her father at the living room window. He was pressing his forehead against the cool glass. His eyes were shut tight. His shoulders were trembling.
Cally changed into a long nightshirt. Then she went down to the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she finished, she noticed the light still on in James’s room. She made her over to it and peeked in. He was in his pajamas, standing beside his bed, a picture book in one hand. “Read me this story,” he demanded, seeing Cally in the doorway. “Huh?” Cally stepped into the room. The air was hot and stuffy, warmer than in the hall. “Let’s open a window in here,” she said. “No—don’t!” James cried, his eyes wide. He moved to block Cally’s path to the window. “Don’t—please!” “Okay, okay,” Cally said softly, stopping beside him. “Why don’t you want the window open?” “I just don’t,” he replied. He’s afraid, she realized. James never used to be afraid of anything. But now … “Read me this.” He shoved the book into her hand. Cally glanced at the cover. The picture book was called Pug, the Ugly Bunny. “Read it. Sit here.” James climbed into bed and patted the mattress at his side.
“But this is a baby book,” Cally protested. “You haven’t read this book in at least five years. And now you can read it yourself.” “Please read it to me,” he asked in a tiny, pleading voice. Cally felt as if she might burst into tears. Poor James, she thought. He’s trying to go back to being a baby. Everything has frightened him so much, he’s trying to go back to when things were happy. Happy and safe. With a sob, she threw her arms around his slender body, pulled him close, and hugged him. He felt so fragile, so delicate. James didn’t make any effort to free himself. He just repeated, “The story. Please read it to me.” Cally let go of him and wiped the tears off her cheeks with her hands. Then she settled next to her brother on his narrow bed and read the picture book to him as if he were two instead of nine. After she finished reading, she set the book down, said good night, and made her way from the room. She stopped in the doorway to peer back at him. James had picked up the book and was silently reading through it again. Shaking her head, Cally turned and slowly made her way down the narrow hall to her room. Cally felt like crying again as she thought of James, of how fearful he had become, how pitifully fearful. She had no way of knowing that she would never see her brother again.
Chapter 20
Dear Diary,. My poor brother. I’m so worried about him. He has started acting like a total baby. A few minutes ago he made me read him a picture book he hasn’t read since he was three. And he has become afraid of everything. He is even afraid to have his bedroom window open at night. James was never like that before. This house is changing all of us. Mom has become so quiet, so withdrawn. She barely says a word. Most nights she goes to her room right after dinner and just lies in bed in the dark. When I asked her if she wanted to come with me to the mall to start looking for school clothes, she just shook her head and walked away. I’m worried the most about Dad. He spends hours pacing back and forth, talking to himself like a crazy person. Sometimes he stares at us with this weird expression on his face, as if he doesn’t recognize us. He keeps talking about how he’s going to find that real estate agent Mr. Lurie and get our money back. But he knows that’s impossible. Then Dad will start talking about how he’s going to fix this place up, get it in really good shape. Paint it and everything. As if that’s going to help. There’s evil here. Real evil I know I sound like Kody. But I have to admit that Kody was right. The stones Anthony told us—about the Fears and the people they murdered and buried under our house, and about the poor family who built the house—they must be true. Oh, Anthony, will I ever see you again? I
Cally changed into a long nightshirt. Then she went down to the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she finished, she noticed the light still on in James’s room. She made her over to it and peeked in. He was in his pajamas, standing beside his bed, a picture book in one hand. “Read me this story,” he demanded, seeing Cally in the doorway. “Huh?” Cally stepped into the room. The air was hot and stuffy, warmer than in the hall. “Let’s open a window in here,” she said. “No—don’t!” James cried, his eyes wide. He moved to block Cally’s path to the window. “Don’t—please!” “Okay, okay,” Cally said softly, stopping beside him. “Why don’t you want the window open?” “I just don’t,” he replied. He’s afraid, she realized. James never used to be afraid of anything. But now … “Read me this.” He shoved the book into her hand. Cally glanced at the cover. The picture book was called Pug, the Ugly Bunny. “Read it. Sit here.” James climbed into bed and patted the mattress at his side.
“But this is a baby book,” Cally protested. “You haven’t read this book in at least five years. And now you can read it yourself.” “Please read it to me,” he asked in a tiny, pleading voice. Cally felt as if she might burst into tears. Poor James, she thought. He’s trying to go back to being a baby. Everything has frightened him so much, he’s trying to go back to when things were happy. Happy and safe. With a sob, she threw her arms around his slender body, pulled him close, and hugged him. He felt so fragile, so delicate. James didn’t make any effort to free himself. He just repeated, “The story. Please read it to me.” Cally let go of him and wiped the tears off her cheeks with her hands. Then she settled next to her brother on his narrow bed and read the picture book to him as if he were two instead of nine. After she finished reading, she set the book down, said good night, and made her way from the room. She stopped in the doorway to peer back at him. James had picked up the book and was silently reading through it again. Shaking her head, Cally turned and slowly made her way down the narrow hall to her room. Cally felt like crying again as she thought of James, of how fearful he had become, how pitifully fearful. She had no way of knowing that she would never see her brother again.
Chapter 20
Dear Diary,. My poor brother. I’m so worried about him. He has started acting like a total baby. A few minutes ago he made me read him a picture book he hasn’t read since he was three. And he has become afraid of everything. He is even afraid to have his bedroom window open at night. James was never like that before. This house is changing all of us. Mom has become so quiet, so withdrawn. She barely says a word. Most nights she goes to her room right after dinner and just lies in bed in the dark. When I asked her if she wanted to come with me to the mall to start looking for school clothes, she just shook her head and walked away. I’m worried the most about Dad. He spends hours pacing back and forth, talking to himself like a crazy person. Sometimes he stares at us with this weird expression on his face, as if he doesn’t recognize us. He keeps talking about how he’s going to find that real estate agent Mr. Lurie and get our money back. But he knows that’s impossible. Then Dad will start talking about how he’s going to fix this place up, get it in really good shape. Paint it and everything. As if that’s going to help. There’s evil here. Real evil I know I sound like Kody. But I have to admit that Kody was right. The stones Anthony told us—about the Fears and the people they murdered and buried under our house, and about the poor family who built the house—they must be true. Oh, Anthony, will I ever see you again? I
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