A Haunting Collection by Mary Downing Hahn by Mary Downing Hahn

Author:Mary Downing Hahn
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780547880839
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-10-20T00:00:00+00:00

8

“HOW DO YOU explain it, Michael?” I asked him later. We were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking mugs of hot chocolate, still trying to get warm. Although I’d made a cup for Heather, she’d taken hers out to the carriage house.

“It’s just a fantasy, Molly. Lots of kids have imaginary friends. Don’t you remember Mr. Maypo?”

“How could I forget? Every time you did something bad, you blamed it on Mr. Maypo. Mom and I were both glad when he left for Timbuctoo.” I took another sip of hot chocolate. “But this is different, Michael. You were only three when you had Mr. Maypo. Heather’s seven. It’s just not normal.”

“Well, she’s not normal. You know that, and I know that, but Mom and Dave just won’t admit it.” Michael looked into his mug. “Ugh. Skin. I hate it when my hot chocolate gets skin on it!”

While he skimmed the surface of his hot chocolate with a spoon, I sipped mine thoughtfully. “But Michael,” I said slowly, “suppose she’s not making it up. Suppose Helen is real.”

“Oh, Molly, honestly.” Michael looked disgusted. “Ghosts do not exist. The kid is lying, and you’re encouraging her. Can’t you see? She’s littler than we are, and she wants to make us think she’s got some supernatural friend who’ll beat us up or something if we’re mean to her. It’s so obvious; any idiot should be able to figure it out.”

“Thanks a lot!” I felt my face turn red. “I’m not an idiot. If anybody is, you are!” I jumped up and went to the sink to rinse my cup.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Michael mumbled. “I’m just tired of hearing all this ghost talk.”

“Maybe I have some kind of sixth sense that you don’t have,” I said. “Did you ever think of that?” I frowned at him, not ready to forgive him for calling me an idiot.

He shrugged. “Suppose we ride our bikes into Holwell and go to the library? I bet they have a book or something that would tell us all about that old house. Once you see that nobody named Helen Elizabeth Harper ever lived there, maybe you’ll realize what a liar Heather is.”

“Do you want to go right now?” I squinted at the sky, trying to decide if it was going to rain any more today.

“Sure. I think we’ve had our thirty percent shower, don’t you?”

We got our bikes out from under the porch and rode down Clark Road toward town. It was a long way, and I was glad the rain had cooled things off. On a hot day, I would never have made it up some of the hills between our house and Holwell.

We found the library on a quiet street near the park and locked our bikes. Inside it was small and friendly, more like a living room in somebody’s house than a library. Except for all the books, of course. There were hundreds of them, jammed into shelves lining the walls and forming alcoves near the windows.

“Can I help you find something?” a woman asked as I began riffling through the card catalogue.

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