32 - The Barking Ghost (2 page)

The pipes rattling. The dogs barking.

Wait a minute.

Dogs?

I sat up. We don’t have a dog. And there isn’t another house around here for
miles.

But I definitely heard a barking dog.

I listened closely. The dog barked again. Then started to howl.

I sighed and pulled off the covers again. I started to climb out of bed. Then
it hit me.

Mickey!

This had to be another one of my brother’s stupid tricks. He was an excellent
dog-barker. He practiced it all the time.

Smiling, I settled back on my pillow. I wouldn’t get up. I wouldn’t go to the
window.

He wasn’t going to get me this time. No way.

I lay there listening to Mickey make a fool of himself. Howling and barking
like a big old dog.

What a jerk.

Then, suddenly, I sat up again. Whoa. I heard
two
dogs howling now.

Even Mickey couldn’t pull that off.

The howling turned to piercing cries. So close. Right under my window.

As I said, I made it through a whole day without being scared. But, boy, was
I making up for it tonight!

For the zillionth and third time, I slowly crept to the window. I could hear them clearly. Two dogs. Wailing and howling.

For the zillionth and third time, I gazed out the window.

But for the
first
time, I couldn’t believe what I saw.

I didn’t see anything.

Nothing at all. No dogs. Not one.

I squinted into the yard. Empty.

How could they have vanished so quickly?

I stood at the window for a few more seconds, but no dogs appeared.

I shivered. I’ll never sleep again, I thought. Not as long as I have to live
here.

I crept back to bed. I pulled the covers up to my chin. And counted the green
and blue squigglies on the wallpaper by my head.

I guess I finally fell asleep. When I opened my eyes, light streamed in
through my window.

Yawning, I glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. I’m usually an early bird. I
like to start my day as soon as possible.

I leaped out of bed and checked the yard. It didn’t seem half as scary in the
morning light.

I smiled when I noticed the jungle gym in the far corner. The last owners of the house built it. It had a slide and really
high monkey bars. Yesterday, Dad hung a rope and tire from one of its beams, so
now it had a swing, too.

Behind the jungle gym, the woods stretched all around. Woods thick with all
different kinds of trees and shrubs and weeds. The woods surrounded our house on
three sides. It seemed to go on forever.

I changed quickly, pulling a clean Red Sox T-shirt over my jeans. Grabbing my
baseball cap, I flew through the house and ran outside.

A great summer day! Sunny and warm. If I were back home in Boston, I would
hop on my bike and ride over to Gary’s or Todd’s house. Then we would spend the
day outdoors, playing softball at the playground. Or just messing around.

But I’m not in Boston anymore. Better get used to that, I told myself.

I hoped some cool kids lived in this neighborhood. When we drove up to our
house yesterday, I didn’t see any other houses around. I guessed I’d have to
spend the next few days alone—until school started next week.

I wandered over to the jungle gym. I swung on the tire swing for a little
while. Back and forth. Back and forth. Staring at my bedroom window from the
outside. Back and forth. Back and forth. Remembering last night.

Remembering just how brave Super Cooper had been. Yuck!

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Remembering the dogs.

Hey. That’s weird, I thought. Those dogs I heard should have left paw prints
all over the yard. But I couldn’t see a single one.

I hopped off the swing and searched the ground all around the house. No sign
of any dogs.

That’s funny. I
knew
there were dogs out here last night.

I glanced up at the edge of the woods. Maybe those dogs were lost, I thought.
Maybe they came to the house last night searching for help.

Maybe I should go track them down.

I bit my lower lip. A kid could lose his way—forever—in those woods, I
thought nervously.

Well, I’m going in, I decided. Today is the first day of the new me. Super
Cooper—for real. I wanted to find those dogs. To prove to myself that I wasn’t
going crazy.

Who knows? If I find the dogs, maybe Dad will let me keep one, I decided. It
might be fun to have a dog.

I’d always wanted a puppy. But Mom said the fur made her sneeze. Maybe she’d
change her mind.

I took one long, deep breath. Then I stepped into the woods. I saw some
amazing trees. I saw beautiful old birch trees with smooth, white trunks. And I saw sassafras and
maple trees. Their trunks were gnarled and thick.

They could be over a hundred years old, I thought. Awesome.

Maybe Dad can build a tree house back here, I told myself excitedly. That
would be so cool. Then when Gary and Todd came to visit, we could hang out in
it.

I kept my eyes on the ground as I walked, searching for any sign of dogs.

Nothing. No prints. No broken branches.

How weird. I definitely heard dogs last night.

Or maybe I just
thought
I’d heard those dogs. It
was
kind of
late, and I
was
pretty sleepy. Maybe it was my imagination.

Or maybe it was Mickey after all.

Maybe he tape-recorded another dog and barked along with it.

He would do something like that.

He’s that sneaky.

I really had to pay him back. Something way creepy. Maybe I could do
something out here in the woods.

I made my way through the thick trees and tall weeds, the whole time thinking
of how to scare Mickey.

I suddenly realized I hadn’t been paying attention to where I was going.

I spun around and peered through the thick trunks.

My house! I couldn’t see it!

Okay, Cooper, keep cool. You can’t be that far away, I told myself.

But my palms began to sweat.

I swallowed hard, then tried to remember which way I’d come.

Definitely the left.

No, wait. Maybe right.

I hung my head and moaned. It’s no use, I thought.

I’m lost. Hopelessly lost.

I really didn’t want to cry.

Who needed Mickey seeing me with wet, red eyes?

I’d never hear the end of it.

Besides, today was the first day of the new me. The new Super Cooper.

I took a really deep breath and tried to calm down.

I decided to walk a little to my right. If I didn’t see my house, I’d turn
and double back to the left.

It was worth a try.

What did I have to lose? I was lost anyway.

I turned to the right. I tried to take the straightest path possible.

The snapping of branches behind me made me spin around.

No one there.

It’s just a harmless squirrel or something, I told myself. Just keep going.

I returned to my straight path again. But with my first step, I heard leaves
rustling behind me.

I didn’t turn around. I quickened my pace.

And I heard it again.

Twigs snapping. Leaves rustling.

My throat suddenly felt dry. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. “Wh-who’s there?” I
croaked.

No answer.

I turned back.

Whoa! Which way had I been walking? My head began to spin. I suddenly felt
dizzy. Too dizzy to remember where I had been.

Snap. Snap. Crack. Crunch.

“Who is there?” I called out again. My voice didn’t sound all that steady for
Super Cooper.

“Mickey, is that you? This isn’t funny! Mickey?”

Then I felt something horrible scrape my cheek. Something cold. And sharp.

I couldn’t help it. I started to scream.

A leaf. A dumb leaf.

Come on, Cooper! Get a grip!

I sat down on the ground for a second. I checked my watch. It was almost
eight.

Dad would be out in the yard soon. He planned to set up the new barbecue
grill first thing this morning. I figured I could just wait for the hammering to
start, then walk in the direction of the noise.

I’d just sit here. And wait. Wait for the hammering. Good idea, I thought.

I heard something rustle behind me.

Just the leaves, I told myself. The dumb leaves.

I stole a glance up at the trees. I tilted my head way back—and someone
grabbed my arm.

I jerked away. Sprang up. Started to run.

And tripped over my own feet.

Scrambling up, I gasped in surprise.

A girl.

She was about my age and had really long, red hair. It was frizzy, and it
stuck out in a million directions. She had big green eyes. She wore a bright red
T-shirt and red shorts. She reminded me of a rag doll Todd’s little sister used
to carry around.

“You okay?” she asked, her hands on her waist.

“Yeah, sure. Fine,” I muttered.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she said.

“I wasn’t scared,” I lied.

“Really,” she said. “I would have been scared, too, if someone grabbed me
like that. I really didn’t mean to.”

“I told you,” I said sharply, “I wasn’t scared.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?” I asked. This had to be the weirdest girl I’d
ever met.

“I don’t know,” she replied, shrugging. “I’m just sorry.”

“Well, you can stop apologizing,” I told her. I brushed the dirt off my
clothes and picked up my baseball cap. I quickly set it back on my head. To
cover my ears.

The girl stared at me. She stood there and stared. Without saying a word. Was
she staring at my ears?

“Who are you?” I finally asked.

“Margaret Ferguson,” she replied. “But people call me Fergie. Like the
duchess.”

I didn’t know what duchess she was talking about. But I pretended I did.

“I live through the woods that way,” she said, pointing behind her.

“I thought no one lived around here for miles,” I said.

“Yeah. There are some houses around here, Cooper,” she replied. “They’re
pretty spread out.”

“Hey! How did you know my name?” I asked suspiciously.

Margaret, or Fergie, or whatever her name was, turned beet-red.

“I, uh, watched you move in yesterday,” she confessed.

“I didn’t see you,” I replied.

“That’s because I hid in the woods,” she said. “I heard your father call you
Cooper. And I know your last name, too. It’s Holmes. I saw it written on all the
boxes in the moving van. And I know you have a brother, Mickey,” she added.
“He’s a jerk.”

I laughed. “You got that right!” I exclaimed. “So how long have you lived
around here?”

She didn’t answer. She kept her eyes on the ground.

“I said, how long have—”

Suddenly, her head jerked up and she gazed into my eyes.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” I asked when I saw her frightened face.

Her face tightened, as if she were in pain. Her lips trembled.

“Margaret!” I cried. “What? What is it?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She breathed deeply, gulping
air. Finally, she clutched my shoulders and shoved her face right up close to
mine.

“Dogs,” she whispered. Then she let go of me and darted away.

I froze for a moment. Then I chased after her.

She made it to a big tree stump before I caught up. I grabbed hold of the
back of her T-shirt and spun her around.

“Margaret, what do you mean ‘dogs’?” I asked.

“No! No!” she cried. “Just let me go! Let me go!”

I held her tightly.

“Let me go! Let me go!” she cried again.

“Margaret, what did you mean back there?” I repeated. “This is important. Why
did you say ‘dogs’?”

“Dogs?” Her eyes grew wide. “I don’t remember saying that.”

My jaw fell open. “You did!” I insisted. “You looked straight at me and said,
‘dogs’! I heard you!”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t remember that,” she replied thoughtfully.

Now I’ve met weird kids in my life, but Margaret here takes the cake. She
almost makes Mickey seem normal.

Almost.

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound calm, “here’s what happened. You freaked out.
Then you grabbed me. Then you said, ‘Dogs’. Then you freaked out again.”

“Don’t remember,” she replied softly, shaking her head from side to side.
“Why would I say that?”

“I don’t know!” I screamed, starting to lose it. “I’m not the one who said
it!”

She gazed around in all directions, then focused those green, crazy eyes on
me.

“Listen to me, Cooper,” she whispered mysteriously. “Get away from here.”

“Huh?”

“I’m warning you, Cooper! Tell your parents they must leave at once!” She
glanced nervously behind her, then turned back to me.

“Please—listen to me. Get away from here! As fast as you can!”

Fergie let go of my shoulders and ran.

For a few seconds, I stared after her, too shocked to move. Then I decided
I’d better not let her get away.

“Fergie!” I called out. “Wait up!”

For a girl, Fergie ran pretty fast. Actually, most girls I know are fast
runners.

Whoever said they were slower than boys in the first place? It isn’t true.
Lots of girls in my class last year could beat any guy in a race.

Anyway,
I
happen to be a very fast runner. When you’re afraid of everything,
you learn to run—fast!

“Fergie!” I called again. “Please! Tell me what’s going on!” But I couldn’t
catch up.

Then, to my surprise, she stopped and turned back to me. “Listen, Cooper,”
she said, calmer than before. “The woods are haunted. Your house is probably haunted, too. Go home. Go home and tell your parents to move back
to wherever you came from.”