling onto the grass.

Hannah laughed and jumped over him to get to the ball. She kicked it against
the side of the garage, then turned back to him, smiling triumphantly. “One for
me!” she declared.

He sat up slowly, grass stains smearing the chest of his T-shirt. “Help me
up.” He reached up his hands to hers.

Hannah reached to pull Danny up—and her hands went right through him!

They both uttered startled cries.

“Hey, come on! Help me up,” Danny said.

Her heart pounding, Hannah tried to grab his hands again.

But again her hands went right through his.

“Hey—!” Danny cried, his eyes wide with alarm. He jumped to his feet,
staring at her hard.

“I knew it,” Hannah said softly, raising her hands to her cheeks. She took a
step back, away from him.

“Knew it? Knew
what?”
He continued to stare at her, his face filled
with confusion. “What’s going on, Hannah?”

“Stop pretending,” Hannah told him, suddenly feeling cold all over despite
the bright morning sunshine. “I know the truth, Danny. You’re a ghost.”

“Huh?” His mouth dropped open in disbelief. He pulled off his Cubs cap and
scratched his hair, staring hard at her all the while.

“You’re a ghost,” she repeated, her voice trembling.

“Me?” he cried. “No way! Are you
crazy?
I’m not a ghost!”

Without warning, he stepped in front of her and shot his hand out at her
chest.

Hannah gasped as his hand went right through her body.

She didn’t feel a thing. It was as if she weren’t there.

Danny cried out and jerked his hand back as if he had burned it. He swallowed
hard, his expression tight with horror. “Y-you—” he stammered.

Hannah tried to reply, but the words caught in her throat.

Giving her one last horrified glance, Danny turned and began running at full
speed toward his house.

Hannah stared helplessly after him until he disappeared through the back
door. The door slammed hard behind him.

Dazed, Hannah turned and began to run home.

She felt dizzy. The ground seemed to spin beneath her. The blue sky shimmered
and became blindingly bright. Her house tilted and swayed.

“Danny’s not the ghost,” Hannah said out loud. “I finally know the truth.
Danny’s not the ghost.
I
am!”

Hannah stepped up to the back door, then hesitated.

I can’t go back in now, she thought. I have to think.

Maybe I’ll take a walk or something.

She closed her eyes, trying to force her dizziness away. When she opened
them, everything seemed brighter, too bright to bear.

Stepping carefully off the back stoop, she headed toward the front, her head
spinning.

I’m a ghost.

I’m not a real person anymore.

I’m a ghost.

Voices broke into Hannah’s confused thoughts. Someone was approaching.