Secrets at the Chocolate Mansion (12 page)

Suddenly I heard a strange scraping noise. I looked up, and in the semidarkness saw something move.

At first I feared it was a mouse, but mice don't have sharp, gleaming edges.

Once my eyes adjusted, I saw it was Beckett's remote-control car traveling slowly across the floor—all by itself.

The car glided smoothly, as though propelled by an invisible hand.

A ghost hand.

I looked across the living room at Beckett's door, which stood slightly ajar. Then I noticed the remote control next to me on the table. I picked it up, thinking maybe I'd accidentally triggered it somehow—but the entire remote felt suspiciously light. I turned it over and opened the battery compartment. The
empty
battery compartment.

There were no batteries in the remote.

I yelled and threw it across the room, then ducked under the afghan on the couch. As if a bunch of yarn could protect me. Yarn filled with dust, I realized as I immediately sneezed. I threw off the afghan and tried not to panic, because I was supposed to be the responsible
babysitter. I had a job to do: protect Beckett. But how could I protect him from something that didn't exist?

I stared at the car, now sitting in the middle of the living room, a good three feet away.

Okay
, I told myself.
That did not just happen
. I must've imagined the whole incident. Except here's the thing: I knew I didn't.

The car had been on one side of the room, and it drove to the other side of the room—all by itself.

The next time I checked on Beckett he was asleep, so I closed his door.

I turned on the hall light. And the fancy crystal chandelier in the dining room, and every other working light source I could find in the entire house, except for those in Beckett's and his moms' rooms.

Not knowing what to do with myself next, I walked into the kitchen and peeked into every single cabinet. I found dishes, wineglasses, regular glasses, and the food pantry. I munched a handful of baked potato chips, then ate some mixed nuts. Then I wandered back into the living room and turned on the TV, figuring I could use a distraction. But guess what was playing?
Friday the 13th
.

Because tonight was the thirteenth of the month. Not Friday, but still; thirteen is an unlucky number any day of the week.

I turned off the TV and opened my book, thinking I'd do some English homework. Except my assignment was to answer questions about “The Raven,” by Edgar Allan Poe. The poem starts like this:
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary
. I slammed the book shut, because that opening line sounded way too creepy for tonight. Then I read about the poem online. It turned out “The Raven” was about a talking bird and a man grieving over the death of his girlfriend. Gah! That's the absolute
worst
poem I could read right then. It was like I was being stalked by spooky stuff.

I went back to math, because there's nothing scary about numbers.

After I finished the assignment I looked at my watch. I'd been taking care of Beckett for over three hours now. Lisa and Caroline were only going out to dinner, as far as I knew. That's what they'd told me, anyway; they also said they'd only be gone for a couple of hours—meaning two—so where were they?

How long did dinner take?

What if they didn't come back?

What if their plan all along was to ditch Beckett with the unassuming and inexperienced babysitter and hightail it out of town and away from their haunted house?

At least they knew I would take good care of Nofarm.

I wasn't thinking straight. No way would they abandon Beckett. Why would I even think such a crazy thing? This house was making me lose my mind!

I wandered around the apartment again, opening all the doors that had been closed, including Beckett's. I found him asleep on top of his spaceship quilt, half his curls smushed against his pillow.

When I glanced at the closet in his room, I jumped at the sight of myself. Apparently the back wall was covered in mirrors that I somehow hadn't noticed before.

I hurried back to the living room, flopped down on the couch, picked up my phone, and texted Sonya.

What r u doing?

Playing hearts with Felicity. U?

Babysitting for Beckett

In the haunted house?

It's not haunted.

R u sure?

Not funny.

I wasn't kidding. Careful of Mindy!

Margaret! If you must tease me at least get the ghost's name right

Sorry dude.

I tossed my phone into my bag, wishing I could call Milo, but he already owed me too many calls. Anyway, what would I tell him—
I think you were right about the ghost, and now I'm stuck here. Please help me
? I didn't need anyone to rescue me. Anyway, based on Milo's initial reaction to this house, I'm sure he would never set foot inside. Maybe it was better that we weren't speaking at the moment. Maybe if I told him where I was, what had happened, and how scared I was, he'd say I told you so.

Not that any of this mattered, because calling Milo was not an option. I'd already tried to get in touch with him too many times, so now I had to wait.

I looked around the apartment, wondering what to do. A fresh copy of the
New York Times
sat on Lisa and
Caroline's coffee table. The story on the front page was about Amtrak's terrible safety record and their attempts to cover it up. It made me remember something my grandmother once told me: reading the
New York Times
cover to cover for a year would make me smarter than studying at any university. This always seemed like the kind of great advice I'd never actually follow. But tonight I had a change of heart. Tonight I felt like I may as well try.

I picked up the paper and began reading. And the next thing I knew, someone's hand was on my shoulder.

I opened my eyes, saw someone standing right in front of me, and screamed.

“Ah! What's going on?” I asked, scrambling to my feet.

“It's okay. It's just us,” said Caroline as she took off her jacket and hung it in the closet by the front door. “You dozed off.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” I said, realizing it was Beckett's parents and not the ghost of Margaret in front of me. “I can't believe I fell asleep on the job. I've never done that before. I mean, I've never babysat before, either, but I'm sure I'll never do it again. Fall asleep, I mean. Not babysit. I checked on Beckett six times, and he's always been okay. Let me check on him now.”

“It's okay. We just did,” said Lisa. “Beckett is fine.”

“I'm so sorry,” I said again.

“Don't be. We should be apologizing to you because it's so late. We weren't expecting to be gone for so long, but there was over an hour wait for a table at al di la,” Caroline explained. “I guess we should've called.”

Lisa sank down into an easy chair and kicked off her heels. “How was he?” she asked as she rubbed her left foot.

“Beckett? He was great. We made a tower out of LEGOs and read a bunch of books, and he went to bed. Oh—this was weird. He wanted the closet door open. He kept talking about someone named Margaret visiting him …”

Lisa and Caroline glanced at each other, and their expressions told me they weren't surprised by my news. Neither of them seemed willing to talk about it, though.

“So, what's up with that?” I asked.

“We should've mentioned Margaret. She's his imaginary friend,” said Caroline. “Just like the ghost who supposedly haunts this place. I'm guessing he heard someone talk about her and invented his own Margaret character.”

“Ha!” I forced a laugh, but it sounded choked. “That's what I figured, but I just wanted to make sure he's not being visited by the actual ghost.”

Lisa and Caroline laughed, too. “Nope. We haven't seen any ghosts around.”

“Good,” I said. “But have you noticed all the creepy noises in the building? I can see why people think it's haunted.”

“I know it's got that reputation, but trust me, it's just an old house,” said Caroline. “That's what happens. Buildings are alive; they have their own quirks and personalities, in a sense. The pipes clang when the heat goes on, and wood expands and contracts with the weather. Mortar crumbles. Foundations shift over time. Basically, the building is still settling. It always will be, to some degree, and sometimes that produces strange noises.”

This made sense, but it didn't exactly ease my mind. I was already worried about Margaret the ghost—but now I had to worry about the building, too? How much more stress could I handle?

Let me answer that question for you: not much! I was itching to get out of the apartment—the whole building, even. At this point, I'd avoid the entire block if I could. Because now that I was fully awake, I remembered why I was so freaked out in the first place. “The remote control car started working on its own,” I blurted out.

Both Lisa and Caroline cracked up, which was not the reaction I was expecting.

“I'm sorry,” said Caroline, “but you ought to have seen your face just now. And I shouldn't laugh, because I probably had the same reaction when it happened to me the first time last week.”

“It's happened to you more than once?” I asked.

“We should've warned you,” said Caroline. “It's because the car runs on the same frequency as our neighbor's remote control, so anytime they turn on the TV next door, the car shifts a little.”

“But it didn't just shift a little bit,” I said, “it moved at least three feet.”

“That's probably because the floor is slanted,” said Lisa. To demonstrate, she went to Beckett's toy box, pulled out a Matchbox car, and placed it in the corner of the room. She lifted her hand gently, and the car rolled all the way across the floor as if propelled by an invisible hand.

I sighed in relief and giggled out of nervousness all at the same time. “I
so
wish I had known that two hours ago,” I told them.

“Sorry,” said Lisa. “We were in such a rush to get out of here we forgot to mention it.”

“I didn't even think it would come up,” said Caroline. “But other than that, I'm so happy everything went well. Beckett loves you, I can tell. So will you babysit again? It would help us out a lot.”

I didn't know what to say at first. I couldn't exactly admit that their apartment creeped me out—not when I didn't believe in ghosts.

“Know what?” I said. “I have a twin brother named Finn, and he's trying to break into the business. So could we maybe babysit together next time? He's amazing with kids, and super sweet, too.”

“Okay,” said Lisa. “That works for us. And maybe you two can keep each other awake.”

“Right.” I cringed. “So sorry about that!”

“I'm kidding,” Lisa said as she looked down at her phone and pressed some buttons, pulling up her calendar. “How about Friday night?”

“You mean next weekend?” I asked. “As in, six days from now?”

“Yes. Is that okay?” asked Lisa. “My company is hosting a benefit downtown, and I really need to show my face.”

I felt totally put on the spot. If I said no, I'd seem like a wimp. But if I said yes, I'd be stuck babysitting. Of course, maybe it wouldn't be so bad with Finn there. And he did need the money. And once I got around to having Mom sign my test, she'd probably never let me babysit again anyway. So maybe I should just do it while I still had the opportunity. “Sure,” I said softly. “Friday works for me.”

“That's wonderful,” said Caroline. “Six forty-five okay?”

“Yup.” I nodded, reasoning to myself that I could always text them tomorrow and cancel.

If I wanted to admit to the world that I was a big, fat, scaredy-cat.

A few days later, I stopped by Sonya's Sweets after school. Sonya's mom had finally gotten around to uploading the pictures from the opening day onto her laptop.

“I'm sorry it took so long,” she said. “We couldn't find the right cable. Somehow, it ended up in the recycling bag and almost got thrown away. Things are so crazy these days.”

“It's fine. Don't worry about it.” I wished I had more words of reassurance for Ricki, but the truth was, I had no idea how I was going to solve this mystery, and I didn't want to lie about that.

We sat in the back booth—the same one where I'd had my first double date. But we could've parked ourselves anywhere, since there were only a few customers in the entire shop. Joshua was behind the counter
giving Sonya a lesson on frosting cakes. Everything seemed to be running smoothly, but Ricki kept looking up to survey the store, as if she expected something horrible to happen at any moment. I guess that made sense, since so many things had gone wrong already; but still, her skittishness made me sad.

Once the pictures were finally ready to look at, Ricki pressed some buttons and frowned down at her computer. “Hold on one second,” she said. “I always forget which button to press to get from one image to the next. They say these new computers are completely intuitive, but I still have trouble.”

“Don't worry about it,” I said as I carefully reached over and pressed the right button.

“Thank you,” Ricki said.

I shrugged. Old people can be funny about technology, and Ricki had pretty good excuses for not being clearheaded enough to figure things out at the moment. Sonya had reminded me again of how stressed out her mom was about the failing business, but of course I didn't bring any of that up.

Ricki shifted over to make room so I could sit in front of the computer. Then we looked through the pictures together.

Many of them were taken before the store even opened. They featured Sonya and her mom and dad and
Felicity standing in front of the shop. The beautiful picture window was in full view to their right—all those glittering food characters dancing around, sweet and cheerful.