by Lois Ruby
Oh! If this house is an exact copy of our big house, then there must be a secret compartment under the Persian rug at the bottom of our stairs. After Brian and Mom are asleep, I’ll explore that space. Who knows what I’ll find?
The tiny book’s in my jeans pocket, but I close the trapdoor and replace the rug, feeling a little creeped out that I’m being drawn deeper and deeper into the mystery of this house.
As I’m backing down the attic ladder, Mom grabs my arm, and I nearly leap off the ladder.
“You scared me, Mom.”
“Your father’s on the phone.” Mom thrusts the phone into my hand. I don’t want to talk to him, but now I hear him saying “Shel?”
“Hello, Dad,” I mutter flatly.
“How’s the new house?” He’s faking so much good cheer that it makes me want to cry. That’s one of the weird things about me. I cry when I’m happy, and I cry when I’m angry, but I don’t cry when I’m sad. Much.
“House is okay. Lot of old stuff.”
“Mom says the kitchen’s nice.”
He has no right to mention Mom so casually. She doesn’t belong to him anymore. And of course neither of us mentions Terri or Marcus, as if we’re all pretending that Dad doesn’t have a new family he likes better.
“School starts next week, eh?”
“What do you care?”
“I do care,” he says so quietly that I can hardly hear him. Long pause. We used to be able to talk to each other so easily. Baseball and old Shrek movies and horseback-riding stuff. We had fairy tea parties together when I was still into that girlie stuff a few years ago. When Gram died, Dad was the one who knew just how to break the news to me, but now …
“Shelby, honey, I know you’re still mad at me.”
“I’m not mad!” I holler, snuffing back the tears.
“Angry, angry girl.” Did Dad say that? Sounded more like a female voice. Terri better not be on the line!
“Tell her to hang up!” I shout.
“I’m on my cell, Shel. No one else could be listening in.”
I hear Marcus in the background asking if he can play with Dad’s ivory chess set, the one Dad taught Brian and me on.
“Go play chess, who cares? I have to go.” If I don’t hang up right now, I’ll yell things at Dad that’ll feel good now, but will make me feel awful when I play them over and over in my mind later.
Dad sighs. “Okay, honey. Put Brian on, will you?”
I don’t care if Dad’s still on the line waiting for Brian. I rush outside, letting the screen door slam. Where to? Maybe I’ll jump in that polluted pond with the yellow decayed leaves, roll around in it a few miserable hours, then slog up to my room and bury my dripping head in my pillow. Pond scum on my bed? Ugh.
But next thing I know, I’m kneeling in the muddy grass at the doll graveyard, without a clue about how I got here.
Brian is here, too. And he’s already digging.
YOU’RE IN FOR THE
FRIGHT OF YOUR LIFE!
GRAVEYARD SHIFT
by Chris Westwood
THE HAUNTED MUSEUM #1: THE TITANIC LOCKET
by Suzanne Weyn
THE HAUNTED MUSEUM #2: THE PHANTOM MUSIC BOX
by Suzanne Weyn
THE HAUNTED MUSEUM #3: THE PEARL EARRING
by Suzanne Weyn
THE HAUNTED MUSEUM #4: THE CURSED SCARAB
by Suzanne Weyn
THE GHOST OF GRAYLOCK
by Dan Poblocki
THE HAUNTING OF GABRIEL ASHE
by Dan Poblocki
THE DOLL GRAVEYARD
by Lois Ruby
THE SECRET GRAVE
by Lois Ruby
Copyright © 2017 by Lois Ruby
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing 2017
Cover art © 2017 by Shane Rebenschied
Cover design by Christopher Stengel
e-ISBN 978-0-545-93317-9
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