Paola Santiago and the Forest of Nightmares by Tehlor Kay Mejia

Author:Tehlor Kay Mejia [Mejia, Tehlor Kay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disney Book Group
Published: 2021-06-11T00:00:00+00:00

Pao tore through the vineyard, not bothering to be quiet.

In the dream, she didn’t even have her sock knife. She had no idea how she was going to fight the fantasma. She just knew she had to keep it from following Señora Mata and Dante. That was the only thing that mattered.

If she could figure out what Señora Mata had meant about the fantasma’s family, she thought as she ran, maybe she could stop him for good. She had seen Raisin Valley. None of the other people there deserved the scourge of the Bad Man Ghost any more than Dante’s family had.

She reached the edge of the field, repeating the old woman’s words like they were more than the sum of their parts. You find them, you purify, and poof!

The only question was, how was she supposed to find the Bad Man’s family if they’d been gone fifty years?

Were they ghosts, too?

Before she could continue down this line of totally unscientific questioning, Pao heard footsteps in the vines. She looked up to see the fantasma heading for the well.

“HEY!” Pao yelled without giving herself time to come up with a plan. “OVER HERE, FIFTEEN-EYES!” In terms of insults, it wasn’t her most creative, but the fantasma didn’t seem to care. It turned toward her with a snarl, half its eyes still restlessly roaming its surroundings, the other half focused on Pao, who had just stepped out of the field.

Pao’s first thought was that the fantasma was much more agile than it looked, but Pao knew she was faster. She darted past the car, crossing the open space between it and the front porch like her gym teacher was standing there with a stopwatch deciding her final grade.

She checked behind her to see if the Bad Man Ghost was following, and sure enough it stalked through the dust, clouds billowing around its feet. Up close she could see it was wearing tattered jeans with a massive belt buckle and a flannel shirt. A long piece of hay dangled from its lips. On its feet, dragging through the dust in an awful zombie shuffle, were the most enormous cowboy boots Pao had ever seen.

This man had been a farmer, she thought. And then he was a ghost. A ghost that had mutated into whatever this thing was.

But if Señora Mata was right, if Pao could find his family, maybe she could put him to rest once and for all.

When she was sure he was focused on the house, Pao ducked inside, careful (after what had happened to Dante’s father) to stay away from the windows.

His family, Pao thought, racking her brain. Where would a man who’s been dead fifty years go looking for his family?

Before she could solve the riddle, Pao found herself distracted. This was the house where Dante had lived as a toddler. With his parents. She couldn’t help but take it in.

It was small and sparsely furnished, but clean. On the floor were a few blocks stacked into a tower.

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