روح همسایه فصل 03

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 3

The mail usually came a little before noon. Hannah rushed eagerly down to the bottom of the drive and pulled open the mailbox lid.

No mail for her. No mail at all.

Disappointed, she hurried back to her room to write a scolding letter to her best friend, Janey Pace.

Dear Janey.

I hope you’re having a good time at camp. But not too good—because you broke your promise. You said that you’d write to me every day, and so far, I haven’t even received a crummy POSTCARD.

I am so BORED I don’t know what to do! You can’t imagine how little there is to do in Greenwood Falls when no one is around. It’s really like DEATH!

I watch TV and I read a lot. Do you believe I’ve already read ALL the books on our summer reading list? Dad promised to take us all camping in Miller Woods—BIG THRILL—but he’s been working just about every weekend, so I don’t think he will.

BORING!

Last night I was so bored, I marched the twins outside and built a little campfire behind the garage and pretended we were away at camp and told them a bunch of scary ghost stories.

The boys wouldn’t admit it, of course, but I could see they enjoyed it. But you know how ghost stories freak me out. I started seeing weird shadows and things moving behind the trees. It was really kind of hilarious, I guess. I totally scared MYSELF.

Don’t laugh, Janey. You don’t like ghost stories, either.

My only other news is that a new boy moved into the Dodsons’ old house next door. His name is Danny and he’s our age, and he has red hair and freckles, and he’s kind of cute, I think.

I’ve only seen him once. Maybe I’ll have more to report about him later.

But now it’s YOUR TURN to write. Come on, Janey. You promised. Have you met any cute guys at camp? Is THAT why you’re too busy to write to me?

If I don’t hear from you, I hope you get poison ivy all over your body—especially in places where you can’t scratch!

Love,Hannah.

Hannah folded the letter and stuffed it into an envelope. Her small desk stood in front of the bedroom window. Leaning over the desk, she could see the house next door.

I wonder if that’s Danny’s room? she thought, peering into the window just across the driveway. Curtains were pulled over the window, blocking her view.

Hannah pulled herself to her feet. She ran a hairbrush through her hair, then carried the letter to the front door.

She could hear her mother scolding the twins somewhere in the back of the house. The boys were giggling as Mrs. Fairchild yelled at them. Hannah heard a loud crash. Then more giggling.

“I’m going out!” she shouted, pushing open the screen door.

They probably didn’t hear her, she realized.

It was a hot afternoon, no breeze at all, the air heavy and wet. Hannah’s father had mowed the front lawn the day before. The freshly cut grass smelled sweet as Hannah made her way down the driveway.

She glanced over to Danny’s house. No signs of life there. The front door was closed. The big living room picture window appeared bare and dark.

Hannah decided to walk the three blocks to town and mail the letter at the post office. She sighed. Nothing else to do, she thought glumly. At least a walk to town will kill some time.

The sidewalk was covered with cut blades of grass, the green fading to brown. Humming to herself, Hannah passed Mrs. Quilty’s redbrick house. Mrs. Quilty was bent over her garden, pulling up weeds.

“Hi, Mrs. Quilty. How are you?” Hannah called.

Mrs. Quilty didn’t look up.

What a snob! Hannah thought angrily. I know she heard me.

Hannah crossed the street. The sound of a piano floated from the house on the corner. Someone was practicing a piece of classical music, playing the same wrong note over and over, then starting the piece again.

I’m glad they’re not my neighbors, Hannah thought, smiling.

She walked the rest of the way to town, humming to herself.

The two-story white post office stood across the tiny town square, its flag drooping on the pole in the windless sky. Around the square stood a bank, a barbershop, a small grocery, and a gas station. A few other stores, Harder’s Ice-Cream Parlor, and a diner called Diner stretched behind the square.

Two women were walking out of the grocery. Through the barbershop window, Hannah could see Ernie, the barber, sitting in the chair, reading a magazine.

Real lively scene, she thought, shaking her head.

Hannah crossed the small, grassy square and dropped her letter in the mailbox in front of the post office door. She turned back toward home—but stopped when she heard the angry shouts.

The shouts were coming from behind the post office, Hannah realized. A man was screaming.

Hannah heard boys’ voices. More yelling.

She began jogging around the side of the building, toward the angry voices.

She was nearly to the alley when she heard the shrill yelp of pain.