“Did you have a chance to talk to your parents about taking care of Hoover, Allie?” Mr. Henry asked.
Allie nodded. “They said it was fine.”
“And I can help if Allie needs it,” added Dub.
“So I guess we’re all set, aren’t we, girl?” Allie bent down to pat Hoover’s smooth, soft ears.
“Great!” said Mr. Henry. “I’d like to leave tomorrow, so I’ll have a chance to get organized out there. But I could wait until Sunday.”
“Tomorrow’s fine with me,” said Allie.
“Terrific. I’ll give Hoover her breakfast before I go. Later, you can take her for a walk, and go back at dinnertime. Well, I don’t have to tell you. Just follow the same routine as before.”
“Okay.”
Then Mr. Henry said, “I’m glad you both stayed. I have another favor to ask.”
“Shoot,” said Dub.
“I’ve been thinking about L.J., and how hard it must have been for him to move to a new place right at the end of the year. He’s got the whole summer ahead of him, and he didn’t have a chance to get to know anybody or make any friends.”
He didn’t try very hard, Allie thought. She had a bad feeling about what might be coming next and, sure enough, it did.
“I was hoping you two might make an effort to include him in some of your summer activities. Maybe give him a call if you’re going to do something, or stop by to say hi if you’re out riding your bikes. What do you think?”
There was a moment’s silence while Allie and Dub looked at each other.
“I don’t think L.J. likes me very much, Mr. Henry,” Allie said at last. And I certainly don’t like him, she added to herself.
Mr. Henry nodded. “I can see how you’d think that, Allie,” he said. “But I doubt it was you he didn’t like.”
“He didn’t seem too happy about being here,” Dub said.
Mr. Henry nodded in agreement. “There could be a lot of reasons for that. We don’t really know L.J.”
Allie felt that she knew enough. She didn’t want to disappoint Mr. Henry, but she didn’t want to spend any more time with L.J. Cutler, either.
“I keep thinking about something you said, Allie, when you decided to interview Mrs. Hobbs for your Elders Day project,” Mr. Henry continued.
“Something I said?” Allie echoed.
Mr. Henry nodded. “The class thought you were crazy. They all thought Mrs. Hobbs was weird and scary because of the way she looks.”
Allie smiled. Now that she’d gotten to know Mrs. Hobbs, she hardly noticed the cafeteria lady’s appearance, which had caused the students, including Allie, to call her the Snapping Turtle.
Mr. Henry continued. “You said, ‘We’ve all known Mrs. Hobbs since kindergarten, but we don’t really know her.’ I was so proud of you that day. You reminded all of us that our first impressions of people don’t always tell the whole story.”
Great. It was her own big mouth that had gotten her into this. How could she say now that she wouldn’t give L.J. another chance?
She looked at Dub. “Okay,” they both said, at almost the same instant. “We’ll do it.”
Mr. Henry beamed at them. “I was thinking last night about who I could ask to do this, and out of all the kids in the class, I came up with you two.” He looked serious for a moment. “It might not work out, I understand that. But I appreciate that you’re willing to give it a try.”
Allie forced herself to smile back at him. She told herself that he was right, that she had been right when she said there was more to people than first met the eye.
But she wasn’t the least bit convinced this was true of L.J. Cutler.
Four
The entire summer lay before them, but Allie and Dub weren’t experiencing the lighthearted, happy feeling they ordinarily had on the last day of school. As they walked home, they discussed their promise to Mr. Henry.
“We were goners the second he brought up Mrs. Hobbs,” Dub said.
Allie nodded gloomily. From her pocket she took the piece of paper on which Mr. Henry had written L.J.’s address and phone number. “He lives on Dundee Road,” she read. “I’ve never even heard of it.”
“I think it’s way out past the old bean packing plant,” Dub said.
“There’s nothing out there,” Allie said.
“Not much,” Dub agreed. “There’s a place we go every year to cut our own Christmas tree. But that’s about it.”
“I say we go see him tomorrow,” Allie declared. “We’ll show up, he’ll tell us to get lost, and that will be it. We can tell Mr. Henry we tried.”
“Excellent idea,” said Dub. “Then we can get on with our plan for making a million dollars selling dog treats.”
They were approaching Luv’n’ Pets. “You want to stop in and see what they think of our idea?” Allie asked.
“Sure, why not?” answered Dub.
“Look,” Allie said, pointing excitedly toward the window, where six furballs now lay curled together on the newspapers. “One of them is gone!” She imagined the scene: the happy puppy in its new home, being cuddled by its loving owner, a girl Allie’s own age. If only Michael weren’t allergic, she wished for what had to be the thousandth time.
When they got inside, Dub went up to the red-haired woman behind the counter, whose nametag said ENID, and asked, “Is James here?”
“Tomorrow,” Enid answered. “He works all day on Saturdays.”
“Oh,” said Dub.
Allie, unable to help herself, said, “I see somebody bought one of the puppies.”
Enid hesitated for a moment before answering. “That’s right.”
“Did a family buy it? People with kids?”
Enid didn’t answer but asked pointedly, “Is there something I can help you with?”
Allie was still caught up in her fantasy of the puppy and its new owner. “Was it somebody from around here?”
Enid frowned. “That’s none of your business. It’s private information.”
“Oh,” said Allie, stung by the woman’s sharp tone. “I wasn’t trying to be nosy. I was just wondering if I might see the puppy in the neighborhood, you know, out for a walk or something, that’s all. It was so cute…” Her voice trailed off under Enid’s disapproving glare.
Dub jumped in then, much to Allie’s relief. “Uh, you’re the owner of the store, right?”
Enid nodded. “I bought it six months ago. Why?”
“Well, the reason we stopped in,” Dub began, “is that we have developed a wonderful new pet product, and we wanted to give Luv’n’ Pets the opportunity to carry it.”
Enid eyed him with suspicion. Lots of kids would have faded under that steely gaze, but Dub just smiled and waited. Allie was enjoying his performance.
“What exactly is this ‘wonderful product’?” Enid asked at last.
Allie heard the sarcastic edge to the question, but Dub kept on talking as if he and Enid were old buddies.
“Did you know that three-quarters of American dogs are overweight?” Dub asked. Without waiting for Enid to answer, he went on. “I know, it’s shocking, isn’t it? So we have developed a low-calorie dog treat made from one hundred percent natural, healthy ingredients, and—” Here Dub paused dramatically, smiling broadly at Enid, who stared back stone-faced. “The best part is, people can still indulge their pets without making them fat!”
Enid didn’t say anything, but Allie thought she looked interested. At least she hadn’t told them to leave. Allie knew she should pitch in and give Dub a little help, but she was distracted by a pathetic whimpering in her head. “Dogs really love them,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
There was a long silence, during which Allie began to wonder if Enid had pushed a secret buzzer under the counter and was waiting for the police to arrive and drag them away. She was about to say, “Come on, Dub, let’s go,” when Enid spoke in a loud, nasal voice.
“You gotta package the stuff in something appealing. Somethi
ng interesting-looking. And you’ve got to have a label with a complete list of ingredients.”
“No problem,” said Dub.
“Bring some in. I’ll look them over, maybe test them out on some of the stock. If I decide to carry them, you don’t get any money up front, understand? You’ll get paid only when they sell.”
She turned away and began clicking on a computer.
Allie looked at Dub and raised her eyebrows. Enid kept on typing, ignoring them. Finally Dub said cheerily, “Okay, then, we’ll see you soon with the first delivery.”
Enid didn’t answer, so Dub and Allie exchanged a glance and started to leave. When they were almost out the door, Enid spoke again. “I assume, of course, that these things are made under the strictest sanitary conditions.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Allie said. “The kitchen at our headquarters is immaculate.”
She felt herself starting to smile, and Dub pushed her quickly out of the shop. Once outside, she collapsed in a fit of giggles.
“Oh, that’s real businesslike, Al,” Dub said. “Are you trying to blow the whole deal?”
“Sorry,” Allie said, gasping, “but she was too much!” She imitated Enid’s loud, grating voice.
Dub began to grin, too. “But we’re in!” he said. “She’s going to carry them.”
Allie nearly choked. “Dub! You actually want to do business with her?”
“Why not? We don’t have to be her best friend. All we need is some space on her shelf. Our treats will sell themselves! We’ll make millions, remember?”
Allie looked at him dubiously.
“Well, hundreds, anyway,” he amended sheepishly.
Allie laughed.
“Possibly thousands. You’ll see.”
Allie didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble. She supposed it couldn’t hurt to make another batch of dog treats and bring them to the store. But there was something creepy about that place, something other than Enid.
“Dub,” she said, “the whole time we were in there, I heard dogs whimpering.”
“So?” said Dub, looking puzzled. “It is a pet store. And there were six puppies there.”
“I know,” said Allie. “But they were all asleep.”
“You mean—?”
“Yeah. This was the ghost again.”
Five
Allie woke from the very same horrible dream she’d had two nights before. As she lay on her back, trying to calm herself, Michael came into her room and climbed under the blanket with her, sniffling miserably. He curled up beside her and let out a sneeze that shook the bed.
“Mike!” Allie cried, sitting up and turning on the light. When she saw his red, swollen face, she reached over to hug him. “What’s the matter, big guy?”
“It was awful,” Michael said, his lower lip trembling as he struggled not to cry.
“What was awful, Mikey?” she asked, continuing to hold his small, warm body.
“My dream,” he said, before exploding with another sneeze.
An uneasy feeling swept through Allie. “You had a scary dream?” she asked.
She felt him nod against her chest.
“What happened in your dream?” she asked, afraid that she already knew.
“I was in a place, a bad place, and it was lost,” Michael said. “And I was looking for it, but I was lost, too, and I could hear it, but I couldn’t find it.” He took a hiccuping breath and continued. “And I kept getting more lost, and I couldn’t find it, Allie, I couldn’t!” he finished with a shuddering sob.
Allie let him cry for a minute. When he had settled down, she whispered, “What was it you were looking for, Mike? Could you tell?”
“I couldn’t see it,” he said shakily. “I could only hear it.”
So it was true. She and Mike were dreaming the same dream. She had discovered a couple of weeks before that Mike could see ghosts, too. And now this. Allie needed to think, but first she had to comfort Michael. She hugged him fiercely, wanting to protect him from all scary, hurtful things.
“Ow, Allie! You’re squishing me!”
“Oops, sorry, Mike. You want to know something weird?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise to keep it a secret?” Allie knew Michael loved secrets.
“Yeah!” He sat up, looking eager.
“I had the exact same dream.”
Michael’s eyes grew big. “Really?”
“Yes. And I had it once before, too. Did you?”
Michael looked thoughtful for a moment, as if he were trying to remember something. Then he nodded.
“Was it two nights ago?” Allie asked.
Michael shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Was somebody crying in your dream?”
Michael nodded.
“What did it sound like?”
Michael made a low whimpering sound, very much like the one Allie had heard both in her dream and afterward in her head.
“That’s what I heard, too,” said Allie. “What did you think it was?”
Michael’s expression grew solemn. “I don’t know,” he said. “But it was sad.”
Allie felt sad, too—for Michael, who had been badly frightened, and for whoever was trying so desperately to tell them something. “Do you want to stay in here with me tonight?” she asked.
Michael nodded sleepily.
“Okay, here.” Allie reached over to the night table and grabbed a tissue from the box. “Blow.”
Michael gave a noisy honk on the tissue, but he still sounded stuffy when he whispered good night to her. She could hear him sniffling and breathing loudly through his mouth as he fell into a restless slumber beside her.
There was no way Allie could go to sleep. She lay awake, making a mental list of everything she knew so far about this new ghost.
One: It was sad.
Two: While the other two ghosts she’d encountered had communicated in words, sometimes even in writing, this one had not, at least not so far.
Three: This ghost had communicated through dreams, sounds, and, she was pretty sure, that odd, yucky smell.
Beginning with the weird feelings she’d gotten at school, she tried to recall everything that had been going on whenever she’d felt the presence of the ghost.
The first time had been on Thursday, right after L.J.’s arrival, when Mr. Henry had told L.J. to sit beside Allie and he had made his rude remark. Allie had been angry with L.J., and a little frightened by him.
The next communication at school had taken place on the last day. All the kids had been at their desks, talking about the past year’s events. L.J., she remembered, had acted thoroughly bored until the subject of Hoover came up, when he had begun talking to Mr. Henry about Hoover having puppies. Hoover, Allie recalled with a smile, hadn’t liked that idea. But her smile faded as she remembered Hoover’s odd behavior, behavior that had reminded her that Hoover, as well as Michael, could sense the presence of ghosts.
Then Allie thought about the three times she’d had ghostly feelings at the pet shop. Twice when she and Dub were outside watching the new puppies in the window, and then again when they were inside talking to Enid.
Two of the incidents featured L.J. Four of them involved dogs or puppies. The dreams had contained the same whimpering that Allie had heard both at the pet shop and at school. All the communications had come from a ghost who wouldn’t talk to her.
Allie ran these facts over and over through her tired brain. Then, lying in the dark beside Michael, she took a sharp breath. The pieces of the puzzle fell together and she knew.
The ghost wasn’t talking because it couldn’t.
It was trying to reach her through sounds and smells because those were all it had.
Michael had awakened with allergy attacks both times he had had the scary dream.
Michael was allergic to dogs.
This ghost was a dog.
It seemed so obvious all of a sudden that Allie felt stupid for not figuring it out ea
rlier. At the same time, it struck her as almost silly—a ghost dog? Who could blame her for not thinking of that? She almost laughed, until she remembered the sound of those pleading cries.
Okay, so her ghost was a dog. And it needed her help.
Six
Allie awoke next to Michael. It was the first day of summer vacation, the first day of doggy-sitting for Hoover, and the first day she knew that her latest ghost was a dog. She couldn’t wait to talk to Dub.
During her previous adventures with ghosts, she and Dub had used the computer to find facts about the spirit world. They had learned that a ghost returned to the world of the living because it had a mission to fulfill. A spirit might have to right a wrong or an injustice, reveal important information, exact revenge, or accomplish something else that would allow it to rest in peace.
What pressing business could cause a dog to have a restless spirit? She had to talk to Dub.
“Mike,” she said softly. “Come on, get up.”
Michael wriggled around a bit, then opened his eyes sleepily. Allie could see that the allergic reaction to his dream encounter with the ghost dog hadn’t worn off completely yet. She handed him another tissue.
“You okay?” she asked.
Michael nodded, wiping his nose.
“Remember, the dream is our secret, okay?”
Michael nodded again.
Allie felt guilty about making Michael join her in a secret from their parents. But she had never figured out how to explain to them that she and Michael were both ghost magnets.
Her mother and father were basically great. They were nice and funny and always tried to understand her, but they tended to worry about her “overactive imagination.” Once she’d heard them talking in worried voices about having her see a psychiatrist. She didn’t even want to imagine trying to tell a shrink she saw ghosts. It was one of those things that grownups, parents and probably doctors in particular, just wouldn’t get.
Allie didn’t want her mother and father to be concerned about her now, not when summer vacation had just begun. She needed as much freedom as possible to solve the mystery of this latest ghost.
The Ghost of Cutler Creek Page 3
