9752873896523593

2
As the girls cried out in horror, the howling creature grabbed me around the waist and wrestled me to
the floor.
“Lefty—let go!” I screamed angrily. “You’re not funny!”
He was laughing like a lunatic. He thought he was a riot. “Gotcha!” he cried. “I gotcha good!”
“We weren’t scared,” Erin insisted. “We knew it was you.”
“Then why’d you scream?” Lefty asked.
Erin didn’t have an answer.
I shoved him off me and climbed to my feet. “That was dumb, Lefty.”
“How long were you waiting in the linen closet?” April asked.
“A long time,” Lefty told her. He started to get up, but Whitey ran up to him and began furiously
licking his face. It tickled so much, Lefty fell onto his back, laughing.
“You scared Whitey, too,” I said.
“No, I didn’t. Whitey’s smarter than you guys.” Lefty pushed Whitey away.
Whitey began sniffing at the door across the hall.
“Where does that door lead, Max?” Erin asked.
“To the attic,” I told her.
“You have an attic?” Erin cried. Like it was some kind of big deal. “What’s up there? I love
attics!”
“Huh?” I squinted at her in the dark. Sometimes girls are really weird. I mean, how could anyone
love attics?
“Just a lot of old junk my grandparents left,” I told her. “This house used to be theirs. Mom and
Dad stored a lot of their stuff in the attic. We hardly ever go up there.”
“Can we go up and take a look?” Erin asked.
“I guess,” I said. “I don’t think it’s too big a thrill or anything.”
“I love old junk,” Erin said.
“But it’s so dark….” April said softly. I think she was a little scared.
I opened the door and reached for the light switch just inside. A ceiling light clicked on in the
attic. It cast a pale yellow light down at us as we stared up the steep wooden stairs.
“See? There’s light up there,” I told April. I started up the stairs. They creaked under my
sneakers. My shadow was really long. “You coming?”
“Erin’s mom will be here any minute,” April said.
“We’ll just go up for a second,” Erin said. She gave April a gentle push. “Come on.”
Whitey trotted past us as we climbed the stairs, his tail wagging excitedly, his toenails clicking
loudly on the wooden steps. About halfway up, the air grew hot and dry.
I stopped on the top step and looked around. The attic stretched on both sides. It was one long
room, filled with old furniture, cardboard cartons, old clothes, fishing rods, stacks of yellowed
magazines—all kinds of junk.