“I’d love to,” Allie said. “Really.”
“You’re not going to camp or on vacation?”
“Nope. Not until August.”
Mr. Henry held up one finger and shook it at her playfully. “And don’t say you won’t take any money, the way you did last time.”
“But it’s like getting paid for what I want to do anyway! I’d give anything to have a dog.”
“I know. But I’ll be gone for nine or ten days, and that’s a lot of responsibility. Part of the deal is that I pay you for your time.”
“Okay,” Allie said with a shrug. “If you insist.”
“You talk it over with your parents tonight and let me know. I’ll be happy to call them if they’d like me to.”
“I’ll tell them,” Allie promised.
She met up with Dub in the hallway and they headed for Allie’s house. She started to tell him what Mr. Henry had said, but he stopped her, saying, “I heard. Hey, if there’s a day when you can’t watch Hoover for some reason, I’ll sub for you.” He paused and leered greedily, adding, “And I do expect to be paid. Big bucks.”
Allie laughed. “Deal.”
They were passing by the Luv’n’ Pets store window, and stopped again.
“Look, the puppies are all still there,” said Allie after counting the furballs on display. She tensed as a familiar shiver crept down her spine and vanished as quickly as it came. “It just happened again,” she said.
Dub’s face grew alert. “Really? The same feeling you had this morning?” His voice turned thoughtful. “We were right here, too, in the exact same place.” After a moment, he said, “It would be kind of creepy, but maybe your ghost died in this very spot. Like in a car accident, or a murder or something.”
Allie and Dub both stepped backward, away from “the spot.” Then they looked around, as if a mysterious person or other clue might be lurking nearby.
“No yellow police tape,” Allie said with a nervous laugh. “No bloodstains on the sidewalk. Besides, I had the same feeling today in school, not just here.”
“Stay tuned for further developments in the Allie Nichols Ghost Case,” Dub intoned in the deep, mellow voice of a TV news announcer.
Allie said goodbye to the puppies, and she and Dub walked the rest of the way to her house. Michael was zooming around the driveway on his Big Wheel.
“Hi, Mike,” Allie called. “Guess you’re feeling better, huh?”
Instead of answering, Michael charged full-speed toward her, making a roaring engine sound.
“I would say the answer to that is yes,” said Dub with a grin.
Michael screeched to a halt in front of them. “Watch this!”
He pedaled as hard as he could in the opposite direction, toward the garage. When it appeared that he was going to run straight into the closed garage door, Allie shrieked, “Mike! Stop!”
Michael wrenched his handlebars to the right, and the Big Wheel skidded around in a half-circle. Michael beamed at them, his cheeks pink from exertion and excitement.
“Cool move, Mike!” said Dub.
At the same time, Allie said, “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“Watch! I’ll do it again!” Michael shouted.
“No, Mike!” She put her hands over her eyes. “I can’t look.” She and Dub went into the kitchen, where Mrs. Nichols was putting away groceries.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Allie. Hi, Dub.”
“Hi, Mrs. Nichols. I’m no doctor, but I’d say Michael’s feeling better.”
Allie’s mother laughed. “It’s the oddest thing. He was a mess this morning—stuffy nose, swollen eyes, sneezing, the works. We got in the car, and by the time we got to the doctor’s office, he was perfectly fine. Dr. Waheed said he certainly didn’t seem sick. We’re supposed to watch him for signs of allergies and begin his medicine if he seems to need it. The whole thing was kind of embarrassing, really, after I begged the secretary to squeeze us in.”
“Did you have a chance to get the stuff for the dog treats?” Allie asked.
“I got everything on the list.” Mrs. Nichols pointed to some items on the countertop. “I had to go to three different places to find it all.”
Dub looked through the pile of bags, jars, and boxes and read the labels out loud. “Defatted soy flour, buckwheat groats, brewer’s yeast, ground bone meal, bean curd, wheat germ…This stuff sounds nasty, Al. I thought you said these cookies are supposed to be good for dogs?”
“They are,” Allie answered indignantly. “Those things are all super-healthy.”
“Low-calorie, too, you said?”
Allie nodded. “For dogs like Hoover, who need to lose weight.”
“Oh, now I get it,” said Dub. “They lose weight because they never eat more than one!”
Mrs. Nichols laughed and said, “I have to admit I had the same thought when I was shopping for the ingredients, Dub.”
Allie scowled. “Dub, I thought you came over to help.”
“I did,” Dub said. “I’m trying to help poor Hoover.”
Mrs. Nichols covered her mouth and quickly left the room, but Allie knew she was smiling behind her hand.
Allie glared at Dub. “Can we get started now?”
Making the dog treats was a lot like baking cookies. Allie and Dub mixed the dough, rolled it out, and used the bone-shaped cookie cutter. When the first batch came out of the oven and had cooled, Allie took one of the lumpy, brown bone shapes for herself and handed one to Dub.
“You’re kidding, right?” Dub asked wide-eyed.
“We’ve got to at least try them.”
Dub sniffed the bone a few times. “I promise you, Allie, if this thing kills me, my ghost will definitely come back to haunt you.”
“Except I’ll be dead, too. So there,” said Allie. “Here goes.” She took a crunchy bite of the cookie and began to chew.
Dub watched for a second, then did the same.
“Yuck!” cried Allie, reaching for a paper towel. She spat the rest of the cookie into it.
“Double yuck!” Dub grabbed for a paper towel of his own. He fell to the floor, shaking all over, his tongue hanging out, eyes rolling back in their sockets. Then he stiffened, looked up at Allie, and whispered, “Am I dead?”
“Unfortunately not,” said Allie breezily, stepping over him to begin rolling out another batch of dough. “If you think about it, it’s actually a good sign that we think they taste bad.”
“How do you figure?” asked Dub, reaching for the edge of the countertop to pull himself to his feet.
“Dogs like disgusting things,” Allie answered. “You wouldn’t believe the gross stuff Hoover tries to eat when I take her for walks. Like, one time—”
Dub cut her off. “Okay, okay, I get the point. I don’t need to hear the gory details.”
“Now, don’t laugh,” Allie warned. “But I was thinking that if Hoover does like these, I—or we, if you want to—could go into business over the summer. I read that three-quarters of the dogs in America are overweight.”
Dub had looked dubious when Allie began, but she could see he was already warming to the idea. “Maybe we could get Luv’n’ Pets to sell them,” he said. “You know James, the kid who lives next door to me? He works there part-time.”
“Do you really think it will work?” asked Allie.
“We’ll make millions!”
They smiled at each other for a minute, imagining it. Then Allie said, “Before we get carried away, let’s see how Hoover reacts tomorrow. Maybe she’ll hate them more than we did.”
When three batches had come out of the oven and there was just a little dough left, they cut it in strips and made letters: two H’s for Hoover and Mr. Henry, an A for Allie, and a D for Dub, which came out looking more like an O after it was baked.
The letters reminded Allie of L.J. “You know what he said to me today?” she asked.
Dub didn’t ask, Who? He knew she was talking about L.J. That was one of the many
great things about Dub, in Allie’s opinion. His brain and hers seemed to be on the same wavelength. If only he could see ghosts, too…
Allie didn’t really understand why she was able to see ghosts. Or why Michael could, too, when neither of their parents seemed to have the same ability. Or the same curse, depending on how you looked at it. Most of the time, Allie chose to see being a ghost magnet as cool and exciting…except when it was absolutely terrifying.
She’d always been aware that there was more to most people than could be seen at a glance. She sometimes wondered if her interest in what lay beneath the surface was the reason ghosts were drawn to her. But Dub was a lot like her in that respect, and he’d never been contacted by a ghost. Why Allie had was one of life’s many mysteries.
“So what did L.J. say to you?” Dub asked. He sounded a little impatient, as if he’d asked the question before, while Allie had been preoccupied.
“He said, ‘I don’t need you or anybody else for a baby-sitter, so just back off.’”
Dub whistled under his breath. “Nice.”
“I didn’t want to agree with Karen,” Allie said, “but he gives me the creeps.”
“That makes three of us,” said Dub. “Do you think he’ll come back tomorrow?”
“I hope not.”
Three
When Allie arrived at her classroom the next morning, her wish seemed to have come true. There was no sign of L.J. Most of the other kids were already there, gathered around Hoover, who was lying on the floor on her back, having her belly and throat and ears rubbed. Her eyes were closed and she was grinning in ecstasy. Allie dropped to her knees next to Brad Lewis and joined in, leaning down to give Hoover a kiss on the end of her soft black nose.
“Don’t look now, Al,” Dub said quietly, with a nod toward the door, “but he’s back.”
Allie did look. L.J. and a man with the same dark hair were standing together just inside the room. Watching them, Allie decided that together wasn’t exactly the right word. Even though they stood quite near each other, they appeared to be miles apart. L.J. stood with his back to the man. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, and he glared stonily at a spot on the floor. The man, who Allie figured had to be his father, gazed around the room. He ignored the kids, but when he saw Hoover he looked at the dog for a long time before giving a short nod of what might have been approval.
Allie smiled to herself, thinking, No one can resist Hoover.
Then Mr. Cutler, if that was who he was, glanced at Mr. Henry. Giving L.J. a shove, he said, “You won’t have no more trouble with him.” Before Mr. Henry had a chance to answer, Mr. Cutler turned on his heel and left.
L.J., pushed off balance, stumbled a few steps farther into the room. He stood there, motionless, scowling at the floor.
The room was quiet for a moment. The kids looked uneasily from L.J. to Mr. Henry and back again. The bell that signaled the beginning of school broke the silence. All the students except L.J. went to their desks and sat down.
“L.J.,” Mr. Henry said gently, “you may take the seat you had yesterday.”
Without acknowledging Mr. Henry, L.J. slid into his chair and assumed the same slouched posture as he had the day before. Allie sneaked a peek at him from the corner of her eye and immediately looked away. His face was so twisted up with anger—or hatred, or something, she didn’t know what—that it frightened her.
At the same time, a part of her felt sorry for him. She couldn’t imagine how she would feel if her father acted as L.J.’s had. But her father would never do anything like that.
Before she knew what she was doing, she whispered, “Hi, L.J.”
L.J. didn’t respond. Hostility flowed from him in waves she thought she could actually sense against her arm and the side of her face. She felt like a fool.
That’s it, she thought. I’m never speaking to you again.
She tried to pay attention to what Mr. Henry was saying.
“Well, guys, I can hardly believe it, but this is it. The end of the year.”
Allie couldn’t help being sad about that. Her feelings must have shown on her face, because when she looked at L.J., he was grinning at her mockingly. She turned away, furious. At that moment, she was glad it was the last day of school so she wouldn’t have to sit next to him, wouldn’t have to see him, all summer.
Mr. Henry suggested that while they cleaned out their desks, they could reminisce about their favorite moments during the year. With an already empty desk and no memories to share, L.J. sat staring at his desktop. Allie had to wonder once more what he was doing at school, but she was determined not to allow him to ruin the last day for her.
“Remember when Hoover came on our field trip to the apple farm and we found her in the barn rolling in cow manure?” Dub was saying.
The class groaned.
“On the way there you were all fighting over who got to sit with her on the bus,” Mr. Henry said. “But on the way back, as I recall, she was all mine.”
Everybody laughed.
“The coolest thing was on the trip to Fossil Glen, when she dug up Lucy Stiles’s dead body,” Joey said in his usual loud, booming voice.
A murmur went through the class as the kids remembered that day, and Allie shivered despite herself. She had been the only person present when Hoover had discovered Lucy’s remains buried in the cliffside. Then Lucy’s killer had shown up, and Hoover had run back to find Mr. Henry and the rest of the class, leaving Allie alone, face-to-face with a murderer. Lucy’s ghost had been there, too, fortunately for Allie.
“I don’t know if cool is the right word,” said Julie Horwitz. “But if we’re talking about things we’ll never forget, that’s definitely one of them.”
“That’s for sure,” said Pam Wright. The rest of the kids nodded in agreement.
Allie couldn’t help noticing that suddenly L.J. seemed to be listening to what was going on. She supposed talk of finding a dead body might get anyone’s attention, even his.
Then, to her surprise, L.J. spoke. Without raising his hand, he said, “You ever breed her?”
He was speaking to Mr. Henry, who appeared confused by the question. Allie felt confused for a moment, also, until she figured out that L.J. had to be asking about Hoover. She was thinking that it was a very peculiar question to ask out of the blue, when a tingle passed over the back of her neck. At the same time, she heard inside her head the desperate crying she’d followed in her nightmare. Even odder, she smelled something awful—something “poopy,” to use Michael’s word. She looked around to see if any of the other kids were sniffing or wrinkling their noses or giggling, but nobody else seemed to have noticed the odor.
If this was a message from her ghost, she didn’t have any idea what it meant. She wanted to focus on it and see if she could learn more, but at the same time she was interested in L.J.’s question and wanted to hear Mr. Henry’s answer.
“No,” Mr. Henry was saying. “Hoover’s a little young for that. She’s not even two yet.”
L.J. shrugged and said, “Looks old enough.”
Mr. Henry shook his finger toward Hoover and said sternly, “No boyfriends for you yet, young lady. No dates for a long, long time.”
The kids laughed, except for L.J.
Mr. Henry went on. “I was told it’s healthier for the mother if she’s at least three when she has her first litter. It’s better for the puppies, too, I understand.”
It was impossible to tell from L.J.’s impassive expression what he thought about that.
Joey said, “Hoover still acts like a puppy herself half the time.”
“You’re right about that,” said Mr. Henry. He looked toward Hoover and his fond smile turned to a puzzled frown. “What’s the matter, girl?”
Hoover was crouched beneath Mr. Henry’s desk, whining and rubbing her paws back and forth over her ears.
“She didn’t like that talk about having puppies,” Pam said with a laugh.
Some other kids laughed, too
, and Allie had to agree that it seemed as if Hoover was trying to shut out something she didn’t want to hear. But the way she was hiding under the desk made Allie think she’d been spooked. As Allie had learned, Hoover was definitely aware of the presence of ghosts. Was that the cause of her odd behavior?
“My dog does that when he needs his ear medicine,” Brad said.
“Maybe that’s it,” Mr. Henry said.
Hoover looked up then, as if to ask, Why is everyone staring at me? The shivery feeling Allie had had was gone, and so was the peculiar odor. The crying sound inside her head had faded, too.
Hoover stood up as if nothing unusual had happened and went over to sniff the table where all the party food and drinks were waiting.
“Well,” said Mr. Henry, “it appears that Hoover has decided it’s party time!”
Allie tried to push aside the questions in her head and enjoy the party. During the punch and cake and cookies, Mr. Henry handed out blank journals, his end-of-the-year gifts to them all. “So you’ll keep up the habit of writing,” he explained.
A few of the kids besides Allie had presents for Mr. Henry. Allie was pleased when he took off Hoover’s old collar and replaced it with her handmade one, exclaiming over the clever idea of adding Hoover’s name and phone number.
She and Dub watched anxiously as Hoover sniffed the bag holding their homemade treats. Mr. Henry gave her one. Hoover chewed it quickly, wagged her tail, and barked.
“She wants another one!” said Joey.
Dub and Allie gave each other the “thumbs-up” sign.
“It’s okay, Mr. Henry,” said Allie. “They’re low-calorie.”
Hoover ate a couple more cookies while the kids polished off the food on the table and Mr. Henry opened the rest of his gifts. Then he gave out report cards and, all of a sudden, sixth grade was over.
The kids who rode buses were dismissed first. Allie wasn’t the least bit sorry to see Karen Laver leave right after them. L.J., she noticed, slipped out the instant the bell rang. But most of the walkers, Allie and Dub included, hung around, reluctant to leave. Finally, they were the only two kids left.
The Ghost of Cutler Creek Page 2
