by R. L. Stine
Terri sat down on the edge of the bed. She pulled her robe around her more tightly. “I just couldn’t resist,” she said, still grinning. “I came down to talk to you, and I saw you lying there with the sheet over your head. It was too tempting.”
I glared at her. “Next time pick on someone your own size,” I said angrily. “I had the sheet pulled up because I was having trouble falling asleep.”
“Me, too,” Terri said. “My mattress is really lumpy.” She stared out the window. “And, besides, I was thinking about that ghost.”
“Hey—you’re the one who doesn’t believe in them—remember?” I insisted.
“I know. I really don’t believe in ghosts. But Sam, Louisa, and Nat obviously do.”
“So?”
“So I want to find out why. Don’t you?”
“Not really. I don’t care if I ever see those kids again,” I said.
Terri yawned. “Louisa seems nice. Much more friendly than Sam. I think we can get Louisa to tell us more about the ghost if we ask her. She almost told us today.”
“Terri, I don’t believe you,” I replied, pulling the sheet up to my chin. “You heard what Agatha said. Sam likes to make up stories.”
“I don’t think this is a story,” Terri said. “I know I’m supposed to be the scientific one in the family. But I think something strange is going on here, Jerry.”
I didn’t answer. I was picturing the animal skeleton.
“I’m going to ask them about the ghost again tomorrow,” Terri announced.
“How do you know they’ll show up?”
Terri grinned. “They always do, don’t they? Haven’t you noticed? No matter where we are, they always seem to be there.” She paused. “Do you think they’re following us?”
“I hope not,” I said.
Terri laughed. “You’re such a wimp.”
I threw off the covers. “Am not!”
Terri started tickling me. “Wimp! Wimp! Wimp!”
I grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her. Then I started tickling her back. “Take it back,” I said.
“Okay, okay!” she cried. “I didn’t mean it.”
“And you’ll never call me a wimp again?”
“Never!”
As soon as I let go of her arm, she ran to the doorway. “See you in the morning—wimp!” she called. She disappeared through the kitchen.
At breakfast the next morning, Agatha asked, “What do you kids have planned for today?”
“A swim, I guess,” I replied, glancing at Terri. “Down at the beach.”
“Be careful of the tide down there,” Brad warned. “It can sweep a full-grown man off his feet.”
Terri and I glanced at each other. I don’t think we’d ever heard Brad put two full sentences together before.
“We will,” Terri promised. “We’ll probably do more wading than swimming.”
Agatha handed me a banged-up metal pail. “Might want to pick up some sea urchins or sea stars.”
A few minutes later, I took the pail and a couple of old beach towels, and Terri and I headed down the twisty path along the shoreline.
We scrambled up and down the rocks until we came to a spot not far from the sandy beach and the cave.
We slid down the giant rock underneath us and then climbed on all fours across a few smaller rocks until we reached a wide, mossy, tide pool about three feet from the water’s edge. The tide pool was about the size of a kiddie pool.
“Wow, Jerry!” Terri exclaimed, staring into the water. “I see tons of stuff in here.” She reached into the green, slimy water and pulled out a sea star. “It’s so tiny. Not even the size of my palm. Maybe it’s a baby.”
She turned it over. Its legs wiggled. “Hello, cute little sea star,” she sang.
Yuck. “I’ll go get the pail, okay?” I said. I climbed back over the rocks to where we left our things.
Guess who was bent over our stuff? Snooping. “Find anything good?” I called sharply.
Sam glanced up slowly. “I was wondering whose towels these were,” he said casually.
Nat and Louisa came bounding over the rocks. “Where’s Terri?” Louisa asked.
I motioned toward the water. “Down by the tide pool.” I grabbed the pail.
They followed me back down. Terri smiled when she saw us. I could tell she was happy to see Louisa and her brothers. “Look at all the cool stuff I found in here,” Terri declared.
Along the smooth surface of a large, flat rock she lined up the baby sea star, two sea urchins, and a hermit crab.
We crowded together to see. Terri held out the sea star. “Aren’t its feet cute?” she asked Nat.
He giggled.
We spent a few minutes examining everything. Nat started rattling off everything he’d ever learned about crabs. Louisa finally had to cut him off.
“I want to hear more about the ghost,” Terri told Louisa.
“Nothing more to tell,” Louisa replied softly. She glanced nervously at Sam.
Had he warned her not to talk about it anymore?
Terri refused to give up. “Where does the ghost live?” she demanded.
Louisa and Sam exchanged glances again.
“Come on, guys. It has to live somewhere!” Terri teased.
Nat gazed toward the beach and the cave. A breeze fluttered his fine, blond hair. He slapped a green fly on his skinny bare arm.
“Does the ghost live on the beach?” Terri asked.
Nat shook his head.
“In the cave?” I guessed.
Nat pinched his lips together.
“I thought so,” Terri said. “In the cave.” She flashed me a triumphant grin. “What else?”
Nat’s face turned red. He hid behind Louisa. “I didn’t mean to tell,” he whispered.
“It’s okay,” Louisa told him, petting his hair. She turned to Terri and me. “The ghost is very old. No one has ever seen him come out.”
“Louisa!” Sam said sharply. “I really don’t think we should talk about this.”
“Why not?” Louisa shot back. “They have a right to know.”
“But they don’t even believe in ghosts,” Sam insisted.
“Well, maybe you can change my mind,” Terri replied. “Are you guys sure there’s a ghost? Have you really seen it?”
“We’ve seen the skeletons,” Louisa said solemnly.
Nat peeked his head out from behind Louisa’s leg. “The ghost comes out during the full moon,” he announced.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Louisa corrected. “He’s been in the cave up there forever. Some people say for three hundred years.”
“But if you haven’t seen him,” I said, “how do you know he’s in the cave?”
“You can see a light flickering,” Sam replied.
“A light?” I hooted. “Give me a break! That could be anything. It could be a guy in there with a flashlight.”
Louisa shook her head. “It’s not that kind of light,” she insisted. “It’s different from that.”
“Well, a flickering light and a dog skeleton aren’t enough to convince me,” I said. “I think you’re just trying to scare us again. This time, I’m not falling for it.”
Sam scowled. “No problem,” he muttered. “You don’t have to believe it. Really.”
“Well, I don’t,” I insisted.
Sam shrugged. “Have fun,” he said softly. He led his brother and sister back toward the woods.
As soon as they were out of sight, Terri punched me in the side. “Jerry, why did you do that? I was just starting to weasel some good stuff out of them.”
I shook my head. “Can’t you see they’re trying to scare us? There’s no ghost. It’s another dumb joke.”
Terri stared hard at me. “I’m not so sure,” she murmured.
I gazed up at the enormous black hole of the cave. Despite the morning heat, a chill ran down my back.
Was there an ancient ghost in there?
Did I really want to fi
nd out?
Agatha made a really great old-fashioned chicken pot pie for dinner. I ate all of mine except for the peas and carrots. I’m not into vegetables.
Terri and I were helping Agatha with the dishes after dinner when she said, “Jerry, I seem to be missing one of the beach towels. Didn’t you take two with you this morning?”
“I guess we did,” I replied.
“Did we leave one at the beach?” Terri asked.
I tried to remember. “I don’t think so. I can go take a look.”
“Don’t bother,” Agatha said. “It’s getting dark out. You can look tomorrow.”
“I don’t mind,” I told her. I threw down my dish towel and bolted out the back door before she could say anything else.
I was glad for an excuse to escape. That tiny kitchen was suffocating me. There was hardly any room to turn around in there.
I walked along the path to the water’s edge, happy to be alone for a change. Terri is okay, especially for a kid sister. We get along amazingly well. But sometimes I like to be by myself.
I found the big rock where we’d left our towels that morning. No sign of the missing towel. Maybe Sam took it, I thought. Maybe he planned to drape it over his head and jump out at us.
I gazed up at the big cave, dark against the blue-black sky.
“Huh?”
I blinked—and took a step closer.
Was that a light flickering in the cave?
I took another step. It had to be the reflection of the moon, just rising over the pine trees.
No. Not the moon, I realized.
I took another few steps. I couldn’t take my eyes off the flickering light, so pale, so ghostly pale, in the black cave opening.
Sam! I told myself. Yes, it’s Sam. He’s up there right now, lighting matches. Hoping I’ll fall for his trick.
Should I climb up there?
My sneakers sank into the sand as I took a few more steps toward the cave.
The light glimmered in the cave opening. It hovered so near the entrance. Floating. Flickering. Dancing slowly.
Should I go up there? I asked myself.
Should I?
9
Yes. I had to climb up there.
The light glimmered brighter, as if calling to me.
I took a deep breath, then jumped across a tide pool and over some mossy rocks. Then I started up.
The cave stood high above me, embedded in the boulders. I leaped and scrambled over slippery, small rocks until I reached the next big boulder.
A halo of yellow moonlight shone down on the rocks, making it easy to see. What was it Nat said about the moon? Something about the ghost coming out when it was full?
I scaled the next rock, and kept climbing.
I could see the ghostly light floating above me in the cave entrance.
Up, up I climbed over the scraggly rocks, slippery from the evening dew.
“Oh!” I cried out as I felt my legs give way. A mini-landslide had started under my feet. Small rocks and sand tumbled down the hill behind me.
Desperately, I grabbed at a fat root growing out between the rocks. I held on long enough to get my footing.
Whew! I took a moment to catch my breath.
Then I pulled myself up onto a sturdy boulder and gazed up to the cave. Now it was right above my head. Only another ten feet or so to go.
I stood up—and gasped.
Whoa! What was that noise behind me?
I stood frozen. Waiting. Listening.
Was someone else there?
Was the ghost there?
I didn’t have long to wonder. A cold, clammy hand grabbed my neck.
10
I uttered a choking sound and struggled to turn around.
The cold fingers relaxed their grip. “Ssssh,” Terri whispered. “It’s me.”
I let out an angry growl. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Never mind that,” she shot back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I—I’m looking for that beach towel,” I stammered.
Terri laughed. “You’re looking for a ghost, Jerry. Admit it.”
We both raised our eyes to the cave. “Do you see the light?” I whispered.
“Huh? What light?” Terri demanded.
“The light flickering in the cave,” I replied impatiently. “What’s wrong with you? Do you need glasses?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t see any light,” Terri insisted. “It’s completely dark.”
I stared up at the cave opening. Stared up into total darkness.
She was right. The flickering light in the cave had vanished.
As I lay in bed later that night, I tried to use what Mr. Hendrickson, my science teacher, calls my “critical thinking skills.” That’s when you have to put together whatever facts you have and those you don’t, and then draw a logical conclusion.
So I asked myself: What do I know?
I know I saw a light. Then the light went out.
So what was the explanation? An optical illusion? My imagination? Sam?
Outside the window, a dog began to bark.
That’s weird, I thought. I hadn’t seen any dogs around here before.
I stuffed my pillow over my ears.
The barking grew louder, more emotional. It sounded as if it were right outside my window.
I sat up, listening.
And remembered what Nat had told us. Dogs recognize ghosts.
Was that why the dog was barking so excitedly?
Had the dog spotted the ghost?
With a shiver, I climbed out of bed and crept to the window.
I peered down to the ground.
No dog.
I listened.
The barking had stopped.
Crickets chirped. The trees whispered.
“Here, doggy,” I called softly.
No reply. I shivered again.
Silence now.
What’s going on here? I wondered.
“Sssshhh. You’ll scare them,” Terri whispered.
The morning sun was still a red ball, low in the sky, as we approached the seagull nest Terri had spotted the day before.
Bird-watching was Terri Sadler Hobby Number Three. Unlike gravestone rubbings and wild-flower collecting, she could do this one back at home, right from our apartment window.
We crouched down to watch. About fifteen feet away, the mother seagull was trying to herd her three babies back into the nest. She squawked noisily and chased them first in one direction, then another.
“Aren’t the babies cute?” whispered Terri. “They look like fuzzy gray stuffed animals, don’t they?”
“Actually they remind me of rats,” I replied.
Terri poked me with her elbow. “Don’t be a creep.”
We watched them in silence for a few minutes. “So tell me again about the dog barking last night,” Terri asked. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear it.”
“There’s nothing more to tell,” I replied edgily. “When I went to the window, it stopped.”
Down the beach I saw the three Sadler kids, in shorts and sleeveless T-shirts, walking barefoot along the shore. I jumped up and started jogging toward them.
“What’s your hurry?” Terri called after me.
“I want to tell them about the flickering light,” I called back.
“Wait up!” Terri shouted, scrambling after me.
We stumbled along the rocky beach toward the three kids. I saw that Sam was carrying a couple of old fishing poles, and Louisa had a bucket filled with water.
“Hi,” Louisa said warmly, setting down the bucket.
“Catch anything?” I asked.
“Nope,” Nat replied. “We didn’t go fishing yet.”
“What’s in the bucket, then?” I asked.
Nat reached in and pulled out a small, silver fish. “Bunker. We use ’em for bait.”
I leaned down and peered into the pail. Dozens of little silver-gray fish swarmed around ins
ide. “Wow.”
“Want to come?” Louisa asked.
Terri and I traded glances. Fishing sounded like fun. And maybe it would give us a chance to ask casually about the light in the cave. “Sure,” I said. “Why not?”
We followed them down the sandy path to a shady spot on the water. “We usually have good luck here,” Sam announced.
He grabbed a bait fish out of the bucket, then steadied his fishing pole against his leg. He expertly threaded the fish onto the hook, then handed me the pole. The fish flipped back and forth on the hook.
“Want to try?” he asked. I wondered why he was suddenly acting so nice to me now. Had Louisa gotten on his case? Or was he setting me up for another joke?
“Sure, I’ll try,” I told him. “What do I do?”
Sam showed me how to cast the line out. My first try wasn’t great. The line landed about a foot from the shore.
Sam laughed and cast it for me again. “Don’t worry,” he said, handing the pole back to me. “It takes a lot of practice to learn to cast.”
This Sam was certainly different from the Sam we had seen before. Maybe it just takes him a while to get friendly, I told myself.
“Now what do I do?” I asked him.
“Keep casting out and reeling in,” he said. “And if you feel a tug, yell.”
Sam turned to Terri. “Do you want to try, too?” he asked.
“Of course!” she replied.
Sam started to grab a bunker for Terri from the bucket.
“That’s okay,” Terri said. “I can do it.”
Sam stepped back and let Terri do the honors. I think she must have been showing off. I’d never seen her bait a live fish before. She always hated slimy things.
Terri started to cast out her line without any help. I was about to accuse her again of showing off. But then her fishing line got tangled in the tree branches above us.
That got everyone laughing—especially when the bait fish squirmed off the hook and dropped down into Terri’s hair. Terri shrieked, thrashed her arms, and swatted the fish into the water.
Sam collapsed with laughter on the rock. The rest of us laughed, too. We were all sprawled out on a big flat rock.
This seemed a good time to bring up the cave. “Guess what?” I started. “Last night I came down to the beach, and I saw that flickering light you were talking about in the cave.”
