The Haunting by Rodman Philbrick Read Free Book Online Page B

red.
    â€œGotcha,” I said.
    â€œThat’s cheating. I never snuck up on you. All I did was tell a scary story.”
    â€œHey, Steve!”
    I wheeled around. That was a girl’s voice calling Steve. It turned out to be this black-haired girl with big, dark eyes. She came down to the landing and stood there with her hands in the pockets of her denim cutoffs. “I heard somebody calling for help,” she said.
    â€œForget about it, Lucy,” Steve said. He made a face at me to shut up.
    â€œHi,” I said. “We were just fooling around.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Jason. Do you live around here, Lucy?”
    â€œMy family comes here every summer,” she said, smiling. “I’ve known Steve since I was six.”
    â€œCareful of him, Lucy.” Steve warned. “Jason’s our age but sometimes he acts about six. Or maybe he’s possessed by the old witch that haunts that house he’s staying in.”
    â€œWhaaat?” Lucy raised her eyebrows at me.
    â€œSteve’s just mad ’cause he can’t take a joke,” I said.
    â€œJason’s spending the summer in that creepy old place on Cherry Street,” said Steve. “The one that weird old lady used to live in.”
    Lucy’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard stories about that place, too. What’s it like, living there?”
    â€œWhat kind of stories?” I asked, my pulse quickening.
    Lucy looked away. “Nothing much really. Just silly stuff. You know how people make things up.”
    â€œGo on, Lucy,” urged Steve wickedly. “Tell him.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Tell me.” At first I didn’t want to know but now I had to, she was acting so mysterious.
    â€œWell,” said Lucy. “A family came to stay in that house last year but they only stayed a couple of days.”
    I nodded. Steve had already told me that.
    â€œMy parents talked to them just before they left. They said that one night the ghost of an old woman came into their kids’ bedroom,” said Lucy. “Although it wasn’t an old woman, really, more a skeleton, all bent over and wearing some kind of black cape. She pointed her fingerbone at the little kids and warned them to get out. They said her voice sounded like it came from the grave.”
    I snorted. It sounded like another made-up story.
    Lucy held up her hand. “That’s not the end of it. The ghost then snapped her skeleton fingers and there was a huge clap of thunder and the bed lifted up and turned over on the kids. They thought they were going to suffocate! Their parents found them like that, trapped under the bed. Naturally they left the next day and nobody’s been in that house since. Until you.” She looked questioningly at me.
    I tried to think of something funny to say but nothing sprang to mind. “There’s always stories about old houses,” I finally said dismissively.
    â€œOf course,” said Lucy. “We know there isn’t really any such thing as ghosts.”
    She had a real nice way of laughing, I noticed.
    Lucy took a band off her wrist and pulled her long hair into a ponytail. “The real truth is probably something boring like the kids heard noises all night. All old houses make strange noises. They got scared and made up that story so their parents would leave.”
    â€œOr maybe she threatened to roast the kids like Thanksgiving turkeys,” Steve said with a big laugh, shoving me and then dodging away.
    â€œOr maybe she sneaked in and pinched their toes, scaring them half to death,” I teased.
    Lucy looked at us and shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m going for a swim.”
    â€œI’ll come, too,” I said.
    â€œI’m waterlogged,” said Steve, dropping into one of the wooden chairs on the little beach.
    As we entered the water, I turned to Lucy and asked what she