The House Next Door (2 page)

Then, all of a sudden, the lights went dim. Amanda spun around and watched as speckles of light began to dance on the walls. She looked up to see a giant mirrored disco ball slowly turning above her.

“What do you think?” Anne asked.

The corner of Amanda's mouth lifted and she nodded. “Amazing!”

“Let's grab the snacks,” Anne suggested. “Mom's just about finished.”

Amanda followed her younger sister into the kitchen, where Mrs. Peterson was standing at the counter dipping large, red strawberries into a bowl filled with dark chocolate. She was wearing a bright red dress and black, shiny patent-leather heels. She also wore the earrings Mr. Peterson had hidden in her Christmas stocking. The earrings sparkled in the light. Amanda couldn't help but think her mom looked glamorous, even though she was wearing her old stained apron over her party dress.

Mrs. Peterson glanced at Amanda and grinned. “You look beautiful, Amanda! I knew we could get you out of those old jeans.”

“I told Alyssa you'd like my present,” Anne said, looking very smug while sitting on a stool at the counter next to their mom. “She said you wouldn't be seen in public wearing it because it's a skirt.”

“I do like it.” Amanda smiled at her sister. “Are these for us, Mom?” Amanda asked, walking over to a large plate filled with the delicious chocolate-covered strawberries.

“I made them especially for you,” Mrs. Peterson said, knowing her middle daughter loved the secret ingredient—a pinch of sea salt in the dark chocolate. The
sweet-salty combo was Amanda's favorite indulgence.

“Thanks, Mom,” Amanda replied. She grabbed the plate and headed for the basement stairs. Anne wrinkled her nose at the passing strawberries, never really caring much for any kind of fruit—even those covered in chocolate. She hopped off the stool, grabbed a few bottles of soda, and was quickly on Amanda's heels. Mrs. Peterson chuckled and shook her head. Even though her three girls were close in age, they were very different from one another.

Alyssa was twelve; Amanda was eleven; and Anne was ten. It was a family tradition for everyone in the Peterson family to have a first name that started with
A
. The girls always told their friends it was easy to remember who was oldest because their names lined up in alphabetical order: Alyssa, Amanda, then Anne. Being the oldest, Alyssa was known as the responsible one. Not only was she a straight-A student and on the honor roll, she was also the treasurer of her seventh-grade class and secretary of the Environmental Club. Amanda was in sixth grade and loved to play sports, especially in the warm Texas sun, and was already cocaptain of the varsity volleyball squad. And Anne, the youngest
and in fifth grade, was a social butterfly—spunky, fun-loving, and always up for a dare! But as different as they were, they were as close as sisters could be. Also with Anne's recent growth spurt—that added two inches to her height—the girls often overheard people saying that they could pass for triplets.

Amanda entered the basement with Anne close behind her, and she carefully placed the overflowing plate of strawberries next to the rest of the snacks on the coffee table.

“Where have you been?” Alyssa asked. “I've been waiting for you both to help me.” She was teetering on a chair, trying to center a gold-and-silver
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
banner on the wall above the sliding glass doors in the basement. She glanced at her sisters and nearly fell off the chair. She knew Anne couldn't wait to wear her new dress, but she was surprised to see how grown-up her little sister looked in it! Anne spun in a circle and the cream-colored dress twirled around her. Her eyes twinkled just as brightly as the rhinestones on her black velvet belt. She even added a swipe of lip gloss that matched her cheerful poppy-colored cardigan and flats.

Alyssa was equally surprised to see Amanda—one
of the biggest tomboys she knew—wearing a skirt! She was about to say something when a small wobble from the chair snapped her attention back to balancing on it.

“Is this centered?” Alyssa asked, still holding the banner.

Anne stepped back to get a better look, and crossed her arms. “A little to the left,” she directed. Alyssa adjusted the banner.

“No, too much! Now an inch down,” Anne said.

Alyssa sighed. Her arms ached from holding up the sign. “There!” she declared, putting a thumbtack into it. Crooked or too low, the banner was hung. She leaped off the chair as graceful as a cat—a sure sign of the many years she had spent in the ballet studio.

Alyssa eyed the clock and walked over to a small table to pick up the list she created days earlier. Studying it, she frowned. “Okay, guys, we're now officially running late,” she told her sisters. “It's seven twenty, and our guests will start to arrive in about ten minutes.” She quickly scanned the goodies on the snack table. “Anne, run upstairs and grab the sparkling cider and plastic champagne flutes. We'll need them to make a toast at midnight.”

Alyssa then walked back over to the sliding glass doors and looked outside. “Looks like the rain has stopped. Amanda, you'll need to clean up the porch. Sweep off all the leaves, put some candles around, arrange the chairs in a semicircle, and put the table over there,” she said, pointing to the far side of the porch. “And pick some wildflowers from the meadow. We can use them to brighten up the porch.”

Amanda shot a look at Anne, and they both rolled their eyes. It always seemed like Alyssa was bossing them around, but they were used to it by now.

“I'll organize the snack table so it doesn't look like a huge mess,” Alyssa continued. “Remember, we only have ten minutes. So hurry!”

Amanda grabbed the broom, a couple of old jam jars to use as flower vases, and some tea lights from the cupboard and went out to the porch. Winters in Glory, Texas, were usually sunny and warm during the day, but the temperature could dip when the sun went down. Even so, the Peterson sisters agreed that as long as it didn't rain too much, it would be fun to celebrate outside while the clock ticked toward midnight.

Amanda wiped all the furniture dry and then swept
the leaves away. And although the wooden furniture was now arranged and tidy, it still looked drab. Annoyed that Alyssa had been right about needing flowers to brighten up the porch, Amanda sighed loudly and walked behind the Petersons' house, where she was sure to find some wildflowers in the vast meadow that surrounded their house.

Amanda had always loved smelling the subtle, sweet scent of the wildflowers as she played catch with her dad in the evenings or practiced basketball layups in the driveway. The colorful fields that surrounded their redbrick home made it look just like a picture on a postcard. But she always wished that they lived a little closer to town. Their house was miles away from school, and she always felt so isolated living out in the middle of
nowhere
, as she usually put it. One tiny, winding dirt road was the only way to get to and from the Petersons' house. Sometimes her friends' parents would complain about making the drive for after-school homework sessions and weekend sleepovers. And, to be fair, it really was far from town. Amanda also wished she had neighbors she could visit. Only one house stood along with the Petersons' at the end of the dusty road. And it had
been abandoned since before they had even moved to Glory, so it didn't really count.

Amanda remembered noticing earlier that day while it was still light, that the prettiest wildflowers were blooming in the field farthest from their home—and closest to the abandoned house. Amanda bit her bottom lip. She didn't want her sisters to call her chicken, but she also didn't want to get in trouble. Their parents never wanted them roaming too close to the deserted house.

And that was fine with Amanda and Alyssa. They never liked getting too close anyway. It was a strange house. And it always left them feeling uneasy. Vines—dead and brown—enveloped it, making it look like a bug trapped in a spider web. The mailbox hung from its post by a single rusty nail—waiting to be released to its freedom—and creaked at the smallest passing breeze. And, once, she and Alyssa saw the mailbox swinging back and forth on its nail on a perfectly still and cloudless day.

For some reason, only the youngest Peterson sister, Anne, had never been bothered by the house's oddities. She had laughed when her sisters told her that a silly old
mailbox had made them run as fast as wild horses back into the safety of their own house. And, of course, they later agreed that there had to be a rational explanation for why the mailbox had swayed back and forth on a windless day. An animal could have scampered across and the girls didn't see it. Still, the thought of anything having to do with the house sent a chill down Amanda's spine.

As Amanda reached the wildflowers, she thought about that eerie day, and her heart thumped rapidly in her chest. She quickly gathered the prettiest flowers, willing herself not to look over at the old house. The basket she was carrying was just about filled when she heard a screeching sound. Amanda cringed. She couldn't resist it any longer. She looked up toward the house.

There it stood, forbidding as always, surrounded by the same dead trees. Amanda held her breath as she waited for more sounds to come from the direction of the house. There were none. Amanda puffed out her cheeks while exhaling with relief. But her muscles quickly tightened as she noticed something about the house that sent a cold shock through her veins. The shutters on the attic window, which had been tightly closed and locked
ever since the Petersons moved to Glory, were suddenly wide open. The window, now exposed to the world, stared dark and bleak, almost as though the house were alive and glaring straight toward Amanda.

Paul Furby flew down the stairs two at a time. “Who's ready to party?” he cried when he landed with a thud at the bottom. Typical Paul. The Peterson girls had known Paul for what seemed like forever. He was in seventh grade with Alyssa at Glory Middle School and towered over all three of the sisters with his tall, wiry frame. Paul was wearing his usual outfit: gray jeans, a plaid flannel shirt unbuttoned over a black T-shirt, and sneakers. He leaped into the center of the room, threw up his hands, and whipped his head to flip the hair out of his eyes. It was Paul Furby's signature move.

Alyssa took one look at Paul and rolled her eyes. He was the first of the Peterson sisters' friends to arrive.
Paul loved being the center of attention and would no doubt have everyone laughing at his corny jokes and goofy dance moves later. But now he only made a mad dash for the jelly beans and started tossing them into the air and catching them with his mouth.

Amanda giggled as she watched him tumble backward while trying to catch an overthrown jelly bean. Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to find Carrie Hernández grinning back at her. Carrie looked over to Paul and back to Amanda, giving her a knowing look and wider smile.

“You're finally here!” Amanda squealed, giving her friend a quick hug. “What took you so long? It's almost eight.” Carrie was actually Alyssa's best friend, but Amanda had known her for so many years that she was almost like a second older sister.

“I couldn't decide what to wear,” Carrie replied.

“I've heard that before!” Amanda teased. Amanda looked at her, and as always, Carrie was perfectly dressed. Her jeans and blue velvet top complemented her smooth olive skin. Amanda noticed she was wearing a hint of makeup and knew that Mrs. Hernández sometimes allowed it for special occasions. The green eyeliner
made Carrie's eyes glimmer and pop. She was one of the nicest kids at Glory Middle School, and she was friends with everyone. Her outfits always matched her sunny outlook and fun personality. Tonight was no different.

Carrie playfully nudged Amanda, but it was a little too hard since Amanda stumbled and bumped right into Paul. Jelly beans scattered all over the floor. Amanda and Paul dropped to their hands and knees, recklessly scooping up the candy, when she accidentally knocked foreheads with him.

“Ouch!” he shouted, rubbing a spot directly above his forehead. “Are you trying to knock me out?”

“Sorry!” Amanda said, jumping up and hurrying over to where Alyssa's MP3 player was docked. Carrie followed her.

“I didn't mean to push you,” Carrie whispered. “I promise!”

Amanda fiddled with the MP3 player. “Don't worry about it. Do you think Paul looks cute tonight?” she asked.

Carrie answered by teasingly batting her long, dark eyelashes. “Amanda,” Carrie said. “I think you're blushing.”

“I am not,” Amanda replied, but she could feel her cheeks burning. “Anyway,” Amanda said, trying to compose herself, “I've created a special playlist for tonight.” She turned up the volume as Carrie walked over to the basement's makeshift dance floor.

“I hope there's some dance music on there,” Olivia Lange called from the basement's bottom step. Amanda rushed over to her and gave her a quick hug. Olivia was carrying a pillow and large overnight bag. Amanda could see several outfits jammed into it.