It's All Downhill from Here by P.J. Night Page A

Are you all right?” Mrs. Kim cried, rushing to her husband’s side.
    â€œIt’s Old Man Wharton’s ghost!” Maggie cried. “He’s possessed Simon again!”
    She recalled how hiding the scrapbook had broken the spell earlier. She rushed to the front door and pulled it open. The book that had been resting on the snow on the front step was gone!
    Old Man Wharton must have taken it back, she thought.
    Maggie could barely keep herself from screaming and shutting down completely. Her dad had just been tossed across a room like a rag doll. Her brother was still being pulled around the house by something that had taken control of his body. But what? Who? Old Man Wharton? What else could it be?
    â€œLEAVE THIS PLACE . . . NOW!” a voice that wasn’t Simon’s roared out of his mouth.
    â€œThat’s him!” Maggie shouted. “That’s the voice I’ve been hearing, telling me to leave. Tell me you all heard it. Tell me!”
    â€œWe heard it,” Mr. Kim said, climbing to his feet. “I don’t know what it is, but—”
    â€œLEAVE THIS PLACE . . . NOW!” the voice repeated out of Simon’s mouth, louder this time.
    Simon crashed into a wall and collapsed. He popped up immediately and continued his skiing movements.
    â€œOkay, you win!” Mr. Kim cried. “We’ll leave. We’llleave this place and never come back!”
    As soon as Mr. Kim uttered the words, Simon was released. He fell to the floor panting and sweating, scared, exhausted, but generally unharmed. His mom helped him up and held him tightly.
    â€œGet your stuff,” Mr. Kim ordered everyone. “Pack up, quickly, and let’s get out of here. We’re leaving. We’re done.”
    Still in shock, Maggie stumbled up the stairs and ran to the bedroom. Sophie was right on her heels. Maggie opened her suitcase and piled her clothes in, then slammed it shut. “That’s it for me,” she said. “I’ll sort this mess out back home, in the suburbs, where we belong.”
    Sophie shoved her belongings into her backpack and followed Maggie down the stairs.
    â€œReady?” Mr. Kim asked. He stood at the front door, holding two suitcases. Maggie grabbed her backpack, which had been sitting on the living room floor. She joined the rest of her family outside.
    Moments later, Maggie tossed her suitcase into the trunk as her dad started the car. When everyone was inside, he slowly started down the snow-covered driveway.
    The morning sun peeked out from behind the big mountain as if to bid the Kims farewell.
    â€œYou know, now that I think about it, that house needed too much work anyway,” Mrs. Kim said. “And the ski slopes looked too dangerous. The insurance policy alone would cost more than the house. I’m calling the realtor right now and telling her that we’re not interested in the house.”
    She pulled out her cell phone. There was miraculously some service. She dialed the number. “Hello, Ms. McGee, this is Jeannie Kim. We’re leaving the Wharton Mansion this minute, and I wanted to tell you that this is most definitely not the property for us. I’ll be in touch. Thanks.”
    In the backseat, Maggie smiled. I feel like I just won the lottery. Whether they believe in Old Man Wharton’s ghost or not really doesn’t matter, as long as they don’t buy the place.
    As the car reached the end of the long driveway, another car turned in. Maggie spotted ski equipment on the car’s roof. A young couple sat in the front seat, with two little boys in the back.
    Both cars paused, and the drivers rolled down their windows.
    â€œHi, are you members of the Wharton family?” the driver asked.
    â€œNo, we came to see the old place,” Mr. Kim replied. “Just curious.”
    â€œOh, well, Nancy McGee sent us,” the woman explained. “My husband and I are looking for a