Caught in the Web

by Laura Dower

  Madison laughed. “Well, that’s good, I guess.”

  “I told you ghosts could be anywhere, right?” Aimee said. “And now we’re going to see a real, live one. Right here in this house.”

  Chapter 9

  THE STAIRWAY UP TO the Waterses’ attic didn’t seem old or scary at all. Someone had redone the steps, so it wasn’t too treacherous to climb. Madison led the way, followed by Aimee and then Fiona.

  “This isn’t so scary,” Aimee said as she stepped up.

  “Speak for yourself, Aim,” Fiona said.

  “We’ll have great stories to tell at the school dance next week, won’t we?” Madison said. She reached the top of the pull-down wooden stairs and poked her head up first.

  “Wow,” Madison said, finally reaching the attic space. Her friends climbed in after her. They all looked around and saw an enormous chest.

  “Oh-em-gee!” Aimee screamed. “Mrs. Martin!”

  “Girls!” Mrs. Waters called up to them from downstairs. “I don’t want you up there too long, make it quick!”

  Madison poked her head through the opening just a little bit. “We’re only going to be here for a split second, I promise, Mrs. Waters. Right down after that.”

  The friends walked over to where the chest had been shoved into place. It was obvious no one had moved it for ages. It was a big sea chest with chains and buckles on it.

  “Maddie, it looks like the one you described in the story,” Aimee said.

  “And it’s big enough for a person.” Fiona gulped.

  The chest was enormous and covered in dust, nicks, cobwebs, scratches, dents, and other signs of a long, long life. On the side were carved the initials F.D.M. Everyone seemed to recognize what the letter M stood for.

  Martin.

  “This is crazy,” Aimee said, a little breathless.

  After a moment, their eyes adjusted to the darkness some more. Fiona found a single lightbulb cord and pulled. The whole room lit up. The chest and the rest of the attic were covered in an inch-thick layer of dust.

  “Madison!” Aimee cried out when the room brightened. “Watch out!”

  Madison felt something on her face. Something sticky. She was snarled in a thick spiderweb.

  “How disgusting,” Fiona said, trying to peel pieces of web off Madison’s shirt and hair.

  “Grosser than gross,” Madison groaned. She’d have to reconsider her love of spiders and all things creepy-crawly after this.

  “Let’s go back downstairs,” Fiona said, turning away. “We saw the chest. The ghost isn’t around. Okay?”

  “We haven’t even opened it!” Aimee said.

  “You guys seem to forget one very important thing,” Fiona said. “I live here.”

  “Isn’t that a better reason for wanting to see what’s in this?” Madison asked. “Just in case …”

  “In case what?” Fiona asked.

  Aimee was already kneeling down, trying to open the latch. “Drat,” she wailed. “It’s locked.”

  “I’m going back downstairs.” Fiona turned again to walk away from her friends. “I don’t wanna see this Martin lady or anything else that’s inside that chest. I’m going back to have another cup of hot chocolate even if it doesn’t have little baby marshmallows in it.”

  Aimee struggled with the bolt. “Dean showed me once how to pick a lock.”

  “Really?” Fiona stopped short, incredulous. “Your brother picks locks?”

  “Whatever,” Aimee said. She took a clip from her hair and worked the lock. “They do this on TV.”

  Fiona looked at Madison. Madison shrugged. Aimee liked to exaggerate, but she really seemed to know what she was doing.

  “Try this,” Fiona said, handing her a piece of scraggly metal from the floor of the attic.

  “Weren’t you leaving?” Madison asked.

  “Maybe,” Fiona shrugged and stayed put.

  “Is this against the law? I mean, opening someone else’s chest?” Madison asked.

  “Got it!” Aimee smiled and tossed the metal piece aside. Madison was shocked. Upon closer inspection Madison noticed that the lock had not, in fact, been picked. The whole contraption was rusted and had broken open.

  “Now, everyone, on the count of three,” Aimee said. “We’ll open it together.”

  “One …”

  “Two …”

  “Three!” Madison sneezed on the count. There was a lot of dust up in this attic. The lid popped open. Fiona shrieked.

  “Oh-em-gee!” Aimee yelled.

  It was empty.

  “What a gyp!” Aimee yelled again.

  “Where did Mrs. Martin go?” Madison asked aloud.

  Fiona looked all around them. “Did she fly out, maybe? Ghosts do that, don’t they?”

  “She’s a sneaky one, that ghost,” Madison teased.

  “Was she even here?” Aimee asked. “I mean, come on.”

  “What did we really expect to see?” Madison asked. “A skeleton?”

  Fiona shuddered. “She’s still here. I bet she’s watching us. Right now …”

  “Girls!” Fiona’s mother called from downstairs.

  “Ahhhhh!” This time Aimee was the one who jumped.

  “Did someone fall? I thought I heard a loud noise. Girls?”

  Aimee clutched her chest. “It’s just your mother.”

  Madison started to laugh. They all did.

  “Don’t worry, Mom.” Fiona giggled. “Don’t worry. We’re just—”

  “Scaring ourselves silly,” Aimee said.

  They all climbed back downstairs, giggling all the way. “Dinner is ready, girls,” Mrs. Waters said. She closed the attic door and hustled the friends into the kitchen.

  After dinner the trio headed back into Fiona’s bedroom. Aimee offered to French-braid Madison’s hair, and Fiona tried her new Frosted Grape nail polish.

  “Maybe instead of a hula dancer I should go as a witch to the school dance,” Fiona said. “I could put white in my black hair. Something to look weird. It gets all frizzy when I let my braids out.”

  “It looks so cool down,” Aimee said.

  “A little nappy,” Fiona said, “but I like it this way.”

  Fiona looked so good all the time—and even more with her hair down. Madison figured that every seventh-grade boy would be asking her to dance next week. Fiona was a perfect combination of pretty and smart and athletic.

  “So where’s Chet tonight?” Aimee asked.

  Fiona explained that Chet was staying over at Hart’s house with Egg and Drew. Madison wondered what they were doing. Were they talking about girls?

  “It’s like Night of the Twin Sleepovers,” Madison joked.

  “Night at Haunted House, you mean,” Aimee added.

  Fiona grimaced. “No more ghosts!” She sat back to admire her perfectly painted toes.

  “Is Chet going to the dance?” Madison asked, putting some Frosted Grape on her own toes.

  Fiona shrugged. “Probably. But he won’t dance or anything. Chet’s scared of girls. He likes to act cool, but he’s a real chicken.”

  “I’ve never danced with a boy,” Madison admitted aloud.

  “Really?” Fiona said.

  Aimee got quiet all of a sudden. “Me neither,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?” Madison said. “All you do is dance.”

  “Not the kind we’re talking about, though. Not real dancing. Not with a real boy that I like or anything. What about you, Fiona?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I had a boyfriend in California and we—”

  Squeeeeeeeeeak.

  “What was that?” Madison asked. “Did you guys hear that? Right above us?”

  Fiona, who’d been sitting sprawled on her own bed, grabbed a pillow and pushed herself up against the wall. “I don’t know. Did you hear it?”

  Squeeeeeeeeeak.

  “Heard it,” Aimee said as the noise repeated itself. “Twice.”

  “It’s Ma-Ma-Mrs. Martin!”
Fiona stuttered, scared.

  “No way!” Madison said. “No way.”

  The three girls dove under the quilt on top of Fiona’s bed and vowed never to come out until they had a surefire plan on how to deal with the situation.

  “It could just be the floor up there,” Madison said.

  “Yeah, with the sound of a ghost walking on it!” Aimee said.

  “Isn’t there any nice way we can ask her to leave my house?” Fiona said.

  “Wait! Did you bring the Ouija board, Aimee? That might work,” Madison suggested.

  “You really want to try talking to this ghost again?” Fiona cried.

  “Yes!” Aimee said. She bounded off to get the Ouija board from her overnight bag.

  Fiona’s room was covered with a plush green carpet. The trio sat down on it like they were setting up some kind of ghost picnic.

  “Now, you have to take this seriously,” Aimee warned the other two as she opened the box and the board. “No laughing in the middle of it like before.”

  “Who’s laughing?” Madison said, checking out the plastic pointer. Aimee called it the planchette, but to Madison it looked like the little plastic holder found in the center of a takeout pizza.

  “Hey, Maddie.” Fiona leaned over and picked a string off Madison’s shirt. “You still have spiderweb on you. Which is now probably on my bed, thank you very much.”

  “Sorry,” Madison said. “Okay, what question do we wanna ask?”

  Aimee clucked her tongue. “We want to ask about Mrs. Martin. Why is she here? Something like that. We want to know about the ghost.”

  The Ouija “Mystifying Oracle” board looked ominous. It was a special edition that Aimee’s mother bought. At the upper-left corner was the word yes. In the upper-right corner was the word no. At the center were all the letters of the alphabet, the numerals one through nine, and then on the bottom were two more words: good and bye. Aimee turned the lights down lower and the board glowed.

  “Again with the lights?” Fiona said. “Jeepers.”

  “Let’s start with something simple,” Aimee suggested, putting her fingertips on the pointer. “I’ll ask. ‘Will I be a dancer when I grow up?’”

  “That’s the question we’re asking?” Madison asked, incredulous.

  “For now. Like a test.”

  Fiona giggled. “What does your dancing have to do with ghosts, Aimee?”

  “Okay, fine. You ask the question, then.” Aimee backed away from the board. She handed the planchette to Madison.

  “We need to concentrate,” Madison suggested.

  “I thought you always made fun of this stuff,” Aimee said.

  “That was before I saw Fiona’s attic,” Madison said.

  The three girls closed their eyes tightly and placed the pointer back onto the Ouija board.

  “Is Mrs. Martin in this house?” Madison asked.

  Fiona freaked out as their fingers moved across the board. The planchette pointed to yes.

  “Did you guys press it that way on purpose?” she asked.

  Madison and Aimee shook their heads no.

  “Is Mrs. Martin unhappy?” Aimee asked.

  The second answer was no.

  “Well, is she haunting my house?” Fiona asked.

  The third question spelled something out very slowly.

  “M-a-c-h-k-l?” Fiona asked. “What’s that supposed to be?”

  “The first two letters are ma like Martin,” Madison said.

  “The last two letters look like kl. It could be like kill,” Aimee said. “Maybe Mrs. Martin is trying to tell us that she was killed.”

  “So then what’s ch for?” Fiona said. “Chocolate? Hot chocolate!”

  They all laughed and collapsed onto the carpet. Aimee put the game away. Even ghost hunts could get boring.

  “Hey, let’s go online,” Fiona suggested. They went back downstairs into the den to log on to the computer. Fiona booted up the computer and logged on to TweenBlurt.com.

  On-screen, skeleton fish were swimming around inside the home page fishbowl with little bubbles over their fish heads: BOO! OOH! NOO! They looked so cute. Aimee started pointing and naming them after horror movie characters like Dracula and Swamp Thing. She called one “The Wolf-Fish.”

  At the top of the home page was the banner invitation to enter the Caught in the Web contest. There was a countdown clock in a sidebar to show the deadline fast approaching. Madison bit her lip. With all the ghostly excitement, she’d nearly forgotten about the contest.

  She had to come up with an idea for her story!

  Fiona didn’t pay attention to all the flashing stuff at the top of the page. She ignored the contest and skipped right over the skeleton fish—clicking into a chat area called “Girls Only.” Madison caught her breath when she saw the roster of members chatting there.

  Bigwheels was at the top of the list.

  Madison couldn’t believe it. She’d already lied to Aimee about her keypal once. She didn’t want to have to do it again. Did Aimee recognize the name? Would she ask about it?

  Zzzzzzzzzzap!

  Suddenly the room flashed and then went black. Bigwheels and everything else on-screen was gone. It got so quiet. The chugging sound of the refrigerator had turned off with everything else.

  “Fiona, your computer exploded,” Aimee said, sitting there in the dark.

  “I think the power just blew. Like in the wires or something,” Fiona said. “It usually only happens during a thunderstorm.”

  “That’s weird,” Madison said. “It’s not raining out.”

  “Girls!” It didn’t long for Mrs. Waters to come into the kitchen with the enormous flashlight. She lit some candles on the counter. “Is everyone okay in here?”

  “The computer just went poof, Mrs. Waters,” Aimee said.

  “So weird,” Madison said again.

  “Mommy, what happened?” Fiona asked.

  “It’s just an old house. I have to flip the circuit breakers down in the basement. I’ll be right back. Will you girls be okay up here without me?”

  “We’re okay as long as Mrs. Martin doesn’t come back,” Fiona said.

  “Who?” Mrs. Waters asked. “Who’s Mrs. Martin?”

  “A friend,” Madison said.

  The three friends looked at each other and smiled.

  “I see,” Mrs. Waters said, walking toward the basement stairs. As she turned around, her eyes lit up with candlelight. She looked like a character from a horror movie going off to the dungeon.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Aimee called after her, laughing nervously. “We’ll be right here. Unless we see a …”

  Fiona punched her jokingly. “Nooooo! The minute the power goes back on, we’re doing beauty stuff. No more ghosts.”

  “Okay! And we’ll have a pillow fight, too.” Aimee fake-punched her back.

  Madison held up her hands and stretched them out to make shapes from shadows on the wall. She used her thumb and the rest of her fingers to make a “duck” quack its bill open and shut. Aimee made a bird flap its wings.

  Three minutes later, the power kicked back in and everything in the kitchen surged on at once. The refrigerator hummed. Everyone cheered. Mrs. Waters came back upstairs.

  Madison felt a surge, too—inside herself.

  Thanks to Mrs. Martin and her best friends and the power outage, she suddenly had the most wonderful, frightful idea.

  It was an idea that just might win her the Caught in the Web contest.

  Chapter 10

  Caught in the Web

  Rude Awakening: You can do anything once the ghost is clear.

  Just sent in my story. Fingers crossed. I hope I win!

  Aimee said the story is superscary, and she’s pretty much of a ghost expert, especially after our sleepover at Fiona’s house.

  Fiona, of course, won’t read the story. She says it’s so close to the truth. That scares her. I don’t really mind. But I will make her read it if I win, that’s for
sure.

  Mom liked it, too, a lot. She says I should mail one to Gramma Helen. I need to send it to Dad and Bigwheels, too. Still haven’t told Aimee about my keypal yet. I’ll do it soon.

  MADISON ATTACHED A COPY of the story to her file. She printed out one to mail to Gramma.

  The Secret of the Old Trunk

  by MadFinn@TweenBlurt.com

  IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT. THE HOUSE WAS DEAD QUIET, EXCEPT FOR the sound of leaves and rain on the roof. An old man stared at a picture on the wall. It was his wife. Her name was Ivy. Ivy had disappeared many years before. She had gone up to the attic before her wedding day to get an old blue dress in an old trunk. That was what she said. But she never returned. Her husband-to-be looked everywhere for her but found nothing. He didn’t look in the chest, though. It was sealed shut.

  Years went by.

  One summer, the man’s niece came to stay with him. Her name was Ivy, after the aunt she never knew. She found a photo album with pictures of Ivy and asked a lot of questions. The old man didn’t like her being so nosy. She asked if she could go into the attic one day, and he said no, it was off-limits. But she went anyway.

  When she got up there, she saw a trunk. It was very late at night, so she tried to be as quiet as a mouse. She had a skeleton key in her pocket to open the trunk. It worked and the lid cracked open.

  There was an awful, terrible smell. She raised the lid a little more. Then she heard footsteps behind her.

  “Go ahead and open it,” the voice said. She knew it was the old man. He said, “Open it,” three times.

  She trembled and quaked.

  “I SAID, OPEN IT!” the man screamed at her.

  The girl pushed open the lid, covering her nose and eyes as she did. She gasped with fear.

  “Look inside,” the man said.

  And so the girl did. She leaned over and peered in.

  “OH!” the girl screamed when she saw what was inside.

  It was a blue dress!

  The man put his hand on his niece’s shoulder and squeezed tight.

  “I keep this here,” the man said in a low voice. “In case my dear Ivy wants to wear it … to her GHOST ball!”