It's All Downhill from Here

by P. J. Night

Chapter 12

  “Who’s hungry?” Mr. Kim announced as he strolled into the dining room, carrying a steaming bowl of mac and cheese.

  Maggie looked at her father as he scooped some mac and cheese into her bowl. Everything now pointed to the same unbelievable but true conclusion—Old Man Wharton’s ghost was doing everything he could to stop the Kims from buying his former home and turning it into a ski resort, because his beloved brother had died here in a skiing accident long ago.

  It made perfect sense, but Maggie somehow doubted that her parents would see it that way. After all, it was a pretty far-out story.

  “We’ve got to get some papers from our lawyer back home this week,” Mrs. Kim explained as she gathered a forkful of mac and cheese. “Then we’ll come back up here next weekend to finalize the bank loan.”

  Maggie couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to at least try; otherwise by this time next month, she’d be living here with a ghost who’d just tried to kill her brother. Who knew what horrors they’d endure then?

  She hoped that this time Simon and Sophie would back her up.

  “We can’t buy this house!” she announced. “And it’s not because I’m a selfish brat who doesn’t want to leave her friends.”

  She glanced at Simon and Sophie. The expressions on their faces told Maggie that they were both wondering how she could present her case without revealing that Simon had disobeyed their parents and gone skiing.

  “There is something really wrong with this house,” Maggie continued. “You have to believe me.”

  “I know,” her mother said impatiently. “No wi-fi, no cell service, no—”

  “No!” Maggie shouted a bit louder than she would have liked. “I know it sounds crazy, but the ghost of Old Man Wharton is haunting this house, because he’s determined not to let it become a ski resort.”

  “Okay, let’s say I believed you about the ghost,” Mrs. Kim began, “which I’m not saying I do, but for argument’s sake, since you seem ready to argue, let’s just say that Old Man Wharton’s ghost is here. How do you know what he wants or doesn’t want? Have you had a conversation with him?”

  “Well, yes. We did.” Maggie sighed. “We talked with his ghost!”

  “Really? And were Simon and Sophie there when you had your little chat?”

  All eyes turned to the other two kids. Simon looked at the two girls, then at his mom.

  “We all believe Maggie now,” Sophie finally said.

  “Simon?” Mr. Kim turned to his son.

  “I’m with them,” Simon replied weakly. “This house is definitely haunted.”

  “And what do you base this on?” Mrs. Kim asked.

  Simon glanced at Maggie and Sophie. He took a deep breath and then began his confession. “I have to tell you guys something, but you’re not going to like it,” he said to his parents. “I disobeyed you and went skiing today.”

  “I am so disappointed in you, Simon. I specifically—”

  “Wait, Mom, there’s more.”

  Simon proceeded to tell his parents the story of the entire day—how he’d disobeyed his parents, his almost deadly encounter with Old Man Wharton’s ghost, and his being possessed at their séance just now.

  “There are many reasons you could have fallen, Simon, even though you are a good skier,” Mr. Kim spoke up. “Weather conditions, slope conditions . . . but a ghost pushing you? Please. By the way, you’re grounded, forever, for disobeying us so blatantly. We really thought we could trust you.”

  “This nonsense is over,” Mrs. Kim said firmly. “We are buying this house. Period. End of conversation.”

  The rest of dinner passed in uncomfortable silence. When she finished eating, Maggie brought her plate into the kitchen, then headed upstairs. Sophie followed.

  “What are we going to do?” Maggie wondered, flopping onto her bed.

  “Sorry, Mags. I thought I’d be coming to visit you a lot, but I’m really afraid of this house, and of him.”

  There was nothing else to say. Maggie felt doomed and terrified about what the future would bring. She rolled over and stared up at the canopy. She felt like crying, but the tears didn’t come. Finally she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

  “HELP! HELP!”

  Maggie was awakened by shouts of terror.

  “STOP! HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP ME!”

  She sprang from her bed and saw Sophie hurrying toward the bedroom door. She looked out the window. Still dark. Not yet morning.

  “What’s going on?” Sophie asked.

  “HELP!”

  “That’s Simon!” Maggie cried. “Something’s wrong with Simon. Come on!”

  The two girls flung the bedroom door open and ran into Mr. and Mrs. Kim in the hallway.

  “HELP ME!”

  The cries came from downstairs.

  “Simon!” Mrs. Kim shouted, dashing down the stairs, followed by the others.

  When Maggie reached the bottom of the stairs, she was stunned by what she saw.

  Simon was being pulled around the house by an unseen force. He was awake, his eyes wide with terror. His arms were being jerked back at the elbows, then thrust forward, then pulled back again, as if he were using ski poles to speed himself down a slope.

  His knees were locked so that he was moving through the house with his feet scraping along the floor. He was unable to lift his feet or take a step or do anything to slow himself down.

  “What’s happening?” Maggie shrieked. “Simon!”

  “Help me!” Simon cried. “Something’s pulling me and dragging me. Forcing me to act like I’m skiing. I can feel it. Stop it. Someone stop it.”

  Mr. Kim rushed to Simon’s side. He reached out to put his arms around his son in an attempt to stop whatever was dragging him around. But before he could reach his son, Mr. Kim was thrown backward, flung away from Simon.

  He was knocked off his feet and crashed to the ground ten feet away.

  “Paul! Are you all right?” Mrs. Kim cried, rushing to her husband’s side.

  “It’s Old Man Wharton’s ghost!” Maggie cried. “He’s possessed Simon again!”

  She recalled how hiding the scrapbook had broken the spell earlier. She rushed to the front door and pulled it open. The book that had been resting on the snow on the front step was gone!

  Old Man Wharton must have taken it back, she thought.

  Maggie could barely keep herself from screaming and shutting down completely. Her dad had just been tossed across a room like a rag doll. Her brother was still being pulled around the house by something that had taken control of his body. But what? Who? Old Man Wharton? What else could it be?

  “LEAVE THIS PLACE . . . NOW!” a voice that wasn’t Simon’s roared out of his mouth.

  “That’s him!” Maggie shouted. “That’s the voice I’ve been hearing, telling me to leave. Tell me you all heard it. Tell me!”

  “We heard it,” Mr. Kim said, climbing to his feet. “I don’t know what it is, but—”

  “LEAVE THIS PLACE . . . NOW!” the voice repeated out of Simon’s mouth, louder this time.

  Simon crashed into a wall and collapsed. He popped up immediately and continued his skiing movements.

  “Okay, you win!” Mr. Kim cried. “We’ll leave. We’ll leave this place and never come back!”

  As soon as Mr. Kim uttered the words, Simon was released. He fell to the floor panting and sweating, scared, exhausted, but generally unharmed. His mom helped him up and held him tightly.

  “Get your stuff,” Mr. Kim ordered everyone. “Pack up, quickly, and let’s get out of here. We’re leaving. We’re done.”

  Still in shock, Maggie stumbled up the stairs and ran to the bedroom. Sophie was right on her heels. Maggie opened her suitcase and piled her clothes in, then slammed it shut. “That’s it for me,” she said. “I’ll sort this mess out back home, in the suburbs, where we belong.”

  Sophie shoved her belongings into her backpack and followed Maggie down the stairs.

  “Read
y?” Mr. Kim asked. He stood at the front door, holding two suitcases. Maggie grabbed her backpack, which had been sitting on the living room floor. She joined the rest of her family outside.

  Moments later, Maggie tossed her suitcase into the trunk as her dad started the car. When everyone was inside, he slowly started down the snow-covered driveway.

  The morning sun peeked out from behind the big mountain as if to bid the Kims farewell.

  “You know, now that I think about it, that house needed too much work anyway,” Mrs. Kim said. “And the ski slopes looked too dangerous. The insurance policy alone would cost more than the house. I’m calling the realtor right now and telling her that we’re not interested in the house.”

  She pulled out her cell phone. There was miraculously some service. She dialed the number. “Hello, Ms. McGee, this is Jeannie Kim. We’re leaving the Wharton Mansion this minute, and I wanted to tell you that this is most definitely not the property for us. I’ll be in touch. Thanks.”

  In the backseat, Maggie smiled. I feel like I just won the lottery. Whether they believe in Old Man Wharton’s ghost or not really doesn’t matter, as long as they don’t buy the place.

  As the car reached the end of the long driveway, another car turned in. Maggie spotted ski equipment on the car’s roof. A young couple sat in the front seat, with two little boys in the back.

  Both cars paused, and the drivers rolled down their windows.

  “Hi, are you members of the Wharton family?” the driver asked.

  “No, we came to see the old place,” Mr. Kim replied. “Just curious.”

  “Oh, well, Nancy McGee sent us,” the woman explained. “My husband and I are looking for a place to turn into a ski resort. This looks wonderful. It’s such a pretty location.”

  “We weren’t supposed to arrive until noon, but we’re just so excited,” the husband added.

  Mr. Kim debated with himself about whether to warn this family about the house. What would he say? Would he tell them not to buy the place because it was haunted by a ghost? They’d think he was crazy. Just like he had thought his daughter was crazy.

  “Good luck,” he simply said, and then he rolled up his window.

  As the two cars passed each other, Maggie locked eyes with one of the little boys. She shook her head, hoping to send a message. The boy turned away and started fighting with his brother.

  As Mr. Kim started to turn out of the driveway, Maggie turned back for one last look at the mansion. There, in the same window where she had seen him on the night they arrived, was the ghost of Old Man Wharton. He caught Maggie’s eye and smiled, raising his hand to wave good-bye. She wondered if he was sorry for putting her family through such an ordeal this weekend. She wondered if he felt that he did what he had to do in order to keep others safe.

  And then he noticed the other car moving up the driveway, approaching the house. His smile morphed into an angry scowl, and he turned from the window to prepare for his new guests.

  Prologue

  Mr. Talbert yawned as he tried to hold a stack of uncorrected lab papers and his coffee cup in one hand and unlock his classroom door with the other. Feeble early-morning light filtered through the high windows and reflected off the surfaces of the lab tables. He flicked on the overhead, flooding the room with harsh fluorescent light. He yawned again as he headed for his desk, wondering if he’d have time this Friday morning to finish grading all the labs before first period.

  He plopped the stack of papers down on his desk. Then he scratched his head quizzically and regarded the life-size skeleton next to his desk. The skeleton’s head was cocked at a jaunty angle. It stared back at him with its shadowy, unseeing eyes.

  “Did I just see what I think I saw?” he asked the skeleton.

  The skeleton didn’t answer.

  Mr. Talbert took three backward steps. He turned toward the bug terrarium that sat on the counter running the length of his classroom. The counter was cluttered with mineral samples, animal skulls, and fossils.

  The lid of the terrarium was askew. He crouched down to peer into it.

  The day before it had contained a bustling little ecosystem, filled with at least a dozen large green scarab beetles, scientific name Chelorrhina polyphemus, crawling around on the sandy bottom and gnawing on the bits of apple his middle school students had dropped in. But now the terrarium was empty. The beetles were nowhere to be seen.

  Mr. Talbert turned back to the skeleton. “They can’t have climbed out on their own,” he said. “Someone’s taken them!”

  The skeleton didn’t answer.

  Chapter 1

  “Um, Jess? No offense, but that hat?” Alice mock-shuddered. “So last year.”

  Jess reached up and touched her hat, smiling ruefully at Alice. “I know, I know. But it was so cold this morning when I ran out of the house, and I left my good one in my locker at school.”

  “I always buy two of everything,” pronounced Pria. “That way I have a spare.”

  Kayla, who was picking her way along the icy sidewalk a step behind the other three girls, furrowed her brow. She liked Jess’s hat. It was a dusty rose color with a folded-up brim that set off Jess’s delicate features and wide-set green eyes. But Kayla would never dream of piping up and disagreeing with Alice. No one wanted to invite Alice’s criticism if they could help it. Kayla wondered if Pria was serious about buying two of everything. Like that would ever happen in Kayla’s house. She glanced down at her winter boots, which were very definitely so two years ago. Her mom had found them last year at an end-of-season clearance sale, and Kayla had been delighted with them.

  “Brrrr!” said Jess, hunkering deeper into her luxurious down coat. “It must be negative a hundred degrees today. Probably a record low for Fairbridge, Minnesota.”

  “Even Buttercup looks like he feels cold, which is a miracle considering all the natural insulation that dog has,” said Alice, gesturing to the dog at the end of the rhinestone-studded leash she was holding in her gloved hand. “My mom says she’s going to put him on a diet.”

  “It’s the wind,” said Kayla. “That’s what makes it feel so cold.”

  As if to emphasize Kayla’s point, an icy gust of crystallized snow sprang up and swirled around the girls. All four put their heads down to shield their faces against the needlelike blast. Kayla could feel the icy snow blowing down the back of her coat collar and up her coat sleeves, which were getting a little too short for her.

  “Buttercup! Slow down, you dumb dog!” said Alice, lunging forward from the force of the dog’s tugging. Buttercup kept straining at his leash.

  Kayla usually liked dogs, but Buttercup had to be the ugliest dog she’d ever seen, and he was not especially friendly, either. His snout was all pushed in, as though he had run face-first into a glass patio door. His tail curled up and around backward, so that it practically formed a circle. He didn’t walk so much as he waddled, his round belly shifting from side to side. Alice had told her that he was a very rare and valuable breed. Whatever.

  Pria adjusted her fuzzy pink earmuffs. “Please tell me why we’re out here again?”

  “I’m behaving like the model citizen,” said Alice with a half smile. “I’ve offered to walk Buttercup every single afternoon so my parents will stick to their promise to let me have the party.”

  “It’s so awesome that you’re going to have a coed Valentine’s party,” said Pria.

  “Yeah, I’m psyched. The girls get to sleep over, and the boys will all leave at eleven,” said Alice.

  “Will you guys help me find a cute party outfit at the mall today?” asked Jess.

  “I’m going to buy at least three outfits,” said Alice, ignoring Jess’s question. “Then I’ll be able to choose whatever I’m in the mood for the day of the party.”

  “Speaking of shopping,” said Pria, “have you noticed the stores on this block? I mean, who shops here? Especially considering there’s a perfectly good mall nearby.”

  “Clearly no one, from
the looks of these places,” said Alice with a sniff.

  Kayla clutched the collar of her coat and looked up, squinting as another blast of icy wind sprang up.

  It was true. For a generally swanky town like Fairbridge, this seemed to be the one-block-long low-rent district. It was doubly strange that such a run-down block existed in this part of town, of all places, because Alice lived just four blocks away, on one of the fanciest streets in Fairbridge.

  They passed an antique store, with a dimly lit storefront displaying a jumble of threadbare old armchairs that looked like they’d seen much better days. Next door was a discount clothing store called Dressed Best, displaying mannequins with no heads or hands, modeling unfashionable dresses. And just past that was a shop with a sign reading ESOTERICA: SPIRITUAL SUPPLIES • CANDLES • OILS • SPELLS. The snow on the sidewalk seemed undisturbed in front of the shops, as though no one had gone in or out in some time.

  “Buttercup! I told you to stop pulling, you awful little thing,” said Alice. “After thousands of dollars of obedience training, he’s still the most annoying dog!” She lurched as Buttercup bounded forward, barking his head off at something the girls couldn’t see, something behind the recessed door of the dress shop.

  “It’s a cat,” said Pria.

  Just then Buttercup managed to slip out of his collar, leaving Alice holding the empty leash. He moved much more quickly on his short legs than Kayla would have thought he could, dashing toward the doorway and yapping furiously.

  A black cat streaked across the sidewalk, heading toward the road. Kayla watched, stricken, as it leaped over the mound of plowed, grayish snow and into the road, just as an oncoming car was passing. The cat landed right in front of the car, and the girls couldn’t see whether one of the car’s tires rolled over it. The driver, a man talking on his cell phone, kept going, apparently unaware of what had happened.

  Buttercup struggled to mount the ploughed snowbank, still in pursuit of the cat, and Alice was able to grab him and snap his collar back on. Then she peered over the edge of the snowbank at the place where the cat had fallen.