by P. J. Night
“I see it, Mags! I see it!” she cried. “‘Leave this place.’ That’s what it says. ‘Leave this place.’”
“Nice to know I’m not completely crazy,” Maggie replied. “Come on. We have to show the others. This proves that Old Man Wharton’s ghost is haunting the house.”
“Wait a minute, Mags,” Sophie said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Your parents might not believe that a ghost wrote it. They didn’t see the letters being written as if no one was there. What if they think that Karina Walcott came back? She was very upset that your parents want to turn this house into a ski lodge.”
“That’s why I had to have you as a witness,” Maggie said. “Now, come on. Let’s get a closer look.”
Snatching up her flashlight, Maggie tiptoed downstairs, followed closely by Sophie.
“Leave this place!” the voice said again, now clearly coming from right outside the front door.
Reaching the door, Maggie gripped the knob, took a deep breath, threw it open, and stepped out into the swirling snow. Please still be there, she thought, having finally found an ally in Sophie, who stepped outside beside her.
She could barely see anything through the moving wall of white snow. Maggie’s flashlight beam reflected right back against the snow, making it even harder to see.
“Where are you, Jonas?” she called out. “Why do you want us to leave?”
“Leave this place!” the voice repeated, sounding like it was coming from someone standing right next to her. But as best as Maggie could make out, she and Sophie were alone, standing in the freezing cold and raging snow.
Chapter 7
“Where are you?” Maggie shouted through the blinding snow. “Show yourself! Stop torturing me!”
The fierce howling of the wind was the only reply she received.
“We’ve got to show the others,” Maggie muttered. She turned around and ran through the open the front door and pounded up the stairs, tracking snow as she ran.
She burst into the room her parents were sleeping in and flipped on the light. “Mom! Dad! Get up!” she screamed, panic evident in her strained voice.
“What is it?” her dad asked, throwing the covers onto the floor and scrambling clumsily out of bed. “Is the house on fire? Did you get hurt? Is Simon okay?”
“Just come!” she yelled. “Both of you. You’ve got to come with me.”
“All right, let me throw on my robe,” Mr. Kim said, sliding his feet into his slippers.
“There had better be a good reason for waking us up in the middle of the night, young lady,” Mrs. Kim said, rubbing her eyes and glancing at the clock. “I was sound asleep.”
Maggie ran back out into the hall, then into Simon’s room.
“Simon, get up!” she shouted.
“Whaaaa—” Simon mumbled.
“Get up!” Maggie yelled again, this time yanking the covers off her brother.
“Hey!” Simon shouted, sitting up and rubbing his face. “What’s wrong with you? Have you gone insane? What do you want? I’m trying to sleep!”
“Get dressed and come downstairs. Mom and Dad are already up.”
“Great time for a family picnic, Mags,” Simon groaned, searching the floor for his robe.
Bounding back down the stairs, Maggie was soon joined by the others. Simon had put on his snow boots, still untied. His striped bathrobe peeked out from under his winter coat, which he had buttoned incorrectly. Adding to the comic picture was a floppy-eared hat resting on his mop of unkempt hair.
Sophie had now slipped her long down coat over her pajamas, but she still wore her slippers, having been unable to find her boots.
Mr. and Mrs. Kim looked like stuffed dolls. Each wore pajamas, a bathrobe, a sweater, and a winter coat, all in various stages of zipped, incorrectly buttoned, or not buttoned at all. Mr. Kim had decided to use the terry-cloth belt from his bathrobe to secure his winter coat. They both wore big snow boots on their feet.
Maggie grabbed the knob on the front door. “Okay, here it is. Proof that I’m not crazy. I’m not selfish. I’m not just making all this up because I don’t want to live here. Ready?”
“To go out into the wind and snow at two thirty in the morning?” Mrs. Kim asked. “I don’t imagine I’ll ever be ready for that.”
Maggie flung the front door open, and the whole crew stepped outside.
They were immediately assaulted by wind-driven snow, which stung the inadequately protected areas of their exposed skin.
“There!” Maggie shouted triumphantly, pointing at the spot where she had seen the message scrawled into the snow. “Now do you believe me? Now that you see it for yourself?”
“See what?” Mr. Kim asked. “What are we supposed to be seeing?”
Glancing down at the snowy ground, Maggie realized that the message she had seen scratched into the snow had vanished—covered over or blown away by the wind and drifting snow.
“NO! It was just here. A message from him. From Old Man Wharton, telling us to leave.” Maggie swept the flashlight across the snow-covered ground, desperately searching for the message, but it was gone—completely vanished. The wind—or someone—had wiped it out, replacing it with new snow.
“Sophie saw it too!” Maggie cried.
“Is this true, Sophie?”
“Yes, Mrs. Kim,” Sophie replied as stunned as Maggie that the writing that had been there moments earlier was now gone without a trace. “We saw it being written, but there was no writer that we could see.”
“Well, then you’re both crazy,” Simon said. “Way to go, Mags. Wake everyone up because you had a bad dream. I’m going back to bed. I hope Old Man Wharton hasn’t stolen my blanket.”
He hurried back into the house, followed by the others.
“I’ve tried to be tolerant, Maggie, I really have,” Mrs. Kim said, once inside. She shook the snow off her coat, hair, and boots. “But I am so very disappointed in this blatantly selfish behavior. We all know you don’t want to move here, but to wake everyone up for nothing? This has gone too far. It’s time you think of someone else in this family besides just yourself.”
“But Sophie saw—”
Mrs. Kim hurried up the stairs without saying another word.
“This was a real bonehead stunt, Maggie,” her dad said. “I don’t even know what to say, so I’ll go upstairs too. Good night.”
Maggie flopped down into a chair, feeling defeated.
“I saw it, Mags,” Sophie said. “I believe you. And I’m starting to think I believe in Old Man Wharton’s ghost, too.”
“Thanks, Soph,” Maggie said softly. “I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe I’m going to be living here.”
“I’ll visit,” Sophie promised.
Maggie smiled, then the two girls trudged up the stairs. They slipped into the room and back into bed. Tossing and turning, Maggie tried to push everything that had happened out of her mind. Eventually she fell asleep.
She was startled awake by a voice shouting at her.
“Leave this place!”
“Leave this place!” she heard the voice repeat, shouting so loudly Maggie was certain that whoever it was had to be right there in the room. And also certain that now, finally, everyone else had heard it as well.
She leaped from her bed and looked around. There was no one else in the room, not even Sophie. Sophie’s bed looked as if it had not even been slept in.
Maggie ran from the room, stopping short at the top of the stairs. There, scrawled in dripping red paint—or was it blood?—in huge letters painted on the wall were the same three words that had been plaguing her since her arrival: LEAVE THIS PLACE!
She bounded down the stairs and stumbled into the dining room. There she saw the same three words crudely carved into the dining room table: LEAVE THIS PLACE!
Maggie staggered backward and bumped into someone. Spinning around, she found herself face-to-face with Old Man Wharton. His empty black eye sockets peered down at her. Through rotted teeth an
d foul-smelling breath he barked, “LEAVE THIS PLACE!”
“No! No! No!” Maggie screamed over and over.
“Maggie, wake up! Wake up!”
Maggie opened her eyes and stared up at Sophie, who had been shaking her for almost a full minute.
“You were shouting in your sleep,” Sophie said as Maggie sat up.
Maggie breathed deeply, glad that it was just a dream. But she started to wonder if everything that had happened last night was a dream. Had she dreamed that Sophie also saw the writing in the snow? Was she still the only one who believed in the ghost of Old Man Wharton?
“Uh, Soph, did you see something weird tonight?” Maggie asked tentatively.
“You mean, you screaming ‘No! No! No!’ in your sleep?” Sophie replied. “Unless, of course, you mean the writing in the snow?”
“Oh, Sophie, you have no idea how relieved I am.” Maggie sighed and hugged her friend.
“Well, don’t be so relieved yet,” Sophie said. “We still have to convince the rest of your family that this house is haunted!”
Chapter 8
“Pass the orange juice, Soph,” Maggie said sleepily across the breakfast table later that morning. She had gotten very little sleep the previous night, and she now sat with her elbows on the table and her chin resting in her hands. Even pouring orange juice into a glass seemed to take major effort.
“You look wiped, Mags,” Sophie commented, having not gotten all that much sleep herself.
Maggie groaned, rubbing her eyes with her palms.
“Eggs, anyone?” Mr. Kim asked cheerfully, leaning over Sophie’s plate with a panful of scrambled eggs in his hand.
“Thanks, Mr. Kim,” Sophie said.
“You still mad at me, Dad?” asked Maggie, waving away a large spoonful of eggs.
“Nah!” Mr. Kim exclaimed, smiling. “Nothing could get me down today. Today your mother and I are going to the bank to finalize the loan so we can buy this place and transform it from the old Wharton Mansion into . . . drumroll, please . . . the Piney Hill Ski Resort!
“That is, if your mother finishes getting ready anytime soon,” he added, glancing at his watch.
“What was that, dear?” said Mrs. Kim, strolling into the dining room.
“I said, I can’t wait to see how lovely you’ll look once you’re all ready for our big day,” Mr. Kim lied.
“Uh-huh,” Mrs. Kim replied. “Good try. Sad, but a good try.”
At that moment Simon came bounding down the stairs.
“Good morning, family!” he announced energetically. “And what a beautiful morning it is!”
“What do you want, Simon?” Maggie asked. “You’re never this nice unless you want something.”
“Maggie, what a terrible thing to say about your brother,” Mrs. Kim said.
“Just wait,” said Maggie. “I’m not wrong.”
The Kims didn’t have to wait long.
“So Mom, I was thinking that since it has stopped snowing and it’s a beautiful, sunny day, maybe I could check out the skiing at the future Piney Hill Ski Resort!” Simon asked.
“What a terrible thing I said, huh, Mom?” said Maggie, smiling for the first time that morning.
“That’s enough, Maggie,” Mrs. Kim replied, then she turned to Simon. “I don’t want you to go skiing when your father and I aren’t here. We’ll be at the bank and won’t be around if anything goes wrong.”
Simon’s entire demeanor changed instantly. His mood shifted from happy-go-lucky to huffy faster than Maggie could say, I told you so.
“But Mom,” he whined, “nothing is gonna go wrong. I’m practically a pro skier. Coach MacLean said he thought that if I practiced just a little more, I’d be good enough to try out for the Olympic team next year. So I should definitely practice today.”
“I know how good you are, dear,” Mrs. Kim said sympathetically. “But I’m just not comfortable knowing that you’d be way up on the mountain when we’re not around.”
“We promise you can go tomorrow when we’ll be here,” Mr. Kim added.
“In the meantime, however, it is strictly forbidden for any of you to go skiing when we are not home,” Mrs. Kim stated sternly. “Is that clear?”
Simon just shook his head, got up from the table, and trudged back upstairs.
So it’s gonna be just me, Sophie, and Simon here by ourselves to deal with Old Man Wharton’s ghost today, Maggie thought.
“Okay, have fun, everyone,” Mrs. Kim said, gathering up some papers she would need at the bank. “We might grab some lunch in town and check out a few stores, so we probably won’t be back till after dark.”
“And hopefully we’ll be back with good news!” Mr. Kim announced as he and his wife headed out the front door.
“Bye!” Mrs. Kim waved.
Barely a minute had passed after Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s car pulled out of the driveway when Simon came tearing down the stairs. This time he was dressed in his full ski outfit.
“Hey, where are you going?” Maggie asked.
“What’s it look like?” Simon retorted. “I’m hitting the slopes, Mags.”
“But what about Mom and Dad?”
“As they so eloquently pointed out over and over, they’re not home.”
“But what if they find out?”
“Who’s gonna tell them? You?”
“No, but—”
“Catch you later, Mags.” Simon snatched up his skis and headed for the door.
“Be careful, you big lunk,” Maggie insisted, trailing behind him.
“Relax,” Simon cooed. “I’m in great shape. I can handle these slopes. And I’ll be back before sunset. I promise. Piece of cake. What can go wrong?”
Maggie and Sophie followed Simon outside. He was right. It was a bright, clear, sunny day. The previous day’s snowfall sparkled in the cold, still air.
“Be careful!” Maggie shouted after her brother, just before he disappeared into a grove of glistening pine trees at the base of the tall mountain that would become the main ski slope if all went well at the bank.
Maggie’s stomach began to drop. She felt a bit nauseous.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Sophie,” she said, turning back toward the house. “A really bad feeling.”
Chapter 9
Maggie and Sophie stepped back inside. Settling into the living room, they wondered what they would do all day. They definitely didn’t want another ghostly encounter. Maggie pulled out her cell phone.
“Ugh, just habit,” she groaned. “No cell phone service here. I forgot for a moment!”
She turned off her phone and booted up her laptop. “Maybe I can glom on to someone’s wi-fi.”
“Really, like whose wi-fi?” said Sophie. “A bear’s? A raccoon’s?”
“Yeah,” Maggie muttered, slamming down the lid of her computer. “Nothing. No cell service, no Internet. What are people supposed to do here? It’s like living in the Stone Age.”
“I don’t know what you’re going to do after you move here,” Sophie said.
“Don’t even say those words, Soph. Maybe someone robbed the bank and they don’t have any money left to loan to my parents.”
“But for today, there’s still lots of house to explore,” Sophie offered.
Maggie’s expression changed instantly.
Now that she firmly believed that the house really was being haunted by the ghost of Old Man Wharton, her desire to poke into dark corners had lessened considerably.
“I don’t know, Soph,” she said. “After what we saw last night, I’m pretty afraid of this place.”
“Good point,” Sophie said. “Although it definitely seems less creepy here during the day.”
“All right,” Maggie agreed. “But don’t walk too far away from me.”
Maggie and Sophie roamed from room to room without finding much of interest at first. Most of the rooms were empty of furniture, filled only with cobwebs and dust.
Then they stepped into what had
obviously once been a grand ballroom. A huge chandelier dangled from the center of the ceiling.
“Wow, Mags, look at this room,” said Sophie, spinning around and lifting her hands to grab the hem of an imaginary ball gown. For a moment, she forgot about Old Man Wharton and her apprehension about being alone in this haunted old mansion. She was swept away by the thought of going to a dance in a ballroom like this one.
Sophie began to waltz around the room. “Can’t you just picture fancy parties for beautiful people, with a string quartet playing?”
Maggie joined her, and the two girls danced around the wide-plank wooden floor, spinning and giggling as they went, as imaginary music played beautifully in their heads.
The two friends were suddenly shaken from their fantasy by a crashing sound coming from another room.
“What was that?” Maggie cried, clutching Sophie’s arm.
“We are definitely not alone in this house!” Sophie replied, walking slowly to the ballroom door.
She peeked around back out into the hall. She saw no one.
“Where did that crash come from?” Maggie asked.
“Let’s go find out,” Sophie said, stepping from the ballroom.
“Wait,” Maggie said, grabbing Sophie’s arm. “I’m really scared.”
“But aren’t you curious?” Sophie asked. “Not just about what caused that crash, but about the whole ghost thing?”
“I don’t know, Soph,” Maggie replied. “All I wanted was to prove to my parents that this place is haunted so they wouldn’t buy it. But now that we’re alone in the house, I’m terrified. I mean, what if the ghost wants to hurt us? There’s no one here to help. It could be hours before Simon or my parents come back. What if something really bad happens? What if—”
“Whoa, slow down. You’re working yourself into a frenzy here. Based on everything he’s done so far, Old Man Wharton seems more intent on scaring us away than on actually hurting anyone.”
“I just have this terrible feeling that something awful is going to happen today,” Maggie explained. “I can’t shake it.”
“Let’s go see if we can put that feeling to rest,” Sophie said, taking her friend by the hand and leading her into the hallway.
