by Laura Dower
Aimee twisted around to see what her behind looked like. “I do too.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Madison grumbled. She hated it when Aimee acted fat.
Fiona ran to the back of the store and pulled a grass skirt and green tights from one shelf. She’d decided to borrow one of her mom’s Hawaiian short-sleeved shirts and tie it up at the waist. She could wear her braids up, too, with flowers, in her hair. The party store had silk flowers, and she picked out purple, yellow, and coral ones.
Aimee already had most of her ballerina costume at home, so she didn’t need to get anything. She found some pink ribbon to wrap into braids and a bun on top of her head.
“This ribbon will totally match my new lipstick shade: Think Pink,” Aimee said, admiring the bright color.
Still unable to find a costume, Madison picked through the mask sections, tried on wigs in every length and color, and even put on a Dr. Seuss Cat in the Hat hat. It was too big and floppy, though, and kept sliding down her head. Plus it made her think of the first-grade play. She wanted to look older, not younger. She wanted to look like junior high, not elementary school.
Aimee and Fiona bought their stuff, and the three of them went off to meet Mrs. Gillespie at the fountain. Aimee and Fiona opened their bags to show Mrs. Gillespie the costumes. Aimee’s mother gave Madison a tight squeeze and whispered, “I’m sure you’ll come up with a great costume in no time, Madison.”
Madison got quieter than quiet. Was Mrs. Gillespie right? She racked her brain for great costume ideas … story ideas … over-thinking, as usual.
In the car, Aimee and Fiona were talking about the stars of the newest teen movie, Breaking Up Is Easy, which was showing in the Mall-Plex theater.
“Can we go see that, Mom?” Aimee asked.
“When they change the rating from PG-13, you can,” Mrs. Gillespie said with a chuckle. “Either that or when you’re thirteen.”
Aimee huffed. Sometimes it was such a drag to be twelve and not thirteen.
As they pulled into the Waterses’ driveway, Madison twisted her head up and sideways to peer out the car window up at the attic windows. They looked dark and spooky.
Mrs. Waters raved about Fiona’s grass skirt and Aimee’s ribbons.
Then she put her arm around Madison. “I’m sure you’ll think up a great costume, Madison,” she said.
Madison smiled, but inside she wondered why everyone kept saying that.
Mrs. Waters made hot chocolate and topped their steaming mugs with squirts of whipped cream. Then the girls moved into the den and sat on a big, comfy couch.
“I like cocoa with those teeny marshmallows more than this,” Fiona said. “But my mom got the plain kind. Sorry.”
“No biggie.” Madison nodded, taking a careful sip.
“I think we should tell ghost stories or something scary,” Aimee said, pretending to shudder.
“Yeah.” Fiona laughed a little. “Ghosts are okay to talk about. As long as we don’t have any in this house.”
Madison looked at her friend. “Well, you could.”
Fiona looked her squarely in the eye. “What are you talking about, Maddie?”
“Just that … well … there could be a ghost here,” Madison said. “Like in the attic or somewhere.”
“Are you for real?” Aimee snorted. She looked like she would fall off the couch.
“I haven’t gone up to the attic since we moved into the house,” Fiona said.
All of a sudden Aimee jumped off the couch. “Oh my God!” she shrieked. “I know who the ghost is! Maddie, remember the people who used to live in this house? You know who I mean!”
Madison hugged her knees to her chest. “You mean the Martins?” she said.
“What are you talking about?” Fiona asked. “What Martins?”
“The Martins were this family who used to live here,” Aimee explained. “I used to think their whole story was just a rumor. But maybe not!”
“You mean there’s really a ghost story about …” Fiona took a deep breath. “About this house? My house?”
Aimee squealed. “This is so cool.” The girls huddled closer together, and Madison told the whole story.
“The way the story goes is that the Martin family had this dance party one night and Mrs. Martin came up into the attic to get a ball gown or something. She wanted to look especially beautiful for the dance. Anyway, she was looking around and she went into this big chest, looking for the dress. And she was trying it on and posing in front of the mirror and—”
Madison stopped herself.
“Are you guys sure you want to hear this?” she said.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Aimee yelled.
Fiona gulped. “Go on.”
“Well, a lot of time passed. The rumor is that Mr. Martin started to get worried about his wife after an hour or so. She hadn’t come back downstairs. So he went up to look for her. Up into the attic.”
“Into my attic?” Fiona said. “You’re positive?”
Madison nodded.
“Isn’t this the spookiest? I love it!” Aimee said.
“So Mr. Martin went looking for his wife and couldn’t find her anywhere. They couldn’t figure out what happened. The whole town of Far Hills sent out a search party, and they looked all over the house and neighborhood for his missing wife. They found nothing.”
“Tell her the next part, Maddie,” Aimee said. “Fiona, the next part is the best—”
“Many years later, Mr. Martin died. Everyone said he died of a broken heart. So his family moved out of the house. And when they were moving, someone found the old chest. It was sealed shut, but they pried it open and inside …”
Fiona covered her ears. “What? Don’t tell me it was the—”
“Say it!” Aimee cheered.
“Inside the chest was … Mrs. Martin!” Madison screamed.
Fiona looked absolutely horrified.
“Or her skeleton, anyway. Some people think that Mrs. Martin had tried on the dress and then decided to hide in the trunk to surprise her husband and it closed on her, knocking her unconscious and latching shut. She never regained consciousness. Or even if she had, the chest didn’t have a safety latch inside. She was trapped forever. And ever.”
Aimee had her hand over her mouth, acting a little dramatic, as usual. “Poor Mrs. Martin stuck in a trunk! Isn’t that great!”
Fiona gasped.
“I mean, it’s awful …” Aimee whispered, “that she died and all that, but—”
“No way!” Fiona said. “This did not happen in our attic.”
Madison nodded. “It could be true.”
“Let’s go look!” Aimee said. “Right now.”
Chapter 8
“I SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT my lucky charm bracelet with me tonight. I could use it,” Madison said. She was shivering a little. “I think you need a little luck to catch a ghost.”
Madison, who was very superstitious, had collected many pieces of “lucky” jewelry so far in her life. She usually wore all her lucky rings (one on each finger), but she had taken some of them off earlier in the day. Tonight she only had on her turquoise ring from a shop in New Mexico, a present from Dad after some business trip; her evil eye ring (not an actual eyeball, but close); and her loopy interlocked silver friendship ring. Aimee had the same one, only she’d lost hers right after they bought them last year.
“Okay, I don’t care what you say, we have to stop talking about this ghost thing right now!” Fiona yelped. She was half giggling, but Madison could tell how spooked Fiona had gotten. “Look, there are no ghosts in my house. My family has been here for like five months and we haven’t seen anything or heard anything. You guys are scaring me. Cut it out.”
“Let’s go sit in the other room,” Madison suggested. “We can talk about other stuff.”
“You know what? Maybe the ghost is here because of the dance,” Aimee said, skipping into the living room. The prospect of what might be hiding in the attic was getting her more e
xcited by the minute. When she got excited, she danced. “I think the ghost is here because Mrs. Martin died during a dance—and we’re about to have a dance. You think? That’s a pretty strong connection. …”
“Gee, that could be true,” Madison said aloud. “It makes some kind of sense. And it is Halloween …”
“Maddie, this makes no sense!” Fiona said. “Ghosts make no sense! They aren’t real and there are no ghosts in my house.”
“Fiona, don’t you think we should just look for Mrs. Martin?” Aimee suggested. “We’re all here together tonight. It’s perfect! We should go right up to the attic and introduce ourselves.”
While Aimee was on a mission to ghost hunt, Fiona was ready to make like a ghost and disappear. Madison had to do something.
“Aimee, why don’t we just talk about something else and forget about Mrs. Martin and her dress for a while?” Madison said lightheartedly. “It is Fiona’s party.”
Aimee looked at Madison and then at Fiona, a little flustered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so carried away. I promise I won’t talk about the ghost anymore.”
In a teeny voice Fiona said, “Thanks, Aimee.”
The girls brought their hot chocolate mugs to the kitchen for refills and then raced up to Fiona’s bedroom. Aimee flopped on the bed and looked over at Fiona’s massive stuffed animal collection. She liked the pink iguana the best.
“My mom would flip if I collected that many stuffed animals. She’d say, ‘The only thing you’re collecting is DUST!’”
Madison scanned Fiona’s shelves and yanked down an old yearbook. The cover was red with gold foil, the colors of Fiona’s old school in California. Half the pages had the corners turned down and someone had written in Magic Marker on the back cover, Thanks for a fun year! Fiona showed them all photographs of her old friends.
“I have to show you guys something else,” Fiona said, leaning under her bed to get a huge box. Inside was every copy of Sports Illustrated for Kids. She had a plastic folder filled with articles and photos of the U.S. women’s World Cup soccer team. “They are my favorite team.”
Aimee rolled onto the floor. “Did I tell you that I saw Mrs. Wing and her husband in the school lobby yesterday?” she said.
“What? No!” Fiona giggled. “What does he look like?”
“He’s really tall and very cute!” Aimee squealed. “He had on dark glasses.”
“I’ve seen pictures in the computer lab. How tall is he?” Madison asked.
Aimee shrugged. “Tall, tall. And cute. She is soooo lucky.”
“Do you really think he’s a spy?” Madison asked.
“A spy?” Aimee cracked up. “Where did you hear that one?”
“From you,” Madison said, grinning at Aimee.
“Maybe he is,” Fiona said. “Maybe he’s undercover.”
“In Far Hills?” Madison asked.
“Deep undercover,” Fiona replied.
For a split second Madison considered the idea that Mr. Wing, Spy King, might make a good subject for the TweenBlurt.com story contest. Maybe he was a covert operative for the junior high school confederation, caught in an international web … of intrigue!
Aimee’s stomach grumbled and the friends burst into laughter.
“Let’s get another snack,” Fiona said. The girls headed back into the kitchen for microwave popcorn.
“I still can’t stop thinking about poor Mrs. Martin,” Aimee said in a low voice. “How claustrophobic.”
Fiona, who was sitting on the edge of the counter, threw a dishtowel at Aimee.
“Hey!” Aimee said. “What was that for?”
“I told you not to bring up the ghost!” Fiona said. “Mentioning a ghost on the way home from school or even in the middle of a dark graveyard is okay. But talking about one above my bedroom isn’t.”
“Aimee, you promised!” Madison said.
“I know! I’m sorry. I won’t talk about her,” Aimee said. “But the thing is … What if we have a séance and see if the ghost answers? Then we’ll know if Mrs. Martin is really here.”
“Now?” Fiona said. “A séance?”
“Let’s do something other than sit around and eat,” Aimee said. “Come on, Fiona, don’t be scared. We’ll all be there.”
“Can’t we just talk about boys and other people from school instead?” Fiona asked.
“How about Ivy? She’s pretty scary, isn’t she?” Madison chuckled.
“No! You have to do this séance with me,” Aimee said. “Let’s go into the bathroom.”
“What?” Madison laughed. “The bathroom? Aimee, you’re crazy.”
“I’m serious,” Aimee said. “I told you ghosts are serious. Let’s go into the hall bathroom. Is that okay, Fiona?”
She nodded reluctantly, and the three of them squeezed in and shut the door. Madison turned the lights down real low.
“Maddie, you have to turn out the lights completely or it doesn’t work,” Aimee said.
The small bathroom went black except for the hall light glowing under the bottom of the bathroom door.
“This is so freaky,” Madison said. “Now I’m scared.”
“Do we have to do this in the dark?” Fiona’s voice was barely audible.
“Here’s what we have to do. Face the mirror together. Then we’ll see it,” Aimee said. As their eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, murky reflections appeared before them.
“See what?” Madison asked.
“The ghost. Look, I did this with my brother Billy once. Just wait and watch,” Aimee tried to assure them.
A minute went by.
And then another minute after that. It was getting warm.
Brrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeep!
Fiona’s digital watch beeped. The noise almost sent the trio crashing into the shower.
“Whoa!” Aimee screamed.
“What?” Fiona and Madison said at the same time.
“Look! Did you see that?” Aimee asked, pointing at the mirror. “Look! That.”
“What?” Madison said, looking closer. “Is it Mrs. Martin?”
“I have such a bad feeling about this,” Fiona said.
There was a knock at the door and all three girls screamed at once.
“What are you doing in there?” a voice said from the hallway. “Is everyone all right?”
Aimee clicked on the bathroom light and the room glowed white.
Fiona turned the knob and opened the door. It wasn’t Mrs. Martin. It was Mrs. Waters.
“Mom!” Fiona cried. She grabbed her mother’s arm.
“Fiona?” Mrs. Waters said. “Why were you three in the bathroom together in the dark? Is something wrong?”
Aimee and Madison started giggling. They couldn’t help themselves.
“Why on earth would you girls lock yourselves in a bathroom?” Mrs. Waters asked again. “You could have gotten hurt with all of you stuck inside here like this.”
“Mrs. Waters, do you believe in ghosts?” Aimee asked the question no one else had the nerve to ask.
Mrs. Waters thought for a moment. “Well, I don’t know, Aimee. Depends on my mood. If I were in a deserted old castle, maybe. Right now, no.”
“Mom, have you ever been up to our attic?” Fiona asked.
Mrs. Waters shook her head. “Only once or twice. It’s mostly empty. Why do you ask? Do we have ghosts living up there?”
“Well …” Fiona started to say.
“Madison and I think there is a high probability and likelihood that ghosts are here at your house,” Aimee said. She sounded like one of those TV investigators.
“Mrs. Waters, did you said the attic is mostly empty?” Madison asked. “What do you mean by ‘mostly’?”
“Mostly empty except for a few boxes and pipes … and there’s an old chest. …”
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” all three girls screamed at once—again.
“Girls!” Mrs. Waters covered her ears. “Stop that screaming.”
“We
have to go check it out for ourselves!” Aimee shrieked. She asked Mrs. Waters nicely. “Can we go up into the attic? Can we? Can we?”
“Aimee, I really don’t think you girls should be going up there exploring. I don’t know how safe it is. And besides …”
“Please, Mom.” Fiona spoke up. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to come face-to-face with a ghost, but she also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night imagining what might be up there.
Mrs. Waters still wasn’t sure. “I just don’t know, dear.”
Aimee started pleading again. “We—but—Mrs. Waters—please—”
She could be very convincing when she wrinkled up her face and opened her eyes as wide as quarters. Madison thought the whole thing was pretty funny.
“Mommy, it’s a matter of life or death,” Fiona said.
“Life or death!” Mrs. Waters gasped, laughing. “Fiona Jane Waters, don’t be ridiculous.”
Madison finally butted in. “Mrs. Waters, there really could be a ghost up there. You see, there’s an old neighborhood legend about the attic in this house. …” Madison explained the whole thing all over again.
“You girls have some imaginations,” Mrs. Waters said. “I supposed I should be impressed. Old attics usually have a lot of secrets—but ghosts?”
“Please,” Fiona begged one last time.
“Well … I don’t think you’ll find much of anything, but … okay. Okay, you can go up there. Do you three promise me you will be careful?”
They all nodded.
“Let me go get the big flashlight, then.” Mrs. Waters disappeared out the door.
For some reason they were still all standing in the teeny bathroom, which now felt even more cramped and hotter than before.
Fiona sighed. “Let’s go back to my bedroom and make a plan.”
“I bet this wasn’t what you had in mind when you invited us over,” Aimee joked.
“Yeah. I thought we’d be painting our toenails by now,” Madison said.
“We can do that stuff later,” Aimee said. “This is better. Isn’t it? I’m so glad your mom said yes.”
“This is fun,” Madison said. “I can’t believe we actually told the truth about the ghost. I thought it would make her more worried.”
“She doesn’t believe in ghosts,” Fiona said. “She watches sci-fi movies all the time and never gets scared. Besides, even if Mrs. Martin came out, she could probably kick her butt.”
