I choke at that last one.
Great-Uncle Ted waves his hand wearily.
I made that last one up. But she did say it all the time. She thought it was cute. It stopped being cute after the first day. Then it was annoying as heck.
Great-Uncle Ted pauses.
But she was always smart. And I’m very proud of her.
Great-Uncle Ted was the one who paid for Mom to come to California from Hawaii and go to nursing school. She’s been working here at La Purisma General Hospital for as long as I can remember.
Great-Uncle Ted looks up from the paper, and his wise, half-lidded eyes meet mine. He scrawls on the page and holds up the pad.
Please tell me about the games you play. How you solve these puzzles.
Wait. Is a real, live adult person actually asking me details about the games I play? This is unheard of.
So I go on and on, explaining how the games work, how at first nothing seems to make sense. But then, as I put my mind to it, a little click goes off in my head and the pieces begin to fit. It’s an awesome feeling when it all comes together and you get it right.
Great-Uncle Ted seems genuinely interested, especially when I tell him about a particularly tricky puzzle, where if you look carefully at what appears to be a bunch of random drinking glasses on a tray, you realize they actually resemble the hands of a clock set to a particular time. Which is one of the main clues to solving that game.
“You know, maybe if they let me, I can come back tomorrow with my laptop and show you some,” I’m saying, when I see that his head has fallen back onto the bed and his eyes are closed. “Great-Uncle Ted! Are you all right?” I gasp. “Should I get Mom?”
He wearily reaches for the pad and writes carefully.
I’m just tired. But I’m happy to see you again, Ted.
“I—I’m so glad I could talk to you too, sir,” I say, feeling my breathing slow down again.
I feel so much better about everything now. You are ready.
Huh? What does that mean?
“That’s good, sir.”
The old man looks up at me. The energy is clearly draining out of him.
You must promise me one thing.
“I know, sir. I promise I’ll work harder in school, and I’ll never tell Mom you thought she was a pain in the behind—”
I think he’ll laugh at this, but instead, he gathers his strength and writes furiously across the pad.
No! Listen to me! You must promise me
He’s writing slower now, forcing the words out of the pen.
“Yes, sir?”
Great-Uncle Ted falls back and throws the pad at me.
THE BOX IS ONLY THE BEGINNING. KEEP LOOKING FOR THE ANSWERS. ALWAYS GO FOR BROKE! PROMISE ME!
With great effort, he tugs on my sleeve. I lean toward him. He pulls me down until my ear is close to his face. I can just make out the word he is saying.
“Promise!” the old man croaks. He releases my sleeve. He looks peaceful now, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
As my great-uncle falls asleep, I hear my own voice, sounding far away, whispering, “I promise.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Denis Markell has written all sorts of things, from sitcoms to off-Broadway musicals, but nothing has given him as much enjoyment or satisfaction as writing novels for kids—the puzzle-packed mystery Click Here to Start and the Dungeons & Dragons–inspired adventure The Game Masters of Garden Place. He lives in Brooklyn with his wife, illustrator Melissa Iwai, and their son Jamie. Although their apartment is not haunted, they suspect their Shiba Inu puppy Nikki might be demonically possessed.
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The Ghost in Apartment 2R Page 20
