روح همسایه فصل 20

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 20

Hannah stepped up to the back door, then hesitated.

I can’t go back in now, she thought. I have to think.

Maybe I’ll take a walk or something.

She closed her eyes, trying to force her dizziness away. When she opened them, everything seemed brighter, too bright to bear.

Stepping carefully off the back stoop, she headed toward the front, her head spinning.

I’m a ghost.

I’m not a real person anymore.

I’m a ghost.

Voices broke into Hannah’s confused thoughts. Someone was approaching.

She ducked out of sight behind the big maple tree and listened.

“It’s a perfectly lovely house.” Hannah recognized Mrs. Quilty’s voice.

“My cousin from Detroit looked at it last week,” another woman said. Hannah didn’t recognize her. Peering out from behind the tree trunk, Hannah saw that it was a thin, haggard-looking woman wearing a yellow sundress. She and Mrs. Quilty were standing halfway up the drive, admiring Hannah’s house.

Afraid she might be seen, Hannah ducked back behind the tree.

“Did your cousin like the house?” Mrs. Quilty asked her companion.

“Too small,” was the curt reply.

“What a shame,” Mrs. Quilty said with a loud sigh. “I just hate having an empty house on the block.” But it’s not empty! Hannah thought angrily. I live here! My whole family lives here—don’t we?

“How long has it been vacant?” the other woman asked.

“Ever since it was rebuilt,” Hannah heard Mrs. Quilty reply. “You know. After that dreadful fire. I guess it was five years ago.” “Fire?” Mrs. Quilty’s friend asked. “That was before I moved here. Did the whole house burn down?” “Pretty much,” Mrs. Quilty told her. “It was so dreadful, Beth. Such a tragedy. The family trapped inside. Such a beautiful family. A young girl. Two little boys. They all died that night.” My dream! Hannah thought, gripping the tree trunk to hold herself up. It wasn’t a dream. It was a real fire. I really died that night.

Tears streamed down Hannah’s face. Her legs felt weak and trembly. She leaned against the rough bark of the tree and listened.

“How did it happen?” Beth, Mrs. Quilty’s friend, asked. “Do they know what started the fire?” “Yes. The kids had some kind of campfire out back. Behind the garage,” Mrs. Quilty continued. “When they went inside, they didn’t put it out completely. The house caught fire after they’d gone to sleep. It spread so quickly.” Hannah saw the two women peering thoughtfully at the house from their position on the driveway. They were shaking their heads.

“The house was gutted, then completely rebuilt,” Mrs. Quilty was saying. “But no one ever moved in. It’s been five years. Can you imagine?” I’ve been dead for five years, Hannah thought, letting the tears roll down her cheeks. No wonder I didn’t know Danny or his friends.

No wonder I haven’t gotten any letters from Janey. No wonder I haven’t heard from any of my friends.

I’ve been dead for five years.

Now, Hannah understood why sometimes time seemed to stand still, and sometimes it floated by so quickly.

Ghosts come and go, she thought sadly. Sometimes I’m solid enough to ride a bike or kick a soccer ball. And sometimes I’m so flimsy, someone’s hand goes right through me.

Hannah watched the two women make their way down the block until they disappeared from view. Clinging to the tree trunk, she made no attempt to move.

It was all beginning to make sense to Hannah. The dreamlike summer days. The loneliness. The feeling that something wasn’t right.

But what about Mom and Dad? she asked herself, pushing herself away from the tree. What about the twins? Do they know? Do they know that we’re all ghosts?

“Mom!” she shouted, running to the front door. “Mom!”

She burst into the house and ran through the hall to the kitchen. “Mom! Mom! Where are you? Bill? Herb?” Silence.

No one there.

They were all gone.