WEDNESDAY, 3:17 P.M.
Victoria told everyone she wanted the room that had been decorated for a little boy, even though the one across and a bit down the hall from it had obviously belonged to a little girl. “Too pink,” she called it.
“Should we let her pick either of them?” David whispered.
“Why not?” Xander asked.
“The little boy and the little girl?” David said, as though speaking to an imbecile.
“So?”
“They were murdered. What if their ghosts still think those are their rooms?”
Xander shook his head. “You’re worrying too much. Just watch out for anything weird. Don’t let your imagination get ahead of you.”
“You sound like Dad.”
Xander accepted that. “Which room do you want?”
“Not one of those. What room do you want? It’s going to be our room, isn’t it?”
Xander stood tall, stretching his spine. Maybe sharing a room for a while wasn’t such a bad idea. As they got used to the house, and as they discovered—as they probably would— that it wasn’t haunted, Xander could move into a room of his own. He patted his brother on the chest. “All right. Yeah.
Sure. As long as I can put my posters on the wall.”
“Not Friday the 13th.”
“No scary ones,” Xander agreed. He gestured with his head. “Let’s look down here.”
They moved farther away from the central staircase, past the murdered boy’s room.
No, no, no, he thought, don’t start that. Simply, the boy’s room.
He stopped at the door to what used to be a little girl’s room.
He nudged it open. It creaked into a shadow-filled room. Faint light came through two dirty windows and thin curtains—Mom had called them sheers—that may have been white at one time. There was an old dresser and a bed with a canopy. Didn’t matter: Dad had said they would not sleep on any beds or bedding found here anyway. They were probably dirty and had bedbugs.
David said, “Toria’s right: too pink. Let’s keep looking.”
The next room was dingy, dusty, and dark. Nothing about it appealed to either boy.
They moved to the next door which served the corner room on the front side of the house. Xander pushed it open, and they took a step in. This room had a chest of drawers against the far wall and a bed with a simple wooden headboard. Like the other room, two dirty windows let in meager light. The coolest part of the room was that one corner opened up into the tower, a five-sided room-within-a-room. Heavy curtains covered the tower windows, except for the center one, which— Someone was standing in front of it.
Backlit by the window, the figure was nothing more than a black silhouette to Xander’s eyes. David had spotted the shape as well. His hand found Xander’s again and squeezed painfully. Xander realized both of them had stopped breathing. The only sound was the figure’s labored breath, deep and heavy. The thing shifted. Its head appeared to turn toward them. When it spoke, its voice was baritone and gravelly: “Come in, boys.”
David screamed first. It was long and high pitched. Xander’s quick “Ahhh!” was almost completely lost in the sound of David’s fear. They turned together and knocked each other into the door frame. They were almost into the hall when they heard a familiar voice call their names. They were through the doorway and moving in separate directions, when they heard, “Boys! Boys! Come back!” and uncontrollable laughter.
Xander stopped and looked back. David had stopped as well, halfway through the doorway at the end of the hall.
The boy’s eyes were saucers of shock.
From the room: “Xander! David!”
They scowled at each other. Xander took a cautious step toward the door.
Dad stepped into the hallway between them. He looked at Xander, then at David. He said, “Sorry. Really.” He stifled a laugh.
David, generally calm, cool, and collected, yelled at the top of his lungs, “That’s not funny!”
Dad walked toward him. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” He hugged his youngest son, who resisted, then gave in. He looked back at Xander with a guilty smile.
Xander shook his head and pointed at David. “What he said.”
Dad nodded. “You guys have been whispering about this house since we talked to the real estate woman. I couldn’t resist.”
The muscles in Xander’s face felt tight. He said, “You know what they say about payback.”
Dad snickered. He said, “My boys, my brave young men.”
Still pressed against him, David punched his father in the side.
Dad let out an exaggerated grunt and pushed back from him. “So,” he said, “have you picked out a room?”
“We’re trying,” David said. “What about beds?”
“Your old beds will be here in a few days. I just have to tell the moving company we found a place.”
“And till then?”
“We’ll stay in the motel.”
“Not here?” Xander asked.
Dad shook his head. “We have to do some cleaning first, get the utilities turned on, make sure everything’s safe.”
As if to punctuate his last word, Mom yelled, “Ed! Ed!” All three of them looked one way, then the other. It was impossible to tell where she was. Dad made a decision and ran toward the main staircase. Xander and David followed. Toria came out of her room, knocking David against the wall. They clambered down the stairs together. Dad stepped into the foyer, looked down the corridor to the kitchen, and called, “G!”
Her voice came back with an edge of panic: “Ed!”
He started for the kitchen. Xander stopped him. “Dad, in here.”
Mom stood in the dining room near one of the windows. Dad pushed past the kids to reach her. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
She pointed. Dust covered the floors. Most of it had been disturbed by their own shuffling around. Near the walls, in corners, under furniture, it had remained thick and as unbroken as an arctic landscape. Here, in such a spot, were two footprints. They were from bare feet twice the size of Dad’s. The toes were pointed toward the window, as though someone had stood there, watching.