The Barking Ghost g-32 Read online

  They could be over a hundred years old, I thought. Awesome.

  Maybe Dad can build a tree house back here, I told myself excitedly. That would be so cool. Then when Gary and Todd came to visit, we could hang out in it.

  I kept my eyes on the ground as I walked, searching for any sign of dogs.

  Nothing. No prints. No broken branches.

  How weird. I definitely heard dogs last night.

  Or maybe I just thought I'd heard those dogs. It was kind of late, and I was pretty sleepy. Maybe it was my imagination.

  Or maybe it was Mickey after all.

  Maybe he tape-recorded another dog and barked along with it.

  He would do something like that.

  He's that sneaky.

  I really had to pay him back. Something way creepy. Maybe I could do something out here in the woods.

  I made my way through the thick trees and tall weeds, the whole time thinking of how to scare Mickey.

  I suddenly realized I hadn't been paying attention to where I was going.

  I spun around and peered through the thick trunks.

  My house! I couldn't see it!

  Okay, Cooper, keep cool. You can't be that far away, I told myself.

  But my palms began to sweat.

  I swallowed hard, then tried to remember which way I'd come.

  Definitely the left.

  No, wait. Maybe right.

  I hung my head and moaned. It's no use, I thought.

  I'm lost. Hopelessly lost.

  5

  I really didn't want to cry.

  Who needed Mickey seeing me with wet, red eyes?

  I'd never hear the end of it.

  Besides, today was the first day of the new me. The new Super Cooper.

  I took a really deep breath and tried to calm down.

  I decided to walk a little to my right. If I didn't see my house, I'd turn and double back to the left.

  It was worth a try.

  What did I have to lose? I was lost anyway.

  I turned to the right. I tried to take the straightest path possible.

  The snapping of branches behind me made me spin around.

  No one there.

  It's just a harmless squirrel or something, I told myself. Just keep going.

  I returned to my straight path again. But with my first step, I heard leaves rustling behind me.

  I didn't turn around. I quickened my pace.

  And I heard it again.

  Twigs snapping. Leaves rustling.

  My throat suddenly felt dry. Don't panic. Don't panic. "Wh-who's there?" I croaked.

  No answer.

  I turned back.

  Whoa! Which way had I been walking? My head began to spin. I suddenly felt dizzy. Too dizzy to remember where I had been.

  Snap. Snap. Crack. Crunch.

  "Who is there?" I called out again. My voice didn't sound all that steady for Super Cooper.

  "Mickey, is that you? This isn't funny! Mickey?"

  Then I felt something horrible scrape my cheek. Something cold. And sharp.

  I couldn't help it. I started to scream.

  6

  A leaf. A dumb leaf.

  Come on, Cooper! Get a grip!

  I sat down on the ground for a second. I checked my watch. It was almost eight.

  Dad would be out in the yard soon. He planned to set up the new barbecue grill first thing this morning. I figured I could just wait for the hammering to start, then walk in the direction of the noise.

  I'd just sit here. And wait. Wait for the hammering. Good idea, I thought.

  I heard something rustle behind me.

  Just the leaves, I told myself. The dumb leaves.

  I stole a glance up at the trees. I tilted my head way back — and someone grabbed my arm.

  I jerked away. Sprang up. Started to run.

  And tripped over my own feet.

  Scrambling up, I gasped in surprise.

  A girl.

  She was about my age and had really long, red hair. It was frizzy, and it stuck out in a million directions. She had big green eyes. She wore a bright red T-shirt and red shorts. She reminded me of a rag doll Todd's little sister used to carry around.

  "You okay?" she asked, her hands on her waist.

  "Yeah, sure. Fine," I muttered.

  "Didn't mean to scare you," she said.

  "I wasn't scared," I lied.

  "Really," she said. "I would have been scared, too, if someone grabbed me like that. I really didn't mean to."

  "I told you," I said sharply, "I wasn't scared."

  "Okay. Sorry."

  "What are you sorry about?" I asked. This had to be the weirdest girl I'd ever met.

  "I don't know," she replied, shrugging. "I'm just sorry."

  "Well, you can stop apologizing," I told her. I brushed the dirt off my clothes and picked up my baseball cap. I quickly set it back on my head. To cover my ears.

  The girl stared at me. She stood there and stared. Without saying a word. Was she staring at my ears?

  "Who are you?" I finally asked.

  "Margaret Ferguson," she replied. "But people call me Fergie. Like the duchess."

  I didn't know what duchess she was talking about. But I pretended I did.

  "I live through the woods that way," she said, pointing behind her.

  "I thought no one lived around here for miles," I said.

  "Yeah. There are some houses around here, Cooper," she replied. "They're pretty spread out."

  "Hey! How did you know my name?" I asked suspiciously.

  Margaret, or Fergie, or whatever her name was, turned beet-red.

  "I, uh, watched you move in yesterday," she confessed.

  "I didn't see you," I replied.

  "That's because I hid in the woods," she said. "I heard your father call you Cooper. And I know your last name, too. It's Holmes. I saw it written on all the boxes in the moving van. And I know you have a brother, Mickey," she added. "He's a jerk."

  I laughed. "You got that right!" I exclaimed. "So how long have you lived around here?"

  She didn't answer. She kept her eyes on the ground.

  "I said, how long have — "

  Suddenly, her head jerked up and she gazed into my eyes.

  "Wh-what's wrong?" I asked when I saw her frightened face.

  Her face tightened, as if she were in pain. Her lips trembled.

  "Margaret!" I cried. "What? What is it?"

  She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She breathed deeply, gulping air. Finally, she clutched my shoulders and shoved her face right up close to mine.

  "Dogs," she whispered. Then she let go of me and darted away.

  I froze for a moment. Then I chased after her.

  She made it to a big tree stump before I caught up. I grabbed hold of the back of her T-shirt and spun her around.

  "Margaret, what do you mean 'dogs'?" I asked.

  "No! No!" she cried. "Just let me go! Let me go!"

  I held her tightly.

  "Let me go! Let me go!" she cried again.

  "Margaret, what did you mean back there?" I repeated. "This is important. Why did you say 'dogs'?"

  "Dogs?" Her eyes grew wide. "I don't remember saying that."

  My jaw fell open. "You did!" I insisted. "You looked straight at me and said, 'dogs'! I heard you!"

  She shook her head. "No, I don't remember that," she replied thoughtfully.

  Now I've met weird kids in my life, but Margaret here takes the cake. She almost makes Mickey seem normal.

  Almost.

  "Okay," I said, trying to sound calm, "here's what happened. You freaked out. Then you grabbed me. Then you said, 'Dogs.' Then you freaked out again."

  "Don't remember," she replied softly, shaking her head from side to side. "Why would I say that?"

  "I don't know!" I screamed, starting to lose it. "I'm not the one who said it!"

  She gazed around in all directions, then focused those green, crazy eyes on m
e.

  "Listen to me, Cooper," she whispered mysteriously. "Get away from here."

  "Huh?"

  "I'm warning you, Cooper! Tell your parents they must leave at once!" She glanced nervously behind her, then turned back to me.

  "Please — listen to me. Get away from here! As fast as you can!"

  7

  Fergie let go of my shoulders and ran.

  For a few seconds, I stared after her, too shocked to move. Then I decided I'd better not let her get away.

  "Fergie!" I called out. "Wait up!"

  For a girl, Fergie ran pretty fast. Actually, most girls I know are fast runners.

  Whoever said they were slower than boys in the first place? It isn't true. Lots of girls in my class last year could beat any guy in a race.

  Anyway, I happen to be a very fast runner. When you're afraid of everything, you learn to run — fast!

  "Fergie!" I called again. "Please! Tell me what's going on!" But I couldn't catch up.

  Then, to my surprise, she stopped and turned back to me. "Listen, Cooper," she said, calmer than before. "The woods are haunted. Your house is probably haunted, too. Go home. Go home and tell your parents to move back to wherever you came from."

  "But — but — but — " I sputtered.

  "It's too dangerous here," Fergie warned. "Get away, Cooper. As fast as you can!"

  With that, she turned and walked away in the direction of her house.

  I didn't follow her this time.

  I should have. I totally forgot that I was lost.

  I turned around. My house is probably in the opposite direction, I decided.

  She disappeared through the trees. Fine with me, I thought angrily. It would be fine with me if I never saw her again.

  Why did she tell me all that?

  Why did she say the woods were haunted?

  Because it was true?

  Leave it to my parents to buy a haunted house in haunted woods!

  I continued on, unable to shake the creepy feeling I had. I felt as if a hundred eyes were stalking me through the trees.

  I wished Fergie had kept her mouth shut.

  The longer I walked, the more frightened I became. Now I was positive that the woods were haunted. Haunted by ghosts tracking every step I made.

  Then, in the distance, I heard a faint banging. It startled me at first. When I realized it was Dad working on the grill, I shrieked with joy.

  "All right! I'm almost home!" My plan had worked.

  I followed the hammering sounds.

  Something rustled the branches above my head and made me jump.

  I gazed up.

  Just a bird.

  Staring up at the trees, I nearly fell headfirst into a stream.

  The water lapped quietly against the grassy shore. It reflected the pale blue morning sky above it.

  Funny, I hadn't seen this stream here before.

  I bent down to touch the water. Cold.

  This is awesome! I thought. A real stream, practically in my own backyard.

  Then I remembered that it wouldn't be my backyard for long. As soon as I told my parents what Fergie had said, we'd pack up and move back to Boston.

  As I dried my hand on my shirt, I had that creepy feeling again. The feeling of eyes watching me. My head jerked up, and I gasped.

  There were eyes watching me.

  Four dark eyes glared at me from across the stream.

  The eyes of two enormous black Labradors.

  One dog panted loudly, its tongue hanging out. The other dog flashed its teeth at me. Ugly, yellow teeth.

  They both uttered low, menacing growls.

  Not friendly. Not friendly at all.

  Run! I urged myself. Run!

  But my legs wouldn't budge.

  Growling, the dogs eyed me hungrily.

  Then they attacked.

  8

  Their heavy paws thudded the ground as they came bounding toward me. Their eyes glowed with excitement. Their large heads bobbed up and down.

  With a terrified cry, I turned and ran.

  If only I could fly!

  "Helllllp!" Was that me letting out that frightened wail?

  Yes. I think it was.

  Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of light through the trees. Sunlight glistening off the jungle gym slide!

  Yes!

  Almost home.

  The two black Labs ran at my heels. I could feel their hot breath on the backs of my legs. I felt a pair of sharp teeth scrape my ankle.

  With one last gasp of speed, I burst through the trees and out of the woods. "Dad!" I yelled, racing toward my father.

  "Help me!" I shrieked. "The dogs! The dogs!" I threw my arms around his waist and held on.

  "Cooper, calm down! What's gotten into you?" my father asked, grabbing me by the shoulders.

  "The dogs!" I wailed, refusing to let go of him.

  "Cooper, what dogs?" Dad demanded.

  I blinked at him in confusion. Didn't he hear them? Couldn't he see them?

  I let go of him and pointed toward the woods.

  "Wild dogs. Big, black Labs, I think. They chased me, and — "

  I scanned the yard frantically. Dad and I were alone.

  No barking.

  No snarling.

  The sunlight glistened off the slide.

  The tire swung lazily from its rope.

  The dogs had vanished.

  9

  "Cooper, this is a joke — right?" Dad asked, shaking his head.

  "Huh? No way!" I cried. "They were right behind me. One almost bit me, and — "

  "And then they disappeared into thin air!" Dad declared.

  "Come into the woods with me," I pleaded. "They've got to be there." I ran to the edge of the woods, desperately searching for some sign of the dogs. Dad followed right behind.

  But there was nothing to see.

  I turned and slunk back to the house.

  Dad didn't say anything until we were back in the yard. He sat down on the jungle gym slide. His eyes studied me.

  "Cooper, tell me what's wrong," Dad said in a low voice. I could tell he thought I had made all this up.

  "I told you, Dad. Two dogs chased me through the woods. They were inches from me! One tried to tear my leg off!"

  Dad continued to stare up at me, his expression thoughtful.

  "Dad, listen," I pleaded. "We have to move. We can't live here!"

  He climbed to his feet. "What are you talking about, Cooper?"

  "We have to move back to Boston," I insisted. "We can't stay here!"

  "Why not?" Dad asked.

  "It's this house!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "It's haunted!"

  "Now, Cooper — "

  "Dad! Listen to me," I begged. "The woods… this house… they're all haunted. Everybody around here knows it already! We never should have moved here!"

  "Cooper, you're not making any sense," Dad replied, keeping his voice low and calm. "You know, walking in the woods by yourself can be scary. Why don't you come inside and calm down? Mom made a big breakfast. Have some French toast. You'll feel better." He put his arm around my shoulders.

  Now I really felt upset. My own father didn't believe me.

  "But, Dad, it's true!" I insisted. "The woods are haunted, and this weird girl I met warned me to move out! She — "

  "Cooper, I know you're unhappy about the move," Dad said. "But these wild stories aren't going to change anything. This is where we live now."

  "But — "

  "When school starts, you'll make some new friends and everything will be fine. So come on in and have breakfast. You'll feel better. You'll see."

  He led me back to the house.

  As Dad held the door open for me, I glanced back and took one last look at the woods.

  Two big black dogs stared at me from the trees.

  10

  When I blinked, the dogs vanished.

  Shaking my head, I made my way into the kitchen.

  Mickey had already f
inished half his breakfast when Dad and I entered the room. He leaned over his cereal bowl, snickering about something. I ignored him.

  "Cooper, have some French toast," Mom said. "It's on your plate, waiting for you."

  I sat across from Mickey, trying hard not to look at his dumb face. I was still really steamed at him.

  "Mom, do you know who our neighbors are?" I asked, pouring maple syrup over the toast.

  "Why, sure," Mom answered. "Your father and I met some of them a few weeks ago when we came to see the house."

  "Did you meet the Fergusons?" I asked.

  Mom squinted her eyes, thinking. Then she shook her head. "No, I don't think we met them. We met the Martells. Joel and Shirley. Very nice people." Then she asked, "Who are the Fergusons?"

  I didn't answer. I pressed on. "Did the Martells tell you our house was haunted?"

  Mom laughed. "No, Cooper, they didn't. It must have slipped their minds," she joked.

  "Ha-ha. It's nothing to laugh about," I insisted. "Our house is haunted. And so are the woods!"

  "Cooper, what are you talking about?" my mother demanded.

  "Enough, Cooper," my father warned. "Eat your breakfast."

  "Yeah," Mickey said with a snort. "Eat your breakfast, Drooper."

  I could feel my face turn red. I hated when Mickey called me Drooper. He called me that because of my big droopy ears.

  "Shut up, Sickey," I replied.

  "Cut it out, you two," Dad snapped.

  I dug my fork into the French toast. How could they not believe me? Did they really think I made this story up?

  I lifted a chunk of toast to my mouth and stuffed it in.

  "Aghhhh!"

  Choking and coughing, I spit the food out on my plate.

  "Gross!" Mickey cried, grinning. "Gross! A guy could lose his appetite around here."

  My eyes teared, and I coughed a few more times.

  "You okay, Cooper?" Mom asked.

  "Somebody dumped salt on my French toast!" I exclaimed angrily.

  Mickey started to laugh.

  That creep.

  My father climbed up from the table. Without saying a word, he stomped out of the room.

  That's how my Dad acts when he's angry. He gets all quiet, then just walks away. Punishments come later.