Eleven Kids, One Summer

by Ann M. Martin

  * * *

  That night, Candy lay alone in her tiny bedroom. The time was three-thirty. She’d been asleep, but something had woken her up.

  It was moaning.

  Candy listened. She could no longer hear it. But she was sure she’d heard it earlier. She wanted to go to her parents and tell them about it, but at dinner that night she’d said something about the weird house next door, and her parents had said her imagination was running away with her. Furthermore, Hannah had snorted and called Candy a dweeb, which caused Hannah to be sent from the table without dessert.

  Now Candy didn’t care what Hannah or anyone else thought. She heard the moaning again, and she knew it was coming from the house. When she worked up the nerve to tiptoe to the window, the moaning became louder.

  The next night, she thought she heard rain, which was a lovely nighttime sound, but when she awoke in the morning, the island was dry — except for Candy’s windowsill and the deck beneath it.

  Three nights later, Candy’s nightmares began. They were terrifying and vivid, as if they were really happening to her, and she dreamed two of them several times over.

  In one dream, Candy was way out in the ocean all by herself. The sky was very dark. She couldn’t tell if that was because it was night or because a storm was brewing. At first, Candy seemed to be in some sort of boat or maybe on a raft. Then suddenly the waves swelled, and the wind blew, and nothing was supporting Candy anymore. She was being sucked down into the black ocean, and water was in her ears, her nose, her mouth, filling up her lungs.

  She couldn’t breathe! She was drowning.

  Then her eyes would fly open, and she would lie on her back, gasping, as if she’d just come to the surface of the ocean and had finally reached air.

  The other nightmare wasn’t quite so frightening, but it was eerie. The dream would start off in a grassy place. At first, Candy felt at peace, even though the day was gray and dreary, and her shoes and feet were wet. Then Candy would realize that the grassy place wasn’t just a hillside but also a graveyard. All around her were once-white tombstones turning gray with age. And then she would realize that she wasn’t alone. People were starting to trickle into the cemetery. Candy noticed that they were wearing black, even the children. She looked down and saw that she was wearing black, too. Most of the people were moaning and crying, and they were walking slowly through the cemetery to a spot where two graves had been dug. Candy followed the people and saw that one grave was big, and beside it sat a dark adult-size coffin. The other grave was small, and beside it sat a white child-size coffin. A priest said a blessing, the caskets were lowered into the ground, and then everyone and everything around Candy just faded away until she was left standing in nothingness.

  And that was when she would wake up from the second dream.

  * * *

  After Candy had had the dreams several times, a gnawing sense of terror began to overcome her each night, but it would disappear during the day. In the sunshine, with the sand and the beach and her family around, she could forget about the nightmares — but not about the house.

  Candy was certain now that the house was haunted. She had developed her own theory about how it got that way, and why, as a result, no one ever rented it. The haunting also explained why Candy heard moaning and saw odd things inside the house. But why did the ghosts make rain at her window? Why did they give her bad dreams? And most of all, why were they picking on Candy?

  Candy had read that spirits and poltergeists sometimes haunted young people, like in that scary movie in which the girl is possessed by the devil. But Candy wasn’t the only young teenager in her family. What about Bainbridge? Or Woody? Woody was going to turn thirteen soon. Candy thought someone who was almost thirteen ought to be the perfect target for a ghost. But nobody else was complaining of strange occurrences or dreams. And every time Candy did, her brothers and sisters teased her.

  Candy learned not to open her mouth and to keep to herself. She usually hung around alone anyway. And she decided that if she did only one important thing that summer, it would be to solve the mystery of the house next door. She would do it if it killed her, which she sincerely hoped it wouldn’t. And then she could show everyone in her family that she wasn’t crazy after all, and that there are mysterious things in the world, things that can’t be explained naturally….

  Faustine and her twin sister Gardenia loved animals and nature. They loved them more than anyone in their family did, and they knew a lot about every creature in the animal kingdom, from ants to elephants. They were the only ones who’d been truly excited to learn that Fire Island was a national seashore (like a national park, except that it was a beach).

  One morning Faustine decided to get up early and do some birdwatching from the Rossos’ deck. There were all kinds of birds in the shrubbery and trees around Sandpiper House. Faustine had seen catbirds, swallows, sparrows, turtledoves, mockingbirds, orioles, and more. They were active throughout the day, but they were especially active (and noisy) in the morning.

  So, before anyone else in Sandpiper House — even Dinnie — was awake, Faustine was sitting at the picnic table on the back deck. A doughnut was in front of her on a napkin, but she hadn’t taken a bite yet. She was holding a pair of binoculars to her eyes and watching two swallows on the branch of a tree. She’d also been watching a rabbit, a young one, that she was pretty sure lived under their house.

  Suddenly the back door banged open and shut, scattering the birds and the rabbit. The peaceful morning was ruined.

  “Let me have those!” exclaimed Candy, grabbing the binoculars from Faustine. The binoculars were on a strap around Faustine’s neck, and Candy practically strangled her.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Faustine in a loud whisper, not wanting to wake up everyone else. She glared at her sister, who was already dressed in her bathing suit. So was Faustine, for that matter. The Rossos rarely bothered with actual clothes on Fire Island, except for Ira because he burned so easily.

  Candy ran around to one of the side decks with the binoculars. She peered at the rundown house next door, muttering something about a ghost. Faustine just shrugged. Ever since the Rossos first reached Fire Island, Candy had been obsessed with the house next door.

  Since it was still early, Faustine decided to take a walk on the beach. She wanted to see who else would be out at that hour. So she picked up her doughnut, ran to the beach, and soon discovered who the other early risers were — joggers, dog walkers, and fishermen.

  Three fishermen were set up just a little distance from Sandpiper House, One of them was seated on a canvas folding chair without a back. The other two were standing up. The one who was seated had stuck his pole in the sand beside him. He wasn’t even holding onto it. He was just sitting and waiting for the fish to bite. The other men kept casting their lines into the ocean, then slowly reeling them back. At the feet of each of the three sat a tackle box.

  Faustine decided that the fisherman who was sitting down was very lazy. He would never catch any fish that way.

  Her hands behind her back, the doughnut half-eaten, Faustine watched the men for a long time. She watched the two who were standing up reel their lines in, fiddle with their tackle boxes, change the lures, and cast over and over again.

  Suddenly, the fisherman who was sitting down jumped to his feet and cried, “I got one! I got something big!”

  Faustine’s eyes grew wide. She took a step closer to the man as he pulled his pole out of the sand, leaned back, and started jerkily reeling in his line. It looked like very hard work. Several times, the man shouted, “I’m losing him! I’m losing him!” But he landed the fish without any real problem.

  Faustine peered at the fish. The hook was still stuck in his mouth. She watched as the fisherman grasped the fish around the middle and yanked the hook out of his mouth. The fish flip-flopped back and forth, back and forth. He looked afraid and unhappy. Then the man placed the fish beside his chair, and the fish lay in the sand, his mouth openin
g and closing. He looked as if he were gasping for breath, even though Faustine knew full well that fish breathe through gills. Finally, the fish lay still.

  Faustine realized that she had just watched a living thing die. She knew, of course, that fish die after they’ve been caught, but she’d never seen it happen. Did it have to take so long? The man caught the fish, then tossed him to the sand and let him die slowly. That was not humane.

  Faustine turned and ran back to Sandpiper House. Somewhere along the way, she dropped the uneaten part of her doughnut, but she didn’t care. She had to tell Dinnie what the fishermen were doing.

  When she reached the house, she tore up the stairs. She almost yelled out, “Dinnie! Binkle-rod!” That meant “Emergency!” The twins had their own private language — they’d used it ever since they’d started talking — but they rarely used it anymore. They had decided they were too grown-up for it. Faustine ran into the bedroom she was sharing with her sisters, shook Dinnie on the shoulder, and said, “Dinnie! Emergency! You have to come to the beach right now!”

  Dinnie was barely awake, but she recognized the tone of her twin’s voice. It meant, There really is trouble. So she threw off her covers and leaped out of bed.

  Faustine was relieved to see that Dinnie had slept in her bathing suit. Good. They wouldn’t have to waste a second.

  The girls raced back to the beach. Faustine pulled Dinnie to where the fishermen were still fishing away. Just as the girls arrived, one of the men who was standing up reeled in a fish. Faustine saw that the three of them had now caught several fish.

  “Watch. Just watch,” she said to Dinnie.

  Dinnie watched. She saw the same flip-flopping and gasping that Faustine had seen, and then, after what seemed like an eternity, the fish lay still. Dead.

  “That’s horrible!” cried Dinnie. “Why did you make me come down here to see that?” she demanded.

  “Because we have to do something to stop those men,” Faustine replied. “They shouldn’t be allowed to kill fish that way.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Tell them to cut it out.”

  Dinnie looked skeptical. “I don’t know …”

  “Oh, come on,” said Faustine, even though she was usually shy about approaching people she didn’t know and asking them for favors.

  “All right,” replied Dinnie. She took a step forward, then stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Faustine.

  “Nothing. I just had an idea. Let me talk first, okay?”

  “Okay,” replied Faustine.

  The girls walked to the lazy fisherman who was sitting down.

  “Good morning,” said Dinnie pleasantly.

  “Morning,” replied the man, glancing up at the twins, surprised.

  “That’s a pretty big fish you caught,” said Dinnie, pointing to the one Faustine had watched die.

  “Sure is.”

  “You must have worked hard to catch him,” Dinnie went on.

  “Yup.”

  “How did you kill him?” asked Dinnie.

  The man was beginning to look slightly impatient. “Huh?” he said.

  “I asked how you killed him.”

  The man didn’t seem to be paying attention any longer. He looked out toward the sea, watching his line for jerky movements.

  “Mister,” Dinnie said in a louder voice, “don’t you know it’s wrong to catch a living thing and then just put it aside so it will die?”

  The man shrugged.

  Dinnie decided to give up. She guessed the man had a right to fish if he wanted to.

  But Faustine was angry. “Come on!” she cried. She ran to the other two fishermen, the ones who were standing up. She and Dinnie positioned themselves between them. The men were smiling. They’d already overheard the twins talking to their friend.

  “Hey!” said Faustine. “Stop this! Stop this right now! You’ve got to quit being mean to the fish.”

  “Aw, cheer up, kid,” said one of the men. “This is legal. Completely legal. And the fish never feel a thing.”

  “I’ll bet,” muttered Faustine.

  “This is our sport,” said the third fisherman. “We come here every morning, don’t we?” he said, looking at his friends.

  “Sure do,” replied the lazy one.

  “Your sport? You mean you kill the fish just for fun?” exploded Faustine.

  “Naw, we eat them.”

  Faustine let out the breath she’d been holding. She couldn’t win. She took one last look at the dead fish lying on the beach. “Matter-barn,” she said to Dinnie, forgetting that she was too old to use their private language. (“Matter-barn” meant “Okay, I give up.”)

  Sadly, the twins walked back to Sandpiper House.

  * * *

  But Faustine didn’t give up. She knew there were things she could do, things that would make a difference to all of the animals in the world that were being killed cruelly by human beings.

  At dinner that night she ate salad, corn on the cob, and bread, but when Mrs. Rosso offered her a piece of steak, Faustine said politely, “No, thank you.”

  “No?” Mrs. Rosso raised her eyebrows. “You need your protein,” she said.

  Faustine replied, “Thanks, but I would rather not eat a dead animal. I have no idea how it was killed.”

  At breakfast the next morning, Faustine ate half a grapefruit and two pieces of toast and drank a glass of orange juice. But she would not eat the scrambled eggs that Abbie had prepared.

  “They’re not dead animals,” Abbie pointed out.

  “Are too,” Faustine countered stubbornly, even though she wasn’t sure.

  That was on Wednesday. By Friday, Faustine would eat only fruits, vegetables, pasta, and bread. She wouldn’t even drink milk.

  “Why not?” demanded Mrs. Rosso, sounding horribly exasperated.

  “Because milk comes from cows, and it’s cruel to milk cows with machines.” Mrs. Rosso rolled her eyes upward.

  “Hey, Faustine,” said Hannah tauntingly, “guess what else is made with milk. Milk chocolate. You’ll have to give up candy, too.”

  Faustine loved candy. But if she had to give it up, then she would give it up.

  * * *

  By Friday night when Mr. Rosso arrived on the island for the weekend, he found his entire family fed up with Faustine.

  “Dad, she’s driving us crazy,” said Bainbridge. “She makes us feel guilty every time we put a piece of meat in our mouths. She gives us these looks, like we’re practically cannibals.”

  Mr. Rosso smiled, but later that night he fixed a turkey sandwich as a snack and received one of Faustine’s looks himself.

  “Faustine,” said Mr. Rosso, purposely taking a huge bite of the sandwich.

  “What?” she replied. They were sitting on the deck overlooking the ocean. The outdoor lights were on, and Faustine had propped her feet up on one of the railings.

  “Do you know what the food chain is?”

  “No.” Faustine squirmed in her chair. She had a feeling her father was going to say something she didn’t want to hear.

  “In the animal world,” began Mr. Rosso, “and let me remind you that humans are animals too, littler or weaker animals are eaten by bigger or stronger animals. That’s the law of nature. That’s how all animals, including humans, have survived since the world began.”

  “But we don’t need to eat animals.”

  “No, we don’t need to, but some people still survive on animals. Furthermore, if we never killed another animal, the world would be overrun with them. There’s a town in New Jersey that has a terrible problem with deer. They wander up and down the streets and through yards. They eat people’s gardens and plants because there isn’t enough food in the woods for all of them anymore.”

  “Oh,” said Faustine. She thought that over. Then she said, “But there are humane ways to kill animals and there are cruel ways. Also, I don’t think it’s fair to kill animals for fun.”

  “No,”
agreed Mr. Rosso. “I don’t think so either, but I do think it’s okay to kill animals for food. I can only hope they are killed humanely. Faustine, you may eat whatever you want, as long as your diet is balanced and healthy, okay? No one will expect you to eat meat or fish.”

  “Okay.”

  “But I want you to realize two things. One, not everyone in this family agrees with your views, and they’ll be much happier if you stop giving them a hard time. Two, we get a lot more from animals than food. If I were you, I’d take off your sandals.”

  “Why?” asked Faustine.

  “Because they’re leather. They’re made from animal hide.”

  Faustine sat up and yanked her sandals off. She never wore them again.

  * * *

  The next morning, Faustine ate fruit and cereal for breakfast. When she turned down milk, no one asked her why, and Faustine didn’t lecture her brothers and sisters about milking machines — although she wanted to. But there was one thing Faustine could do, and she talked to Dinnie about her idea. Then she and her twin found some plywood boards on the beach. Using fat black Magic Markers, they made signs that read: “No Fishing,” “Fishing Is Cruel,” and “Boycott Fish.” The twins stuck them in the sand near the fishermen. But the signs didn’t stop the men from fishing.

  In fact, the signs made them mad. Each time the girls stuck a sign in the sand, one of the men would march over to it and uproot it. Later, when he was done fishing, he would throw it away somewhere.

  This happened three mornings in a row. On the fourth morning, the man who fished sitting down waited until Faustine put up a sign that read “Fish Have Feelings Too.” He pulled it up immediately. But he didn’t take it back to his chair. Instead he marched down the beach with it. He was headed for Sandpiper House.

  “What are you doing?” Faustine yelled after him. She glanced at her sister. Then she and Dinnie ran as fast as their legs could carry them. They reached Sandpiper House just as the fisherman did.

  “Mom! Mom!” called Faustine, pushing past the man.

  “What is it?” replied Mrs. Rosso. She opened the door. Then she caught sight of the fisherman and the sign.