Part 4 (1/2)

Claudia laughed and went over to help. ”These are the Perkins girls,” she said. ”Gabbie and Myriah.” The clerk must have been new, or else she'd have recognized them. She looked up their cards and checked out the books. It had turned out to be a pretty big stack, so Claud helped carry them out to the -wagon.

The girls piled in with their books and spent the trip home telling each other and Claudia the story of Mike Mulligan. They decided that Mike should have lived in in the Little House. the Little House.

Claud got them home just as Mrs. Perkins returned from the doctor's office. Dr. Dellenkamp had given her a prescription for Laura and said that she'd be fine in no time.

By then it was almost time for the Babysitters Club meeting, so Claud ran home as soon as she'd said her good-byes to the girls and to Mrs. Perkins. She was excited about what she'd found out and proud of herself for sticking with the research. She was dying to tell us all about Mr. Ronald Hennessey.

Chapter 10.

While Claudia was doing her research at the library, Charlotte and I were doing some research of our own.

It was Monday afternoon. I'd gotten home from school to find Charlotte feeling ”all well,” as she had put it. My mom, who had spent the day with Charlotte, headed out to do some errands.

”There's a snack set out for you on the table, honey,” she said. Sometimes she still treats me like a fourth-grader, which isn't such a terrible thing. It's nice to feel taken care of.

I sat down with Charlotte and ate my fruit and crackers while she told me about her day. Since she'd been home all day, her story wasn't that exciting: She'd watched TV, read, and taught my mom how to play War. But it was nice to come home to find my ”little sister” waiting for me. I'd really been enjoying Charlotte's company, probably even more than if she really were were my little sister. Real sisters do things like fight and tease each other, and we never do that. We just have a good time together. my little sister. Real sisters do things like fight and tease each other, and we never do that. We just have a good time together.

After I'd eaten, Charlotte followed me upstairs. I wanted to change out of my school clothes, since I'd worn a new outfit that day and I wanted to keep it nice. I'd gotten this pink polka-dotted short skirt with suspender straps and had worn it with an oversized white T-s.h.i.+rt. I had on my pink high-top sneakers, folded down to show their striped lining. I'd also worn these great earrings Claud had given me for my last birthday. They had all these little pink plastic hearts dangling down from one bigger heart. In case you haven't noticed, I do like the color pink!

By the time I'd finished changing, Charlotte and. I had decided to take a walk. Charlotte was feeling great - she'd be able to go to school the next day, for sure - and she wanted to get outside. Guess where we went. That's right. There was something about that old house. We just couldn't stay away from it.

When we got there, the workmen were packing up their tools and getting ready to leave. It was early again, not even four o'clock yet, but .they seemed to be in a hurry. Charlotte and I stayed out of their way until they had driven off.

We decided to walk around the house again, just as we had the last time we were there. It didn't look all that different. The workmen must have still been taking things out from the inside. A couple of windows had been pulled from the walls and they were leaning against the house. The bushes around the sides looked a little beaten down where the workers had been walking. And the railing on the back porch had come loose and was hanging at a crazy angle.

”You know, Charlotte,” I said, ”I think all those noises we heard last time were just in our imaginations.”

She looked at me. Maybe she could tell by my tone of voice that I was really just trying to convince myself - and her - that there was nothing to be scared of. ”But what about the things we saw, saw, Stacey?” she asked. ”What about the flies, and that face at the window?” Stacey?” she asked. ”What about the flies, and that face at the window?”

”I'm sure there's an explanation for everything,” I said. ”Maybe those flies were actually termites.” The face I wasn't so sure about. Maybe I'd just imagined that. After all, I'd been the only one to see it. That must be it. My imagination had just run away with me last Friday.

'Tire! Fire!” yelled Charlotte all of a sudden. She sounded terrified.

She was pointing toward a window on the first floor. Sure enough, flames were shooting out of it. Uh-oh. This was not not my imagination. This was serious. my imagination. This was serious.

I looked around frantically. How could I put out the blaze? What if the whole house started burning? There was no hose, and even if there had been one, I didn't see any faucets on the outside of the house. Finally I saw a wheelbarrow off to the side, almost hidden in the weeds. It was full of rainwater! I ran to grab it and started to push it toward the house. Water sloshed around and spilled all over my legs, but I kept on pus.h.i.+ng.

Charlotte had been shrieking all this time, but suddenly she stopped. I'd gotten the wheelbarrow almost up to the house. Now I looked at the window and saw that the flames had disappeared. I felt like I was going crazy. What was happening here?

My heart was pounding like mad, and I could hardly catch my breath. I set the wheelbarrow down and walked toward the window. Charlotte hung back. I looked at the empty frame. The wood wasn't charred, and the paint wasn't blistered. I didn't smell smoke. I reached up gingerly and touched the sill. It wasn't even warm. I couldn't see inside the window, but I could tell that where there once had been fire there was no fire now. The house stood silent and cold.

I turned to look at Charlotte. Her face was white and she was hugging herself as if to keep warm. ”Our imaginations again?” she asked in a small voice.

I just shook my head, bewildered. Why had we ever come back to this place? Something very weird was happening here. This house was not at rest. I grabbed Charlotte's hand and walked home quickly, without looking back.

At the Baby-sitters Club meeting that afternoon, we told everybody what we'd seen, and Claud filled us in on her research. That was one meeting where not much business got done.

I tried to shut the house out of my thoughts completely for the rest of the evening, and I think Charlotte did, too. We were both pretty quiet at dinner that night, but luckily my mom didn't ask any questions. I didn't want to have to try to explain anything.

At bedtime I read to Charlotte for awhile, and then we talked. We talked about her going back to school the next day. We talked about her parents and how they'd be home in just a few days. We talked about her grandpa. We did not not talk about the house. talk about the house.

When I went to bed I was still feeling pretty keyed up. I didn't think I'd ever get to sleep, but finally I drifted off. ...

I was standing outside the old house. This time the flames shot out of every window and up through the roof. It was really burning this time. I tried to yell ”Fire!” but my mouth wouldn't form the word. Then I tried to run for help, but my feet were stuck to the ground. I looked helplessly at the house and saw, to my horror, a figure at one of the windows. The person, whoever it was, dearly needed help. Again, I tried to move, but I was frozen in position. I could only watch as the person gestured to me, pleading to be rescued.

I sat bolt upright in bed. What a nightmare! My heart was beating wildly. I tried to calm myself. The dream had seemed so real. I still felt the terror of seeing that helpless person trapped in the incredible blaze. If only I could have saved him. I lay back down, but my eyes were wide open. I didn't really want to go to sleep. What if the nightmare came back?

I almost wished I were a little kid again, so I could tiptoe into my parents' room and wake up Mom. I would tell her all about my night- mare and she'd tell me it was just a bad dream and that she'd take care of me. Then I'd snuggle up in the big warm bed and go back to sleep, feeling safe. But I wasn't a little girl anymore. I was an eighth-grader who should be able to sleep alone without being scared.

I tried to think of other things, nice things. I thought of lying on a beach, the warm sun soaking into my skin. I thought of the waves cras.h.i.+ng against the sh.o.r.e with a steady beat.

Bang! My door slammed open and Charlotte flew across the room. She leapt into my bed and buried herself beneath the covers. She was shaking. My door slammed open and Charlotte flew across the room. She leapt into my bed and buried herself beneath the covers. She was shaking.

”Charlotte, what is it?” I asked. ”What's the matter?”

She wouldn't - or couldn't - talk at first, but slowly it began to come out. Charlotte had also had a nightmare. And hers was also about the house.

”There was a storm coming,” she said, still breathing hard. ”I could hear the thunder, and lightning was flas.h.i.+ng in the sky. Then all of a sudden the ground where I was standing - right there by the house - started to shake!” She s.h.i.+vered. She was really frightened.

”It's okay, Charlotte,” I said. ”What happened then?” I knew she would feel better if she finished telling me her dream. I hugged her close and smoothed her hair.

”The ground was rumbling. It was like an earthquake or something. I thought it was going to open up and swallow me!” I don't know how she knew what an earthquake was like. Maybe she'd seen one of those nature specials on TV.

”The sky was all dark, kind of a greenish color. I was so scared, Stacey, but I couldn't move. I wanted to run, or scream, or do something, something, but all I could do was stand there and stare at the house.” but all I could do was stand there and stare at the house.”

I knew that that feeling. feeling.

”Then the worst part happened. I was looking at the front of the house, and all of a sudden I saw something at the front door, or at the hole where the front door used to be. It was a pair of hands, two old, old hands. They were all skinny and bony, and they were waving at me. It was like they were saying, 'Come in, Charlotte. Come in.' Oh, Stacey! It was so awful!” She started crying for real now.

I shuddered. It sounded terrifying. I just couldn't believe it. We'd both had nightmares at the same time, and both of them were about that creepy old house.

What kind of power did that house have? What was it that drew us there at the same time that it scared us away? Had anyone else seen what we'd seen, heard what we'd heard? I suddenly realized why it was that the workmen packed up and left so early every day. It must have been the house. It had them in its power, too. Those workmen were probably just as scared as we were.

I almost had to laugh at the thought of those big men being as scared as two girls. But it wasn't really funny. I pulled the covers around Charlotte and let her snuggle up next to me. I'm sure she thought she was being allowed to stay with me because she'd been scared by that dream. She didn't know that she was as much of a comfort to me as I was to her.

Chapter 11.

I guess Charlotte and I both managed to get back to sleep. When we woke up the next next morning it was a little late, and we really had to rush to get ready for school. Charlotte couldn't wait to get back to her cla.s.ses - she was tired of being home, sick. morning it was a little late, and we really had to rush to get ready for school. Charlotte couldn't wait to get back to her cla.s.ses - she was tired of being home, sick.

She took her medicine (she still had to finish the bottle even even though she felt fine) without too much fuss, for once. When we had raced through breakfast, my mom though she felt fine) without too much fuss, for once. When we had raced through breakfast, my mom drove drove us to school so we wouldn't be late. us to school so we wouldn't be late.

I don't know about Charlotte, but my day at school was not the greatest. I was sleepy from being awake in the middle of the night, but that wasn't really the problem. The problem was that I still felt totally frightened by the nightmare I'd had, and by the fact that Charlotte had had one, too. That old house was all I could think about.