Ghost Invasion (2 page)

Aurora smiled and shook her head. “No. I’m not protesting anything,” she said. “We were just waiting.”

“Waiting?” Bettina asked. “What for?”

Aurora didn’t answer, so Kate did it for her. “For the ghost. We were waiting for the ghost.”

“The ghost!” Bettina stared at Kate. “What ghost?”

Kate shrugged. “We don’t know what ghost for sure. But we’re pretty sure there is one.”

Bettina went over to a straw bale and sat down, tucking up her feet in their enormous army boots. For a minute she just sat there, rolling her dark eyes thoughtfully and now and then nodding her bald head. “Yeah,” she said softly after a while. “There is a ghost. Actually, there’s a very famous one. The famous Anderson barn ghost. Do you want to hear about it?”

“I
T’S A VERY SAD
story,” Bettina said. “A horrible tragedy, actually. Most ghost stories are like that. I mean, most ghosts come back because there was this terrible thing that happened to them when they were alive so they have to come back to, like, make it right.”

She stopped talking and looked from Kate to Aurora and back again. “Look,” she said, “don’t just stand there. Sit down and get comfortable. This is going to take a while.”

Kate and Aurora sat down in the straw. “What was the tragedy?” Kate asked.

“Was it about a girl?” Aurora asked. “A girl who—”

“That’s it,” Bettina interrupted. “There was this girl, see—”

“An Anderson?” Kate asked. “Was she one of the Andersons?”

“That’s what I was about to tell you,” Bettina said impatiently. “She was an Anderson. Only she lived a long time ago. Like hundreds of years. I guess you know the Anderson family has lived here practically forever. And this girl was—she had … Yeah. She had this boyfriend.” Bettina nodded sharply and her eyes suddenly were more focused-looking. “Only her parents didn’t like her boyfriend because he was—”

“Was he a bandit?” Kate interrupted. “When we were studying California history we read about these bandits who used to ride around this part of the state and rob stagecoaches and ranchers. Was he a bandit?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Bettina said. “You guessed it. And this girl, this Anderson girl, whose name was …” Bettina stopped and thought for a moment. “Addie …,” she finally said. “Yeah, that’s it. Her name was Addie.”

“Addie?” Aurora said. “That’s Mrs. A.’s name.”

“Sure. But this wasn’t that Addie. Lots of Andersons are named Addie. Anyway, she used to sneak out to meet this boyfriend sometimes.”

“In the barn?” Kate asked. “Did she meet him here in the barn?”

Bettina nodded sharply. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Only one day her parents found out about the boyfriend and they told the sheriff. And …” Bettina paused and made her eyes get wide and scary-looking. “And they came and shot him. Right here in this barn.”

Kate and Aurora stared at Bettina and then at each other. Kate nodded slowly, biting her lip. “Where?” she asked. “I mean, where in the barn? Like, was it maybe in one of the stalls?” She gave Aurora a “this is important” kind of look. “Maybe in that big stall right near the ladder?”

Bettina nodded. “And then Addie came and found him there dead and—and—she died too. She died right there beside him.”

Kate looked at Bettina through narrowed eyes. “Of what? What did she die of? You don’t mean she died of a broken heart, do you?”

“What’s the matter?” Bettina asked. “You don’t believe people die of broken hearts? I believe it. I almost did once, myself. But maybe it was something more than that. Maybe she found her boyfriend’s gun—right there in his holster—and he was dead so she shot herself. Yeah, I think that was it. She shot herself.”

Bettina stared at Kate and Aurora and they stared back. “Wow,” Kate said. She looked at Aurora. “I guess that would explain it, all right. I mean about that stall.”

Aurora nodded. “Yes,” she said. “That would explain it.”

“Explain what?” Bettina asked sharply. “Did you see a ghost in that stall?”

Aurora shook her head uncertainly.

“No,” Kate said. “Not exactly.”

“Hmmm.” Bettina looked thoughtful. “Well, I guess that’s because the ghosts …” She paused. “Actually there are two ghosts. Addie and her boyfriend are both ghosts. Anyway, they only appear to certain people at certain times.”

“Like at night?” Kate asked.

“Yes, at night. On certain nights.” Bettina paused, biting her lip. “Like on—Halloween. Yeah, that’s it. They just come on Halloween.”

“Wow!” Kate said. “Halloween. That’s just a few days away.”

Aurora didn’t say anything.

K
ATE WAS ABOUT TO
ask another really important question about the famous Anderson barn ghosts, when Bettina suddenly looked at her watch and jumped to her feet. “Hey,” she said, “I have to go.”

“Oh no,” Kate said, “not yet. Couldn’t you stay just a little longer?”

But Bettina was already striding across the loft, her huge boots clomping on the floor. “No, I can’t,” she said. “I’m leaving for the airport in about half an hour.”

Kate followed her. “The airport? Where are you going?”

“Home,” Bettina said as she started down the ladder. “Back home to New York.”

Suddenly Kate was angry. She knew that getting angry was just about her worst bad habit but sometimes she just couldn’t help it. It just wasn’t fair to get them all interested and excited and then take off for someplace as far away as New York. “You can’t do that. We have a lot more questions we need to ask you,” she said.

“Like what?” Bettina asked over her shoulder just before her shiny head disappeared into the dark depths of the stables.

“Like about who’s seen the ghosts, and what they …” Kate quit shouting and turned back to Aurora. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go with her. If we walk back to the Andersons’ with her, maybe she’ll answer a few more questions.”

Aurora followed Kate down the ladder and a minute later the barn door creaked open and slammed shut. The sound of voices died away and a deep silence returned to the old, deserted barn. But not for long.

Only a minute or two after Kate’s voice and the tromp of Bettina’s boots faded away in the distance, other strange sounds were heard in the old barn. Pigeons perching on the rafters heard them and cocked their heads to listen, and mice that had begun to creep out of their holes scurried back in. The sounds seemed to be coming from one of the hay chutes that led down to the stables below.

First there was a frantic scraping and clawing, followed by an “Oh, oh!,” a couple of thuds, a crash, and then a loud “Ouch.” The crash came from a big old wheelbarrow that sat below one of the hay chutes. An extralarge wheelbarrow that had once been used to carry the hay around to all the stalls after it had been thrown down the chute. And the “Oh, oh” and the “Ouch” had come from Ari Pappas, who had just fallen out of one of the best observation posts he’d ever had.

Ari, who was Aurora’s eight-year-old brother, was practicing to be the kind of reporter who follows famous people around and writes stories about all their secrets. But since he hadn’t met many famous people yet he had to practice on whoever happened to be handy. Like, for instance, his sister Aurora and her best friend. Of course Kate and Aurora weren’t famous, but what they
did
have was secrets. Lots of them. And lately one of their most interesting secrets had been happening in the Andersons’ old barn.

Ari Pappas sat in the wheelbarrow and rubbed both elbows. Then he rubbed his knee. Then he got on his knees and rubbed his bottom before he began to look around for his notebook. He had just been getting his notebook out of his fanny pack to take some notes about the interesting things the bald-headed girl had said, when his foot slipped and he shot down the chute.

After Ari found his notebook he climbed back up to the loft and made his way over to the farthest hay chute, where he had built his secret observation post. He needed to check to see if his footholds were still all right. The footholds, strips of wood that he’d nailed to the inside of the chute, were still there. His feet had just slipped. That was a relief. He’d had a painful feeling that he might have whacked and clawed some of them loose on his way down the chute. He really needed them to be there because he felt certain he’d be using them again before long. Like, for instance, the next time Kate and Aurora came to look for the ghosts that Bettina had just told them about.

From his hiding place in the hay chute, Ari had heard every word Bettina had said and he certainly intended to be back again the next time Kate and Aurora visited the barn. Like maybe on Halloween night.

Still thinking about Halloween, Ari climbed down from the loft and made his way, limping a little on the leg with the banged-up knee, to the barn door. And then on out into the open air.

As he closed the door behind him he breathed deeply—almost a sigh of relief. Even though he had never worried much about ghosts it was a relief, after listening to that Bettina character, to take a deep breath of normal, unhaunted air. After taking two or three deep normal breaths, he headed toward home.

He jogged until he was out of the forest, his fanny pack bouncing comfortingly behind him. But once out into the open he got down and crawled. Crawling along below the vine-covered fence that separated the Andersons’ yard from the Prince Field baseball diamond, he stopped once or twice to peek over and check on the ball game.

The guys who called themselves the PROs, Bucky and Carlos and Eddy, were all playing as usual, along with a couple of Anderson grandkids and a sixth-grade guy who lived down on Beaumont Avenue. Ari watched Eddy hit a home run before he crawled on. When he came to the Andersons’ front yard he got up, darted between bushes, squeezed through a hole in the hedge, and then strolled innocently down the sidewalk. He was still strolling when he passed the Wongs’ house, and stopped to see what on earth Web Wong was doing in his front yard with a gas tank and a big black balloon.

“H
I, WEB,” ARI SAID
, but Web was so wrapped up in whatever he was doing he didn’t even hear. Webster Wong, who, as everybody knew, was a genius, was always doing some kind of scientific experiment. Web and Ari were in the same third-grade class at Beaumont School but they usually didn’t talk to each other much. Not that they didn’t like each other. It was more like they didn’t speak the same language.

The thing was, Web usually spoke in what Ari thought of as “scientish.” You’d say hi to Web and he’d say something like “Did you know that divergent plate boundaries aren’t nearly as hazardous as convergent?” That time Web had been talking about earthquakes, but this looked like something different. At least, just offhand, Ari didn’t see how you could study earthquakes with a balloon. But maybe you did. With Web you never knew. Ari stopped for a minute to watch.

Web hooked the big black balloon up to the tank and turned a switch. There was a whooshing sound and the balloon started to swell and float up off the ground.

“Hi,” Ari said, more loudly this time. “More earthquake stuff?”

Web looked up, surprised, as if he hadn’t even noticed Ari before. “Oh hi,” he said. “No. I finished learning about earthquakes. I’m studying the atmosphere now.”

“The atmosphere? So what’s the balloon for?”

“Well, see, this is a weather balloon and—”

“And what’s that? In the tank?”

“In the tank? Oh, that’s helium. Helium’s very interesting. It has the lowest melting point of any element and about ninety-three percent of the lifting power of hydrogen.”

Ari grinned. “What do you know!” he said. “Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“Right. See, my dad got me this weather balloon and now I’m saving to buy a radiosonde …” He looked at Ari questioningly. Ari shook his head. “Well, a radiosonde,” Web went on, “is this radio transmitter that you send up into the atmosphere with a balloon and it sends back all kinds of information about—Oops! Look out! Help! Help! Turn off the switch, Ari. Turn it off.” The big black balloon was pulling Web off his feet.

Fortunately it didn’t take a very scientific mind to figure out where the switch on the helium tank was. Ari pushed it as hard as he could and then turned around in time to grab hold of Web’s legs as he went by.

A minute later, when they had Web back on the ground and the weather balloon safely anchored to the porch railing, Web thanked Ari for his help. “It sure is a good thing you came along,” he said. “My dad told me to tie it down first, but I forgot.” He looked at Ari. “Hey. You want to help with my atmospheric study? I think I really need somebody to …” He motioned, more or less toward the balloon. “Just in case,” he added.

“Yeah,” Ari said, “I see what you mean.” For a moment he seriously considered saying yes. The problem was, he could study the atmosphere—or he could go on investigating the Anderson ghosts. There probably wouldn’t be time for both. It didn’t take him long to decide. Writing scientific stuff might be interesting, but ghost stories seemed to be more his kind of thing. And what was more, ghost stories were easier to spell. “Well,” he said, “I’m pretty busy right now. Why don’t you ask Eddy?” (Eddy was Web’s fifth-grade brother.)

Web hesitated and then shook his head. “No. Eddy’s too busy making home runs. He’s got fifty-three home runs already. That’s more than Bucky, even.”

“Fifty-four,” Ari said. “I just saw number fifty-four. And I already heard about him being ahead of Bucky.” Everybody at Castle Court had heard about it. Beating Bucky Brockhurst at anything was really big news at Castle Court. So Web was probably right about Eddy being too busy to study the atmosphere. Ari thought for a moment before he asked, “How about Carson? I’ll bet Carson would like to help out.”

Web nodded thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said. “I guess I’ll ask Carson.”

A
S SOON AS BETTINA
left the old barn she started to walk very fast. Kate and Aurora had a hard time keeping up. Having to almost run made asking questions kind of difficult—and getting answers was even harder. At least it was hard to get answers to the particular questions you happened to ask.