broken for seven or eight years, and it hasn’t been fixed?
The thought seemedStrange. “Did you close the window when you left?” I asked, suddenly very curious.
Jonathan scrunched up his forehead, thinking hard. I noticed that, even with a wrinkled forehead, Jonathan was really good-looking.
“I can’t remember,” he answered. “I was only ten years old. I was scared out of my mind. I was moving fast. But I knew I was doing something I shouldn’t. Probably I stopped long enough to slam down the window ’cause I didn’t want to get caught.”
“Were your friends still waiting for you?” I asked.
Jonathan grinned. “No. They weren’t going to stick around any longer than necessary. Besides, their parents would have come looking for them.”
“I bet they gave you a bad time for not staying all night in the house.”
“They tried, but it didn’t last long because none of them were brave enough to do even as much as I’d done.” Jonathan leaned against a stained wooden table and studied me. “I’m sorry the house is haunted. We’d go to the same high school and we could get to know each other.”
I felt my face grow hot, I was so embarrassed. Girls in the books I read didn’t have any trouble talking to guys. Why couldn’t I? Finally I asked, “Do you live in Bogue City?” just to fill the silence.
“My dad’s an attorney here, and my mom teaches first grade,” Jonathan said.
“Does your grandmother live with you?”
He laughed. “Not on your life. Grandma’s too used to running things the way she wants them.She likes to get her own way. I’m betting that she wears down your parents and gets Graymoss for her historical society.”
I spoke before I thought. “I wish she would.”
Jonathan tilted his head and studied me. “Don’t you like the idea of living here?”
I hedged. “I like Graymoss. I really do. But it’s hard to imagine what it would be like if a dozen or more kids were also living here.”
“You’re an only child? So am I,” Jonathan said. But he smiled and added, “Sometimes I used to wish I had a couple of brothers. Maybe having other kids in the family wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Maybe it would.”
Jonathan shrugged. “Like I told you, when the awful things happen in this house at night, your parents are bound to change their minds.”
“They wouldn’t believe me when I told them what happened in Placide Blevins’s bedroom. Mom thinks I’ve been influenced by Charlotte’s diary and things I’ve read about ghosts and that’s why I saw …” I stopped, but Jonathan prodded.
“Saw what? You can tell me.”
Jonathan’s nice eyes were deep and warm. I decided to trust him. “When we were in Placide Blevins’s bedroom there was a depression, like the body of a man, right in the middle of the bed. I saw it.”
“You’re telling me you really saw a ghost?” Jonathan’s eyes widened in amazement.
“What are you so surprised about?” I asked him. “You told us about the ghostly things that happened to you.”
For just a moment Jonathan looked flustered,but he pulled himself together. “You’re right. I just didn’t think that you … Go on. Did anything else happen?”
“A book fell out of the bookcase onto my shoulder.” I held out
Favorite Tales of Edgar Allan Poe.
Jonathan’s look of amazement quickly turned into a cynical smile. “What kind of game are you playing, Lia?”
I stared at him in surprise. “Game? What are you talking about? You asked me to tell you what had happened to me, and I trusted you and told you.”
Jonathan walked to one end of the kitchen and back again. He stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. “Okay, Lia,” he said. “I didn’t figure you out right. What you just told me about the book was so much like what had happened to me it kind of took me by surprise, that’s all. Come on. Let’s go out on the veranda. I’d like to get out of here.”
As he took my left hand and began to lead me
The thought seemedStrange. “Did you close the window when you left?” I asked, suddenly very curious.
Jonathan scrunched up his forehead, thinking hard. I noticed that, even with a wrinkled forehead, Jonathan was really good-looking.
“I can’t remember,” he answered. “I was only ten years old. I was scared out of my mind. I was moving fast. But I knew I was doing something I shouldn’t. Probably I stopped long enough to slam down the window ’cause I didn’t want to get caught.”
“Were your friends still waiting for you?” I asked.
Jonathan grinned. “No. They weren’t going to stick around any longer than necessary. Besides, their parents would have come looking for them.”
“I bet they gave you a bad time for not staying all night in the house.”
“They tried, but it didn’t last long because none of them were brave enough to do even as much as I’d done.” Jonathan leaned against a stained wooden table and studied me. “I’m sorry the house is haunted. We’d go to the same high school and we could get to know each other.”
I felt my face grow hot, I was so embarrassed. Girls in the books I read didn’t have any trouble talking to guys. Why couldn’t I? Finally I asked, “Do you live in Bogue City?” just to fill the silence.
“My dad’s an attorney here, and my mom teaches first grade,” Jonathan said.
“Does your grandmother live with you?”
He laughed. “Not on your life. Grandma’s too used to running things the way she wants them.She likes to get her own way. I’m betting that she wears down your parents and gets Graymoss for her historical society.”
I spoke before I thought. “I wish she would.”
Jonathan tilted his head and studied me. “Don’t you like the idea of living here?”
I hedged. “I like Graymoss. I really do. But it’s hard to imagine what it would be like if a dozen or more kids were also living here.”
“You’re an only child? So am I,” Jonathan said. But he smiled and added, “Sometimes I used to wish I had a couple of brothers. Maybe having other kids in the family wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Maybe it would.”
Jonathan shrugged. “Like I told you, when the awful things happen in this house at night, your parents are bound to change their minds.”
“They wouldn’t believe me when I told them what happened in Placide Blevins’s bedroom. Mom thinks I’ve been influenced by Charlotte’s diary and things I’ve read about ghosts and that’s why I saw …” I stopped, but Jonathan prodded.
“Saw what? You can tell me.”
Jonathan’s nice eyes were deep and warm. I decided to trust him. “When we were in Placide Blevins’s bedroom there was a depression, like the body of a man, right in the middle of the bed. I saw it.”
“You’re telling me you really saw a ghost?” Jonathan’s eyes widened in amazement.
“What are you so surprised about?” I asked him. “You told us about the ghostly things that happened to you.”
For just a moment Jonathan looked flustered,but he pulled himself together. “You’re right. I just didn’t think that you … Go on. Did anything else happen?”
“A book fell out of the bookcase onto my shoulder.” I held out
Favorite Tales of Edgar Allan Poe.
Jonathan’s look of amazement quickly turned into a cynical smile. “What kind of game are you playing, Lia?”
I stared at him in surprise. “Game? What are you talking about? You asked me to tell you what had happened to me, and I trusted you and told you.”
Jonathan walked to one end of the kitchen and back again. He stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. “Okay, Lia,” he said. “I didn’t figure you out right. What you just told me about the book was so much like what had happened to me it kind of took me by surprise, that’s all. Come on. Let’s go out on the veranda. I’d like to get out of here.”
As he took my left hand and began to lead me
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