The Ghost in the Big Brass Bed by Bruce Coville

Author:Bruce Coville
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781497668461
Publisher: Open Road Media

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fatherly Concerns

I hesitated for a second, then reached forward and snatched the box out of the air.

Instantly the ghost disappeared. Behind me I heard a clatter as the broken side of the swing dropped to the floor.

Honk! Honk!

“I’m coming!” I screamed as I stumbled over the spongy wooden floor and back into the rain. Clutching the box to my chest, I raced up the hill. Twice I slipped on the wet grass and fell. The second time, the corner of the box poked me in the stomach, knocking my breath away.

The cold rain lashed me. My soaking clothes made it hard to run. My hair stuck to my head as if it had been painted on.

At the top of the hill, I headed for my bike, then veered away. I didn’t want to waste the five or ten seconds it would take to grab my wheels. I was too worried about my father’s going up to the house. I shot around the front corner just in time to see him getting out of the car.

“Let’s go!” I cried.

I raced down the sidewalk and scrambled into the Golden Chariot.

My father was glad enough to get out of the rain. But he wasn’t too pleased about the situation in general. After he started the car, he turned to me and snapped, “What in heaven’s name were you doing all this time?”

“Give me a minute,” I said. I was clutching the spot where the box had jabbed me. It really hurt.

Dad turned on the ceiling light. “Are you all right?” he asked. The anger had vanished from his voice.

“I’m okay. Let’s just go home. Please. I promise I’ll tell you all about it after we get there.”

Then I realized there was one more thing I had to do first. “Is there a phone between here and home?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

So much for waiting until we got home to explain things.

“There’s a prowler in Phoebe’s house. We have to call the police right away.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

The truth was, until that moment I had been so worried about getting the two of us away from harm that it hadn’t occurred to me. But we had to get someone to the house fast! For all we knew, the prowler was looting Phoebe’s house while we talked.

“Dad!” I said urgently.

He nodded, revved the car, and off we drove. It was a lot faster by car than by bike, especially the way my father was driving now, so in less than three minutes I was running up the steps of our house to make my call. The drive had kept him pretty occupied, and as soon as he got in the house, he had to get on the phone to assure the police that this was no prank. So it wasn’t until he hung up the phone that he had a chance to turn to me and say, “All right, spill. What went on over there?”

I started to answer. But now that the crisis was past, everything started to hit me.

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