My Best Friend Is Invisible (7 page)

We walked quickly, down block after block. “We’re almost there,” Roxanne said
as we neared the next corner. “Are you ready?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Good.” Roxanne stopped. “We’re here.”

Whoa! I peered up—at the highest, darkest hedges I had ever seen. A wall of
hedges so thick you couldn’t even see through it!

“I—I’ve never seen hedges grow so high before,” I stammered.

“‘It’s the will of the ghost. To keep the house chilly and dark—as cold
and icy as the spirit itself.’” Roxanne smiled. “I memorized that part from the
book I read to you.”

“How do we get in?” I asked, searching for a way through the tall shrubs.

“You’re lucky you have
me
for a partner,” Roxanne sighed. “You don’t
know anything.”

We walked along the dark hedges until we came to a small opening. I peeked
inside—and there stood Hedge House. Three stories high, tall and narrow, with
lots of windows—most of them shattered. Sharp shards of glass poked up from
the frames.

Wow! The hedges did grow as tall as the highest windows—just as the book
said. The shingles on the outside of the house were blackened and rotted with
age.

A strong gust of wind blew.

The hedge tops beat against the pointed roof—and sent a loose shingle
hurtling through the air.

Roxanne and I jumped back—just in time.

I could see Roxanne shiver.

This house was really creepy!

“If you’re scared, we don’t have to go in,” I told her. “We can still go see
the movie.”

“
Me? Scared?
Have you totally lost it?” she snapped. “Let’s go!”

Roxanne headed up the broken stone steps to the front door. I followed right
behind her.

She walked up onto the wooden porch. “Be careful,” she said, glancing back at
me. “These planks are kind of wobbly.”

She reached out for the front door. She slowly turned the doorknob.

The door swung open with a creak—and we stepped inside.

We stood in a large entrance hall.

A fancy chandelier hung from the ceiling directly over our heads. Crystals in
the shape of teardrops dangled from it. Crystals draped in a thick layer of dust
and cobwebs.

It felt icy cold in here. Much colder than outside. A sour odor rose up to
greet us.

I shivered. I groped for a light switch, and found one on the wall next to
the door.

I flicked the switch—but nothing happened.

“It’s not going to work!” Roxanne whispered. “Nobody has lived here for
years! Turn on your flashlight.”

“What flashlight?” I asked.

“You didn’t bring a flashlight? You were supposed to bring a flashlight,” she
whispered.

“I forgot,” I admitted.

Roxanne sighed. “Did you bring the camcorder?” she demanded.

“Yes, it’s right here.” I pulled the video camera out of my backpack.

“At least you remembered
something
,” she muttered. She started to say
something else. But instead, a cry escaped her lips.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Didn’t you hear something—like a low moan?” she asked, excited.

“No,” I told her. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, we just got here. I bet we hear moaning soon. Make
sure your camcorder is ready.”

We stepped forward—into the living room. Into a cold white mist.

“I can’t see a thing,” I whispered. “How did the living room get so foggy?”

“Look.” Roxanne pointed to one of the walls where the fog came seeping
through the cracks. It entered in narrow streams, then billowed and swirled,
filling the room.

I took another step—and the wind howled outside.

Something white flew at me.

I jumped back—then realized it was just the curtains. Filmy, white curtains
flapping over the broken front windows. Flapping hard.

Another gust blew. Stronger this time. It drove the streams of fog through
the cracks.

“There’s nothing in here,” I said. Another shiver ran through me. “Let’s go
upstairs.”

Roxanne led the way through the dining room and kitchen before we headed
toward the steps. Both rooms were empty. Cold and empty.

We walked down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway we found the
staircase. The old, wood banister was badly splintered. Parts of it were missing
completely.

“Ready?” Roxanne groped the wall as she started up.

I whispered “yes,” but I wasn’t so sure. I mean—I really didn’t think this
house was haunted. But it was so dark, and damp, and foggy, and empty….
Anyone
would be a little scared in here!

As we climbed the staircase, the steps groaned under our feet. The air grew
colder.

At the top of the stairs we faced three doors. We peered into each doorway.
Into small, dark rooms.

I let out a relieved sigh when I saw they were all empty.

We climbed the stairs to the third floor. It took us into a large room. This
one wasn’t empty.

Shredded clothing and torn blankets lay scattered on the floor. Three pillows
sat propped against a wall—slashed, with the stuffing spilling out.

A toppled wooden chair leaned against an old trunk.

Roxanne crossed the darkened room and headed for the trunk.

I kneeled down and studied a piece of black, crumpled material on the floor.
I picked it up—and gasped.

It was a black shirt—a black shirt with the right sleeve missing! Just like
in the ghost story!

“Let’s check out the trunk,” Roxanne whispered.

“No! Look at this—” I started, then stopped—as a frightening moan drifted
up the steps.

We spun around to face the staircase—and gasped as the steps began to creak
and groan.

Footsteps!

Roxanne’s mouth gaped open.

My heart began to pound in my chest.

Roxanne turned to me, but I peered down quickly so she wouldn’t see how
frightened I was.

“The—the ghost—is here,” she stammered. “It’s coming! Get the camcorder
ready.”

I fumbled for the power switch. It shook as I raised it up in my trembling
hands.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs.

Roxanne stood in the center of the room—frozen in fear.

A deep, eerie moan filled the room. Followed by a shrill laugh.

Then the chair flew across the room. And the lid of the trunk shot open.

Roxanne leaped back. She took out her notebook and began scribbling notes.
She was excited—and scared. Her pencil shook as she wrote.

The lid of the trunk slammed down hard. We both jumped.

I watched in horror as the chair began to rise up off the floor. It hovered
in midair, then came down with a loud crash.

“Don’t just stand there!” Roxanne screamed at me. “The camcorder! The
camcorder! Get it on video!”

I lifted the video camera—and the pillows soared through the room.

The blankets came alive. They seemed to hurl themselves at us. They wrapped
around our bodies.

“Yuck!” I cried out. They smelled so sour, so rotten.

The blankets spun us around like toy tops. Then they dropped to the floor.

The trunk lid opened and banged closed—again and again.

The windows slid up and crashed down.

“It’s a ghost!” Roxanne exclaimed happily. “A real ghost! Do you believe it?
We’re definitely going to get an A! Let me have that!”

She grabbed my video camera. And peered through the viewfinder.

“Noooooooo!” A terrified howl escaped her throat. She dropped the camera. It
clattered to the floor.

“Help me, Sammy!” she screamed. “It’s got me! It’s got me!”

“Let me go!” Roxanne shrieked. “Sammy—help! It’s got me! The ghost—it’s
pulling
me!”

I gaped in horror as Roxanne’s jacket flew up behind her, tugged by an
invisible, ghostly hand.

Her whole body jerked as the ghost pulled—and sent her stumbling across the
room.

She tripped and fell to her knees.

“Owww!” She uttered a terrified cry. Scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide
with fright.

I suddenly remembered the camcorder. I’ve
got
to get this on tape! I
told myself. I raised the camera.

Roxanne’s jacket flew out behind her again. “Ohhh—help!” she cried.

She began to spin in a circle. Round and round. Faster and faster. Whirling
helplessly, her arms flying up, her hair spinning out behind her head.

I tried to hold the camcorder steady, but I couldn’t.

“Drop that stupid camera—and help me!” Roxanne shrieked as she whirled
around the room.

“Get away from her!” I yelled. “Leave her alone!”

To my shock, Roxanne stopped spinning. Her knees buckled. She fell against
the wall. Hit hard with a loud
THUD.

“Oh.” She shook her head as if trying to shake away her fear. “The Ghost of
Hedge House—” she started.

But before she could finish her sentence, she floated up from the floor.

“No—please!” Roxanne begged, thrashing her arms wildly, kicking her legs.
“LET ME DOWN! LET ME DOWN!”

The ghost must have let go. Because Roxanne slid to the floor. She landed on
her knees.

Before she could climb up, a pillow floated from the floor. I stared in shock
as it pressed itself over Roxanne’s face.

She uttered a muffled cry. “Help—I can’t breathe! The ghost—he’s
smothering
me!”

“Nooooo!” A cry tore from my throat as I dove across the room to Roxanne.

“Nooooo!” With a desperate grab, I ripped the pillow away. “Go haunt someone
else!” I screamed.

Roxanne dropped to the floor.

I tossed the pillow away and started toward her. But a cold hand tightened
around my arm.
“Jeffrey—I’ve been waiting for you,”
a hoarse
voice rasped.

The Ghost of Hedge House!

It talked! It talked to me!

“I—I’m not Jeffrey!” I choked out.

“Jeffrey—I’ve been waiting for you!”
he moaned again.

Then I felt myself being lifted off the floor.

Before I could struggle free, the ghost jerked me back and forth—back and
forth—so hard I thought my neck would snap.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight back.

But his grip was so strong. I felt so helpless….

A sour-smelling blanket rose up and wrapped itself tightly around me. I
couldn’t move my hands or legs!

I kicked and squirmed—struggling against the rotted fabric. And finally
dropped facedown on the floor.

A shrill laugh rang through the room.

Roxanne and I staggered to our feet. We headed for the stairs.

The ghost followed after us, moaning.
“Jeffrey—I’ve been waiting
for you. Jeffrey—come back! I’ve waited so long!”

We reached the second-floor landing—and the ghost grabbed me from behind.
“I’ve got you now, Jef-frey!”
came his raspy whisper.
“I’ve waited so long in this old
house. So long…”

His cold hands circled my neck.

He tightened his grip. I couldn’t breathe!

“I’m… not… Jeffrey,” I choked out.

My last words.

I thought they were my last words.

Everything flared bright red. The dark room spun and tilted behind the
swirling red.

Stars flashed in my eyes. So white and bright, my head ached. I tried to
blink them away.

And they faded to black. Everything faded to black.

The Ghost of Hedge House had another victim.

But no.

Not quite.

A hand grabbed mine. Pulled me. Pulled me from the darkness.

“Sammy—come on!” Roxanne pleaded in a terrified whisper. “Come on! You’re
okay! You’re okay!”

And before I realized it, she had pulled me free. And we were running again.
Running down the stairs. Through the misty living room. Out the door. And into
the cold night.

Breathing the air. The cool, sweet air.

Breathing and running.

Alive!

Yes! Alive! Leaving the Ghost of Hedge House behind. And running. Running and
breathing.

The air never smelled so good. The night never looked so beautiful.

Roxanne ran straight to her house. I watched her throw open her front door.
She flew inside and slammed the door behind her.

I jogged the rest of the way to my house. Burst breathlessly inside. And
checked the front door twice to make sure it was locked.

My legs trembling, my whole body vibrating, shaking—
alive!
—I ran
up the stairs to my room.

I sat down on my bed—and screamed in terror. Screamed at the black shirt
draped on my pillow.

The black shirt of the one-armed ghost!

“It’s only a shirt,” a voice said calmly. “What’s your problem?”

I jumped to my feet—and saw a plate hovering in the air. And a sandwich
vanishing, bite by bite.

Brent!

“Didn’t I do a great job?” Brent asked between bites. “Don’t I make an
awesome ghost?”

I saw my desk chair slide out. “That was hard work!” he sighed. “Boy, am I
tired!”

“You?” I shrieked. “That was
you
?”

“I know. I know. I was awesome,” he said.
“Jef-frey—I’ve
been waiting for you!”
Then he burst out laughing.

“I—I—I—” I sputtered.

“Don’t thank me,” Brent said. “Really. You don’t have to thank me. Now
you’ll have the best report in school. I told you I could help you. I told you I
could be your best friend.”

“Oh, nooo!” I shouted. “Brent! How could you do that to me? You scared me to
death! You scared Roxanne to death! You really hurt her! And you nearly strangled me!”

“Don’t thank me,” he repeated. “You really don’t have to. I just wanted to
show that I can help you.”

“Get out of my house! Get out—
now
!” I screamed at him. “I mean it!”

“GET OUT!” I cried, so loud my voice cracked. “Get out, you idiot! You nearly
killed us! I want you to leave NOW. Get out!”