The Old Willis Place (3 page)

Dad called the police and they came out and talked to us. They said teenagers sometimes sneak onto the property and most likely that's who took my bike. When I told them I thought someone was spying on us, one of the policemen said it must have been the same kids who stole my bike. They live in a development just across the highwayfrom the farm. The police have had trouble with them trespassing before.

The other policeman shook his head. "Funny things happen out here" he said. "None of the caretakers stay long. Place gives them the jitters, they say. Some of them claim it's haunted by the old lady who used to live here. Her and the poor—"

The first policeman coughed and said, "We'd better get going, Novak. We've got other business."

I had the funniest feeling he didn't want us to hear what Officer Novak was about to say In case you haven't noticed, that's how it always is with adults—just when someone starts telling the interesting stuff, someone else shuts him up: I glanced at Dad, hoping he'd ask him what he was talking about, but he was watching MacDuff chase a squirrel.

Officer Novak jingled his keys and looked at me. "Don't go too Jarfrom the trailer" he said."There's no telling who might he hanging out in the woods. And stay away from the old house."

"1
hear there's a hunch of snakes in the cellar," the first policeman said. "And the floorboards are rotten in some of the rooms."

The two of them got in the police car. "Keep your eye out," the first one told Dad. "Ifyou see anything suspicious, give us a call."

Officer Novak looked at me as if something was worrying him, but all he said was,"That's a real nice dog you've got."

We watched them drive away.
I
was hoping they'd turn their lights and siren on, but they didn't. I guess they only do that in movies.

So now Dad thinks I might have been right about kids hiding in the woods, spying and stealing stuff. Three hundred acres—there must be a ton of hiding places on this farm.

I'm going to look for them. If I find them, Til tell them to give my bike back—or else they'll end up in jail or juvenile detention. They can't scare me. And neither can Miss Willis.

Well, I've written so much my hand hurts, so I think I'll stop and read in bed for a while. It sure is dark outside. Not a streetlight. Not a house light. Not even a headlight going past.

Your friend, Lissa

P.S. I'm going to call you Dee Dee. It makes you seem more like a real pen pal.

Chapter 3

The sound of falling rain woke Georgie and me. It pinged on the sheds tin roof like someone was beating on it with drumsticks. Nero curled beside me, purring, happy to be warm and dry. Georgie looked less happy.

"Rain. I hate rain." He snuggled deeper under his blankets, as if he meant to sleep until the sun came out. "I wish we had a new book to read."

I looked at the pile of old books we'd borrowed from Miss Lilian. "How about
Clematis! We
haven't read that for a long time."

"I said a
new
book. I'm sick of those old ones. Especially
Clematis.
It's a silly girly girl story." Georgie pulled the blankets over his head. "Besides, I hate sappy endings."

I yanked the covers back and laughed at his scowling face. "Tonight we'll borrow a book from Lissa," I promised. "She has a whole shelf full of them. Surely she won't miss one or two."

"I want a story right now," Georgie mumbled. "Tell me the one about us."

"But it always makes you cry."

"Tell it anyway."

I sighed and stretched out on my back beside him. "Once there was a little boy named Georgie," I began. "He had a big sister named Diana. They lived in a little house on a big farm with their mother and father. It wasn't their farm. It belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Willis, but Georgie and Diana could play anywhere they wanted. Inside and outside."

"Upstairs and downstairs," Georgie added. "Diana and Georgie were so happy."

"Most of the time," I said.

"All
of the time," Georgie insisted. "They rode bicycles—their very own bicycles. And they had lots of books to read. They had warm beds. And food, delicious food. Ice cream, candy, cake, and cookies, all they could eat."

Lulled by the rain into a dreamy state like Georgie's, I said, "Devil's food cake was their favorite. And chocolate chip cookies still warm from the oven, all gooey and sweet. Mother read to them every night and Daddy took them fishing in the pond."

"And Diana played the piano every single day." Georgie snuggled closer. "Those were the best times ever."

"Except for Miss Lilian." I was sorry the moment the old woman's name popped out of my mouth. It hung in the air for a long moment, a dark cloud over our heads, a curse nothing could dispel.

Georgie drew away from me and covered his ears. "Stop, Diana! Don't tell the bad part."

"But you said—"

"I've changed my mind." Throwing his covers back, Georgie got to his feet and dashed out into the rain.

"Georgie!" I ran to the shed's door and peered after him, but he was already out of sight. "Come back," I called. "You'll get soaked."

There was no answer, just the sound of the rain and the wind stripping the trees, filling the air with ragged yellow leaves.

"Georgie," I called again. Still no answer. He'd probably stay away all day, holed up in one of his secret hideouts.

I stepped back from the sheets of water pouring off the roof. If I hadn't mentioned Miss Lilian, my brother and I would still be telling tales about the old days, amusing ourselves while the rain fell and the wind blew. Now Georgie was gone and I was alone.

To keep myself from thinking about the bad part, I rummaged through our pile of moldering belongings until I found
Clematis.
I made a snug nest of blankets for myself, not nearly as cozy as Lissa's soft, clean bed, and opened the book. Just inside the front cover, spidery handwriting proclaimed, "This book belongs to me, Lilian Willis."

Well, not anymore, I thought. It's mine now.

As the wind murmured through the cracks in the shed's walls, I could almost hear my mother's voice reading to me the way she once did. It would be lovely to cuddle up beside her while Georgie sat nearby, building block towers and pretending not to listen. We'd have hot chocolate by the fire, and slabs of devil's food cake. So warm, so cozy, rain falling outside, firelight glowing inside.

Drowsy-eyed, I let the book drop to my side. Snuggling deeper under the covers, I drifted into dreams of happy days with Mother and Daddy.

I slept most of the day, but Georgie didn't come back till after dark. Nero heard him before I did. He leapt from his place beside me, his ears pricked up, and ran to the door to welcome my brother.

"Where have you been?" I asked him.

Georgie flopped down on his pile of blankets, shaking off water like a dog. "You should have come with me. I went to the trailer and I—"

"Did you see Lissa?"

"I saw her and her father." He paused a second.
"And
the police. Mr. Morrison—that's their last name, I heard the police say it—called them about the bike. One cop said kids from town probably stole it, but the other said strange things happen here. He told them how none of the caretakers stay long. How some of them spread stories about ghosts and other weird stuff."

"Boooooo,"
I moaned in a ghostly voice.
"Boooooo!"

We laughed, knowing exactly who was to blame for the caretakers' abrupt departures.

"What did Lissa's father say?" I asked.

"He just laughed, but Lissa told the police she's sure people are hiding in the woods. She feels them watching her. The policeman said they were the same kids who stole the bike. He thinks they live in those houses across the highway.

"Was Lissa scared?"

Georgie shook his head. "She seemed more mad than anything. If you ask me, she's kind of spoiled. You know, only child and all that. I bet she always gets her own way."

I picked up Nero and rubbed his head with my chin. The cat purred, but I frowned. What did Georgie know about Lissa? He was a boy, after all. He didn't know anything about girls. Lissa was nice, I could tell. She'd be a good friend, if only—if only, if only, if only.

"The policeman warned Lissa to stay close to the trailer and not to go to Miss Lilian's house," Georgie went on. "If Lissa and her father see anything suspicious, he wants them to call right away."

I lay on my back with Nero on my chest, purring so loudly I could feel his whole body vibrating. "I'm glad Mr. Morrison doesn't believe in ghosts," I said. "It would be awful if he quit. He and Lissa are much more interesting than the grumpy old men who usually take the job."

Georgie shrugged. "He sure was mad about the bike."

"I'm mad about the bike, too."

"I said I was sorry." Georgie rubbed his hair dry with a blanket and took off his wet clothes. In a pair of baggy pants that used to belong to Mr. Potter and a sweatshirt he'd found in the woods, Georgie looked smaller than ever.

I got to my feet, tired of being indoors. "Let's see what they're doing now."

The night air was cold and thick with mist. The rain had stopped, but the trees were dripping and the ground was wet. We mucked through the woods and across the field. In the gloom, we saw the trailer's cheerful lighted windows.

Lissa and her father were in the living room playing checkers. MacDuff lay beside Lissa, his nose on his paws, sound asleep.

"We should borrow the checkers, too," Georgie whispered. "I'm tired of playing with stones and acorns. Just think, a real board instead of squares scratched in the dirt."

I put my finger to my lips. "Hush. Do you want to wake MacDuff?"

We watched Mr. Morrison win the game by capturing Lissa's last king. "Time for bed, kiddo," he said.

"Just wait till tomorrow night." Lisa smiled and kissed him good night. "I'll beat you."

"We'll see about that." Her father got to his feet and turned off the light.

Georgie and I sneaked around to Lissa's window and hopped up on the cinder block. She was already in bed, reading. I squinted hard at the title.
Lassie Come-Home
—one of my favorites. I longed to read it again. I'd begged Daddy to let me have a collie just like Lassie, a dog who would love me best of all and be loyal and true. But he'd said no. Miss Lilian wouldn't allow a dog on her property. It might frighten her cats.

Georgie made a slight noise, and Lissa looked straight at the window. We ducked down.

"Be still," I whispered. "She almost saw us."

The next time I raised my head, Lissa was reading again. Finally, she yawned, closed the book, and laid it on the table beside her bed.

When she turned off her light, Georgie nudged me. "Should I sneak in and get the book now?"

I shook my head. "Give her time to fall sound asleep."

"Let's see what her father's doing," Georgie suggested. "His light's still on."

We crept to the other side of the trailer. "Where's MacDuff?"! whispered to Georgie.

He climbed up on the cinder block ahead of me. "In here," he whispered.

Sure enough, there was MacDuff, curled up in a dog nest as cozy as Lissa's bed. Mr. Morrison sat at his desk, working on his computer. It was the first one we'd ever seen, except in television ads. While we watched, words formed themselves into sentences and paragraphs on the screen. Like magic, I thought.

"He must be working on his novel," I whispered. "I wonder what its about."

"We could borrow his computer and read it." Georgie grinned. "I bet the novels boring, but it would be fun to have a computer."

"I think you need electricity to make one work."

"Too bad," Georgie muttered.

After Mr. Morrison quit for the night, we returned to Lissa's window. Georgie lifted the screen quietly. He'd gotten very good at borrowing, much better than I had.

Cautiously I followed him inside. He could have taken the book by himself, but I wanted a closer look at Lissa's room. While Georgie waited impatiently, I examined her stuffed animals, her books, the pictures on the walls.

I pointed to a photograph in a silver frame. "Look, Georgie," I whispered, "that must be her mother. She looks just like Lissa."

Georgie picked up the photograph and studied it. "I wonder what happened to her," he said. "Do you think she died?"

Saddened by the thought, I shook my head. "Maybe they got divorced. Lots of people do that now." Another useful bit I'd picked up watching TV.

But Georgie's interest had been caught by something else. Bending over Lissa, he carefully lifted the teddy bear lying beside her head and cradled it in his arms. "It's just like the bear Miss Lilian took away from me," he said. "She said I stole Alfie, but Mrs. Willis gave him to me. Remember how I cried and cried?"

Just then Lissa sighed in her sleep and rolled from her side to her back. Scared of waking her, I grabbed
Lassie Come-Home
and headed for the window, with Georgie right behind me.

We must have made more noise than we'd thought, because MacDuff started barking before we'd crossed the yard. We heard Mr. Morrison yell at the dog to be quiet. Lissa called out from her room, and the outside light flooded the yard.

Without waiting to see what would happen next, we fled into the woods. It wasn't until we were safely home that I noticed Georgie had brought the bear with him. He fell asleep that night holding it as tightly as he'd once held Alfie. I hadn't seen him look so happy in a long time.

T
HE
D
IARY OF
L
ISSA
M
ORRISON

Dear Dee Dee,

Something even more scary has happened. While I was asleep last night, someone came in my room and stole Tedward and
Lassie Come-Home.
Dad says I must he mistaken, I just forgot where I put them—but I know Tedward was on my pillow; I sleep with him every night. My book was on the table beside my bed. When I woke up, they were both gone.

I bet the same kids who stole my bike took my bear and my book. They have a lot of nerve to come into my room while Tm sleeping. They could have murdered me! How can I ever sleep in my bed again? Til have to keep MacDuff in my room to protect me.

Oh, Dee Dee, I don't know what I'll do without Tedward. He's my most special toy, my favorite, the one I love best of all. My mother gave him to me when I was jive years old, not long before she died. Tve slept with him ever since. Now he's been kidnapped and I want him back! What do those kids want with a little brown bear? I love him so much.

Dad says Tedward and my book will turn up, but I doubt it. I wonder what they'll steal next. I hope they take something that belongs to him. His computer maybe. Then he'll know how it feels.

If only Dad would fix the lock on my window. But oh, no, he's too busy working on his book to do anything like that. He won't even help me search for those kids. He says they're long gone, but he called the police and reported it, just the same.

If they dare to come back, I'll sic MacDuff on them. He'll give them a bite they won't forget!

Oh, Dee Dee—I wish you were real and could write back to me and tell me what you think. I feel like Tm talking to myself, going on and on, writing letters nobody will ever read.

Well, that's all for now. I guess I'll take MacDuff for a walk. And keep my eyes peeled, as people say—which is a very weird expression when you think about it. Eyes peeled like grapes. Ugh.

Seeya later—
Your friend, Lissa