 
### **The Boy Who Cried Ghost  
** _A_ **Ghost Town** _Mystery_

by Richard Clark

Cover design by Rich Murray

Copyright © 2018 Richard Clark

Published by Richard Clark

License Notes

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AFTER CHAPTER 1!

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

About the Author

Connect with Richard Clark
CHAPTER 1

FLASH! Lightning struck. Thunder crashed. Sheets of rain poured down from the churning clouds above.

All the sky's anger seemed to be focused on one lonely Victorian house below. The paint was peeling. The shingles were crumbling. The yard was overgrown with weeds.

The house was old. Very, very old. And now it was very, very wet.

Inside the house, the ceiling leaked from a dozen spots. Buckets, old cookie tins and chipped bowls caught most of the dripping water. The place was miserable.

But not as miserable as Gaspar Thornberg, the ancient owner of the house, sitting at his rickety kitchen table eating a cold bowl of soup. He slouched in his wheelchair, a blanket covering his spindly legs.

Gaspar moved to dip his spoon into the watery broth... and just then, his chair _rolled five feet backwards_ , as if by magic.

The old man grumbled, his eyes alive with resentment.

This had happened before.

With forced patience, Gaspar wheeled himself back to his meal. But as he reached for another spoonful of soup, the table slid away from him!

He grumbled louder this time and looked around the room with seething anger. But he still tried to remain calm as he rolled himself to the sink to get some water. Holding a dirty glass under the faucet, he turned the knob, and... nothing came out. He turned it more. Again, no water.

Fuming, Gaspar yelled, "I get more water from the ceiling in this place than the durned water faucet!" He tried the faucet one more time, and –

" _BLEBLEBLEBLEBLEEEEAAAHHH!!!!"_ A nightmarish ghoul's head sprouted out of the water faucet!

A startled Gaspar dropped the glass in the sink where it shattered. Then the ghoul's head disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, back into the faucet.

The old man looked up and yelled at the house, "You can do anything you want, but you're not going to get me! You've destroyed my entire family for eighty years, but I'm still here! Try all you like – I'll fight you to the bitter end!!"

Just then, thunder rumbled so loudly that the house shook.

Gaspar's bravery evaporated fast. He looked around a bit, worried. Maybe he went too far this time?

Suddenly, an invisible force grabbed a hold of Gaspar's wheelchair and yanked him out of the room!

Gaspar screamed as he sped all around the house. "You big bully!" he yelled as his out-of-control wheelchair _slammed_ into antique end tables and _smashed_ into porcelain vases.

Then the door to the basement swung open, and the chair charged towards the dark basement stairway at full speed. "NOOOO!!" Gaspar cried as he _whooshed_ through the door as if sucked into the mouth of a beast.

As Gaspar disappeared into the inky blackness, a terrible, deep voice boomed up from below: _"Why didn't you listen when I told you to GET OUT?!"_

Suddenly – POOF!! – a flash of white light and a blast of smoke burst out of the basement doorway.

And then... the house belched.

"URRRRP!"
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CHAPTER 2

Nine-year-old Peter Dunlap sat slumped in the back seat of his family's SUV, his head buried in a horror comic book. He was oblivious to the others in the car – his parents, Fritz and Brenda, his sixteen-year-old sister, Denise, and his sleeping great-grandfather – because the horror comic book he was reading was his favorite: _Chiller Comix Presents THE GATE TO OBLIVION._

Denise frowned as she texted her many BFF's. "I can't believe you're gonna make me leave all my friends," she muttered to her parents.

"Don't worry, honey, you'll make _new_ friends," said Fritz, an affable man always ready with a pleasant smile.

"I don't want new friends," Denise shot back.

"Not so loud, dear," Brenda said quietly. "You'll wake Gramps."

Gramps looked as if he couldn't be awakened by a freight train.

Brenda shook her head. She was the cheerful type like her husband, but a little fussier. "Now Denise, you don't hear your brother complaining, do you?"

"That's 'cause he never gets his nose out of those stupid comic books. He doesn't care where he is as long as he's reading about a three-headed mutant or something."

Peter looked up. Did he hear someone talking about him? He shrugged and continued reading.

All Peter knew was that his family might be moving to a new house. A quiet boy with a vivid imagination, he was the opposite of his social butterfly sister. His best friend was his stack of horror comic books with titles like _"CREEPAZOIDS FROM THE CRAWLSPACE",_ _"NIGHT OF THE LIVING GHOULS"_ and _"IT LIVES IN THE ATTIC!"_ He loved to read them over and over, and whatever house he read them in was fine with him.

Except maybe for this one.

"We're here!" Fritz said as he pulled their car into the driveway of what soon might be their new house.

Peter looked out the window... and he _shivered_ at the sight of the house. It wasn't new at all.

In fact... it was Gaspar Thornberg's house!

Peter didn't know this, of course. But it looked just as shabby and uninviting as it had the night the old man disappeared (if a little drier). But as shabby and uninviting as the house looked, something spooked Peter even more. He had the strange feeling he'd seen it somewhere before.

Then it hit him. With trembling fingers, he closed his horror comic book and looked at the cover.

And right under the title, _"THE GATE TO OBLIVION"_ , was a drawing of _this very house!_

Fritz and Brenda got out of the car. "Come on, guys!" Fritz called back to Peter and Denise. "Check it out. This might be our new house!"

Denise balked. "It's a dump!"

Fritz shook his head. "This is what you call a fixer-upper."

"More like a _tear-downer_ ," Denise muttered.

"Come on, Peter," implored Brenda. "Put that book down, and join us."

A terrified Peter looked back up at the house. He held onto his comic book and reluctantly slipped out of the car, followed by an even more reluctant Denise.

Just then, Jenny Tilden, the house's perky realtor, pulled up and jumped out of her car with a smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Dunlap, how are you today?"

"Oh, just fine!" Fritz smiled. "Perfect day to buy a house!"

"That it is!" Mrs. Tilden replied, her big smile getting even bigger.

Peter rushed up to his father. "Dad, you bought _this_ house?!" the boy asked with disbelief.

"Well, almost," Fritz said. "We wanted to have one last look. Then it's just a matter of signing some papers."

"Oh no..." Peter said forebodingly. How could his father have bought the actual Gate to Oblivion?!

Mrs. Tilden leaned over and pinched Peter's cheeks. "Is this your little boy?" she gushed in a sickly-sweet tone.

Peter wasn't exactly in the mood to scare up a smile. "Dad... Mom... I think we should leave now," he said with difficulty, his cheeks still squeezed between the realtor's sharp-nailed fingers.

"What did you say, dear?" Brenda asked.

"Let me show you kids the place," Mrs. Tilden said to Peter and Denise, finally letting the boy's face go.

"No! We can't go inside!" Peter insisted, glancing back at the too-creepy cover of his horror comic book.

"Peter, what are you talking about?" asked Fritz, truly confused.

"Well..." Peter said, a bit embarrassed, "it's just that..."

"Just what, honey?" Brenda asked.

"I think it's... The Gate to Oblivion."

It took great strain for Mrs. Tilden to keep the smile on her face. "Pardon me?" she asked through her stretched lips.

"It's his stupid comic book!" said Denise, exasperated.

Brenda shook her head. "Oh, Peter..."

"But it says it's 'The Gate to Oblivion' right here!" said Peter, holding up the comic book for all to see.

"Little twirp," Denise mumbled.

Brenda turned to Mrs. Tilden with an embarrassed laugh. "Peter's just crazy about those silly comic books."

"Boys will be boys," Mrs. Tilden said, trying to hide her growing concern. She turned back to Peter. "Come on in the house. It won't bite, I promise!"

Peter feared this was a promise the lady couldn't keep.

Mrs. Tilden led the family up to the front door which stood in the shadow of the porch overhang. But once they got closer, they noticed something spray-painted on the door. Right there in blood red letters was: " _THE GATE TO OBLIVION_ ".

Peter gave everybody an I-told-you-so look.

Mrs. Tilden's face turned white. Then she gathered all her strength and eked out another strained smile. "Oh, those crazy neighborhood kids!" But Fritz and Brenda actually started to worry this time, and their own smiles faded. So Mrs. Tilden kept up her charm offensive. "You gotta love 'em. Hey, we'll have this painted over in no time!"

The three adults finally broke the tension and laughed together as they headed inside. Denise entered too... but Peter stayed behind, staring into the house from the porch.

He opened his comic book. On the first page, there was an eerie drawing of the foyer of the house as seen from the front door. It was like a snapshot of Peter's view of the foyer, even more accurate than the cover drawing of the house!

Peter shuddered and swallowed hard. GULP!
CHAPTER 3

As Peter and his family checked out their "new" house, they didn't realize that they were being spied on!

Hiding behind a row of hedges, right next door, were Henry and Eileen Hanusch, a pair of seriously nosy neighbors. But they had good reason to be nosy. Years living next to a haunted house had made them more than a little jittery.

"You think they'll buy it?" Mr. Hanusch whispered to his wife.

"They have to!" Mrs. Hanusch replied, desperate. "We need normal neighbors so _we_ can finally sell _our_ house!"

Just as nervous as the Hanusches was Peter, still standing on the porch of what he _knew_ was a real haunted house. But he finally found the courage to enter.

Once inside, Peter stayed in the large foyer as Denise wandered upstairs and the others looked around the living room.

"I can't believe how big it is," said Brenda.

"Especially for the price, eh, honey?" Fritz added.

"This is a great area, Mr. Dunlap," Mrs. Tilden chimed in. "You're getting a steal, believe me."

Fritz turned to his wife. "How about it, dear?" To him, getting a house for a steal was something he just couldn't pass up.

But once again, Peter insisted on being a speed bump on Fritz's road to a bargain. "But Dad!" he said, running into the living room, "What if this place really is this same house?" Peter showed them the cover of his comic book again.

"That's just a comic book, sweetie," said Brenda, now a little annoyed.

"But it's based on a true story! And this is the place where the true story really happened!"

"Peter..." Fritz said, shaking his head.

But Peter went on. "It says everybody who lived here disappeared and was never seen again!"

Suddenly, Denise called down from upstairs. "Hey, my room has a bay window! This place is great!" The three adults instantly forgot about Peter and headed upstairs to check out Denise's bay window.

Peter was left alone in the living room. He'd tried to save his family, but they hadn't listened to him. And now... they were all doomed!

Just then, a strong wind wafted through the entire house.

The adults stopped on the stairway. No one spoke, but they were all thinking the same thing: _What was that?_

Mrs. Tilden once again sprung into action to lighten the mood. "How about that cross ventilation!"

Fritz and Brenda chuckled, and they continued up the stairs.

But Peter knew better. He looked around at all the windows he could see from where he was standing. "All the windows are closed..." Then he noticed that, in the kitchen, the door to the basement was open.

It swayed a bit in a light wind that seemed to be coming from down below...
CHAPTER 4

It was the day of the big move. Out front, the "For Sale" sign was gone, and two burly moving men carried the Dunlaps' large couch out of a moving van and into their new "fixer-upper" house.

Peter followed, carrying a heavy cardboard box full of horror comic books. There was no way he was going to let the moving men handle his most prized possessions!

Peter stopped on the porch where a workman was painting over the spray-painted "GATE TO OBLIVION" on the front door. That's right, Peter thought. Paint it over, and we can all just forget we're living in a haunted house. But Peter wasn't going to be able to forget this was a haunted house. He was ready for anything – ghosts, creeps, ghouls, zombies, even things that didn't have names yet!

The boy finally drummed up the courage to step inside when – WHUMP! – he ran into someone... or some _thing!_

"Watch where you're going!" snapped Denise as she shoved her way by him.

Guess Peter was ready for anything but big sisters.

Peter shifted the heavy box in his hands and made his way up the stairs. His knees grew shakier with each step. Entering his new bedroom, he plopped the box down with all his other stuff.

Peter looked around, wondering where the next threat might come from. His eyes stopped on the large closet door at the far end of the room. Fearing he'd seen it somewhere before, he picked up his "Gate to Oblivion" comic book and turned to an inside page.

And right there was a drawing of a _disgusting four-eyed creature_ peering out from behind that very same closet door!

Peter fumbled to close the book, and he rushed out of the room.

In the upstairs hallway, Peter watched the two movers carry a large armchair up the stairs. His great-grandfather was sleeping in it. Brenda called up to the men from below. "He goes in the room at the end of the hall. And be careful – that's an expensive chair!"

Still on the lookout for anything unusual, Peter followed the movers down the hall and into his great-grandfather's bedroom. There the men plopped Gramps in his chair right down in front of a large bay window.

As the movers left, the old man woke up... and something immediately caught his eye. He stared out the window with a look of _terror_.

Peter glanced out the window himself, but he saw nothing unusual outside. Growing concerned, he flipped through his comic book again, and he found a drawing of his great-grandfather's room.

And the book showed an old man sitting in a chair by the window, just like Gramps! The next picture gave Peter a closer look at the old man: He was dead! His eyes dangled out of his head, and his gaping mouth hung wide open!

Terrified, Peter checked Gramps. Yes! He was still alive! But Gramps still had a terrified look on his face as he stared out the window, and this was giving Peter the creeps. He decided to slip back out of the room and leave the man alone.

Back in the hallway, Peter heard his mother talking to the movers downstairs. "Oh, you can put that old thing in the basement."

Peter's eyes popped open. "The basement!" He sprinted downstairs and ran into the kitchen to watch the moving men carry a large chest of drawers down the narrow stairs into the basement.

Again, the boy referred to his comic book where there was a colorful, graphic drawing of an old man flying into a blazing portal in a secret basement wall!

Peter gasped! He took a baby step towards the basement doorway and peered down into the dimly-lit room. He decided that this was as close as he was going to get as far as the basement was concerned.

Moving into this house was beginning to look like a _big_ mistake. A mistake Peter had warned his parents not to make! But his family was all here now, and Peter, for one, wasn't going to let his guard down.

This house was haunted. It ate people up!

But it wasn't going to eat _him!_

That night, the moon shone brightly outside out Peter's bedroom window. The whole world was asleep. But inside, Peter lay wide awake in bed. He wasn't going to take his eyes off this house for a second.

Just after midnight, Peter heard something strange – _scritch, scritch, scritch..._

It was coming from his closet.

Peter stared at the closet in fear... and then he noticed that the door was moving ever so slightly with each _scritch_. Taking a deep breath, he sat up in bed. "I was right!" he whispered to himself. He knew there was a disgusting four-eyed creature in his closet. But he also knew that it wasn't going to get him!

Peter picked up his hairbrush and held it in front of him like a weapon.

The _scritching_ was getting louder.

With great courage, the boy got out of bed and approached the closet – slowly, slowly – until he was close enough to open the door. The he quickly yanked it open and _screamed_ , brandishing the brush before him!

CRASH! Boxes of random junk tumbled down upon Peter.

Fritz and Brenda burst into the room to find a heap of junk on the floor, but no Peter. "Peter? Peter!!" Fritz cried, looking around the room frantically.

The boy poked his head out of the junk pile. "I was just looking for my... hairbrush!" He raised his hand holding the hairbrush proudly. "Found it."

Fritz and Brenda took deep breaths of relief... and exasperation.

Peter whimpered. Okay, the closet wasn't haunted, and he had just made a fool of himself before Mom and Dad. But that didn't mean the rest of the house wasn't haunted! The disgusting four-eyed creature probably just went somewhere else, maybe to join up with all his creepazoid friends!

One point for the creepazoids, Peter thought. They won this battle... but Peter was determined to win the war!
CHAPTER 5

Chiller Comix lunch box in hand, a sluggish Peter was all suited up for the first day at his new school. He'd spent a week on the lookout for ghosts and ghouls in his new home, but all it got him was a lot of sleepless nights.

This left him a little confused. Was the house haunted or not? His comic book said so.

Was it possible the comic book was _wrong?_

Peter didn't want to admit it, but his Chiller Comix books had been wrong before. After reading _"CREEPAZOIDS FROM THE CRAWLSPACE",_ Peter had stood watch for days over the hatch for the crawlspace under his old house. But he was rewarded with not a single creepazoid. He realized later that that was a good thing. But was the comic book wrong? Maybe the creepazoids hadn't come out _because_ Peter was standing guard. Peter decided that was the best explanation.

The same basic thing had happened with _"IT LIVES IN THE ATTIC!"_ , the only difference being that Peter was staring at the hatch leading to the attic this time. But there was nothing living in the attic but a mouse. Peter had figured that maybe that was the "it" the title was referring to. So, technically, his comic book wasn't wrong. But it wasn't exactly right either.

All in all, Peter didn't know what to believe.

Brenda zipped up her son's fall jacket on the front porch. "Have a nice day at school, sweetheart," she said, kissing him. Peter sleepily trudged off.

At his new school, Peter did everything he could just to blend in. Standing out as a newcomer is never a good idea, especially when you're not particularly great at making friends.

Peter eventually found his Grade 4 classroom, and he sat near the back. So far so good, he thought, and this gave him a little hope that this school was going to be pretty much like the one he left. And everything went along fine... for a while.

Just after a snack break, Peter's teacher, Mr. Coutin, did his best to teach his students math. Peter had never really had a problem with math, so he spent most of his time doodling a disgusting four-eyed creature in his notebook.

But some other students were having a little trouble, students like Mike Tesorio, your average nine-year-old hoodlum, sitting right in front of Peter.

"It's... fourteen. No, wait, forty-one!" said Mike, feebly answering a math question from Mr. Coutin.

"Sorry, Mike," said Mr. Coutin, "you've got to choose only one answer. Remember, math is like the real world. Everything is simple and concrete and in its place. There are only numbers and fractions and multiplication and division, and right or wrong answers. And your answer is wrong. Both of them."

The students laughed, including Peter.

Then Mike turned around and glared right at him. "What're you laughing at, wimp?"

Peter froze, unable to think of an answer that would satisfy Mike. Finally, he said, "Nothing," hoping the vagueness of his answer would keep him out of trouble.

"Nothing is right!" Mike shot back. Mike wasn't the best at comebacks.

"Oh, by the way, class," said Mr. Coutin, "we have a new student with us today. His name is Peter Dunlap. Stand up, Peter."

Peter reluctantly stood up, embarrassed, then quickly sat back down. As the class checked out the new kid, Peter feared his earlier efforts to just blend in were now all for nothing.

Mr. Coutin turned to Glen Farkason, a rather thin and pale boy sitting next to Peter. "Glen, would you mind showing Peter around school during lunch today?"

"Sure, Mr. Coutin," Glen nodded with a smile. Cool, he thought, I've got a project! And Mr. Coutin chose me 'cause, as far as this school is concerned, I'm an expert!

Glen turned to Peter. "Hi, I'm Glen."

"Hi," Peter said quietly.

"I guess I'll see you at lunch."

"Sure."

Then Mike turned around and glared at Peter again. "I guess _I'll_ see you at lunch too, wimp."

Peter winced. This day wasn't working out as planned.

Later that afternoon, an angry Peter stomped home from school, his face bruised and filthy. Charging inside past some men painting the outside of the house, he threw his lunch box and school books onto the kitchen table.

Brenda was working at the kitchen sink, so she didn't see him right away. But Denise, at the fridge, looked at her little brother and grimaced. "What happened to you? The house try to eat you again?"

"No, it didn't!" Peter shot back.

Finally, Brenda turned and noticed her poor son's condition. "Peter!"

"The stupid house didn't do anything!" Peter snapped. "How could it? It's only a house!"

Brenda knelt down beside Peter and started to wipe the dirt off his face with a wet kitchen towel. "Honey, how did this happen?!" she asked, very concerned.

"I got beat up at school."

"You what?!"

"Don't worry. It's okay." Sure, Peter was hurt, but he could deal with it. He was in fourth grade now, after all.

"It is most definitely not okay!" Brenda insisted. "I'm going to call up the principal right now," she said, getting up and grabbing her phone. "Whoever did this to you is not going to get away with it!"

Peter shuffled off towards the stairway. He knew better than to stop his mom from being a mom, even though he knew calling the school wouldn't help anything.

As Peter dragged himself up the stairs, he grumbled to himself, "Why worry about some stupid fake haunted house when I've got real people out there who want to kill me?" The fact was, he was more angry with himself than with Mike Tesorio. How could he be so silly as to think this house was actually haunted?

That night, all cleaned up, Peter plopped down onto his bed, exhausted. But he felt something uncomfortable under his back: It was his "Gate to Oblivion" comic book. He shook his head and threw the book to the floor where it landed sloppily, half-open. "Haunted house... Sheesh!"

Then Peter closed his eyes and very quickly fell into a deep, comfortable sleep. No nightmares of ghosts or monsters were going to disturb him tonight. He was done with all that now.

But then, after just a moment, Peter's comic book started to flutter... was it just the wind?... and then it miraculously _folded itself closed_ on the floor! It then lifted itself up and placed itself carefully on Peter's end table!

Clearly it wasn't just the wind.
CHAPTER 6

After his first good night's sleep in days, Peter ran downstairs and joined his family in their usual weekday morning hustle and bustle. Brenda was making scrambled eggs at the stove, Fritz read the paper at the table, and Denise picked at some stale donuts in the fridge.

"These are foul!" snapped Denise, flicking powdered sugar off her fingers.

"Hi, honey," Brenda greeted Peter with a smile. "Your eggs are almost ready."

"Thanks, Mom," Peter said, sitting down to butter some toast.

Brenda turned to Fritz. "You bringing a mower home today, hun?"

"If I could only find a sale..." Peter's dad mumbled, flipping through the paper. With Fritz, it was either get it on sale or don't get it at all.

"Denise," Brenda asked, "why don't you have some muffins that that nice Mrs. Hanusch brought over yesterday?" Brenda turned back to Fritz. "I invited her in for some tea, but she wouldn't hear of it. Said she knew I must be busy unpacking. I tell you, if all the people in the neighborhood are that nice..."

"Mom, where's the jam?" Peter asked.

"You'll have to get some from the pantry, Peter," Brenda said as she placed a bowl of oatmeal on a tray. "Denise, could you bring Gramps's breakfast to him, please?"

Peter got up and opened the door to the walk-in pantry. But, to his surprise, there was no jam inside. In fact, there was no food at all or even any shelves.

Instead, there was _a pit of snakes!_

And Peter almost fell into it!

"Whoahh!!" Peter cried, and he slammed the door shut.

But when he looked over at his family, it was clear nobody else saw a thing.

"You find the jam, dear?" asked Brenda.

"No," Peter replied, his voice cracking. Then he got an idea. "Could you find it for me, please?"

Denise rolled her eyes and opened the pantry door. And inside the pantry was... food! She grabbed a jar of jam and handed it to Peter. "Here, lame-oid." Then she picked up her great-grandfather's tray of food and headed upstairs.

Peter peered into the perfectly ordinary pantry filled with food. There wasn't a snake to be seen, let alone a pit full of them.

He shook his head, confused. Something _was_ going on in this house.

But what exactly was it?

At school, Peter's new friend Glen dived wholeheartedly into his role as school tour guide. As the two boys walked past the cafeteria, Glen ran through the complete weekly menu: "...Then on Thursday, they usually have hamburgers – _yum –_ or a soy-based alternative – _yech –_ and on Friday they always have fish sticks, but I hate fish sticks, so I bring my lunch from home."

"I always bring my lunch from home," said Peter. "Today it's a leftover sandwich. Actually, pretty much every day it's a leftover sandwich."

"My mom doesn't get up early enough to make me lunch," Glen said.

Peter started to wonder about something. "Glen?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

Glen thought about this for a moment. "I don't know. This Netflix show says there are ten million haunted houses in North America."

"But have you ever been in a haunted house?" Peter asked.

"No. I don't think I believe in them."

"Yeah," agreed Peter. Peter figured he'd tell Glen about his house later in the week. He didn't want to scare away his only friend just one day after he met him.

"Wait!" Glen said, suddenly grabbing Peter's arm. "Whatever you do, don't look over there." He motioned with his head down the hall.

"Where?" Peter asked, turning around and looking.

"I said don't look!"

"At who?!"

"Who else? Simone Lindsey. I like her," Glen said, still trying to keep his eyes down.

Peter finally spotted the object of Glen's affection. She was a terribly cute fourth-grade girl eating her lunch on a bench with some friends.

And she was looking right at Peter.

"Hey, it looks like she likes you too," Peter said. "She's looking over here."

"Really?!" Glen said hopefully, glancing over to Simone with a goofy smile. But then he got a little confused. "Wait. She's not looking at me. She's looking at you."

Peter now noticed this too. Simone looked right at him and smiled coyly.

Peter blushed. He didn't know what to do. Should he smile back? Would that be too forward? Should he look away? Would that be rude?

But before Peter could make up his mind, someone else intruded with more pressing business.

"Hey, wimp!"

Peter looked up, and there was Mike, the bully who had beaten him up the day before. He popped open a can of coke that he was shaking and _sprayed_ Peter right in the face. "Better have your mommy call the principal again!" Mike cracked, busting up at his own joke. He walked away with his snickering sidekick, Bruce.

All Peter could do was stand there, furious, dripping with soda.

Glen offered some words of advice: "Yeah, Mike doesn't like it when you have your mom call the principal. I speak from experience."

Peter shuffled off, too humiliated to even look up to see if Simone had witnessed this little episode. It would have crushed him to see her laughing.

But Simone had seen it all, and she wasn't laughing. In fact, she felt horribly sad for Peter.
CHAPTER 7

Back at home that night, Peter tried hard to forget his second tough school day. But he couldn't forget the incident with the kitchen pantry that morning.

As Fritz watched a baseball game on the living room TV, Peter sat next to him with his spelling workbook open on his lap. But he wasn't looking at the workbook. He was looking all around him to see what the house might do next.

Peter noticed the TV flickering every few seconds, and he became suspicious. But then he realized it was just interference from his mother vacuuming upstairs.

"You finish your homework?" Fritz asked, not taking his eyes off the TV. He grabbed a few potato chips from a bowl on the couch.

"I'm doing it now," Peter said, not exactly telling the whole truth.

"Good," Fritz said, tossing a chip into his mouth.

The vacuum stopped upstairs, and Brenda called down to her husband, "Fritz, has Denise come in yet?"

"No," Fritz called back up.

"Why that girl ever worried about making new friends..." said Brenda as she went to vacuum another room.

Peter kept glancing around the room as he reached for some potato chips. But then, just as his hand hovered over the bowl, he noticed that the chips had turned into _hundreds of slimy worms!_

The boy pulled his hand back in horror. "Dad!"

"Yes?" Fritz asked, still watching TV.

"Dad, loo-, loo-, loo- "

"Peter, I'm trying to watch television," Fritz said, a bit annoyed. Then he reached for a handful of potato chips himself! His eyes still glued to the TV, he missed the bowl a couple of times with his fumbling hand.

Peter was horrified. "Dad! Don't... don't... We're out of chips!"

Fritz finally found the bowl and sank his hand deep into the writhing mound of worms! But to Peter's surprise, his father didn't seem to notice anything unusual. Peter nearly threw up as he watched Fritz, eyes still on the TV, pick up a big handful of worms and _lift them right up to his mouth!_

"DAD!" Peter jumped up and knocked the worms out of his father's hand! The worms fell to the floor with a _splat_ , and Peter jumped up and down on them, smashing them all into an icky goo!

Fritz watched all this in absolute amazement. "Peter! What are you doing?!"

Peter stopped stomping and looked at his father incredulously. "What am I doing?! I just saved you from eating a handful of wor- " Peter looked down at the floor and stopped mid-sentence.

Instead of a grotesque heap of goo, he found himself standing in a mess of smashed potato chips.

Fritz gave his son a look. He was a patient man, but this haunted house stuff was going a little too far.

But this didn't discourage Peter. Sure, he had just made a fool of himself before his father (yet again), but he knew what he saw.

And he knew there would be more creepiness to come.
CHAPTER 8

The next day, Peter and Glen bolted out of class as the school bell rang. Their school day was over, and they were on a mission.

"You sure it's really haunted?" asked Glen, panting as he ran.

"Yeah!" assured Peter. "Well, maybe. I've seen stuff happen, you know, but I don't exactly have any evidence – yet."

The boys arrived home to find Peter's house looking a lot better than it had when he'd first seen it. It was fully painted now, and Fritz had mowed the mass of weeds out front with his new mower (purchased 30% off), revealing a healthy lawn beneath. But that didn't stop Glen from hesitating before entering the house. He looked up at it, wondering what might happen to him if he entered a real haunted house.

Peter had to finally drag Glen inside.

The boys ran into the downstairs den to find Brenda on a ladder painting the ceiling. "Mom, can Glen stay overnight tonight?" Peter asked.

Brenda was taken a little by surprise. "I don't even know if I know Glen," she said, looking down at the boy. "Hello, Glen. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Glen answered politely. "How are you, Mrs. Dunlap?"

"Well, I'm just fine too, thank you. Is it okay with your parents for you to stay overnight?"

Peter answered, "Yeah, they said he could."

Glen looked at Peter. "They did?"

"Well, we're gonna call them later," Peter assured his mom.

Brenda raised an eyebrow. "You make sure you do that."

"Thanks, Mom!" Peter chimed as he and Glen ran back out of the room, scooting around the stacks of moving boxes on the floor. Yep, he knew how to handle Mom.

That night, a full moon hung over the house, giving it an eerie glow.

Inside, Peter lay in his bed staring at the moon outside his window. He figured a full moon was a good thing if you were trying to check out a haunted house.

Glen huddled in a sleeping bag on the floor staring at the room around him. Hmm, spending the night in a haunted house. Maybe not such a good idea.

Both boys had their eyes and ears open, ready to catch any funny business the house might throw at them.

But nothing was happening.

"How much longer should we wait?" Glen wondered.

"What time is it?" Peter asked.

Glen checked his watch. "Midnight."

"Midnight..." Peter whispered. The two boys looked at each other with fear and anticipation, convinced that the witching hour ought to bring at least a few lost souls back from the dead. "How long have we been here?" Peter asked.

"Since ten."

Silence. Fear.

Finally, Peter spoke. "Well, let's give it a couple more hours." The two boys settled again into their pillows, with their eyes still pinned wide open.

This constant ghost-watch was getting exhausting.

Fifteen minutes later, Peter was fast asleep.

But Glen looked as if his fear could keep him up for about twenty more hours.

CHUNK! – Glen heard a loud noise downstairs. His hair stood on end. He turned to the sleeping Peter and shook his shoulder. "Peter! Peter, wake up!" But Peter wouldn't budge.

Then the sound of wood creaking downstairs caught Glen's ear. The boy was overcome by a combination of terror and curiosity – and curiosity won out. He got up very slowly, picked up a flashlight and tip-toed out of the room.

Not wanting to scare away any ghosts, Glen kept the flashlight off for now as he headed downstairs. But then he started to hear a deep growling sound. And with each step down, the growling got louder... and _louder..._

The growling seemed to be coming from the living room. And as Glen listened closely, he noticed an odd squeaking as well. Petrified, but still driven by intense curiosity, Glen made his way closer and closer to the strange noises. Then he aimed his unlit flashlight at the horrible beast that was surely right before him, and he turned the light on.

Denise and her boyfriend, Trevor, held up their hands to the blinding light. "What the heck?!" screamed Denise, caught in an embrace with Trevor. "Who are you?!" she demanded, glaring down at Glen.

"Um, uh, I'm Glen... Peter's friend," Glen sputtered.

"Hi, Glen," Denise said. "Now, would you _get lost!"_

The horribly embarrassed Glen nodded, "Sure." He fumbled his way out of the room.

In his confusion, Glen missed the stairway and stumbled into the kitchen. There, he looked around with his flashlight, wondering where he was. He left the room through another door, finding himself in the half-painted den. Glen quickly got lost among the large moving boxes in the den, and he started to panic as he tried to find his way back out. Finally finding the door again, he rushed to leave – but the door slammed shut!

Glen tried the knob, but it didn't turn. He was locked in! "Peter! PETER!" Glen cried, but he got no response.

Just then, a big cardboard box toppled over, almost hitting Glen! He screamed as he jumped out of the way. But when he shined his flashlight on the mess from the box, he found only broken Christmas ornaments.

Glen took a deep breath of relief.

Then suddenly – "OOAARRGGHH!!!!" – a _three-headed mutant_ popped its heads out of the cardboard box and _snarled_ at Glen! Slimy goo dripped from its razor-sharp teeth!

Glen screamed again and dropped his flashlight! The flashlight hit the floor, smashing the bulb, leaving the boy in near-darkness staring at the three-headed mutant's six glowing bloodshot eyes!

Suddenly, Fritz burst through the door and turned on the overhead light. Brenda, Denise and Trevor were right behind. "What the heck's going on here?!" demanded the sleepy Fritz.

Glen could barely catch his breath. He darted his eyes around the room, but the three-headed mutant seemed to have disappeared. "I was –, there was –... It was huge! It had three heads and six eyes and huge teeth and... it was _right there..._ " Glen pointed to the cardboard box half-full of broken Christmas ornaments.

Fritz and Brenda looked at each other. "Peter," they said in unison.

Fritz, Brenda, Denise and Trevor barged into Peter's bedroom and turned on the light. Glen was close behind.

Peter woke up, startled. "What?!"

Fritz started to get angry. "Peter, I – "

But Brenda stopped him. "Now, Fritz, let me handle this." She sat down on the edge of Peter's bed.

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" Peter protested.

"Peter, it's okay," Brenda assured him. "We're not going to punish you."

"Punish me? For what?!"

"Honey... we just want you to know that your, uh, preoccupation with those horror comic books – "

Peter looked excitedly at Glen. "You saw something, didn't you?! See, the house _is_ haunted! I was right!" Peter stood up on his bed, full of energy.

Glen nodded. "I saw a three-headed mutant."

Peter's eyes lit up with fascination. "A three-headed mutant?! Wow!!" He gleefully jumped up and down on his bed.

Brenda stood up. "Peter, that's enough! Sometimes I wonder what lengths you'll go to."

"What are you talking about?" Peter protested. "I was here, asleep. Glen saw a real monster! It isn't just me. He knows the house is haunted too!"

"Peter!" Brenda snapped, shaking her head. "Trying to fool your new friend like that..."

"But I didn't do anything! I was here, while Glen got to see a real three-headed mutant!"

Denise raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a real turn-on."

Peter turned to Glen and asked, "Glen, why didn't you wake me up?"

Glen sputtered, "I tried, but – "

"I can't believe it!" Peter interrupted, now disappointed. "I've never seen a three-headed mutant before, and now maybe I never will. I lost my chance! And all you guys can think about is accusing me of playing some kind of prank!"

Brenda shook her head again. "Peter, Peter, Peter..."

"No more comic books for you from now on, young man!" Fritz said. "You can spend your allowance on something more constructive in the future. Like baseball cards."

Fritz, Brenda, Denise and Trevor left the room.

Peter felt alone as he sat down on his bed. He could overhear the others talking out in the hallway:

"Denise," asked Brenda, "don't you think it's a little late to have a friend over?"

"Uh, we were just doing homework!" Brenda lied. "And Trevor was just leaving."

"I was?" Trevor asked.

"Yes, you were," Fritz said firmly.

But Peter didn't care what they were talking about. Once again, he was unable to convince his family that the house was haunted. And this time he even had Glen to back him up!

Feeling ashamed, Glen sat down next to Peter on the bed and hung his head. "Sorry."

Peter hung his head too. He just couldn't catch a break.
CHAPTER 9

Heading off for school on a cold morning, a confused Peter walked out onto his porch, closing the front door behind him. A couple days had passed since Glen's stay, and nothing else suspicious had happened in the house. Peter didn't know what to do. He knew what he'd seen before... or did he? Did Glen even know what _he_ had seen, or had he just been imagining things too?

But just as Peter stepped off the porch, he heard a strange whisper:

" _Get out..."_

Peter stopped in his tracks and cocked his head. What was that? He thought for a moment. Then he shook his head and continued down the walkway.

" _Get out!"_

Okay, Peter definitely heard something this time. He turned around and stared at the house. Then he apprehensively walked back inside to join Brenda, Fritz and Denise eating in the kitchen. "Did someone... call me?"

"Someone called you?" asked Brenda. "What did they say?"

Just then, the basement door whipped open, and a _huge, terrible wind_ spewed out, nearly knocking Brenda off her feet.

" _GET OUT!!!"_

Peter froze and said, "I think that was it."

Everybody fought the gale-force wind as they stared in horror at the entrance to the basement. Everything in the kitchen blew around in this chaotic indoor storm, and the lights started flashing all over the house.

"Mom," Peter said, trying to be heard above the racket, "I don't think the house wants us here anymore!"

Meanwhile, next door, the Hanusches and their realtor were showing their house to a young couple, Mr. and Mrs. Latham. Mrs. Latham was pregnant, and she and her husband excitedly looked around, imagining raising a family in this house.

Mrs. Hanusch tried not to appear desperate as she talked to the prospective buyers. "And when the baby comes, I'm sure you'll be glad to know that the neighborhood is as pleasant as can be. The schools are nearby, and all our neighbors are the sweetest people."

But just then, through the window Mrs. Hanusch noticed the virtual tornado going on inside the Dunlap residence.

With one quick move, she yanked the drapes shut.

The others gave her an odd look.

Mrs. Hanusch laughed nervously, trying to mask her horror. "Too much direct sunlight is bad for the furniture!"

Back in Peter's house, his mom and dad struggled mightily to shove the basement door shut, and the angry wind finally stopped. Everybody just stood there, white as ghosts. Their ears actually hurt from the sudden silence.

"What the heck's going on here?!" Fritz asked nobody in particular.

"I've got an idea," Peter responded with trepidation, "but you probably don't want to hear it."

"We do, Peter, we do!" Fritz insisted.

"Well," Peter went on, "the reason all this weird stuff is happening is because..." He took a deep breath, steeling himself for his family's response. "...our house is built right on top of... the Gate to Oblivion. Hate to say I told you so, but..." Peter shrugged. It's not as if he didn't warn them before.

Fritz and Brenda were aghast (as Peter expected), but Denise just rolled her eyes. "Right. You set up some big fan in the basement," she said, reaching for the basement door, "and you expect us to believe – "

"NOOOO!!!" Peter, Fritz and Brenda screamed.

Too late. Denise opened the door, and WHOOSH!! The wind spewed out again, but this time the family could see an _ocean of lost souls_ swimming around in the basement below! Then one particularly disgusting phantom swooped up and _wailed_ , heading right for Denise!

Denise screamed and slammed the door shut, stopping the ghost just in time! She backed away from the door in a panic.

Peter restrained a smile, clearly getting a kick out of his sister's reaction. "Cool..." he whispered to himself.

Brenda took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I don't think our realtor told us everything about this house."
CHAPTER 10

POP! A champagne cork flew across the room at the downtown offices of Heathrow Realty. Mr. Heathrow, a distinguished man in a dark grey suit, poured Jenny Tilden a glass of bubbly and raised his own glass for a toast.

"To Jenny, for pulling off the impossible!" he said to the other celebrating realtors gathered around. "For valiantly unloading the Thornberg house, we dub her 'Realtor of the Month'!" Everybody cheered as Mr. Heathrow handed Mrs. Tilden a small plaque, and a fellow realtor slipped a party hat on her head.

Mrs. Tilden beamed. "Oh, I really don't deserve this. _Not!"_ She knew how long she'd been trying to sell what she knew to be a haunted house, and she was proud of herself for finally finding the right suckers to buy it.

A secretary tried to get Mrs. Tilden's attention. "Mrs. Tilden, you have a call."

Mrs. Tilden grabbed a nearby phone and happily punched a button. "Jenny Tilden, Realtor of the Month, at your service!" she said with a chuckle, feeling the champagne going to her head.

It was Fritz on the line. "Mrs. Tilden, I think we have to have a little talk."

Mrs. Tilden's giddiness disappeared, and she waved her hand sharply for everybody in the office to be quiet. "Oh, Mr. Dunlap," she said in her best saleswoman's voice, "how are things coming with your lovely new home?"

"Save it for the rubes, lady. You misled us!" Fritz said, clearly uncomfortable having to be aggressive. "You knew all about the house when you sold it to us."

Mr. Heathrow looked grim as he watched Mrs. Tilden on her call.

"Oh no, do you have termites?" Mrs. Tilden asked Fritz, keeping up her phony cheerfulness.

"No, we don't have termites! We have – " He stopped, unable to get it out.

"Ghosts, Dad," said Peter, listening in with his mom and Denise at the kitchen table.

"I know!" snapped Fritz.

"Pardon me?" asked Mrs. Tilden.

"We have ghosts!" Fritz said, finally able to get it out.

"Ghosts? Well, maybe we've had just a few too many this morning, hmm?"

"I'm not drunk!" insisted an angry Fritz.

"Of course not," Mrs. Tilden said patronizingly. She then lowered her voice to a very no-nonsense whisper. "I'm sorry, pal, but escrow's already closed. You could try to sell the place, but, unfortunately, there isn't a realtor in town who would touch it with a ten foot pole. Even I just did it on a dare." Then, smiling her phony smile again, she chimed, "Ta-ta!" and hung up the phone.

Mrs. Tilden looked around the room at her impressed colleagues and took a bow. The realtors cheered, and Mr. Heathrow gave her a kiss on the cheek.

At the other end of the line, Fritz hung up. He was at his wit's end. His family looked at him, waiting for an answer.

Finally, he said, "Welcome to your new home, kids," and plopped down into a kitchen chair.

"But Fritz," Brenda asked tenderly, "shouldn't we call the police?"

Fritz gestured to the phone. "Be my guest."

Brenda got up and picked up the phone... then she hesitated. Just how would she explain it? "Perhaps they wouldn't understand," she said as she put the phone back down. "But... we've got to do _something_."
CHAPTER 11

That night, Peter, Fritz, Brenda, Denise and Gramps all sat around the dinner table eating. No one said a word. The meal was as somber as a funeral.

The silence was broken by three strong knocks at the door. Everybody stopped eating and looked up, expecting this visit.

Fritz got up to answer the door. Outside on the dark stoop was a short, eerie man dressed all in black. "Welcome, Mr. Rivendare," said Fritz as he stood back to let the old man in.

Peter, Brenda and Denise joined the two men in the foyer.

"This is my wife, Brenda," Fritz said, "and our two kids, Denise and Peter."

Mr. Rivendare walked up to Denise and Peter and put a friendly hand on their shoulders. "Ah, what beautiful children!" Then he turned back to Fritz and asked, "So, which one of them is possessed?"

Everybody looked at Mr. Rivendare, confused. "It's the house," Fritz said, wondering if he'd gotten the best man for the job.

"Ah, yes," Mr. Rivendare said, trying to save face. "I knew it was the house the moment I entered. I could sense it. In fact, I could _smell_ the evil from blocks away."

Fritz nodded and said, "We think the source is in the – "

" – basement?" Mr. Rivendare asked knowingly. Everybody was rather impressed. "Follow me," the old man said, and he led the way into the kitchen. The others followed, rejoining Gramps who silently watched the proceedings with great fascination.

Mr. Rivendare walked up to the basement door and prepared to enter. He took a deep breath, muttered something in an unknown language... and opened a closet door instead. He was surprised to find nothing but coats and brooms inside.

"The basement is that door," Fritz said, pointing.

"Ah! Of course!" the old man said, again trying to hide his embarrassment.

Opening the basement door, Mr. Rivendare looked inside. A strange smoky mist drifted out. The others crept up behind him and peered into the basement as well. There was an eerie red glow emanating from down below.

Mr. Rivendare boldly started down the stairs. The Dunlaps followed with trepidation. Even Gramps came along, with Fritz's help.

The house seemed to be growling softly, like a sleeping lion. And as the group reached the bottom of the stairs, they noticed that the sound and red glow appeared to be coming from the far wall.

Everybody stood staring at the growling, glowing wall with intense curiosity and fear. "The home inspector said nothing about this!" Brenda insisted.

Mr. Rivendare took out a strange-looking talisman and held it out towards the heaving wall. "Take that!" he shouted.

CRAAACK!! The wall sent out a blinding bolt of lightning which shot the talisman right out of the old man's hand! It clattered to the floor, and Rivendare shook his hand in pain. "Holy jeez! That stings!"

Just then, the house uttered a horrible raspy howl, and the center of the glowing wall turned into an endless, black abyss!

Mr. Rivendare and Peter's family shuddered. "You know," said a surprised Rivendare, "this place is really haunted!"

Peter and his family exchanged looks. "Yeah, we know," said Denise.

Mr. Rivendare pulled out his phone and started scrolling through a document while muttering to himself. "It's really haunted. What a kick. Oh, here we are." He looked up. "Now, I must ask every one of you to concentrate with all your power on ridding this house of its evil spirits." Then the man started to chant in the odd language he spoke before, accompanying his words with many wild gestures.

As he did this, the growling and howling got louder and louder, and the wall heaved and glowed more and more. Suddenly, the wind picked up. Soon, every loose item in the room was flying all about. The red and black wall flashed with light, but Mr. Rivendare continued throughout all of this. He dropped to his knees and intensified his chanting. Everybody else merely stood back and eyed the spectacle in amazement.

Then, just as suddenly, nearly everything stopped. The wind died down, things around the room settled, the wall stopped flashing light, and most of the smoke cleared.

But the wall continued to undulate, growl and glow red.

Mr. Rivendare rose to his feet and made a solemn statement. "Your house is now free of evil spirits."

Peter and the others smiled. Was it really true? But they looked at the heaving wall, confused. "What about that?" Denise asked.

"That?" Rivendare said. "Well, that, uh, must be the furnace!"

"No it isn't," said Peter. "It's the Gate to Oblivion."

Rivendare took a breath and shrugged. "Oh, all right. I'm sorry, but your house is still haunted. For some reason, the ceremony didn't work."

"It didn't?!" asked Brenda. "Why not?"

Rivendare thought for a moment. "Well, it's most likely because not everybody here was concentrating hard enough to rid the house of evil spirits."

"Oh, come on..." Fritz said, shaking his head.

"No, I'm serious," Rivendare insisted. "All it takes is one hesitant soul. There must be someone here who didn't try to force out the evil with all his heart."

All eyes slowly turned to Peter... who looked guilty.

"Peter?" Denise said, not happy.

"What?!" Peter snapped defensively.

"Young man, was it you?" asked Brenda scoldingly.

"Me?"

"Peter..." Fritz whispered, exasperated.

Peter could feel the weight of everybody's anger crushing down on him, and he eventually squeezed out the truth. "Well... when we first moved in, I was really scared of the ghosts. But then I realized, it's kind of like my comic book. It's scary... but it's also cool."

"It's cool?!" Fritz said, shocked.

"Peter!" Denise started to make a fist.

"I will not have uninvited ghosts in my house!" Brenda said in a huff.

"Peter," Fritz said sternly, "either you help us force the ghosts out of this house, or you're grounded for a month!"

"But Daaad!" Peter pleaded, "How many people get to live in a real haunted house?"

Fritz would have none of this nonsense. He turned to the others and said, "All right, we'll do this the democratic way. All those who want to live in a house free of evil spirits, raise your hands."

Fritz, Brenda and Denise raised their hands. Even Gramps found the strength to get his hand up in the air.

"Now," Fritz continued, "all those who want to live in a house full of three-headed mutants, swirling abysses and gates to oblivion, raise your hands."

Everybody glared at Peter again... but Peter hesitantly raised his hand.

"Sorry, Peter," Fritz said firmly, "four to one." He turned to Rivendare. "Okay, let's try again."

"We can't," said the old man.

"Why not?" Fritz asked, surprised.

"The little boy has to truly want it in his heart. I'm afraid we can do nothing until that is so." Mr. Rivendare turned to go, but then he glanced back. "Oh, by the way, there's only one ghost here. Just thought you'd like to know."

"Wait a minute," said Fritz, "we saw a whole bunch of them."

"Merely an illusion. Just like this wall," Rivendare said, gesturing to the throbbing wall. "This isn't really the Gate to Oblivion. It's merely a manifestation of the ghost's anger – the center of its sick soul, as it were."

"How do you know?" Fritz asked doubtfully.

Rivendare became jaded. "Right. I tell you, you blab around, soon everybody's going around chasing away ghosts, and I'm out of a job. Just take my word for it." He turned and made his way up the stairs. "Well, good luck. Feel free to call my office when the little boy has changed his mind."

Peter could feel the weight of his family glowering at him, and he felt horribly guilty. He wished he could change the way he felt about the resident ghost... but he just couldn't.
CHAPTER 12

Peter sat on his bed in his pajamas trying to figure it all out. He wondered what he had committed his family to... and what was going to happen next.

Brenda called up from the kitchen, "Denise, would you get your great-grandfather some tea, please?"

Texting her friends on her bed, Denise bristled. "No! Make Peter do it!"

Brenda smiled slyly, still not very happy with Peter. "Yes, Peter, why don't you do it?"

Peter grumbled to himself as he got off his bed. "Okay..." he said as he shuffled out of the room and headed for the stairs.

But just as he got to the stairway, he spotted a tea pot and cup on a tray _floating_ up the stairs! He couldn't believe his eyes as he watched the tray travel past him, through the upstairs hallway and into Gramps's room.

Gramps nearly had a heart attack as he watched the tea tray set itself down on an end table. Then the pot magically poured tea into the cup!

Peter rushed to Gramps's doorway to see if the old man was all right. Gramps looked at Peter in confusion. The boy smiled and said, "Good night, Gramps."

Peter walked back towards his room, deep in thought. "What's going on?" he wondered. But when he arrived at his half-open door, it opened the rest of the way all by itself! Peter was taken aback for a moment, but then he slowly walked inside. Getting into bed, he lay back and tried to figure out what was happening.

Then Peter smiled, figuring it out. "It likes me!" he said, tickled by the thought. He then looked at the room light, and it suddenly shut itself off! Peter smiled again. "Yeah, it likes me! And why not? It _owes_ me!"

The Dunlap family ate breakfast the next morning, everybody but Peter in a sour mood. The others gave him looks of restrained disgust, but he didn't feel bad. He knew something they didn't.

Denise sneered at her brother. "Trevor and me are probably gonna break up. I hope you're pleased."

"So sorry I ended your beautiful two-day relationship," Peter said with a smirk.

"Peter, that's not funny," Brenda said as she got up to go to the fridge.

Fritz turned to his son. "How is your ghost friend doing today, Peter?" he said in a sarcastic tone.

"Fine," Peter said calmly.

Denise joined in, asking, "Why don't you go down to the basement and have breakfast with _it_ then? You obviously prefer its company to ours."

Peter was now a bit hurt. "Look, I'm sorry, but – "

Just then, a carton of milk sailed out of the open refrigerator past the amazed Brenda, Fritz and Denise. The carton refilled Peter's milk glass, then it floated back into the fridge.

Peter beamed, tickled by his family's reaction. "See, there's no reason not to like it. It's even helpful!"

Fritz spoke with a quiver in his voice. "I'd check the expiration date on that carton."

But Brenda just closed the fridge door quickly and backed away from it.

Denise saw this from another angle, however. "Wait a minute. This thing can do stuff around the house?"

"Yeah, if I want it to," Peter said matter-of-factly.

"Okay, have it get me a coke."

"Denise, for breakfast?" Brenda protested.

"Moooom!" Denise whined.

"Okay, a coke," Peter said. He looked around him, trying to find the ghost. "How about some coke for my sister?"

The refrigerator door opened by itself, and a can of coke came sailing out to Denise. It hovered in front of her.

"Wow!" exclaimed Denise, truly amazed. But the can just continued to hang before her in the air. "Well, open it!" she snapped.

Just then, the can opened itself and _sprayed_ coke all over Denise!

Incensed, Denise glared at Peter. "You little snot!"

"I didn't do anything!" Peter protested, trying not to laugh. "The ghost did!"

Denise groaned in anger and stomped out of the room, heading for the bathroom.

Brenda shook her head, disappointed. "That wasn't very nice, Peter."

"But I didn't do it!" Peter said. "Maybe it just doesn't like Denise."

Brenda went after Denise. Fritz, annoyed, crumpled up his newspaper which had been ruined by the coke.

And Peter's eyes glittered with his newfound power.

But across the room, there was something his glittering eyes didn't see. The hazy apparition of _a little girl's hands_ appeared out of nowhere. They wore the frilly cuffs of an old-fashioned formal dress, and they silently started to pack Peter's lunch box.
CHAPTER 13

During lunch at school, Peter eagerly told Glen all about his new ghost friend at home.

"It does whatever you want it to do??" Glen asked while balancing a plate of tofu-based franks and beans from the cafeteria on his lap.

"Yeah, everything! It's like my own pet ghost!" enthused Peter, eating a leftover sandwich while sitting next to Glen on a schoolyard bench.

"Well, I don't care what other kids say," Glen said, "I believe you because there's no way you could've faked being that three-headed mutant thing."

Peter grew suspicious. "You don't care what _what_ other kids say?"

Just then, Simone walked up with two of her friends. "Peter?"

Peter looked at her like a deer staring at headlights. "Yeah, Peter. That's me. I'm Peter."

"Do you really live in a haunted house?" Simone asked, smiling.

"I think so."

Simone and her friends giggled and rushed off, Simone giving Peter a final cute look before rounding a corner.

"Ohhhh," Glen said, "this is big. Simone Lindsey likes you. This is really big."

"She likes me?" Peter wondered.

Just then, Mike and his friend Bruce, ready for action, plopped down right beside Peter. "Hey, twirp, I hear you live in a 'haunted house'," Mike said snidely.

Peter turned to Glen, angry. "Glen, who _didn't_ you tell about the house?!"

"I didn't tell anybody!" Glen protested. "All I talked about was the – "

" – three-headed mutant," Mike said to Peter. "Must've looked like you." Mike laughed and snatched Peter's sandwich away from him. He took a huge bite out of it and immediately spit it out. "Yech! What is this spew?!"

"A leftover lasagna sandwich," an embarrassed Peter said under his breath.

Mike tossed the rest of the sandwich away. "You're sick! Who made it for you? Your little ghosty friend?" he said, laughing again.

Sadly eyeing his ruined sandwich, Peter got an idea. He smiled slyly and said, "Yeah, he did. Want to meet him?"

Mike didn't expect this response. He thought for a moment, which was rather tough for him.

"What's wrong? You scared?" asked Peter suggestively.

Mike snapped back, angry. "I'm not scared to make you look like the dweeb you are. Haunted house – yeah, right!"

Peter smiled again, knowing he had the upper hand. He wasn't able to put Mike in his place... but he knew who could.

Rolling on their skateboards, Mike and Bruce followed Peter and Glen home after school. When they arrived at Peter's house, Mike gave the place a nervous look while Peter went to unlock the front door.

"You know, if you're too afraid to come in, you don't have to," Peter said, taunting Mike.

But Mike just sneered at Peter, forcing his fear down deep as he and Bruce entered the house, carrying their skateboards with them.

Once inside, Mike and Bruce looked around, a little wary. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea...

"Where's your mom?" Glen whispered to Peter.

"I don't know," Peter whispered back.

"So, wimp," Mike said, "where's the ghost?"

Peter didn't quite know, so he tried to make things up as he went along. "Uh, it's usually in... the attic!"

"The attic?" Mike said, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

"Yeah," Peter replied with forced confidence. "Follow me."

Peter led the way up the stairs, and the others followed. On the second floor, he opened a door to the narrow stairway leading to the attic. This was a part of the house that even he hadn't been in much, so he had to gather his courage to head up the dark corridor. Glen, Mike and Bruce also had to work hard to mask their fear.

The attic was scattered with unopened moving boxes and random pieces of junk. But it was an impressive room with its pitched roof and an ornate window looking out on the front yard. Arriving at the top of the stairs, Mike walked into a cobweb, and he frantically tried to brush it off. Peter and Glen wanted to snicker at this, but they thought better of it and just smirked. But Bruce cracked up, and that earned him a withering glare from Mike.

"What's your problem?!" Mike snapped.

Bruce froze and wiped the smile off his face. "Nothing."

Mike turned to Peter. "So, there a ghost up here or not?"

"Yeah, where is it, twirp?" Bruce chimed in, trying to reestablish his loyalty to Mike.

"It's here," Peter assured them. "You just can't see it. But it can move things." He spotted an old rocking horse across the room. Looking around for the ghost, he said, "How about riding on that old rocking horse?"

But the horse didn't move.

Peter started to worry. He concentrated on the horse. "Do you want to ride the rocking horse?" Peter asked the ghost again. "Please?" Again, the horse remained still.

Mike sneered. "Well, it's got about a minute left to do something cool... and then I'm going to have to beat your face in."

"Maybe you have to say a chant or something," Bruce suggested thoughtfully.

"Shut up," Mike shot back. Bruce complied.

Peter gave up on the rocking horse and turned his gaze to a hat rack. "How about moving that hat rack around the room?" he pleaded. But again, nothing happened.

Peter was now starting to panic, realizing that inviting Mike over was turning out to be a really dumb idea.

"What's going on?" Glen whispered nervously.

"I don't know," Peter said. "I'm trying."

Mike turned to Peter with a smile. "Time's up, butt-head." The bully started a slow walk to Peter who nervously looked around, still trying to find the ghost.

"Come on!" Peter whispered to the ghost which may or may not have been there. "Where are you when I need you?!"

"You made a big mistake, weenie," Mike said, getting closer and closer.

Peter stepped back to get away from Mike, and he bumped into a few cardboard boxes. And the boxes bumped something behind them: It was a very old wooden box filled with ancient, dusty junk, hidden in the shadows. And atop the pile of junk teetered an old framed photograph.

The photograph clattered to the floor. A shaft of sunlight shining through the front window lit up the image of a nine-year-old girl dressed in old-fashioned clothing. She looked sad and melancholy as she posed with her rag doll.

But Peter couldn't see the old photo, nor did he care to. He had more serious things to deal with right now.

And so did Glen. "Peter, is the ghost here or not?" he begged since Bruce was now stalking _him._

But Peter didn't have an answer for Glen. And now both boys could do nothing but prepare for the worst.

Just then – _glitch!_ – Mike stepped in something odd. He stopped and looked down to find his foot in a patch of clear goo. "Hey! What is this stuff?"

Bruce then stepped in some disgusting goo too. "Ew, gross!"

The tough guys pulled as hard as they could to break free from the goo, but it didn't let them go.

Peter and Glen stared in confusion... but then they started to realize what was going on. Their fear slowly turned into demented pleasure as the goo gradually climbed up the bullies' legs!

"What's happening?!" cried Mike.

Peter was amazed at what he was seeing. "Wow!"

"Hey, twirp, get this stuff off of me!" Mike demanded.

"Sorry, Mike," Peter said, "there's nothing I can do."

"Come on, Peter!" Mike begged. "Look, we believe you, okay? Just get this slime off of me!"

The goo made its way up to the boys' waists, then to their arms. The boys were forced to drop their skateboards and try to wipe the stuff away, but it was too sticky.

"Hey, this is bogus!" said Bruce, truly panicking now.

Then the goo started to ooze over the bullies' heads! They desperately tried to protect their eyes and mouths with their hands.

"Peter, please, I'm sorry I sprayed coke on you, really!" Mike pleaded. "Now make it stop!"

"How about when you beat me up?" Peter asked.

"I'm sorry about that too! Come on!"

"And when you stole my sandwich?"

"Yeah! Yeah! Look, Peter, if you get this stuff off of me, I'll never pick on you again! I just wanna get out of here!"

"You want to get out of here?" Peter looked around. "Mr. Ghost, take these guys back outside. Please."

Suddenly, Mike and Bruce were magically lifted up by invisible hands and placed on top of their skateboards. Then the skateboards took off across the room and down the stairs, with Mike and Bruce screaming the whole way!

Peter and Glen were confused but exhilarated as they rushed after the other two. In the second floor hallway, they watched the screaming Mike and Bruce get sent rolling right down the main stairway. Peter and Glen dashed down the stairs after the bullies who were now sent flying on their skateboards all around the house.

Finally, the front door swung open, and Mike and Bruce zoomed outside on their out-of-control skateboards. "Heeeeelp!!" screamed the tough guys on their way out the door.

Feeling incredibly powerful, Peter and Glen rushed out after them. They arrived just in time to see Mike and Bruce careen down the street, screaming for their lives.

Then, at the end of the street, Mike and Bruce flew off in opposite directions, then they were spun around and sent charging straight towards one another. SPLAT! They smashed together with goo flying everywhere as they tumbled to the ground. There they finally lay, gasping for air.

Back at the house, Peter and Glen cheered and jumped for joy! The ghost had come through for them after all!

And up in an attic window, looking almost like a hazy reflection, an _apparition of a little girl_ appeared.

It was the girl from the photo.

And she was smiling.
CHAPTER 14

The next morning at school, Peter happily whistled a silly tune while walking down the corridor to class. He had a ghost at home who liked to help him out and even take care of bullies for him! Life was good.

But then Peter started to notice that everybody was looking at him. He checked his fly. Closed. Maybe he'd stepped in something? Nope.

Now Peter started to overhear kids whispering to each other as he walked by:

"...lives in a haunted house..."

"...can tell it to do anything he wants..."

"...maybe he's possessed or something..."

"...he totally wasted Mike and Bruce..."

Bubbling with excitement, Glen rushed up to Peter. "Everybody found out about Mike and Bruce," enthused Glen, "and now they think you're Mr. Cool!"

"Really?" Peter wondered.

"Yeah! Isn't it great!"

As the boys walked, the crowd in front of them actually parted to let them past! Peter had suddenly become the Big Man on Campus, and it made him a little self-conscious... but it also felt pretty terrific!

At home after school, Peter started to get very comfortable being waited on by the unseen ghost. As the boy sat on his bed reading a horror comic book, the ghost did his math homework at his desk for him! The pages of Peter's math workbook flipped magically, and a floating pencil filled in all the correct answers.

Then, after dinner when Peter got bored watching the TV news with his father, he told the ghost, "I want to watch _The Bogeyman_." And suddenly the TV changed channels to a cheesy black-and-white horror film.

"Hey!" snapped Fritz, and he changed the channel back to the news.

" _The Bogeyman_ ," Peter said. The TV switched back to the movie.

Fritz stubbornly changed it back to the news again. "News."

" _Bogeyman_."

"News!"

" _Bogeyman_!"

The TV switched back and forth, back and forth until finally the remote _flew_ out of Fritz's hand and splashed into a fish bowl.

Victorious, Peter smiled, sat back in his chair and watched the movie.

Fritz folded his arms angrily. He no longer felt like the king of his castle, but there seemed to be nothing he could do about it.

The next day, Peter spied on the mailman delivering mail to the house. "Okay, get ready!" he giggled in anticipation. The mailman slipped mail into the mail slot... but then the mail slot opened itself up and said, "Thank you!"

The mailman bolted back, dropping his bag and stumbling down the porch stairs. Then he frantically gathered up his bag and ran off.

Peter rolled around on the floor laughing. Being friends with a ghost was fun!

Back at school, Peter walked along with Glen feeling cocky, enjoying all the other kids staring at him. Being the only kid with a ghost friend had clearly gone to his head.

Then the boys spotted Mike and Bruce skateboarding towards them, snickering as they knocked smaller kids out of their way. But when they spotted Peter, they immediately stepped off their skateboards and picked them up. Very uncomfortable, they walked around Peter and Glen, trying to avoid eye contact.

Everybody watched in silence, then they _Ooooo'd_ with respect.

Peter and Glen continued on, with Glen soaking in as much reflected glory as he could. "That's right, this is Peter Dunlap! And I'm his best friend!"

Now Peter and Glen spotted Simone coming their way with her friends. "Peter, look who's coming!" whispered Glen excitedly. "Boy, she's yours now!"

Peter swallowed hard and prepared to say hello to his new crush. But as Simone stepped up, she didn't look nearly as impressed as the rest of the crowd. "It's too bad some boys have to beat up other boys just to feel cool," she said to Peter. Then she turned on her heel and walked off.

The crowd _Ooooo'd_ again... but this time it wasn't an _Ooooo_ of respect.

Peter was horrified. His stomach twinged as he discovered first-hand the fleeting nature of fame.
CHAPTER 15

Peter flopped down onto his bed after a long day at school. He was weary and frustrated. Having a ghost friend to wait on him and avenge his enemies was supposed to be a _good_ thing. But now it caused him to lose the affections of the cutest fourth-grader in school!

Peter glanced around for the ghost. "Thanks. Thanks a lot," he grumbled. Then he snapped, "Well, what're you waiting for? How about a root beer?"

After a moment, a can of root beer floated through Peter's bedroom doorway and into his hands. But Peter wasn't happy. "It's not cold," he said in a snotty voice. Suddenly, ice crystals formed right on the can! Peter nodded in a weak show of thanks, and he opened the can and took a sip.

Putting the can down, Peter noticed a handwritten note on his end table: _Don't forget to do the bathrooms and the vacuuming, sweetie. Mom._

Peter sneered like a spoiled brat then got off his bed and trudged out to the hallway. Opening the door to the hall closet, he dragged a out vacuum cleaner and plugged it in. He was just about to start vacuuming – but then he got an idea. "Hey, what am I doing?" He looked around. " _You_ do it."

The ghost's invisible hands turned on the vacuum cleaner and started to vacuum the carpeted hallway. Peter folded his arms and watched, pleased with himself.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Peter had the ghost mop the floor and scrub the sink while he kicked back tossing peanuts into his mouth. Later, he played video games while the ghost vacuumed the living room drapes.

Peter smiled. Okay, he thought, maybe I lost Simone, but I'll never have to do household chores again. Yep, this was the life!

Meanwhile, next door it was the day the Hanusches had long waited for: They were finally about to sell their house. The young Latham couple had decided that this was where they wanted to raise a family. Mr. and Mrs. Hanusch smiled from ear to ear as Mr. and Mrs. Latham signed some papers with the Hanusches' realtor, Mr. Zell.

"Oh, I'm so excited about this!" the bubbly Mrs. Latham enthused.

"You're just going to love it here," Mrs. Hanusch assured her, thinking to herself, we're almost there... we're almost there... But then Mrs. Hanusch's smile fell as she noticed her worst recurring nightmare out the window: Peter's "magic" vacuum cleaner was working on the living room drapes, and if the Lathams saw this, the deal would most definitely be off!

Just as Mrs. Latham turned to Mrs. Hanusch with a question, Mrs. Hanusch darted around her couch to divert the young lady's eyes from the window. Trying to contain her rising panic, Mrs. Hanusch snatched up her tea pot. "More tea, Mrs. Latham?" she asked with a forced smile.

Fortunately for the Hanusches, Peter and the ghost moved on from the living room drapes. But Peter had no intention of ending the fun and games with his new helpmate. While the ghost cleaned the toilet in the upstairs bathroom, Peter sprayed a huge amount of his sister's hair mousse into his hand and started working it through his hair. But then he glanced over at the toilet and rolled his eyes. "Don't forget to clean under the rim! You want me to get in trouble or something?" The toilet brush obeyed and started scrubbing under the rim. Then Peter looked at the shower. "Come on, I can still see mildew everywhere! What's with you, huh? You can't do anything right." So a sponge and a can of cleaning fluid floated to the shower and began to spray and scrub.

Peter went back to fixing his hair. "It's impossible to get good supernatural help these days," he muttered, shaking his head.

Suddenly, the sponge stopped scrubbing, and the cleaning fluid stopped spraying. They just hovered in the air. Peter noticed, annoyed. "Let's go! Chop chop!" he snapped. Suddenly, he felt a _low rumble._ He dropped his comb, frightened. "Huh?"

The house began to shake. Things fell out of the medicine cabinet and off the bathroom shelves.

Peter spun around. "What's going on here?!"

And then, behind him in the mirror, the little girl's apparition appeared! She held the sponge and spray bottle in her hands as she glared at Peter. But he, facing the other way, could not see her. All he could see was the hovering sponge and spray can.

Then the rumbling stopped, and the little girl's apparition disappeared from the mirror. At the same moment, the sponge and spray bottle dropped to the floor.

Silence.

Peter was quite nervous. "Sorry," he said quietly.

But there was no response.

"Hello?"

Again, no response.

Peter was truly worried now. He ran out of the room, dashed down the stairs and charged down into the basement. And there he was shocked to find that the back wall was no longer glowing!

Peter reached out timidly and touched the wall. Nothing. Just a cold wall.

Peter felt horribly guilty. _What had he done?_
CHAPTER 16

The people doing business next door had quite a surprise in store for them as well. As the Hanusches happily signed the last of the realtor's forms, Mr. and Mrs. Latham beamed with anticipation.

"Mr. and Mrs. Latham, welcome to your new home!" Mr. Zell said, gesturing wide.

The young couple looked around with nervous but happy smiles. "It's a weird feeling," Mr. Latham said to his wife, "isn't it honey? Owning our own home?"

"Yeah," Mrs. Latham agreed. "It's kind of... spooky."

Mr. Hanusch coughed in reaction to Mrs. Latham's choice of words. Clearing her throat, she said, "Yes, but in a good way!"

Just then... a small end table in the corner of the living room _rose up_ into the air! Mrs. Hanusch was the only one who saw it, and she turned white.

Next door, Peter was still in the basement, wondering how his house was seemingly no longer haunted. Then he heard a loud scream come from the Hanusches' house. Worried, he shot up the basement stairs and ran to the living room window, just in time to hear another scream.

And there, right across the way, Peter saw the floating end table in the Hanusches' living room. "Uh-oh," he said.

Everybody next door had now noticed the floating end table. Trying not to panic, Mr. Hanusch just pretended it wasn't there. "Well," he said, trying to sound calm, "we'll be out by the 20th, so good luck with the house – "

"What is that?" Mr. Latham interrupted, aghast.

"It's an end table, of course." Mr. Hanusch said, still hoping against hope that the Lathams weren't seeing what was right in front of their eyes.

"What's it doing... up there?" asked a terrified Mrs. Latham.

Mr. Hanusch tried hard to think of an answer. "Tell you what," he said, "we'll throw it in with the house, free of charge!"

Then the table began to move. It drifted around the room, circling the people.

"Jack, what's happening?!" Mrs. Latham asked her equally stunned husband.

Mrs. Hanusch plopped down on the couch and prepared to have a nervous breakdown. "It's all over," she cried to her husband. "Our lives are all over..."

Mr. Latham turned to the realtor. "Mr. Zell, I don't think we're interested in this house any longer."

"Wait a minute, you've signed the papers!" insisted Mr. Hanusch.

Mr. Latham couldn't believe his ears. "Why, you wouldn't – "

Snapping out of her delirium, Mrs. Hanusch said, "He's right! It's yours now, mister, and don't try to weasel out of it!"

"Well, never in my..." Mr. Latham turned to the realtor and insisted, "Give me those papers."

Mr. Zell pulled the papers away. "Oh, no you don't!"

"Give me those papers!!" Mr. Latham demanded and started chasing Mr. Zell around the room.

Just then, a huge wind filled the house, and the lights started flashing! The real estate papers blew into the air, and the Lathams grabbed them and started ripping them up one by one.

Almost in a panic, Peter watched all this from his living room window. He ran up the stairs and into Gramps's room where the old man was staring out his window as before. But now he had a smile on his face. "Gramps, Gramps, it's gone!" cried the distraught Peter. "The ghost is gone!"

But Gramps just smiled even wider and nodded, sighing with relief.

Out front, Brenda parked her car and looked wearily up at the house. "I wonder what wacky hijinks you have in store for us today," she sighed. Then she noticed Mr. and Mrs. Latham run out of the Hanusches' house next door holding handfuls of torn paper. The realtor followed, hurriedly closing his briefcase. He yanked the For Sale sign out of the ground and threw it into the back seat of his car.

The Hanusches frantically ran after the escaping three. "What are you doing, Zell?!" pleaded Mr. Hanusch. "You're not giving up, are you?!"

"Stay away from me, both of you, or I'll call the cops!" declared Mr. Zell as he jumped behind the wheel his car.

Totally perplexed, Brenda got out of her car and carried a bag of groceries into her house. As soon as she stepped inside, Peter ran right up to her. "Mom! Mom!" he cried, "The ghost is gone! The ghost is gone!"

"It's what? What are you talking about?" asked Brenda.

"I think I scared it away! It went next door, and I don't know if I can get it back!"

It finally started to click for Brenda. She looked out the window at the Hanusches' house. "So that's why..." she said, smiling. "Oh, my – I can't wait till your father gets home!"

"No! He'll probably want the ghost to stay next door! He won't let me try to get it back!"

Brenda looked at Peter sternly. "And neither will I, young man! If we've got a normal, ghost-free house now, I'm not going to let you mess it up again! Is that clear?"

"But Mooom!"

"Peter, is that clear?!"

Peter gave in with extreme reluctance. "Okay..."

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. "Open up! I know you're in there!" Mr. Hanusch yelled from outside.

Brenda opened the door to find the man waving his finger at her. Beside him was his equally furious and flustered wife. "You!" he said. "You're the one responsible! You did this to us on purpose!"

Brenda put on an innocent face. "Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Hanusch! What a nice surprise!"

"Don't play innocent with me, lady!" Mr. Hanusch snapped.

Mrs. Hanusch put a hand on her husband's arm. "Henry, I'm sure she'll listen to reason." She turned to Brenda and tried to appear calm. "Mrs. Dunlap, we just wanted to tell you that your ghost has invaded our house, and we were wondering if you wouldn't mind taking it back?"

"Our ghost?" Brenda asked. "Why, I don't know what you mean."

Mrs. Hanusch instantly lost her cool. "Don't play innocent with me, lady!"

Just then, Fritz arrived home and walked up behind the Hanusches. Spotting him, Brenda said, "Oh, honey, the Hanusches were just having some kind of problem with their house. Something about ghosts, I think it was."

Mr. Hanusch fumed, "Terrific act, lady!"

"Anyway," Brenda continued, "I was just explaining that we know nothing about this."

Fritz knit his brow. "But we – "

"We don't, dear," Brenda interrupted, "because our house is _perfectly normal_. _Perfectly normal_ now."

After a moment, Fritz got it, and he too put on the ignorant act. "Well, of course it is, dear. How could it be anything else?"

Mr. Hanusch turned red and shook his finger at Fritz. "You... CRUMB!"

"Perhaps you have a plumbing problem," Fritz explained helpfully. "We know a terrific plumber. His name is Hamlin, and he's available 24 hours a day – "

"AAAAHHH!!" Mr. Hanusch screamed and stormed off with his wife.

Once inside, Fritz closed the front door and turned to Brenda and Peter. "Are you telling me... the ghost is gone?"

"Yes!" Brenda cheered.

"Ha haaaa!" Fritz cheered, hugging his wife, the two of them almost jumping for joy.

But Peter, of course, wasn't happy at all. He stood on the sidelines, still quite upset. As always, nobody cared what he wanted.
CHAPTER 17

That night, Peter sat unhappily in his room looking out the window at the Hanusches' house next door. He could see the Hanusches running from room to room being chased by a flying blender. Plopping down on his bed, Peter muttered, "Some people have all the fun."

Hoping against hope, Peter looked at his closet door. "Anybody in there? Can I have maybe a blanket?" Nothing happened. He turned to his desk lamp. "Can you turn on my lamp? Please?" Nothing happened there either.

In a deep blue funk, Peter turned on the lamp himself. He picked up a horror comic book and started to read it. If he wanted any fun in his life, he'd have to find it in his books, as he always had in the past. This house had really let him down.

In class the next day, Peter went back to sitting in the back row quietly doodling three-headed mutants. He didn't want to be popular anymore, and once word got out about his house no longer being haunted, he knew he wouldn't be.

At recess, Mike walked right up to Peter with a big smile on his face. "Heard you're all alone now, wimp. No more little ghosty to protect you anymore." Then he and Bruce dumped a garbage can over Peter's head! Banana peels and old sandwiches hung from his stained clothing. "Nobody slimes Mike Tesorio and gets away with it!" bellowed Mike with a smirk.

Mike and Bruce strutted off laughing. A few other kids walking by chuckled too as Peter brushed the trash off himself.

But then Peter noticed someone across the yard looking at him.

It was Simone. She seemed to feel sorry for him.

By the end of the day, Peter and Simone had become friends. He even accepted her invitation to walk her home.

And Glen invited himself to tag along.

As the three of them walked, Simone asked Peter, "All that stuff about a haunted house was just pretend, wasn't it?"

Before Peter could answer, Glen butted in, insisting, "No! It's true!" He was clearly even more excited than Peter to be walking Simone home. "Peter lives in a bona fide – "

Peter quickly cut in, "Yeah, it was just a joke." He shot a look at Glen, who caught on.

"Riiight," Glen said, nodding a little too much. "Just a joke."

"Well, that's good," stated Simone. "I don't think I'd know what to do in a haunted house. I mean, I've never even seen a horror movie before."

"Really?!" Glen asked, again overexcited. "Peter has seen them all! Not only that, he has every horror comic book that – "

"Yeah, I don't like horror movies either," Peter insisted, shooting Glen another look.

The path to Simone's house took the kids right past Peter's house. Peter just wanted to walk on by, but Simone stopped and looked up at the imposing structure.

"This is your house?" she asked, a little nervous.

"Yeah," Peter said, hoping they could just move on.

"Well, I guess it's okay to go inside since it isn't really haunted, right?"

Peter didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected this. But Glen, as before, wasn't at a loss for words. "Yeah! And then me and Peter can show you the attic where Mike and Bruce got slimed and – "

"Sure, you can come in," Peter cut in – again. "But, unfortunately, Glen has to go home now. Don't you, Glen?" Peter gave Glen another look.

"Oh, yeah, right," said Glen. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you guys." He walked off, a little embarrassed. He knew he had opened his big mouth one too many times. It had happened before – many times before – yet somehow he knew he'd never learn.

Peter turned back to Simone... and he got a little nervous. How was he supposed to treat a girl, anyway? "So... wanna come in?" Peter asked.

"Sure," said Simone with a smile.

Peter led Simone up to the door, fumbled with his key and let her into the house.

Inside, Simone looked around with curiosity. "Sorry, it's still kind of a mess," said Peter. "We just moved in."

"You know," said Simone, "I know it's not haunted. But it kind of _looks_ haunted."

"Yeah," Peter agreed... but then he looked out the window at the Hanusches' house. In their living room, Mrs. Hanusch swatted at doilies which had taken flight and were dive-bombing her like bats.

Peter turned back to Simone. "But it's not," he said, trying to hide his disappointment. "Want to meet my great-grandfather?" Peter asked, trying to change the subject.

"Sure," Simone agreed, and they started up the stairs.

In the Hanusches' house, as the doilies continued their attack, Mrs. Hanusch sat down and held her head in her hands, sobbing softly. "I can't take it anymore..." she cried.

But just then, her house started to shake. Mrs. Hanusch had to hold onto her chair for support. Then, just as suddenly, the shaking stopped, and the doilies fell to the floor, lifeless. Mrs. Hanusch stared at the doilies, confused. She looked over everything else in the room. Nothing moved. "Hello? Anybody home?" she asked fearfully. There was no answer.

Meanwhile, Peter and Simone entered his great-grandfather's room and approached Gramps who sat at his window as always. The old man glanced over to Simone.

"Hi, Gramps," said Peter. "This is Simone. She's in my class."

Gramps smiled, his eyes lighting up.

"Hello, sir," Simone said politely.

Peter whispered to Simone, "He doesn't talk much. He's really old." The boy turned back to Gramps. "Well, we're going to go get some root beers." The two kids left the room.

A smiling Gramps watched them go... but then he seemed to notice something unusual out his window... and his face turned white with horror. Then he heard a creepy whisper:

" _Who is she?!"_

Gramps looked around, stunned. Who said that? Or _what?_
CHAPTER 18

Peter sat at his desk that night with his math book open, but he wasn't paying much attention to it. Instead, he was doodling "Simone" all over his math assignment.

Suddenly, Denise pounced on Peter from behind. "BOO!"

Peter screamed and spun around in his chair. "That's not funny!" he cried.

Denise laughed and said, "I thought you might be lonely now that your beloved ghost has deserted you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Peter insisted.

Then Denise noticed Peter's doodling. "Oh, look at this." She picked up the math assignment and read it while holding it too high for Peter to reach.

"Give it back!" Peter protested.

"Wow, math has sure changed since I was in fourth grade," said Denise. "Two plus two equals Simone. Four times five equals Simone. Twenty-one divided by seven equals Simone." She leaned in close. "Well, Peter, looks like the answer to all your problems is Simone."

With another laugh, Denise tossed Peter his math paper back. He held it close, embarrassed.

Denise moved to leave the room, but then she stopped at the door and added, "By the way, if you think that ghost haunted you day and night, it's nothing compared to what girls are going to do to you." She walked out with a knowing smile, and Peter slammed the door behind her.

As he put the "Simone"-covered math assignment back on his desk, Peter noticed his "Gate to Oblivion" comic book beside his math book. He picked it up and looked at it.

Then he opened his closet and tossed the comic book into the big box of comics in the back.

Peter plopped down on his bed. He stared at the ceiling with a dreamy smile and whispered, "Simone..."

But, unseen by Peter, his math assignment began to flutter. And then, one after another, every place on the paper that Peter had written "Simone" silently _burned..._

Simone walked casually down the hall the next day at school. In a flash, Peter zipped up to her. "Oh, hi Peter," she said with a smile.

"Hi," Peter said.

They walked together happily in silence.

"Want to do homework at my house after school?" Peter finally asked.

"Sure!" answered Simone.

"Great! See you then."

They both smiled, then Peter ran off.

Once alone, Peter whispered to himself, "She really likes me!"

That afternoon, Peter and Simone walked home together, and he proudly brought her into the kitchen to meet his mom. "So you're Simone!" Brenda oozed, embarrassing Peter a bit. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you!"

"Pleased to meet you too, Mrs. Dunlap," Simone said with a polite smile.

"Would you like some cookies?" Brenda asked. Then she noticed that Peter had left the front door open. "Now, Peter, you know better than to leave the front door open."

"Oh, sorry," Peter said as he headed back to the foyer to get the door. But just as he was about to close it – WHAM! – it slammed itself shut!

Peter stared at the door, shocked.

"Peter, you didn't have to slam it!" Brenda called from the kitchen.

"Sorry," he called back, trying to hide his alarm. "It was the... uh, wind." Peter backed away from the door, wondering what was going on. Something inside him told him it wasn't just the wind.

Once upstairs, Peter and Simone did their spelling homework on his bedroom floor. Peter tried to concentrate and forget about the front door.

"Okay, I'll test you," said Simone. "How do you spell 'phantom'?"

" _Phantom??"_ Peter asked, trying to remain calm. "Don't you have another word?"

"Is it too hard?" Simone teased him.

"No, I know it!" Peter said defensively. "It's P-H-..."

"Good..."

"...A-N-T-O-M."

"Right!" Simone checked the word off in her book with a pencil, then put the pencil down on the floor. "You ask me the next word."

"Okay," Peter said, looking in his spelling book. But he hesitated, uncomfortable with the next word. "The very next word?"

"Yeah. We have to get them all right for the test."

"Okay," said Peter, swallowing hard, "How do you spell... 'romance'?" This word scared him even more than "phantom"!

Simone smiled a bit. "Oh, I definitely know that one. It's R-O-M-A-N-C-E," she said, giving Peter a little smile.

He tried to avoid her look. "Uh, right!" he said, hiding his nervousness again. "You're next."

"Okay, let's see..." Simone said, looking in her book for the next word. She reached for her pencil while keeping her eyes on the book... not noticing that her pencil had _turned into a slug!_

But Peter noticed, and his heart skipped a beat as he watched Simone's hand get closer and closer to the slug. "No!" he cried, and he grabbed Simone's hand, pulling it away from the slug just in time.

Simone looked at Peter. "Peter! What are you doing?" She giggled and looked into the boy's eyes.

"You were just about to pick up a slu-..." Peter suddenly noticed that there was nothing but a simple pencil lying on the floor. He turned red and quickly let go of Simone's hand.

"A what?" Simone asked.

"But... but..." was all that Peter could get out.

"Oh, Peter, you can be so silly sometimes," Simone chuckled as she picked up the pencil and looked for the next word.

Peter looked around, wondering what had just happened. As far as he knew, the house wasn't haunted anymore... _or was it??_

"Okay, Peter," Simone continued, "how do you spell 'jealousy'?"

"Jealousy?" Peter asked. Then he thought about the word... and he froze, coming to a sudden realization. He looked around again. If the ghost was really back...

...was it jealous??
CHAPTER 19

Simone joined the Dunlaps for dinner that night. Peter had thought that this wasn't such a good idea, but he couldn't tell anybody why, so he just kept his mouth shut. But he kept his eyes wide open looking at the house around him as everybody served themselves Chinese food, his dad's specialty.

"Presenting Moo Goo Gai Pan à la Fritz Dunlap," Fritz said, gesturing to the large platter of colorful food.

Brenda handed Denise a full plate and asked, "Would you bring this up to your great-grandfather, please?"

"It's Peter's turn," grumbled Denise.

"He'll do it tomorrow," Brenda said. "Peter has a friend here tonight."

Denise got up begrudgingly, sneering at Peter. "Looks like he has a _girl_ friend here tonight."

Everybody at the table smirked except for Peter, who turned beet red. Denise left the room with the plate for Gramps.

"Thank you for letting me stay for dinner, Mrs. Dunlap," Simone said.

"Well, we're glad to have you, Simone," Brenda said with a smile. She turned to Peter, "Oh, Peter, could you get some soy sauce from the pantry, please?"

Before Peter could move, Simone got up out of her chair. "I'll get it, Mrs. Dunlap."

Brenda smiled again. "Why, thank you, Simone. That's very nice of you."

But as Simone went for the walk-in pantry door, Peter suddenly remembered the pit of snakes he saw in the pantry before! "Wait!" he cried, jumping up just as Simone opened the pantry door.

But it was just a pantry full of food this time.

"Yes, Peter?" Simone asked.

"Uh... could you get some ketchup too?" Peter asked, embarrassed.

"You are not putting ketchup on my Moo Goo Gai Pan!" an offended Brenda insisted.

"Okay, sorry!" Peter snapped and sat down again, frustrated.

Simone entered the pantry to find the soy sauce. But as she was searching, the door slowly closed behind her.

Peter noticed this and found it a little strange.

"Sweet little girl, Peter," Fritz said, struggling with his chopsticks to take a bite of fried rice.

Peter blushed again. Then Denise returned to the room and sat back down. "Hey, where'd your little girlfriend go?" she asked. "The house didn't swallow her up already, did it?"

Peter gave Denise a sneer. But then he thought he heard something very mysterious. It sounded like Simone calling from a great distance. "Peter!... Peter, help!"

"Oh, my God!" Peter said, jumping up. He stared at the closed pantry door.

"What's with you?" Denise said, almost choking on a spring roll.

Again, Peter heard the strangely distant voice of Simone. "Peter... help me!"

"She's fallen into the pit of snakes in the pantry!" Peter cried as he leapt up. He yanked the pantry door open to find...

...Simone holding a bottle of soy sauce. "Thank you, Peter," she said calmly. "I couldn't get the door un-stuck."

Peter's family stared at the boy as he and Simone returned to their seats. "Pit of snakes?" Denise asked with disdain.

Brenda tried to find a tactful way to say something: "Peter, you know..." she searched for the right word, "our 'previous visitor' is gone."

"I know," Peter said. "But... what if it came back?"

Denise let her chopsticks drop and glared at Peter. "Came back??"

"What's back?" Simone asked.

" _ME!"_ The voice virtually erupted from every corner of the house!

Everybody turned white as the basement door flew open, and a vicious wind blew through the house!

"Oh no," said Fritz with a look of dread.

"Peter!" screamed Denise, "I'm gonna kill you!" She dove over the table for her brother as he scrambled to back away.

"I had nothing to do with this!" Peter protested.

Suddenly, the _ocean of lost souls_ earlier seen in the basement flew into the room! The specters moaned horribly as they swam aimlessly through the air.

Peter and his family watched in terror, but oddly, Simone was more amazed than frightened. "They look so sad..." she said tenderly.

"What does the ghost want now?!" Brenda asked, desperate.

The phantoms started to moan louder and swirl around faster, seemingly in response to Brenda's question.

"I don't think you should have asked that," said Peter.

Suddenly, one of the apparitions swooped down and picked up Simone! She screamed!

"Simone!" Peter cried as he reached out to grab her, but he was too late.

The phantom flew around the kitchen with Simone. Everybody else tried to catch her too, but they had no luck. Finally, the ghostly apparitions swished Simone down into the basement! The door slammed behind them.

And in an instant, everything snapped back to normal.

Peter bolted out of his chair, yanked the basement door back open and ran down the stairs. The others followed at his heels.

In the basement, they all found the far wall glowing and undulating as it had earlier, with the black abyss looming within.

Then they heard Simone's distant voice: "Peter! Peter, help me!"

"Oh, my God!" Brenda cried. "What are we going to tell her mother?!" She turned to Peter and snapped, "You just had to invite that thing back into the house!"

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" protested Peter. "It just happened!"

Fritz had had enough of this. "That does it. Brenda, you go upstairs and call that ghost guy!"

Brenda ran off to make the call.

"Denise, go check to see if your great-grandfather's okay!"

Denise darted up the stairs to check on Gramps.

"And Peter, you and I are going to break down this wall!"

Fritz picked up a pickax and handed Peter a sledgehammer. Father and son took deep breaths, raised their weapons high and charged the wall! "AAAAHHHH!!!" They swung their tools towards the wall, but then – _whoosh!_ – the tools just flew into the black abyss, disappearing into the darkness!

Father and son just stood there, more than a bit humbled. Fritz looked at Peter. "Peter? Any ideas?"

Feeling responsible, Peter racked his brain... but he had no idea what to do.
CHAPTER 20

Glen moped on his bed at home, listlessly doing his math homework. He knew Peter and Simone were hanging out together, and he wondered what they were up to.

Glen's mother, laundry basket in hand, poked her head into his room. "Hm. That's not like you," she said.

"What?"

"Doing your homework. How come you don't hang around with that new boy anymore?"

"He has a girlfriend," Glen grumbled.

Glen's mother smiled. "Sounds like someone's jealous," she said as she walked off.

"I'm not jealous!" Glen called after her, embarrassed. But then he thought for a moment and called out again. "Of which one?"

At Peter's house, Denise rushed back down into the basement with good news: "Gramps is okay."

Then Brenda came down with bad news: "Mr. Rivendare's at a psychics' convention in Las Vegas."

Fritz's head fell. He didn't know what to do.

But then Peter spoke up. "Dad? Mr. Rivendare said there's only one ghost, right? So maybe it's someone who lived here before. And maybe they left some of their stuff behind."

This idea clicked with Fritz. "Right! Okay, everybody search all through the house for something that might tell us about this ghost. Start with your own rooms. We've got to get Simone back!"

Brenda and Denise rushed upstairs, but Fritz held Peter back. "Peter?"

"Yeah?"

Fritz looked at his son with pride. "Good idea."

This gave Peter a real shot of confidence. He smiled and bounded up the stairs.

Each of the Dunlaps ran into their respective rooms, except for Fritz who headed for the attic.

Brenda opened her closet door and started to rummage through the mess on the floor. She found a dusty box with a number of old women's items inside – a sewing kit, empty cologne bottles, hairbrushes – but nothing else.

In Denise's room, Denise reached into the back of her closet and pulled out a handful of cobwebs. "Ooo! Foul!"

Fritz tossed aside various pieces of junk in the attic. Unfortunately, he totally missed the old wooden box and photograph of the little girl that earlier fell to the floor.

Peter dug deep inside his own closet. The first thing he found was his box of horror comic books. He shook his head and pushed them aside.

Then he found a _very old rag doll_ way in the back of the closet... the same doll that the little girl held in the photograph! Peter hadn't seen the photograph, but the doll got him wondering nonetheless. But in the end, he tossed it away, having gotten another idea. "Gramps's room..."

Peter rushed into his great-grandfather's room and headed straight for the closet. He talked over his shoulder to Gramps while rummaging through the mess. "There's got to be a clue in here somewhere, Gramps!" But again, he found nothing of any interest.

About to dart back out of the room, Peter suddenly sensed something strange. He walked up to his great-grandfather from behind, only able to see the back of the old man's big chair. Then he walked around to where he could see Gramps... and he screamed!

Instead of Gramps sitting in the chair, there was a _skeleton_ , all dried out and dressed in Gramps's clothes! The skeleton raised its hand and ruffled Peter's hair!

A horrified Peter bolted back, almost hyperventilating, and stumbled out of the room.

As Peter ran down the hallway, he called out to his family, "Mom! Dad! Denise!" But he got no response.

Peter ran into Denise's room, expecting to find her searching through her closet... but instead he found _her_ skeleton sitting at her vanity! The skeleton tried in vain to put makeup on its bony face. "Ever heard of knocking? He _lloooo!"_ said Denise's skeleton. Denise may have lost her flesh, but she still had her attitude.

Peter backed out of the room, confused and petrified.

Next, he ran to his parents' room. "Mom! Mom!" he screamed, "Denise and Gramps have turned into skele-..." Peter ran right into Brenda's skeleton working at an ironing board!

"Peter, haven't I told you not to run in the house?" said the skeleton. "And have you finished your homework, young man?" Brenda's skeleton then looked down at the ironing board. While talking to Peter, the skeleton had accidentally ironed its own hand! "Oh, now look what you made me do," it said as a disgusting wisp of smoke rose from the burning hand.

Peter bolted out the door...

...and ran right into Fritz's skeleton out in the hallway.

"Whoa!" said the skeleton as it almost lost its balance. And as it fumbled to stay upright, Fritz's skull fell right off its bony body! It plopped to the floor, landing at Peter's feet. Peter watched in horror as Fritz's headless skeleton bent down and blindly searched for its own head. "Yo, Peter, a little help?"

This was too much for Peter. He screamed and ran into his bedroom. Slamming the door behind him, he dove into a corner and cowered on the floor, hiding his head in his hands.

"It's not real... It'll all go away if I could just wake up... It's just a dream... It's all just a dream..."
CHAPTER 21

It was getting late, and Simone's mother, Sybil Lindsey, called the Dunlaps' house. "There's no answer," she said to her husband.

"Are you sure you have the right number?" Simone's father, Arthur, asked. "You probably don't have the right number."

"Arthur, I have the right number."

Arthur put down his paper and got up. "Well, all right, it's probably a new cell phone. The kid's mother probably can't hear it, and she hasn't activated the voicemail yet. Besides, Simone knows we're coming to pick her up."

"I just hope everything's okay," Sybil worried.

"Trust me, our little girl is just fine."

CRRRACK! KAPOWWW!! – Thunder and lightning struck outside Peter's house, and it started raining hard. The house looked more foreboding now than ever.

Inside, the mood was just as eerie. Still cowering in the corner, Peter raised his head. He listened for anything unusual, but aside from the weather, it was pretty quiet.

Peter peeked out into the hall, not knowing what to expect but figuring anything could happen at any time. But there was nothing outside his door. No skeletons, no creepazoids, no ghosts or ghouls. All seemed normal – too normal.

Peter walked down the hallway to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror and tried to compose himself. "I'll just go out there and say hello to Mom and Dad and Denise and Gramps and Simone, and everything will be okay."

But just then, the ghostly apparitions of Fritz, Brenda, Denise, Gramps and Simone appeared in the mirror! They reached out and called to Peter from a swirling abyss.

"Peter! Peter, help us!" they cried.

Peter jumped back, terrified.

"Save us, Peter! Please save us!"

"Listen, guys, I'm sorry!" Peter pleaded. "I didn't know this would happen!"

But the apparitions just kept crying out... then they disappeared in a wispy haze.

Peter looked deep into the mirror. "Mom? Dad? Simone?" But they were gone now.

Peter lost hope and shuffled out of the room. Head hanging low, he wandered downstairs. "Sorry Mom, sorry Gramps, sorry everybody in the whole world. And sorry Dad. Guess my idea wasn't so good after all."

When Peter got down to the foyer, he was startled by a flash of lightning and crash of thunder. But in the split-second flash, he thought he saw something strange. Was that a little girl standing across the room?

"Simone?" Peter rubbed his eyes and looked again – but whoever or whatever was there before was gone.

Peter started to get angry. He looked around for the ghost. "What do you want?! What did I do wrong? I thought you liked me! I wanted you to stay here!"

No answer.

Peter shook his head. "I give up," he said, and he walked to the front door. But when he touched the knob – ZAP!! – he was thrown back by an sudden shock!

Peter landed on the floor by the stairs, stunned.

" _No one leaves! Ever again!!"_ the house bellowed in a guttural growl.

Peter had a hard time letting this sink in. "Pardon me?"

Meanwhile, just outside, Simone's parents, cowering from the rain, ran up to the front door and knocked lightly. Suddenly, the exterior shutters of every window of the house slammed shut!

Simone's parents jumped back, startled. "Maybe it's one of those new security systems," Sybil said hopefully.

Inside, Peter had no such hope. He knew he had some serious paranormal problems.

Then thunder clapped, and the lights went out all over the house. "Oh, jeez," Peter whispered as he stood helplessly in the pitch blackness.

A few streets away at Glen's house, Glen took out the kitchen trash and shoved it into a stuffed garbage can. He was so deep in thought, he didn't even notice the rain drenching him.

"It's not safe for her in that house," Glen muttered to himself. "Him either. What if the ghost comes back? My best friend... and the girl I love."

With a deep breath, Glen hopped on his bike and took off down the street.

Peter rummaged through a kitchen drawer and found a flashlight. He flicked it on. No light. He looked at it closely – it was the flashlight Glen broke when he was attacked earlier by the three-headed mutant. "Great..." Peter said, and he felt around some more in the drawer. Finally, he pulled out a candle in a candle holder. He rolled his eyes.

Lighting the candle with a match, Peter walked slowly back to the foyer. Thinking for a moment, he looked up. Getting an idea, he headed back up the stairs and continued on to the attic stairs. The whole house was haunted, but there was something about the unexplored attic that told Peter the answer to all this was there.

Outside, a police patrol car pulled up to the curb. Simone's parents ran up to Officer Samuels and Officer Blake, getting slowly out of the car.

"Oh, thank God you're here!" said Sybil. "Our baby's in there! She's stuck in there with that crazy family! They kidnapped her!"

The two cops walked past the Lindseys and up to the front door. Officer Samuels knocked hard on the door with his nightstick. "Open up! Police officers!"

"See?" Sybil insisted. "They won't let you in!"

The officer reached for the door knob...

At the curb, Glen rode his bike up just in time to see an electric shock shoot out from the doorknob and throw the officers and the Lindseys back onto the front lawn!

Glen's jaw dropped. "Oh no... I was right!" He gathered his courage and hid his bike behind a bush. "It's up to me now," he told himself as he slinked in the shadows towards the backyard.

Holding the lit candle, Peter entered the attic and started to look around, not knowing quite what he was looking for. Finally, he found the old wooden box that was stashed behind the cardboard moving boxes.

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed. He put the candle holder down and rummaged through the old junk in the wooden box. He tossed aside old bookends, broken knickknacks, ancient toys... but he missed the photograph on the floor, just as Fritz had earlier.

Then Peter's eyes lit up. Deep beneath all the mess and cobwebs in the box, Peter found an _ancient book._ He blew dust off the cover to reveal the title: _Thornberg Family Chronicles._

"Bingo!" Peter opened the book carefully... but the pages inside virtually disintegrated! The whole book crumbled in his hands, its pieces fluttering to the floor.

Peter was horror-stricken. His one last hope was lost. He plopped down onto the floor, exhausted and almost ready to give up. Finally, he dredged up the energy to pick the candle back up and shuffle out of the room.

But then, unseen by the retreating Peter, a lightning burst lit up the remains of the book on the floor, revealing one page still intact. On that page was another photograph of the little girl in her old-fashioned dress.

And below that photo read: "VICTORIA THORNBERG: 1930 - 1939."
CHAPTER 22

As more police officers and a crowd of neighbors gathered in front of the house, Glen searched in the backyard and found a basement window, just big enough for him to climb inside.

"I'm coming, Simone," Glen said as he reached out to touch the window with trepidation. Fortunately, there was no shock, as there had been at the front door. Whew! So he tried to open the window... but it wouldn't budge. "All right then," he said to himself, and he picked up a large rock. With all his might, he chucked it at the window.

BONK! It bounced off, leaving no damage.

"Hmmm..." Glen wondered. Now what?

Inside, the house had become a dark vault for Peter, a prison that wouldn't let him escape. In a daze, he wandered down the stairs.

Suddenly, the house's booming voice assaulted Peter again: _"What do you wish?"_

Peter stopped in his tracks, shocked. "Huh?"

" _What is your command?"_

Wondering what was going on, Peter decided to play along for the moment. "My command? Well... how about letting me out of here?"

Thunder clapped, and the lights flickered wildly all over the house. This scared Peter, and he dropped his candle, which instantly snuffed out, leaving him in the dark.

"I take that as a no," Peter said weakly. Not knowing what to say next, he asked half-jokingly, "Okay, then, how about a little TV and a snack?"

Suddenly, the lights came back on, and Peter was _lifted up_ by an invisible hand and carried into the living room! There he was plopped in the large armchair in front of the TV. A root beer and a bowl of potato chips floated into the room and landed in Peter's lap. Then the TV turned on to an old black-and-white horror film.

Peter sat for a moment, wondering what to do. "This isn't what I want," he said to himself. He started to feel sad. Getting up, he threw down the chips and screamed at the invisible ghost somewhere around him, "What I really want is my family back! And Simone!"

Just then, the TV turned off, the wind picked up, and the lights started to flicker again. But Peter was unmoved. "Go ahead, put on your big show. I'm not scared anymore. I just want everything back to normal!"

After a moment, the wind died down, and most of the lights remained on. And then, before Peter's frightened eyes and gaping mouth, Victoria Thornberg's apparition appeared!

"Oh boy..." said the stunned Peter.

"Hello, Peter," Victoria said.

Peter rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing clearly. "Uh, hi."

"You don't have to worry about your family and the little girl. They're in a safe place."

"Okay..." Peter said suspiciously. "Um, who are you?"

"My name's Victoria," said the apparition.

"Victoria... Are you the ghost?"

"Yes," she said with some sadness.

"Wow," Peter remarked, "I thought you'd be... bigger. I mean, the house's voice was so... loud."

Victoria then spoke with the awful, guttural voice the house had used before: _"You mean like this?"_

Peter backed away in shock. He nodded, his eyes pinned open. "Right."

Her voice normal again, Victoria said, "I use that voice sometimes. For fun."

"Fun for _you_ , maybe," Peter said, adding, "You sure have a lot of power for a little girl."

Victoria frowned. "When people make me mad, I can do a lot of bad things to them."

This made Peter a little nervous.

"But you make me happy, Peter," Victoria said, smiling.

"Well, thanks..." Peter said, blushing.

"And I want us to be happy... _together_."

Peter swallowed hard. Say what now??

In the backyard, Glen was still trying courageously to break the basement window and sneak into the house. He held a long, sharp fence post, and with great difficulty he charged at the window. The post hit the glass hard – but still the window didn't break.

Instead, Glen was sent slamming into the wall. "OOOF!" He held his head, dizzy. Well, back to the old drawing board.

Peter's own head was dizzy as he considered Victoria's last words. "Happy _together_?"

"I want to do whatever you want me to do," Victoria's apparition said. Then she started to approach Peter, who backed away.

"I don't know..."

"I can give you anything you wish, Peter. What if you wanted to play in a graveyard? You can do it right here!" Victoria gestured, and suddenly the furniture was gone, replaced by ornate headstones, grassy graves and filmy cobwebs!

Peter did a double-take. "Neat!" he shouted, momentarily giving in to Victoria's offer. He wandered through the indoor graveyard in awe. "Wow! Are there real live dead people buried here?" he asked while crouching down to read a headstone.

Suddenly, a zombie's hand thrust itself out of the floor right next to Peter's face! Peter screamed and jumped back in horror!

Victoria laughed. "See? Isn't this fun?!"

"I guess so..." Peter said, not so sure anymore.

"What if you wanted to walk around without a head?" Victoria asked. "It's easy!" Then she grabbed her head and ripped it off her body! She held it out in front of her, and the head said, "This is _really_ fun, Peter! Why don't you try it?"

"NO!!" screamed Peter, grabbing his head in a panic to make sure it stayed attached to his body. "Leave my head alone!"

"Come on, Peter," Victoria pleaded, "just grab your head and pull!"

"Maybe next time," Peter said, hoping Victoria would change the subject.

"Okay..." Victoria said, putting her head back on. "There's no rush. After all, Peter, we're going to be together... _forever_."

Peter swallowed hard – GULP! "Forever?!?"
CHAPTER 23

Peter wondered if he'd heard Victoria right. "Are you saying we're going to be here for eternity??"

"We don't need anybody else," Victoria said. "Just you and me."

"But... eternity here? I mean, wouldn't you be happier if you just left this house and went up to the sky or something?"

Suddenly, Victoria's mood became very dark. "I can't," she said. "I was bad. I have to stay here."

"Bad?" Peter wondered.

Victoria turned away, ashamed... and she told Peter a story he would never forget.

1939. Holding her rag doll, a very alive Victoria ran giddily through her beautiful new house – the house Peter would move into over eighty years later. She was playing hide-and-seek, and she ran to hide under her mother's china cabinet.

But as she ran, she bumped into a small display table, and a beautiful serving plate fell to the floor and smashed into a hundred pieces.

Victoria's mother quickly appeared on the scene and scolded her harshly. "I told you not to run in our new house! And now look what you've done! You're a bad girl! A very bad girl!"

Suddenly, the china cabinet started to tip forward. Victoria's mother was able to jump to safety, but Victoria wasn't as quick. She screamed as the heavy cabinet came crashing down on top of her!

Peter stared at Victoria in shock and sadness. "It killed you?" he asked in horror.

"Yes," Victoria said, looking down in shame. "I was a bad girl, and so I was punished." But she slowly pulled herself out of her dark mood and forced a smile. "But that's all in the past, Peter. Now it's just you and me."

"But what about my parents... and Gramps... and Simone?" Peter asked. "Even Denise?"

"You don't have to worry about your family anymore, Peter," Victoria said. "I know how they treated you, how they never believed you. Now they'll never bother you again. _Ever_."

"Nooo!" Peter screamed. Sure, he had problems with his family. And he even got a kick out of living in a haunted house. But this was too much. Victoria's plan was just too creepy, even for Peter. He'd had enough.

Peter dashed out of the living room and up the stairs.

Feeling betrayed, Victoria started to get angry. Her hazy image began to glow brightly... the wind picked up and the lights flickered... and then she disappeared.

Upstairs, Peter ran into his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. He racked his brain for a plan. Think! Think! Then – an idea! "Yes!" he exclaimed, and he dropped to the floor to rummage through the junk he had earlier dumped out of the closet.

Finally, he found what he was looking for: The "Gate to Oblivion" comic book.

Peter flipped through the book, looking for something that might help him out. After all, the book seemed to know everything about this house, maybe it also could tell him how to fight the ghost!

Suddenly, something odd in the book caught Peter's eye: A skeleton in one of the drawings came to life right before his eyes! Looking right at Peter, it spoke in Victoria's voice: "Peter, stay with me!"

A chilled Peter turned quickly to the last page of the book. He read the last panel of the story: "And ever since, the ghost has remained trapped in the house, terrorizing all who dare come near! Nobody has been able to release the spirit from its earth-bound prison. CAN YOU?"

Peter wondered about this. "Can I?..." Then he looked at the inside of the back cover. There was a poem there, the only words on the page. He read them silently to himself:

See the words that are not there,

To free the spirit from its lair.

Free the mortals from their fright,

To do so, you must set alight

The incantation you must learn,

With a flame that does not burn.

Peter knew this poem might be the key to getting his family back and to helping Victoria too! But what did it mean? "See the words that are not there..." Peter repeated to himself. He examined the page; there seemed nothing unusual about it.

But then Peter had a thought. He pulled the matches out of his pocket that he'd earlier used to light the candle. "With a flame that _does not burn_ ..." he whispered to himself. He lit a match and held the flame behind the back cover of the book. He moved it back and forth, leaving it in one spot just enough so that the paper didn't catch fire.

Then, gradually, _words started to appear_ just below the poem! They seemed to have been written in invisible ink... and in a strange foreign language!

"Wow!" Peter cheered, feeling quite proud of himself. Sure, he didn't know what these words meant – maybe the language was some long dead ancient tongue – but he knew they had to be what would finally break the power of this haunted house!
CHAPTER 24

While Peter worked hard to bring things back to normal inside the house, Glen continued his attempts to break in and help his friend. This time, his weapon was a huge, rusty pickax. He lifted it high above his head...

...but then the window started to slowly open!

Glen froze and dropped the pickax. What was going on?

Still dealing with strange wind and flickering lights, Peter walked methodically down the stairs, holding the comic book in one hand. At the bottom of the stairs, he rested his other hand on the large banister knob... which turned out to be Victoria's head!

"We can be together forever!" she cried.

Peter jumped back, terrified. He ran for the open doorway to the basement. With each step towards it, the basement growled louder and louder, and the red glow from down below flickered more and more.

But Peter persevered. He walked with strength and conviction down the stairs, and he stepped right up to the pulsating wall. "Well, here goes," he said, his voice cracking a bit. Opening his comic book, he read the message written in the strange, ancient language: _"Ximoc rellihc fo eussi shtnom txen yub ot erus ekam."_ His pronunciation was very bad, but the words seemed to cause the house's growling to grow louder and the glowing wall to glow brighter. So he repeated the incantation: _"Ximoc rellihc fo eussi shtnom txen yub ot erus ekam!"_ More growling! More glowing!

Peter kept going, repeating the words over and over. It seemed as if the house was nearly going to explode, but Peter didn't stop!

Finally, in a flash, the apparitions of Fritz, Brenda, Denise, Gramps and Simone appeared in the wall's black abyss as they had in the bathroom mirror. "Peter! Peter, help us!" they cried!

Peter was stunned. "It's working!" he whispered in awe.

In the backyard, Glen gathered his courage and leaned in close to the slowly-opening basement window. Oddly, he couldn't hear any of the growling or see any of the glowing that Peter was witnessing inside. For Glen, there was just silence and blackness...

...and a _three-headed mutant_! It was the one that earlier had attacked Glen in the downstairs den, and it lashed out at Glen with its razor-sharp teeth! Then it reached out and grabbed the boy and tried to pull him inside!

But Glen struggled heroically, wrestling with the mutant with all his might. "No! Not this time! Scare me once, shame on you! Scare me twice, shame on me!"

Meanwhile, in the front yard of the house, more neighbors were collecting. Even Mike and Bruce showed up on their skateboards to see what was going on. "Looks like weenie-boy is toast!" Mike chuckled.

Then Bruce noticed something going on in the backyard. "Hey, what's that?" he said, and the two boys walked up and peered over the fence. There they spotted Glen fighting for his life with the horrible three-headed mutant!

"Is that Farkason??" Bruce asked, amazed.

In the basement, Peter continued to read the mysterious passage from his comic book as the house kept growling and rumbling... flashing and glowing... getting louder and brighter! And Peter's family's apparitions continued to cry for help...

...until they started to disappear! Peter desperately watched them wisp away into the dark abyss. With them went the awful noise, and the glowing faded a bit as well. But the roiling black abyss remained.

"NO!" Peter yelled. "Oh, come on, little girl! You gotta let them go!" Looking around the room for Victoria's invisible spirit, he said, "I'm trying to help you too! You can't just stay cooped up in this house all the time, cutting everybody else out." He looked down at his comic book. "I do that too sometimes... and guess what? It just makes you lonely."

Peter shoved the comic book into his back pocket. "I'm sorry your mom was mean to you. But my family wasn't. Simone wasn't. It's just not fair keeping them all here. If you want me, then take me. But let them go."

Silence.

Peter waited for something to happen. "Please," he begged.

But there was only more silence.

Peter let his head fall. He was ready to give up. Sure that he lost the battle, he turned away and shuffled towards the stairs.

But then... unseen by Peter, Victoria's apparition appeared in the abyss. She watched the lonely, disheartened Peter walk away... and there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.
CHAPTER 25

As Peter headed up the basement steps, Victoria's apparition nodded to herself and closed her eyes softly. Then... she disappeared back into the abyss.

Out back, Glen was fighting like a wolverine with the three-headed mutant, not giving an inch. "No three-headed mutant takes down Glen Farkason without a fight!" he cried.

But then – POOF! – the disgusting creature disappeared into thin air! Glen was left wrestling nothing. He stopped, amazed... and proud.

Mike and Bruce witnessed all this from behind the fence, and they were both truly in awe. "You the man!" Bruce cheered.

Mike punched Bruce in the arm. "Shut up!"

Still climbing the basement steps, Peter felt the house start to rumble again. Then the wall glowed again, the lights flickered, and the growling sounds returned.

Peter looked over just in time to see Gramps thrown from the abyss! Peter ran down to meet him. "Gramps!" he cried as the old man looked around in absolute amazement.

Then Gramps spoke for the first time in years. "Boy, that was rough!"

Peter stared in amazement at his great-grandfather. "You can talk!" he said as he helped Gramps up.

Then – POW! – Brenda and Fritz were thrown out of the cosmic hole, and they landed by Peter and Gramps.

Brenda gradually came to her senses. "Oh, Peter!" she cried, and she hugged the boy with all her might.

Fritz touched Peter's head. "Peter, are you all right? Come here, son."

Fritz and Brenda both hugged Peter hard. And he really liked it.

But Peter realized his job wasn't done yet. Turning back to the wall, he yelled, "What about Simone? You still have Simone!"

"And what about Denise?" Brenda asked.

Peter turned to his mom. "Why don't we let the house keep Denise as a consolation prize?" he suggested half-seriously.

"Peter!" Brenda protested.

Just then, Denise flew out of the blazing portal! Brenda grabbed her daughter's weak body, helping her sit up, and she hugged her tight. "Oh, my baby!"

"Come on, Mom. Maintain!" Denise said, quickly regaining strength.

Peter looked suspiciously at the wall. "Where's Simone?"

The wall merely growled and glowed.

"You can't just keep her," Peter insisted. "She belongs here!"

Silence... then KAPOW! The house shot another person out of the wall – but it wasn't Simone. The smoke cleared, revealing _Gaspar Thornberg_ sprawled out on the floor!

"Who's he?" asked Denise, completely confused.

It was Gramps who spoke up. "Gaspar?"

Gaspar looked up at Gramps. "Elliot?"

Fritz and Brenda stared at Gramps in amazement. "You can talk??" Fritz asked.

"Gaspar, you old fool!" Gramps wheezed. "Where'd you come from?"

"Same place you did!" Gaspar cracked, struggling to get up.

Fritz shook his head, confused. "What's going on?"

"We grew up together," Gramps said. "I used to come visit this very house every afternoon."

"You've been here before?!" Fritz asked, astonished. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I had a stroke, remember?" Gramps replied irritably. "I wasn't very chatty."

Peter turned to Gaspar. "You grew up here?" the boy asked, amazed.

Gaspar nodded. "Spent my whole life here, sonny boy." Then he yelled at the black abyss. "And it wasn't all a bowl of cherries, I can tell you that!"

"Oh, it was fun for a while," Gramps added. "But then, there was... the incident."

"The incident?" Peter wondered.

Gramps said solemnly, "Gaspar's little sister, Victoria, met an untimely end."

Peter's mouth fell wide open. "VICTORIA?!"

"Sweetest little girl you ever did see," said Gaspar.

"Oh, please," said Gramps, shaking his head. "You teased her day and night!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Gaspar insisted.

"How about the time you loosened the leg of the china cabinet, knowing that little Victoria would hide behind it in hide-and-seek?"

"I did nothing of the sort!" Gaspar protested, turning red.

As the men argued, Peter was catching on.

"And then that huge thing fell over!" Gramps said.

Gaspar turned desperate. "I can't believe it! You promised you'd never tell!"

"So sue me," snapped Gramps.

Peter nearly burst with excitement. "It was your fault!" he said to Gaspar. "It was _your_ fault!" Then Peter turned to the black abyss, still throbbing in the wall. "Victoria! It wasn't you! It wasn't your fault after all!"

Victoria's apparition appeared in the throbbing wall again. And when Gaspar saw her, he turned white. "Holy moly!" he exclaimed, jumping back in shock.

"Gaspar, is this true?" Victoria asked plaintively.

"Uh... duh... well... I, uh..." Gaspar fumbled.

Victoria spoke again, but she used her booming haunted house voice this time: _"Answer me!"_

"YES!" Gaspar cried, falling to his knees. "Please forgive me! I was just playing a little joke... just trying to get you into trouble!"

Victoria was furious. Speaking in her normal voice again, she cried, "I felt so guilty about breaking Mother's serving plate... but you set me up to knock over the whole china cabinet!"

"I didn't realize you'd get hurt!"

"I got _killed!"_

"I know, I know!" Gaspar blubbered. "Don't you think I've regretted it every day since? I've been racked with guilt for the past eighty years!"

Victoria's eyes turned evil as she got more and more angry. "Not long enough! I'm going to take you back and never let you go! _Ever_!"

Peter stepped forward and shook his head. "No, Victoria, you can't do that! If you do, you'll never get to leave the house yourself!"

"But I can't leave anyway!" she cried. "Gaspar condemned me here for eternity!"

"He didn't condemn you here," Peter explained. "You did that yourself by feeling so guilty. And now you know it wasn't your fault!"

This struck Victoria as a revelation, and she thought hard about it.

"Victoria," Peter said softly, "the only thing keeping you here is you."

Peter and the others stared nervously at Victoria's apparition, wondering what she was going to do next. She remained quiet, and Peter even thought he saw a tear in her eyes.

And then... Victoria gradually started to _disappear._ Everybody in the basement looked at each other nervously.

Then... a slow, growing rumble shook the house.

Gaspar panicked. "Oh, no! She's gonna take me back!"

Peter worried too. "No... I think it's me this time."

But then – POW! – Simone was shot out of the wall, landing right in Peter's arms. Peter's knees buckled, and they fell to the floor together.

Gaspar breathed a sigh of relief. "Phew! Thought I was a goner there."

Simone rubbed her eyes as if coming out of a deep sleep. "Peter... is that you?"

"Yes! Yes!" he cheered.

"You saved me!" she said, slowly sitting up.

Then she gave Peter a big kiss on the cheek.

Peter turned beet red. Fritz put a hand on his shoulder. "He saved all of us." Peter beamed, full of well-earned pride.

All seemed at peace in the house now – for the first time in eighty years. But... the wall started to glow and growl again. Everybody gave it a wary look.

"Let's get out of here," Fritz said.
CHAPTER 26

Peter, his family, Simone and Gaspar threw open the front door of the house and walked out into the pouring rain. They were greeted by cheers from the crowd of stunned neighbors and policemen.

Simone's parents spotted their little girl. They ran up and hugged her tight. "My baby, are you all right?!" Sybil cried.

"I'm fine. And it's all because of Peter. Peter saved us." Simone turned and gave Peter a warm, grateful smile.

Just then, Glen ran up, soaked to the bone but giddy as could be. "I knew it! I knew you could do it, Peter!" But then he looked confused. "How'd you do it?"

Peter pulled the comic book from his back pocket. "Well, I found this secret message in the back of my comic book written in this crazy, ancient language." He turned to the page with the cryptic passage on it.

Glen looked over Peter's shoulder and started reading, _"Ximoc rellihc fo eussi – "_

Peter stopped him mid-sentence. "Stop! It might do something to the house again!"

"But that's not some ancient language," Glen said. "It's just backward-speak. The whole sentence is backward, see?" He pointed to the end of the sentence and started reading the gibberish words in reverse: "Make... sure... to... buy... next... month's... issue... of... Chiller... Comix."

Peter rolled his eyes, feeling quite foolish. "I can't believe it."

"It's just a plug!" Fritz chuckled.

Peter shook his head and smiled a bit. But then he thought for a moment and looked back up at the house.

Glen was still super excited, though. "Peter, man! You gotta tell me what happened in there! It must've been so cool!"

But Peter's mind was elsewhere. "I've got to go back," he said.

Glen looked at Peter with great reverence. "You're going back in?!" Peter started to walk back to the house. "He's going back in!" Glen said to himself in quiet awe. Then he noticed Simone standing with her parents. "You go ahead..." Glen said quietly, though the retreating Peter could no longer hear him. "I'll make sure Simone's okay."

With all the activity going on and the pouring rain, nobody else noticed when Peter went back into the house. He climbed the stairs up to his bedroom, and he rummaged through the junk on the floor. Finally, he found the rag doll that he had tossed aside earlier.

Peter took the doll down to the basement. He looked at the black abyss within the wall, still glowing. "Well, Victoria," Peter said, "you can stay here if you want, but if you do, I think we're going to have to leave."

Victoria's apparition appeared again in the wall. She looked confused. "Do you think my parents really want me now?"

"Of course!" Peter insisted. "They don't know where you are, and they've probably been worried sick about you." Victoria's confusion turned to sadness, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Peter continued, "They just never understood you, and your brother didn't help things either. But you have to forgive parents for things like that." Peter cracked a little smile. "They're kinda slow, but they eventually catch on."

Victoria thought deeply about this. Then she noticed the rag doll in Peter's hand. Her eyes lit up. "Is that...?"

"This looks like yours," Peter said, holding the doll up.

"I haven't seen her in so many years!"

Peter smiled and tossed the doll deep into the abyss. It disappeared into the blackness... and then it appeared in Victoria's hands. She hugged it with great relief. It made her feel warm inside for the first time since the day of the horrible accident.

"Thank you, Peter," Victoria said.

Then, after a moment, a wind started to build. Victoria smiled with true gratitude at Peter... and then she disappeared for good.

The black abyss shrank and disappeared as well, and the glowing wall faded out.

Then the house began to shake. Peter ran out of the room.

Outside, Peter ran back out of the house and looked up at it. And, out of the chimney, Victoria's wispy apparition flowed up like smoke. Her doll still in hand, she looked down at Peter and smiled again.

He smiled back and gave her a wave as she floated up to the stars above.
CHAPTER 27

The next day, the sun shone brightly upon Peter's house, and the house glowed brightly in return. The yard was green, and the flowers were blooming.

Peter, Glen and Simone happily walked home from school, heading for Peter's house. As she walked, Simone looked at Victoria's old framed photograph from the box in the attic.

"She was so beautiful," Simone reflected. "It's such a sad story. But with a happy ending, thanks to Peter." She looked at Peter with a smile. Peter blushed.

They reached Peter's mailbox, and he happily changed the subject. "I gotta get the mail." He pulled the mail out of the mailbox. It was a handful of bills and junk mail... but there was also a magazine in a dark plastic wrapper.

Glen noticed the magazine. "Hey! It's the new issue of Chiller Comix!"

Peter thought for a moment, then handed it to Glen. "You can have it," he said casually. Somehow, Peter thought, it didn't have the same appeal for him anymore.

"I can? Cool!" Glen enthused, eagerly tearing off the wrapper. He read the cover: " _Chiller Comix Presents THE HAUNTED BUNGALOW._ Wicked!"

Simone raised an eyebrow. "Glen, aren't you getting a little old for that?"

But then Glen took a closer look at the cover, and he froze. Beneath the title was a drawing of an ordinary one-story house. Peter looked at it too. "Isn't that...?"

Glen's face turned white with horror. "That's... _my house_!"

Peter and Simone stared at Glen with fear and pity. But then Glen slowly cracked a giddy smile. "This is so cool!! Now _I_ get to live in a haunted house! I can't wait to get home!" Glen took off running down the street.

Amazed, Peter and Simone watched him go. They knew they couldn't stop him. And Peter also knew that Glen's excitement might dissipate very soon. Either Glen's house would be haunted and he'd discover that that's not so cool after all, or the comic book's tale would end up just being a made-up story, and Glen would feel let-down.

As for Peter, though, he was happy to live in a house that he knew was now just a house. His experience with Victoria was probably something he'd never forget, a once-in-a-lifetime event. But after going through it – and almost not coming out of it in one piece – he hoped it would _stay_ once-in-a-lifetime!

###
ALSO BY RICHARD CLARK

A Dog of My Own

My Best Friend Is a Secret Agent

How Chip Became C.H.I.P. and Foiled the Freaky Fuzzy Invasion

[D.O.R.X.  
How Captain Dweezil Saved the Querx Galaxy and Still Made It Home in Time for Lunch

HughTube  
The story of one middle school kid's desperate attempt to get a clue](http://bit.ly/2uF7fUF)

The F.L.U.B. Club

How the 'Future Fixer' Fixed My Future and Flubbed It Up Again

Pandora's Lunch Box

Don't Open!

Unhinged

* SEE EXCERPTS AT THE END OF THIS BOOK! *

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

**Richard Clark** has written ten middle grade and chapter books, one of which, _My Best Friend Is a Secret Agent,_ was published in Canada in June, 2019, by Indigo Press and Wattpad. It is a Heather's Kids Pick and quickly became a Kids' Bestseller. Previously, the book was on the Amazon and iBooks free kids ebooks bestseller lists for four years with over 100,000 downloads and over 75,000 reads on wattpad.com.

Richard has also worked extensively as a screenwriter and TV story editor, both in Toronto and Los Angeles. A graduate of UCLA and AFI, his credits include writing or story-editing over 150 produced TV scripts for shows broadcast on the Disney Channel, Nickelodeon, BBC, Netflix, CBC, CTV and many other domestic and foreign networks. He's also developed shows for many production companies, written four TV movies for Showtime Networks, optioned several feature screenplays in Los Angeles, and worked as a director and editor. In 2010 he was nominated for both a Gemini Award (now Canadian Screen Award) and a Writers Guild of Canada Screenwriting Award, and in 2012 another WGC award.

In addition, Richard teaches screenwriting at Humber College in Toronto, and he wrote Scratch & Sniff, an interactive book app for kids.

Richard lives near Toronto with his wife and their 12-year-old twins... and he's lived to tell the tale.
Connect with Richard Clark

I really appreciate you reading the book! If you enjoyed it, won't you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer? Thanks!

Here are my social media coordinates:

Send me an email: rclarkbtd@gmail.com

Like my Facebook author page: <https://www.facebook.com/RichardClarkAuthor/>

Follow me on Twitter: @rclarkbtd

Connect on LinkedIn: linkedin.com/in/richardclark8

Visit my website: www.mybestfriendsecretagent.com

My imdb page: <http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0164401/>

Rich Murray, cover designer:

Friend me on Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/RichToons/155101297861604

Follow me on Twitter: @richtoonstv

Connect on LinkedIn: linkedin.com/in/richtoons

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Check out my YouTube channel: www.youtube.com/user/richtoonsTV
BOOK EXCERPTS:

The F.L.U.B. Club, from Chapter 7:

Back at home that night, I skyped with Lionel while digging through my incomprehensible code. It's like I had written it in Klingon or something. It looked like code, but not in a programming language I'd ever seen before.

"So... the Mood Tooner showed us Principal Hartwell three minutes in the future?" Lionel asked. He was wearing his Iron Man pajamas. That's right, Iron Man. Pajamas.

"Yeah, but I'm not calling it the Mood Tooner anymore," I said. "Now it's gonna be the Future Fixer!"

"The Future Fixer? That's not spelled weird too, is it, like with two X's?"

"No, it spelled normally. The deal is, since you know your future, you can fix it before it happens! This is the one that's gonna put the Fee-oob Club on the map!"

"The Fee-oob Club?"

"The FLUB Club, okay?!"

"So... how could you have 'fixed' Principal Hartwell yelling at you?"

"If I know he's going to yell at me, I know to avoid him so he won't."

"But what if you see a future clip of... Madisyn Lowry or something?"

"Yeah, right. Madisyn Lowry is gonna talk to me." What was he, nuts? Madisyn Lowry was like the hottest girl in school. And she was going out with Keith Ellis. She probably didn't even know I existed, and she probably never would.

"But if it is Madisyn Lowry, you don't want to avoid her," said Lionel.

I saw what he was getting at. "Right! So in that case, I would get right up in her face as much as possible." Then I realized, "...As soon as I can get the Future Fixer working again."

I picked up my phone and fiddled with it. It was still just static. After Hartwell was on it, I couldn't get it working again. This wasn't going to be much of an app if I couldn't get it working on command.

Then Gwen walked into my room, uninvited as usual. She started chewing on a stalk of celery right next to my ear while snooping at my computer screen.

"Future Fixer? What's that?"

"Nothing. Leave."

Gwen looked closer at Lionel and smiled.

Lionel smiled back. "Hi Gwen," he said, trying to sound cool. Yeah, he had a thing for my sister. Yuck.

"Nice jammies, Lionel."

Lionel turned beet red, suddenly realizing that wearing Iron Man jammies is probably the most uncool thing you can do, at least if you're over five. He desperately tried to cover himself with some comic books from his desk (which is probably the _second_ most uncool thing you can do).

"Hey! Uh, Marty, I'll see you tomorrow!" Lionel ended the call.

Gwen laughed. "He's cute... in a dorky sort of way."

"Get out!" I pushed Gwen out of my room then sat back down. Why do older sisters even exist?

I looked at my phone again. For some reason, the static was gone now, and it was back on the Mood Tooner home screen.

"Okay, let's try again..." I took a selfie. Then the phone went to static again. I couldn't figure out if that was a good thing or not. But then, get this, Madisyn Lowry's face came up on the screen!! I could hardly breathe. "Madisyn Lowry??" She was blonde, she was sexy, she was... perfect!

And now she was on my phone! And in my app!

And in the future!

The lighting was kind of dim, and I could hear music in the background. Looking right at the camera, just like Principal Hartwell before, she said all sexy, "Let's get together, Marty." And then it went to static again.

I stared at the phone feeling about fifteen emotions at once – confusion, shock, glee, hopefulness, shame, greed, love – you name it, I felt it. Then I looked up, envisioning my future.

"Madisyn Lowry wants me... and I'm gonna be an internet ultra-billionaire!"

My Best Friend Is a Secret Agent, from Chapter 5:

Finally, we turned a corner, and there it was, the Cheesemobile itself! And there was The Big Cheese with his head sticking out like a crazy tank driver, firing blasts of concentrated Limburger stink at hordes of gagging people!

We had gotten here before my dad could, so we had a chance to prove ourselves. Through the earpiece, I told C.H.I.P. to catch up with the Cheesemobile and find a way into it. "Try getting in from underneath!"

"Yo dude!" he said and sped up. At the last second he flattened himself on his back on the skateboard, then he rolled right under the moving Cheesemobile!

C.H.I.P. told me through my earpiece that he found a hatch under there. Well, what he actually said was, "Found this righteous door thingy! I'm goin' in, dude!" I was amazed at how much the C.H.I.P. had affected Chip's personality. But I also realized that his skater-dude identity wasn't what he needed to get into the Cheesemobile because he had no idea how to open the hatch!

So using my app, I made C.H.I.P. an expert at lock-picking! And suddenly C.H.I.P. picked the lock like a cat burglar!

But he also started to lose control of the skateboard because he wasn't a skater dude anymore! Whoa!!!

C.H.I.P. got the hatch open and pulled himself inside just before the skateboard flipped, getting smashed under the wheels of the Cheesemobile.

Okay, that was a close call. Too close. But at least now C.H.I.P. was in. And luckily The Big Cheese didn't notice him since his head was sticking out of the top, and he was so busy blasting everybody with Limburger stink.

Now C.H.I.P. had to shut down the gas canisters, but lock-pickers don't know how to do that. He needed a new skill again.

So I made him a chemist!

But once he got to work on the canisters, The Big Cheese finally spotted him and jumped him! The guy was like, "Hands off! That's 99.6% pure Limburger fumes – the gas of the gods!"

C.H.I.P. fought as best he could, but chemists aren't really known for being able to throw a punch. But luckily, cheese makers aren't either, so it was kind of a goofy fight.

I realized this was really the wrong time and place to be beta-testing my new C.H.I.P. micro-thingy. Like I saw in my basement, I really did need C.H.I.P. to be able to do more than one cool thing at once. That way he could be like a real secret agent, with any skill he needed to take down the bad guy.

But for now, I'd have to do my best with one skill at a time.

I made C.H.I.P. a wrestler next, and sure enough, he got The Big Cheese into a headlock! "I'm gonna put you through my shredder, Big Cheese!" It helped that The Big Cheese's name was kind of a wrestler-type name already.

But The Big Cheese had planned for everything. He was able to reach a switch that set off a timer for the gas canisters to explode!

"Now the whole world will reek of the beautiful, pungent scent of the king of cheeses!" he screamed with evil glee.

C.H.I.P. had ten seconds to stop the timer, but wrestlers don't know a whole lot about defusing bombs. So he bopped The Big Cheese on the head, knocking him out, and then I turned C.H.I.P. into an electronics guy to stop the timer!

And it was just in time too 'cause he cut the red timer wire on the gas canisters with one second to spare!

Phew!

A Dog of My Own, from Chapter 19:

The next day at Phillips Academy, kids hung out and kicked around balls during a break. Gary Frazer chucked a football to his jock buddy who dropped it. "Loser," Gary chuckled as he took off his blazer, tossing it on a bench.

From behind a nearby corner of the building, Jonas spied on Gary. Rascal was with Jonas again. Jonas pointed to Gary's blazer on the bench. "Get the coat, Rascal. Get the coat," Jonas whispered quietly to the dog. Rascal licked his lips and, as he did before in Jonas's backyard, he shuffled along like a spy, close to the ground. Unseen by Gary or his friends, Rascal grabbed Gary's coat from the bench and ran for a large tree. Jumping up onto a picnic table, Rascal leapt up into the tree and walked as far as he could out onto a long branch. And there he hung Gary's blazer, far above the heads of the kids below.

Rascal quickly climbed back down and snuck back to the waiting Jonas. Jonas pet Rascal vigorously, and the two of them tried to remain quiet as they watched to see what Gary would do once he found his coat missing.

"Hey!" Gary caught the football and just then noticed that his blazer was missing from the bench. He looked around, clueless. "Who took...?" Then one of his friends spotted the coat in the tree and started laughing. Gary finally saw the coat hanging high too. "What the heck?!" As other kids started to laugh, Gary ran up to the tree and jumped for his coat, but it was too high to reach. Finally, he clumsily climbed the tree and reached out for his coat. But in his attempt to grab it, he instead knocked it free, and it fell down... down... into a mud puddle.

The crowd cracked up. Then Gary lost his balance – "Whooaaa!" – and fell into the puddle too! SPLAT! The crowd roared. Chloe and her friends looked over to see what was going on. They laughed and snorted as Gary, furious, grabbed his wet coat and stomped off in his soggy shoes.

Off in his hiding place, Jonas tried hard to restrain his laughter. He hugged Rascal close. "Good boy... good boy..." Rascal didn't know quite what he had done right, but if it got him a hug from Jonas, he knew it must've been good!

Then Chloe spotted Jonas and Rascal hiding behind the corner of the building. She cracked a smile, figuring out what was up. That was some smart dog – and some pretty clever kid too!

D.O.R.X., from Chapter 3:

We fired up the Insta-porter.

With the flick of a switch, we'd be able to transport Captain Dweezil into the Floozeum instantly.

Unless the Insta-porter didn't work.

The last thing we insta-ported was a Trizbekian noodle bowl, but by the time it got to the ship, it had turned into a Bulorian tofu patty.

We crossed our fingers that Captain Dweezil would show up in one piece.

I hit the Insta-porter button, and we all waited. Then a flickering image appeared...

...and Captain Dweezil materialized right in front of us! There he stood in all his glory, looking every bit the hero I knew he was!

Okay, he looked like he was only about twelve nibzats old, but that just made him _more_ impressive. To think he did all that stuff on his Spacebook page in twelve short nibzats!

" _That's_ the guy?" King Norzat asked.

I stepped up to Captain Dweezil, trying to restrain my awe. "Are you Captain Dweezil, protector of the good?"

"Uh... kinda," he said. I figured he was just a little nervous and wondered where he was.

"Captain Dweezil, welcome to the starship Floozeum!" I said proudly.

" _This_ is Captain Dweezil, conqueror of the Floobs?" King Norzat sniffed.

Oogle beamed at Captain Dweezil. "Did you really save the Moobians from certain destruction by the Chorps?!" female Oogle asked in awe.

"I... am freaking out," Captain Dweezil said. I wasn't quite sure what that meant in his dialect, but I took it as a sign of great happiness.

"We apologize for the surprise insta-portation," I said, "but we're in serious trouble, and we need your help."

_PZLAM!_ We got hit again. Now all we could take was 0.4 more hits, and it would be bye-bye Floozeum! "Take evasive action!" I screamed to anybody whose hands were big enough to operate the controls.

" _You_ take evasive action," snapped the King. "I have yet to introduce myself." He turned to Captain Dweezil. "I am King Norzat, former – and future – ruler of Shamzat."

"I'm Oogle the Klertzian," a smiling Oogle said in his male voice. "And so am I!" female Oogle said. "And that's Flerpia from Ziznak 7 and Zug from Zug."

Captain Dweezil reacted in a way I didn't expect. "This isn't real!" he screamed. "This ship can't be real! All these aliens can't be real!" Then he poked Zug, and his finger came back covered in slime. "Okay, that's pretty real."

"We're real, all right," I said to assure him. "We're the O.R.X., the Order of Rebel Xenophiles!"

"Xeno-what?"

"Xenophiles," said female Oogle. "It means we love people, especially people we don't know!"

"And we need you, our new great Captain, to lead us on our missions of mercy," I continued. "And that starts with flying this ship to safety!"

Oogle got up and sat Captain Dweezil down in the pilot seat. "Save us like you saved your hobbled rocketship from the Slopnoid buzz bomb attack!" male Oogle said.

Zug spoke up. "Blast Borzogs like you blast Porps after you make Porpanium rods go boom!"

But Captain Dweezil didn't start to fly the ship. In fact, he actually appeared to panic. "Listen, guys," he pleaded, "I made all that stuff up! I wrote it in my Spacebook blog just 'cause my real life is so boring. I'm not really Captain Dweezil, protector of the good. I'm just Dweezil Sneezil, offspring number 147 of Horst and Pribny Sneezil, Deep Space City #232, quadrant 44.9."

I suddenly realized I might have made a horrible mistake.

King Norzat spoke first. "We're doomed."

HughTube, from Chapter 1:

I don't get it.

What don't I get? Pretty much everything.

How to talk at a party? I don't get it.

How to dress cool? I don't get it.

How to avoid getting bullied?... to know when to shut up?... to choose the right after-school sport? I don't get it.

How to ask out a girl? I _definitely_ don't get it.

Which is why I started HughTube. What's HughTube? First of all, my name is Hugh. That explains the 'Hugh' part. The 'Tube' part, of course, refers to video.

HughTube is my video blog.

And yeah, I know everybody has a video blog these days. But mine's different. I don't just shoot myself playing Minecraft or whatever, narrating my exploits mining diamonds and killing Ender Dragons.

I shoot _everything_. My whole life.

Sure, I cut it all down later for my weekly blog post, but for myself I want my whole life recorded for later analysis. Because if I ever want to learn how to _get it_ , I'm going to have to go over it on video – over and over – till I eventually get it _right_.

Pandora's Lunch Box, from Chapter 3:

"I wonder what's down there..." Pandora peered down the dark trail.

Lyle just shook his head. "If you want me, I'll be at my house playing Zomboid Attack 3 with my good eye." He walked off towards the houses.

But Pandora hardly noticed he was gone. Her mind was dead set on exploring the creepy woods ahead. She worked her way into the thicket. As she walked, spiders crawled across their webs above... odd birds fluttered in the darkness... slithering lizards scurried past Pandora's feet...

After a minute, it got hard for Pandora to proceed. Branches crossed the path, and leaves obscured the trail below. "It's got to lead somewhere..." Pandora whispered to herself, her curiosity aflame.

Just then, something flew by Pandora's head, grazing her hair. "Hey!" She looked up, and the dark 'bird' attacked her again. "That's a bat!" Her eyes bugged out as many shadows now passed over her. "Make that 'bats'!"

Pandora ran fast down the trail, trying hard to swipe the brush out of her way. But she was just getting deeper and deeper into the thicket.

Then she tripped on something unseen and tumbled to the ground. WHUMP!

Pandora looked up. The bats were gone, and she found herself in a small clearing. She pushed herself up onto her knees and brushed her clothes off. Then she spotted the thing she tripped on. She reached over and brushed some dirt off of it.

It was a children's lunch box. But it wasn't something lost recently; it was made of metal, the kind popular in the '60's and '70's. Pandora rose to her feet and angrily kicked the box away. "Stupid lunch box!" But as she kicked it, some crusted dirt fell off of it, revealing that it was bound tightly with white tape – and something was written on the tape.

"Huh?" Curious, Pandora looked closer, brushing off the remaining dirt.

All over the box was written: 'DON'T OPEN!!!'

"Don't open?" asked Pandora, getting curious as always. "I wonder why not..."

Now, a normal 12-year-old girl would probably walk away at this point, maybe take the advice of the person who wrote all those warnings.

But not Pandora.

She picked the box up and tried to open it right away. But the tape held it tightly closed. So she peeled off the tape, strip by strip, getting more and more excited. Finally, she peeled the last of the tape off and prepared to whip the lunch box open... but then she stopped herself.

"Maybe I shouldn't." For a moment, it appeared that Pandora had come to her senses. She put the box down hesitantly. "But if I don't open it, someone else will!" She picked up the box again. "Why should I let _them_ get what's inside? _I_ was the one who found it first!"

Pandora slowly opened up the box. The rusty hinges strained and creaked. Then FLASH! Blinding light blasted out of the box! Pandora dropped it to the ground. The box landed hard – and then it started to tremble...

Pandora stared in amazement as the box shook, the light still beaming out of it. Then, suddenly, a _head_ popped out, like a genie from a bottle! It was the head of an arch-looking middle-aged lady, wearing a brilliant pearl necklace and ruby red lipstick.

"Phew! Finally, a little air!" she said, taking a number of deep breaths.

Pandora stared, stunned. "You're... a head... in a lunch box!"

Just then, another head popped out, squeezing in beside the lady's head. But this head was more of a cross between a blue-blood poodle and a monocled librarian. "Quit hogging the sunlight, Greeley!" he said with a bored sneer.

Pandora did a double-take. "Another head??"

"Besides," the new head continued, "I've been stuck in there with that rabble long enough."

Pandora looked confused... and a little afraid. "There's more?"

Almost on cue, three more heads popped out – but now all their upper bodies did too. One of them was a cute fat blob. And the other two looked like Siamese twins, attached at the waist, and they didn't seem very happy about it.

"OOF! That's better," said the fat one, relieved.

One of the twins gestured wildly. "I was wondering how a-long you were going to make-a me wait!" he said in an Italian accent.

"Hey, you're a-blocking the sun," chided the other brother. "You always get-a the best side!"

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!"

"Boys! Put a sock in it!" snapped the lady. "We've got a new master." She and the others turned to Pandora.

Pandora stood there, surprised but intrigued. "A new master??"
