The Starving Ghost: An Up2U Mystery Adventure - Up2U Adventures Set 3
Page 1
The
Th St Satravrivn
i g
n Gh
G ohsot
by Kelly Rogers illustrated by Ebony Glenn
by Kel y Rogers
il ustrated by Ebony Glenn
The Starving Ghost
A n U p2 U M y s t e ry A dv e n t u r e
by Kel y Rogers
illustrated by Ebony Glenn
An Imprint of Magic Wagon
abdopublishing.com
-DF@Mjj4NHMzMHSX@MCADXNMC 8/j+20
abdopublishing.com
Published by Magic Wagon, a division of ABDO, PO Box 398166, Minneapolis, Minnesota 55439. Copyright © 2018 by Abdo Consulting Group, Inc.
International copyrights reserved in all countries. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Calico™ is a trademark and logo of Magic Wagon.
Printed in the United States of America, North Mankato, Minnesota.
052017
092017
Written by Kelly Rogers
Illustrated by Ebony Glenn
Edited by Bridget O’Brien
Design Contributors: Christina Doffing and Laura Mitchell Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Rogers, Kelly, author. | Glenn, Ebony, illustrator.
Title: The starving ghost: an Up2U mystery adventure / by Kelly Rogers ; illustrated by Ebony Glenn.
Other titles: An Up2U mystery adventure
Description: Minneapolis, MN : Magic Wagon, 2018. | Series: Up2U adventures Summary: Shay meets a friendly ghost named Bridget while visiting her uncle in Ireland and sets out to discover what happened to her friend, but how the mystery ends is up to the reader.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017930887 | ISBN 9781532130311 (lib. bdg.) |
ISBN 9781614798682 (ebook) | ISBN 9781614798736 (Read-to-me ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Ghost stories. | Plot-your-own stories. | Ghosts--Juvenile fiction.
Classification: DDC [Fic]--dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2017930887
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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Chapter
1
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Shay looked up at the sign marked Customs.
This was it, the official gateway into Ireland.
The agent at the desk waved her forward. He
was a short man with a bushy beard. He greeted
her with a thick Irish accent that Shay couldn’t
understand well.
“Ha longll ya be stain Oirland?” he asked.
She looked blankly at the man. She had no
idea what the man was saying. He looked at her
with narrowed eyes and slowed way down, as
though speaking to a toddler. “How. Long. Will.
Ya. Be. Stain. Oirland.”
4
“Oh,” she said, flushing bright red. “How long will I be staying in Ireland? Ten weeks.”
The interview lasted five more painful
minutes. At the end, the customs man stamped
Shay’s passport. She felt a slight sense of doom.
She had secretly been hoping the agent would
say, “No, sorry love. We can’t have you here in
this country. Why don’t you go back home and
have a nice holiday?” Instead, Shay thanked the
man, grabbed her suitcase, and headed outside to
the pick-up area.
Shay thought of her little sister, Erin. Erin was
probably sitting on the beach right now. Erin was
too young to travel abroad, so she had been sent
to California with their aunt Karen.
Aunt Karen worked as a kayak travel guide.
She spent her days giving ocean tours and talking
about the wildlife. Erin was going to help her
clean the kayaks and learn all about the animals.
Erin was going to be able to wear a swimsuit all
5
day. And Erin could drink as much free lemonade
as she wanted.
Unlike her spoiled little sister, Shay would be
spending her days feeding sheep and cleaning up
sheep poop and whatever other gross farm chores
her “uncle” gave to her.
Shay was staying with her dad’s cousin, Sean.
Shay was supposed to call him Uncle Sean even
though he wasn’t really her uncle. He owned a
sheep farm and she had only met him once. Shay’s
dad had grown up traveling to Ireland every
summer to help on his grandparents’ farm, but
he stopped when Shay was born. Then when she
was eight, Sean had come to visit from Ireland.
Her dad still talked about him like a brother.
6
She looked down at the photo of Uncle Sean
her dad had given her. Brown hair, slightly bald,
wearing glasses. Where was he? she wondered.
Shay looked at the crowded street in front of
her. People were greeting family with hugs and
kisses, car horns were honking, and taxis were
driving in and out of the pick-up area. Shay
brushed away the tears coming to her eyes.
“Forget it,” she muttered. If she was old enough
to fly across the ocean by herself, she could get to
her uncle’s house by herself.
7
Shay unzipped her hoodie, pulling out the money pouch hidden against her chest. She
walked over to the taxi line as she took out two of
the unfamiliar Euro bills. Each had the number
20 on them. Was that enough for a taxi? She also
took out the piece of paper with Uncle Sean’s
address on it and held it tightly in her hand as
she moved up in line. Finally, it was her turn. She
heaved her suitcase into the backseat.
“Wher’ll it be, love?” The driver didn’t seem
to think it was strange to have a girl all by herself
in his cab.
Shay felt the hairs on the back of her neck
stand up, like somebody was watching her. She
took one last look around to check for Uncle
Sean. She shivered, still feeling like she was being
watched.
Shay bent down to get in the taxi and read
the address to the driver. Suddenly a firm hand
pulled her out of the taxi.
8
Chapter
2
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“I still feel badly for scaring you like that,
Siobhan,” said Uncle Sean for about the hundredth
time since picking her up. He was the first person
to call her by her full, Irish name—pronounced
“she-von”—in years.
It turned out that Uncle Sean had been at
the airport the whole time! In fact, he was so
nervous about missing Shay’s flight he got there
two hours early. He had fallen asleep in a chair in
the waiting area.
“I woke up in a panic,” he explained to Shay in
the car. “I ran quick as I could outside, and would
9
you believe I saw young Shay Sullivan hopping into a taxi!” When Shay looked at it that way, she
understood why Sean had pulled her out of the
taxi so fast.
Once she calmed down, Shay settled into
her seat in Uncle Sean’s car and fell asleep. They
arrived at his farmhouse almost three hours later.
Shay was bleary-eyed from sleep and practically
stumbled inside.
She sat at the table and hungrily spooned the
stew she was given into her mouth. After several
mouthfuls she realized what she was eating—
lamb stew! On a sheep farm!—but by the time
she did, she no longer cared. She was hungry.
And honestly, the stew was delicious.
After a few more bites she was finally feeling
normal. She felt less cranky than she had in the
airplane. In fact, she was starting to look forward
to this adventure. Two months in Ireland without
her parents!
10
Shay also felt much less nervous about Uncle Sean. He looked softer than he had in her
picture. His brown hair was thick and a bit wild,
and his green eyes were kind and warm behind
his glasses. He was a bit taller than her dad, and
much thinner. He wore a plaid shirt with the
sleeves rolled up.
She looked up from her bowl to see Uncle
Sean staring. “Sorry,” she said. She wiped a drip
of stew from her chin. “I was just—just hungry.”
She looked down at her bowl for more, but found
it was empty.
“It’s me that’s sorry,” said Sean. He stood up
to refill Shay’s bowl. “Don’t know what I was
thinking, falling asleep. Then scaring you like
that. What would your father say?”
Shay had almost forgotten about her parents
and why she was in Ireland to begin with. All of a
sudden she couldn’t eat another bite of stew.
“Uncle Sean, is it okay if I go unpack?”
11
The upstairs of the farmhouse wasn’t like any second floor Shay had ever seen. It had angled
ceilings that made Shay feel taller than usual.
The walls were papered over in an old-fashioned
floral print. They were covered with photos.
There were probably more than fifty photos, all
in wooden frames. They hung on the walls of the
short hallway.
Shay looked in fascination at the pictures.
She had photos hanging in her own house, but
nothing like these. For starters, every single one
was in black and white. And most of them were
of large families: parents and lots of children.
None of them smiled at the camera.
“Everyone loves these,” said Sean, noticing
Shay staring at the pictures. “They’re nothing to
do with me. All of these are people who lived
here—or on the property. My grandmammy had
‘em all hung up when she and pappy owned the
house.”
12
1313
Shay nodded, only half-listening. She was drawn in by one of the photos. It was a family
of five: a mother, a father, two girls, and a boy.
The younger girl was about Shay’s age. She wore
a plain, white dress. Her long, blond hair was
caught up in a braid. Her eyes had dark shadows
underneath them. She almost seemed to be
looking right at Shay.
“Do you know who this is?” Shay pointed at
the picture. Sean shook his head.
“Whoever it is, she’s long gone. These photos
date way back, most of them to the 1800s even.”
Sean pointed to the door at the end of the
hallway, one of only two. “That’s your room for
the summer.” Was it her imagination, or was he
trying to change the subject?
The room was small and had a sloped ceiling
just like the hallway did. It was sparsely furnished:
a bed covered in a green and blue patchwork
quilt, a wardrobe instead of a closet, and a short,
14
wide dresser with a mirror hanging over it. A thick layer of dust covered the furniture. Two
windows looked out over the farmland below.
Night had fallen, so she couldn’t see anything but
dark, clear sky.
“Well,” said Sean, “I’ll leave you to it.”
Sean started to walk out of the room, then
turned back to her. He opened his mouth like he
wanted to say something, then closed it again.
He walked toward her and stretched his arm
out like he was going to hug her, but at the last
moment, patted her on the shoulder as he might
have done to a beloved pet. He nodded and left
the room.
Shay looked at her luggage. Despite her nap,
she was still tired from the long flight and the
time change. Just thinking about unpacking
made her eyelids droop and shoulders sag.
Instead, she turned to her new bed. The
quilt looked so warm and fluffy. Without even
15
changing out of her clothes, Shay crawled into bed and fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, Shay sat up straight
in bed. She didn’t know what had woken her.
Maybe it was all the silence. Shay was used to the
noise of a city—cars whizzing by, the occasional
siren—but not this, this NOTHING.
She regretted not taking the time to change
out of her clothes. She was uncomfortable in her
jeans. There was no overhead light in her room,
but there was a flashlight on her bedside table.
She turned it on, went to her suitcase, and began
to rifle through her clothes.
SNAP!
Shay looked to the window. She was positive
she had heard a sound from outside, like a tree
branch breaking. She didn’t see anything. Shay
turned back to her bag, searching for her pajama
pants.
SNAP!
16
There it was again. She turned the flashlight to the window.
Someone was staring back at her!
17
Chapter
3
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Shay shouted and dropped the flashlight. She
scrambled to pick it up again and shined the light
on the window. There was nothing there! The
face was gone.
Shay took a deep breath. Then she stood up
and walked toward the window. She peeked out,
holding the flashlight as far in front of her as she
could.
There was still nothing. She was sure she had
seen a face. A girl’s pale face with shadows under
her eyes. In fact, she could swear that it was . . .
“Shay?” Uncle Sean yelled.
18
Shay jumped and dropped the flashlight
again. Before she could pick it up, Sean had
already turned on the floor lamp by the door.
Sean looked half-asleep himself, almost swaying
in his bathrobe and plaid pants. “Are you okay?”
he asked. “I thought I heard a scream.�
�
“I’m fine,” she said, glancing at the window. “I
thought I saw something, but—it was nothing.”
Sean smiled kindly. “It’s hard to sleep in a
new place.” He looked around the bare room.
“We’ll see if we can brighten this room up in the
morning. Now try to get some sleep, hey? Lots to
be done in the morning.”
Shay nodded. Sean flicked off the light and
left, closing the door behind him. Shay clutched
the flashlight and crawled into bed. She was still
fully clothed.
It took hours for Shay to get back to sleep.
She kept hearing small noises. And every time
she did, she was sure that she was going to see
19
another face in the window. After sleeping for what felt like mere minutes, Sean was shaking
her shoulder.
“Rise and shine, Shay!” he said cheerfully. He
had a mug in his hand. Sean was already dressed
in dirty jeans and a work shirt. “Coffee?” he
asked, shoving the mug underneath her nose.
Shay turned away from the bitter smell in
disgust. “No, thanks. I don’t drink coffee.”
Sean’s smile fell just a bit. Then he recovered
and brightened up again. “I’ve got some porridge
on the stove and a list of chores on the table.
You’ve done farm chores before, right?” He asked
this like it was a normal question, like every kid
grew up shearing sheep and mucking . . . whatever
people on farms mucked.
Yesterday’s positivity was fading away again.
The reality of her summer was finally setting in.
She was about to do real farm work. Today, right
this instant.
20
Shay thought back to last summer. They spent two weeks at her grandparents’ cottage, water
skiing and eating picnics on the lakeshore. All
four of them had such a great time. That was
before all the yelling and fighting began.
“No,” she said to Sean. “I haven’t done farm
chores before.”
Nothing got in the way of Sean’s smile. He was
clearly a morning person. “No time like today to
learn! Get dressed and I’ll see you downstairs.”
Shay came downstairs in a copy of Sean’s
outfit: old jeans and one of her dad’s work shirts.
Sean was nowhere to be seen. On the table was
what appeared to be a bowl of mush with raisins