Ghost Writer by M.D. Spenser

Author:M.D. Spenser [Spenser, M.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby

Chapter Twenty-One

As Amber stared at her brother, he started laughing.

"Oh, David, quit teasing your sister," Dad said. "What David is trying to tell you is that he's become a shark. A Jac1cson Shark. David's now a member of the Jackson Swim Team!"

As the family went into the house, David told them how he had walked around town while the car was being repaired.

"There's a big pool right near Dad's new office," he said. "They were signing people up for the summer swim team. We start practice tomorrow."

David had been swimming since he was a baby. He had been on the swim

team at his old school in New York. In fact, one of the things he had hated most about moving was leaving his swim team.

Even though he drove her crazy most of the time, Amber couldn't help being

happy that David was going to make some new friends, too.

Amber looked around the house. It was starting to feel like home. All their living room furniture was arranged neatly around the old fireplace.

Amber raced up the stairs to her room. There it was! Her bed! Her stuffed animals! Her books and posters!

She lay down on her bedspread with the pink flowers, curled up and fell asleep.

Hours later, when she woke, it was night. She went downstairs, and made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. David was already asleep in his room. So was her dad.

Amber found her mom in a small room at the back of the house, hunched over her computer.

"Hi honey," Mom said. "Guess you can tell this is going to be my office."

She was drawing the illustrations for a new children's book.

"Were you able to get some sleep?" Mom asked, stifling a yawn.

"Yeah, I guess so," Amber said. "But I feel wide awake now."

"Tell you what," Mom said. "I think I'm going to head to bed myself. But if

you want to, why don't you play around on the computer for a while? It's okay. And guess what? We've even got our E-mail up and running - way out here in the country!"

Amber sat down. Her mom bent over and kissed her goodnight.

Amber stared at the menu on the screen. She clicked on the E-mail program and heard the familiar sound of the modem hooking into the phone line. She entered her password, and watched the color picture of a mail box flash on.

She was surprised when the flat computer voice said, "You've Got Mail."

Who would this be from, Amber thought. None of my friends in New York

know my E-mail address.

For some reason, her girlfriends had just never gotten into computers. Usually, Amber just sent computer messages to fan clubs of her favorite music artists. None of them ever messaged back.

Amber clicked on the mailbox, and a message appeared.

Suddenly, Amber could not move. She felt frozen in place. A shiver ran down her spine as she read the words:

"Come to me, come to me, oh beautiful one.

Come to me, or I shall come to you. "

A photograph started to materialize on the screen.

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