A Little Bit Haunted (Bayview High Book 1)

by Melody Summers

  A Little Bit Haunted

  Bayview High #1

  Melody Summers

  Copyright © 2017 Melody Summers

  melody-summers.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced in any form or by any means, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Excerpt: Not Exactly Lying

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  I still couldn’t believe my parents had decided to move us into a haunted house.

  This was quickly turning into the worst summer ever. Right after school let out for the year, my best friend had moved away to Denver. Now I was about to be the star of my own paranormal reality show, whether I liked it or not.

  Okay, so I wasn’t exactly sure that it was haunted, but the place looked about a thousand years old and could have been the Addams Family’s summer home. When my great-aunt Enid lived there it had been totally creepy, but for the last three years it had sat silent and empty and neglect had made it even worse. After she died the family divvied up all her belongings and donated the junk no one wanted to charity, but even without all of Aunt Enid’s ancient furniture and bizarre knick-knacks in it the place still had that old house vibe that gave me shivers whenever I walked inside.

  I used the hem of my t-shirt to wipe away some of the sweat beading on my forehead as I climbed into the sweltering cave of the moving truck. It was barely ten o’clock in the morning, but the south Texas heat and humidity were already hitting sauna levels. What would have been a perfect day for a trip to the beach was pure misery for hauling around furniture and heavy boxes. On the bright side, I could look forward to the creepy chills from the house when I carried the next load up to my room. Maybe that would cool me off.

  With a grunt, I lifted a box which had Delaney’s Books scrawled on the top in pink Sharpie and staggered along the sidewalk to the porch. A chipped red brick held the front door propped open, and I could hear Mom and Dad arguing about something inside. It figured that they’d be fighting over how to arrange the furniture in the living room when what they should have been worrying about was the ghosts getting us in our sleep.

  Shaking my head in disgust, I climbed up the narrow staircase, each step creaking dolefully as my weight hit it. Dad swore that the inspectors had verified that the place was in great shape—probably sturdier than the much newer house we had lived in before—but it constantly groaned and squeaked as though a good breeze would turn it into a pile of kindling.

  At the top of the stairs I stepped carefully onto the threadbare green carpet of the landing and edged the heavy box around the banister. My corner room lay at the end of the hall, and by the time I reached it I was ready to collapse. Next time I’d use smaller boxes for my books. I had to blink sweat out of my eyes as I lowered the box to the floor and cautiously opened the door.

  From his spot on my bed Kiki watched me with slitted green eyes, his gray tail twitching lazily as I shoved the heavy box across the carpet. I made sure to kick the door shut behind me so he couldn’t escape. As long as the front door was standing open I had to keep him corralled in my room, but since he normally had the run of the house Kiki wasn’t exactly thrilled by that. If I left my bedroom door open he’d be off like a shot.

  Despite leaving the windows cracked to air out the room and the aroma of my favorite scented wax rising from a cheery pink warmer, the place still smelled musty. I leaned low over the warmer, drew in a deep breath of vanilla and honeysuckle, and tried to think happy thoughts. Those lasted only until I let my eyes roam over the yellowed floral wallpaper and dingy, faded carpet. Even the doorknob was ancient, some kind of faceted glass thing that was so worn it wobbled when I turned it.

  It wasn’t fair. I wanted my old room back. This one looked like a sleazy motel room from an old movie or something. I didn’t even want to think about what it was going to be like at night when I was in here all alone.

  I checked my phone where I’d left it on the nightstand. Still no texts from any of my friends. There wasn’t even anyone I could vent to, and somehow that made it even worse. With no one around to complain to, I took a quick picture of the room and uploaded it to Twitter.

  This is my life now

  From down the hall my younger sister’s voice rose in an outraged squeal. “Dad-dy! There’s a spider as big as Kiki in my room!”

  That made up my mind on whether to start unpacking my books or to go down to the truck and bring up another box. I don’t do spiders. In my haste to leave I forgot to keep an eye on the cat, though, and as soon as the door swung open Kiki made a dash for freedom. Darting around my legs, the fat furball whipped past me and disappeared in a gray flash down the hall. With a grace that defied his bulk he scampered down the stairs, bounding over two at a time in his haste to escape. I reached the landing just in time to see his outstretched tail vanish through the front door.

  Visions of slavering dogs and speeding cars painted gruesome pictures in my head as I hurried down the stairs after him, but by the time I got to the front door he was long gone. There was no sign of him anywhere.

  “Kiki!” I called into the deserted yard. “Stupid cat. Kiki!”

  Although I walked all around the house and called him repeatedly, he refused to come back. I’d just have to hope he turned up on his own when he got hungry. With my shoulders slumped in defeat, I headed back into the truck for another box of my books.

  This one was even heavier than the last, so that I swayed under its weight as I trudged awkwardly towards the house. When I reached the front steps I heard a screen door bang at the house next door to us, and my head swiveled automatically towards the noise. A guy stepped out onto the porch, his bright blue eyes gleaming with amused curiosity as I waddled up the sidewalk. A really, really cute guy. Suddenly I couldn’t seem to remember how to walk, and my feet went in different directions so that I stumbled and banged my shin hard on the edge of the steps.

  I cried out as bright pain exploded through my leg, and it was only with a heroic effort that I managed to stay on my feet without dropping the box. With my face burning hotter than the sun, I staggered onto the porch and practically dove through the front door. I couldn’t believe it. Why? Why was this happening to me?

  Quickly as I could, I heaved the box up the stairs to my room and dumped it beside the others so I could dash for the bathroom. A glance in the mirror confirmed my worst fears. Dusty sweat smeared my face, while wisps of my long, brown hair had pulled free from my ponytail to tangle into a limp mess. Dirt and grime streaked my t-shirt and favorite pastel green shorts. I looked hideous. Not that I was all that much to brag about when I was cleaned up, but today I seriously looked like a hobo or something. I might as well have just crawled out of a gutter.

  I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing that this day would turn out to be nothing but a bad dream that would dissolve like a puff of smoke when I woke up. Why me? It was bad enough moving into a haunted house after losing m
y best friend. Losing my cat and banging my shin were just icing on the cake.

  But I must have done something truly awful in a previous life to offend the karma gods enough to wind up with Walker Dean as my next door neighbor.

  Chapter Two

  Walker Dean was heartbreak just looking for a victim.

  He tore through girls’ hearts like a tornado through a trailer park. It wasn’t that he did it on purpose or anything, but then neither does a tornado, right? And just like that tornado, he seemed oblivious to the wreckage he left behind. I had lost track of the number of girls I’d walked in on while they cried their eyes out over him in the restrooms at school. Each one had seemed to think that she would be The One who would finally change his bad boy ways, but then he’d slip right through her fingers and move on to the next girl in line. And there was always another girl in line, and another, and another after that. This was my new neighbor.

  I stared into the mirror and wished I’d never been born. One of the hottest guys in school had just seen me looking like I was some kind of homeless person, and then watched me spazz out and almost break my neck at the sight of him. I was never leaving the house again.

  Except I still had to bring the rest of my stuff up from the moving truck. There was no getting out of it. Other than the furniture, I was responsible for hauling everything of mine up to my room, which meant I was going to have to go back and face Walker all over again.

  Nothing said I had to do it looking like I’d spent the morning dumpster diving, though. I rinsed my hands in the sink and managed to clean most of the sweat and smudges off of my face, and then I went to work on my hair. I tried to be careful pulling my hair tie loose, but stray hairs kept getting caught and every time I tugged on one my eyes teared up. It had to be done, though, so I bit my lip and pushed through it. Finally I was able to shake my hair free and brush away the worst of the dust. I combed my fingers through the tangles, straightening them as best I could, then retied my ponytail. It was limp from the humidity and still the same plain old dark brown as always, but at least it looked better than it had.

  Under the blinding glare of the naked bulbs above the sink, my reflection wasn’t exactly flattering. Should I go all the way? I didn’t usually wear much makeup and most of what I had was still packed, but I had lip gloss and eyeliner pencils in my purse. It was probably my best shot at making Walker forget what I had looked like earlier.

  A couple of minutes later my lips glowed Cotton Candy Pink while I gingerly applied some gold liner to bring out the green in my hazel eyes. I was just putting on the finishing touches when Mom walked past the bathroom.

  She glanced in at me and continued down the hall a couple of steps, then turned around and came back and stuck her head in the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just… Freshening up?”

  One eyebrow rose skeptically. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to look like a hobo.”

  Mom snorted. “It’s moving day. You’re just going to get dirty and sweaty all over again, and when that eyeliner starts to run you’ll look like a raccoon.”

  I heaved an exaggerated sigh, trying to sound put upon. “Can’t I just want to look nice for a little while to make myself feel better? It’s bad enough that I have to live in a haunted house. Do I have to gross out the ghosts while I’m here?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Delaney. I was born at night, but not last night. There’s a boy in this story somewhere.”

  “Mom…” I started, working a pained tone into my voice.

  “I don’t care,” she cut me off. “Just don’t spend all day in here, because your father has to return the truck by five o’clock.”

  “Fine.”

  She walked away, shaking her head and muttering. That was okay—so long as she left. I was stressed out enough as it was without her pestering me about the boy next door.

  My clothes were still dirty, but they’d just have to do. I couldn’t keep changing into a new outfit every time I brought another box upstairs. I glanced down at my nails, which were grubby and a little chipped, but shrugged that off. Walker wasn’t likely to notice them from a distance.

  Reality slapped me hard, and with an odd, hollow feeling inside I slumped against the counter. Walker wasn’t likely to notice me period. Not that I really wanted him to or anything. I just didn’t want to have to look completely awful if he was going to see me walking around.

  Okay, so it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, either, but I felt very strongly about it.

  When I went downstairs for the next box I peeked carefully through the windows and checked around the corners before I went outside, but Walker was nowhere to be seen. Deflated, I climbed into the back of the truck with a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment. It was just as well, since I didn’t really want him to notice me. Not that he would or anything, and no matter how gorgeous he was I certainly didn’t want to be his next conquest.

  For the next two hours I carried boxes and totes and smaller pieces of furniture into the house, with only a short break for lunch. By then I was so worn out that I’d forgotten all about Walker and how I looked, but at last I’d carried the last box up to my room. With a frown at the messy stacks of my life piled up against the walls I started unpacking, starting with the things I needed most—clothes.

  The closet smelled even mustier than my room and was about the size of a photo booth. There was no way I was ever going to fit all of my clothes in there. As I was hanging up what I could manage to cram inside, a low, eerie groan came from somewhere behind the back wall.

  I jumped backwards into my room, stumbling over boxes and plastic bags bulging with my clothes, my heart slamming against my ribs. What was that? It came again, softer this time, and I swallowed hard as I stared into the dim mass of clothes. Maybe it was just the pipes or something? Sometimes the ones in our last house had made weird noises when it got cold. Whatever it was, I was going to make sure that closet door was shut and had a heavy box of books holding it closed before I went to bed.

  Later that afternoon, I was still trying to bring some order to the chaos in my room. Mom and Dad had left to take the truck back to the rental place, so I was alone in the house with my little sister, Shelly, who was watching cartoons in her room next door. My stomach growled irritably as I worked. I’d burned through lunch a long time ago, and I was looking forward to the pizza my parents had promised to bring back for dinner.

  I’d put away as many of my clothes as I could, but there was still a pile of stuff on my bed that I had no idea what to do with. With a shrug, I started cramming books onto my shelves so I could empty out some of the boxes cluttering up the floor. I wanted my old room back. I wanted the extra space, and my soothing lavender walls, and floors that didn’t squeak when you walked on them.

  I glanced at the bare windows and frowned. They were going to need a couple of bottles of glass cleaner before I could actually see anything through them. My curtains were buried somewhere in all the mess, and I needed to hang them up. That would help cheer the place up a little. And with the curtains up I could put off cleaning the windows. Out of sight, out of mind.

  A faint banging noise yanked me out of my reverie. I remembered I was supposed to be keeping an eye on Shelly, so I poked my head into her room to make sure she hadn’t fallen down the stairs or something. She was still watching cartoons, oblivious to anything else in the house. Where was the noise coming from?

  I waited a few seconds until it started again and realized it was coming from downstairs. Someone was knocking on the front door. I hurried to answer it, thinking it was probably Mom and Dad. If they had their arms full of pizzas and sodas they might need someone to open the door. By the time I got downstairs the knocking had gotten more insistent, so I unlocked the door and yanked it open without thinking to look through the peephole.

  Walker was standing on the porch, looking down at me with amusement gleaming in his eyes and a sexy grin
that made my stomach flutter and my knees turn to Jell-o.

  Chapter Three

  “Did you lose this?”

  I finally tore my gaze away from those gorgeous blue eyes long enough to notice what he held cradled in his arms.

  “Kiki!” The cat began to squirm, so I swept him up out of Walker’s grasp before he could escape again. “Oh, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou, for finding him!” Realizing he was trapped, Kiki started up a hopeful purr and I nuzzled his gray-furred head with my nose. “You’re such a bad boy. I’m locking you up in my room for the rest of the week.”

  “I’m not that bad, but if you want to lock me up in your room, who am I to argue?”

  As I glanced up in shock at his comment, Walker’s teasing grin set off an explosion of butterflies in my stomach. My face burned with a blush, and I looked down towards my sneakers trying to hide it.

  “I was talking to Kiki.” I said lamely.

  “Lucky cat.”

  “Thank you again for bringing him back.”

  To my surprise, Walker gently tilted my chin up with his fingers so that I was snared by those amazing eyes again. My breath caught while my heart pounded wildly at his touch, and for just a second I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead his grin softened into an odd little smile, and he gave me a playful wink.

  “It was my pleasure, Delaney. I’ll let you get back to unpacking. See you around.”

  I watched him walk away, too stunned to do anything but stand there frozen in the doorway with Kiki clutched tightly to my chest. Finally, as Walker disappeared back into his own house the spell was broken and I closed the door. I stumbled upstairs, half-blinded by afterimages of his brilliant blue eyes. It wasn’t until I collapsed on my bed with my door firmly shut so Kiki couldn’t escape again that it struck me.

  How had Walker known my name?

  Okay, our high school wasn’t that big, but we’d never had any classes together or anything. We hadn’t spoken once in the two years that I’d been there. He was a year older than me, and he was one of the popular jocks. It wasn’t like we moved in any of the same social circles. I doubted that he knew my social circle, such as it was, even existed. So how did he know my name? And even if he’d heard it somewhere, why would he have remembered it?