You!”
“Nick—how could you vandalize your own brother’s room?” Dad demanded angrily.
“I—I don’t believe it,” Mom sighed. “I feel sick just looking at it. I really do.”
“But I didn’t do it!” Nick cried. He raised his right hand. “I swear. I swear I didn’t do it. I was in my room. I’ve been on my phone the whole time.”
“Liar! There’s no one else here,” I said. “It had to be you.”
“I know what you did, punk,” Nick shouted. “You did it yourself. So that you could blame me and get me in trouble.”
“Liar!” I screamed. I dove at Nick and tried to knock him over.
Dad had to separate us. “All of this shouting isn’t getting us anywhere,” he said. “Maybe the paint is washable. Maybe we can do something about it.”
“Later. After dinner,” Mom said. She dropped thesuit she was carrying onto my bed. “Try this on after dinner, Spencer. It’s the suit you wore to my cousin’s wedding. I had it let out. See if it fits.”
“Try not to paint it red!” Nick said.
“Shut up!” I screamed. “You liar! Just because I didn’t get your stupid ice cream!”
“Stop it—both of you,” Dad ordered. “Let’s try to have a quiet, civilized dinner—okay?”
“It’s okay with me,” I muttered.
But dinner didn’t turn out too well.
“I know no one feels like eating after that disaster upstairs. But I made your favorite tonight,” Mom said, setting the pan down in front of me on the kitchen table.
“Mmmm. Macaroni and cheese. It’s my favorite too!” Dad declared.
I actually don’t like macaroni very much. It’s kind of boring. And I hate the way the cheese sticks to my teeth. But I’ve never had the nerve to admit it to Mom.
I glared across the table at my brother. He painted the wall, and he’s going to get away with it, I realized. He’s such a good liar. Mom and Dad believe him.
But he had to be the one who painted the wall. There’s no one else in the house.
Mom spooned a big hunk of macaroni onto my plate. She piled up some green salad next to it.
I was just starting to eat, when I heard the whispers.
I turned in my chair. But there was no one there.
“ Here…Here… ”
That’s what it sounded like.
I put my little finger in my ear and moved it around. I thought maybe I had wax stuck in there or something.
Across the table, Mom and Dad were talking about buying a new furnace. “The heating oil is costing a fortune,” Dad said, spooning more salad onto his plate.
I started to eat again. But the whispers made me stop.
“ Here. Over here… ”
“ Look up. Here .”
I had a sudden sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. This isn’t happening, I thought.
I turned around. My eyes searched the kitchen.
No one there.
“ Over here. Look here .”
The ghosts? The ghosts from Scott’s house?
Maybe we didn’t lock them in the attic closet after all. Maybe they followed me home.
Maybe Nick was telling the truth. Maybe he didn’t paint my wall. Maybe the ghosts painted it.
“But that’s crazy.” I didn’t realize I had said it out loud.
“What’s crazy?” Dad asked.
He and Mom were both staring hard at me.
“Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about something,” I said.
“ Here. Look up. Look here .”
I felt a hot puff of air on the back of my neck. Like someone breathing.
I spun around. No one there.
“ Look here .”
Another hot puff of breath made my skin prickle.
“NOOOO!” I screamed. “Go away! Go away!”
I jumped to my feet. I knocked my glass over. It fell and cracked my dinner plate. Macaroni spilled onto the table, onto the floor.
“ Here. Here. Look .”
“NOOOO!” I shrieked again.
“Spencer—what’s wrong?” Mom cried. She and Dad jumped up too.
“Don’t you hear it?” I wailed. “Don’t you hear it?”
“Hear what ?” Dad cried.
I spun away from the table. The chair toppled over. But I didn’t stop to pick it up.
I ran out of the kitchen. Up to my room. I slammed the
“Nick—how could you vandalize your own brother’s room?” Dad demanded angrily.
“I—I don’t believe it,” Mom sighed. “I feel sick just looking at it. I really do.”
“But I didn’t do it!” Nick cried. He raised his right hand. “I swear. I swear I didn’t do it. I was in my room. I’ve been on my phone the whole time.”
“Liar! There’s no one else here,” I said. “It had to be you.”
“I know what you did, punk,” Nick shouted. “You did it yourself. So that you could blame me and get me in trouble.”
“Liar!” I screamed. I dove at Nick and tried to knock him over.
Dad had to separate us. “All of this shouting isn’t getting us anywhere,” he said. “Maybe the paint is washable. Maybe we can do something about it.”
“Later. After dinner,” Mom said. She dropped thesuit she was carrying onto my bed. “Try this on after dinner, Spencer. It’s the suit you wore to my cousin’s wedding. I had it let out. See if it fits.”
“Try not to paint it red!” Nick said.
“Shut up!” I screamed. “You liar! Just because I didn’t get your stupid ice cream!”
“Stop it—both of you,” Dad ordered. “Let’s try to have a quiet, civilized dinner—okay?”
“It’s okay with me,” I muttered.
But dinner didn’t turn out too well.
“I know no one feels like eating after that disaster upstairs. But I made your favorite tonight,” Mom said, setting the pan down in front of me on the kitchen table.
“Mmmm. Macaroni and cheese. It’s my favorite too!” Dad declared.
I actually don’t like macaroni very much. It’s kind of boring. And I hate the way the cheese sticks to my teeth. But I’ve never had the nerve to admit it to Mom.
I glared across the table at my brother. He painted the wall, and he’s going to get away with it, I realized. He’s such a good liar. Mom and Dad believe him.
But he had to be the one who painted the wall. There’s no one else in the house.
Mom spooned a big hunk of macaroni onto my plate. She piled up some green salad next to it.
I was just starting to eat, when I heard the whispers.
I turned in my chair. But there was no one there.
“ Here…Here… ”
That’s what it sounded like.
I put my little finger in my ear and moved it around. I thought maybe I had wax stuck in there or something.
Across the table, Mom and Dad were talking about buying a new furnace. “The heating oil is costing a fortune,” Dad said, spooning more salad onto his plate.
I started to eat again. But the whispers made me stop.
“ Here. Over here… ”
“ Look up. Here .”
I had a sudden sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. This isn’t happening, I thought.
I turned around. My eyes searched the kitchen.
No one there.
“ Over here. Look here .”
The ghosts? The ghosts from Scott’s house?
Maybe we didn’t lock them in the attic closet after all. Maybe they followed me home.
Maybe Nick was telling the truth. Maybe he didn’t paint my wall. Maybe the ghosts painted it.
“But that’s crazy.” I didn’t realize I had said it out loud.
“What’s crazy?” Dad asked.
He and Mom were both staring hard at me.
“Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about something,” I said.
“ Here. Look up. Look here .”
I felt a hot puff of air on the back of my neck. Like someone breathing.
I spun around. No one there.
“ Look here .”
Another hot puff of breath made my skin prickle.
“NOOOO!” I screamed. “Go away! Go away!”
I jumped to my feet. I knocked my glass over. It fell and cracked my dinner plate. Macaroni spilled onto the table, onto the floor.
“ Here. Here. Look .”
“NOOOO!” I shrieked again.
“Spencer—what’s wrong?” Mom cried. She and Dad jumped up too.
“Don’t you hear it?” I wailed. “Don’t you hear it?”
“Hear what ?” Dad cried.
I spun away from the table. The chair toppled over. But I didn’t stop to pick it up.
I ran out of the kitchen. Up to my room. I slammed the
Similar Books
