The Ghost in the Third Row by Bruce Coville Read Free Book Online Page B

was looking at the four of us as if we were all from another planet.
    â€œWhy didn’t you say something back in the theater?” Chris asked Gwendolyn.
    â€œBe sensible,” she answered. “Can you imagine the effect that would have had on those ninnies? You know what they say about freedom of speech: It doesn’t extend to shouting ‘Fire!’ in a crowded theater. My saying I’ve seen the ghost would have been the same thing.”
    â€œBut it’s not the same,” I protested. “Of course you’re not supposed to shout ‘Fire’ if there isn’t one. But there really was a fire—or ghost—in this case.”
    The second I finished, I could have bitten my tongue. I had gotten so wrapped up in the conversation I forgot it was Gwendolyn I was talking to. I winced and waited for her to start yelling.
    â€œGood point, Nine,” she said in a totally reasonable tone of voice. “Maybe I was mistaken.”
    Sometimes I think that was the biggest surprise of that entire surprising night.
    Chris said the same thing after we left. Actually, her exact words were, “I almost fell off my chair when the old bat admitted she was wrong.” But you get the idea.
    We were feeling pretty good, despite the fact that Melissa was still with us. Once Gwendolyn was convinced we had actually seen the ghost, she was a lot less angry about the fuss we had caused. She did ask us to try to keep our mouths shut about the whole thing, since the cast was panicked enough already.
    When I had asked her about Lydia’s dress she got a concerned look on her face. “I don’t know what that was all about,” she had said firmly. “But I do know the ghost of Lily Larkin didn’t do that damage.”
    I was going to bring the question up to Chris as we were walking through the lobby, but she spoke first.
    â€œLet’s cut through the theater,” she said. “My father said he wants to pick me up on Jefferson Street from now on, because the traffic’s not so tricky. The side exit will take us out right where he wants to meet us.”
    â€œWon’t it be locked?” I asked.
    â€œNah, Pop won’t be locking up for an hour or two yet. Come on.”
    â€œWell, my father is picking me up out front,” said Melissa, as if that were somehow more respectable. She flounced off through the lobby.
    â€œCome on,” said Chris, taking me by the arm. I wasn’t really sure I wanted to go back into the theater. But since I was riding home with Chris, I didn’t have much choice.
    Besides, I had a feeling I knew what was really going through her mind when she suggested the detour: she was hoping we might have a chance to see the ghost again. I could tell she was beginning to feel the way I did about the ghost, that she was almost like a friend.
    We pulled open the big brass and glass doors and stepped into the theater. It seemed much spookier than earlier in the evening, when everyone else had been in it. A single worklight was burning on the stage. Other than that it was dark. Very dark.
    â€œLet’s go out the front way,” I said nervously.
    â€œDon’t be a wimp,” whispered Chris. “Come on!”
    â€œWhy are we speaking in whispers?” I asked—speaking in a whisper myself.
    Chris shrugged. I knew what she meant. There wasn’t any logical reason. It just seemed the right thing to do.
    We began tiptoeing down the aisle. Suddenly Chris put her hand on my arm. “What’s that?” she hissed.
    I stopped dead in my tracks. It took a moment for me to locate the sound. Finally I realized it was coming from the front of the theater.
    But it wasn’t the ghost. It was Pop. He was sitting in the third row, crying his eyes out.

CHAPTER TEN
    More Costumes
    It was almost eleven by the time Chris and her father dropped me off. I found my dad in the kitchen, stirring something in a big