Lost No More (Ghost No More Series Book 2) Page 2

  “Scoot over. Let me see that.” I scooped it up in my palm and rolled the blob into a ball. It started to stick with long strings to my hand.

  David found another splotch of putty that sat in sawdust by some 2x4 board ends.

  “Hey, be careful with it,” I cautioned him, when he started to play with it. “This stuff’ll stick to your clothes if you don’t pay attention. Mom’ll have a cow.”

  “Or your hair!” David added.

  I snorted. At six, I knew to be careful not to get it in my hair.

  I dropped the gooey ball, and dragged my hands through the dust in the yard that I hoped would one day be filled with neighbor kids to play with. Still wiping my hands together, I glanced over at the half-built house.

  “Think there’s a way in?” I examined the porch. No roof, but the front door looked bolted shut.

  “Put that down and c’mon” I motioned to David. He dropped his blob and looked with big eyes at his gooey hands. I sighed.

  “Wipe them there.” I pointed to a soft pile of sawdust shavings, then walked over to the side of the house. The sun was at the horizon and streaks of orange came through the trees surrounding the cleared lot.

  “Hurry up.” I waved him along.

  Down the side of the house were three windows, all with glass snug in their frames except for the last one, a gaping empty hole. I rushed over. “David! Check this out!”

  He ran to me and stepped into my hands, my fingers looped like a stirrup. With a grunt, I hauled him up to the window edge, and he slithered through. I heaved myself up on my forearms on the window sill and squirmed through after him.

  “Hello?” David yelled, then turned to flash me a gape-toothed grin at the echo. “Whoop! Whoop!” David scurried behind a lattice of boards of an unfinished wall.

  “What do you think this room is?” I looked up at the wires hanging from the ceiling.

  “Maybe a secret tunnel!”

  “Don’t be dumb, they don’t build secret tunnels in new houses like this.” Still, I hastily surveyed the floor for any possible signs of a trapdoor. “Hey check this out! Maybe it’s some kind of safe.”

  We examined the metal box screwed into a beam. I opened the door; just a bunch of switches, then slammed it shut and walked down the hall.

  David wouldn’t walk in the hallway, and instead wove through each room through their skeleton walls. “Look! I’m a monkey escaping the zoo!” His hands gripped the boards as he squeezed his way between.

  At the end of the hall stood the bare framework of a stairway. The workers had nailed a crooked handrail made of two by fours that traveled up its side. We looked at each other before racing up to the top.

  “Don’t push!”

  “I’m telling Mom!”

  All the rooms upstairs had been finished with white-board walls. The rough edge of the wall was cool like chalk, and I dug out a half moon dent from the plaster with my fingernail. Behind me David hummed. With a piece of plaster he’d written on the floor, “Hi!” with a gargoyle smiley face. I sat next to him and added my own face, complete with sharp teeth. Bigger teeth than in his picture.

  The light was getting darker. “Let’s get out of here,” I said. We hustled back down the stairs.

  Outside, I found a bunch of black plastic ties that had held the rafters together. I dug through my pocket and pulled out a pack of matches that I’d snuck off our woodstove that morning when Mom wasn’t looking.

  “Jim! No! I’m gonna tell Mom!” David jumped up and down next to me, tugging my arm.

  “Hush! Want to see something cool? Watch this.” I lit the match with a quick snap like Dad always did and stared at the flame.

  David’s eyes were big, but he bent to watch as I cupped my hand around the spark. When the flame was strong, I held it to the end of one of the plastic ties. We watched the hot plastic burn and drip black dots onto the ground. It made a cool sound: Zip! Zip! Zip! Zip! David reached to touch one of the drops.

  “Stop!” I hissed. “You don’t want that on your skin.”

  I made a pile out of leaves, shavings and a few small branches, and held another match to the base. The flame made me think of the look on Dad’s face when he yelled at the man. Tough. Strong.

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “I make my own rules.” The dry kindling took right away, and I fed it a few more branches. Within minutes it was blazing into a nice bonfire. I looked around for something to cook, some old pinecone, or a left-over lunch from one of the workers.

  Sitting by the steps of the house was a spray can.

  “David,” I pointed to the can. “Go bring me that.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re gonna put it in the fire. Dad says they explode when they get hot enough.”

  David looked unsure, but the promise of an explosion perked him up. He brought me the can, and I pushed it into the middle of the fire with a long stick. I covered it with more twigs and branches until it was a roaring pile. After a few minutes a pile of red embers cradled the can.

  The can began to rock back and forth and started to tick.

  “Uhh, David?”

  “What?”

  “Run!”

  We both ran to the porch, and David scooted behind to use me as a shield.

  The can exploded, blowing half the fire out in a shower of sparks. I poked my head up just in time to see what was left of the fire flaring along a greasy trail towards the house.

  My heart beat into my throat.

  “I told you Jim! I told you this would be bad!” David yelled.

  “Dad’s going to kill us!” I shouted, and ran over to stomp on the fire with my tennis shoes. Luckily, most of the wood had been scattered by the blast, and I was able to beat down the flames.

  David trampled over the blackened ash for good measure when I was done.

  “Wow!” David said, “The fire trucks might have come. And then you would have caught it!”

  “Chill out, everything’s fine,” I answered. “You’re probably going to tattle anyway.”

  “No,” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t tattle!”

  I grinned at him. “That was pretty wicked.”

  We heard the train come rumbling along the tracks on its way up to the lake. It made two prolonged horn blasts as it crossed the main road.

  “Crud! We’re late!” I told David. It was dinner time and hopefully Dad would be home. If he wasn’t, then he’d be coming home late smelling like alcohol, and there’d be fighting tonight.

  When we ran through the back door, Dad was home. But he had a bucket of plaster, and was filling in a new fist size hole in the wall. Mom’s lips were pressed into white lines while she stirred the macaroni noodles.

  “You boys are late,” Dad said and smoothed the plaster with a spackling knife.

  “Don’t you yell at my boys,” Mom said.

  Dad looked over at her and his shoulders tuck down. I swallowed and looked away. My heart felt heavy, not wanting to upset Mom for not taking her side, or disappoint Dad by seeing him get lectured by Mom.

  David made a small noise, and his eyes looked watery. In that instant, I knew what to do. “Sorry we’re late,” I said to Dad. And, to David, “Come on. Let’s go play Lincoln Logs in my room.”

  I didn’t know what happened between my parents and the hole in the wall, and I didn’t want to know. They looked ready to start up again. I just hoped the bedroom door would block out any arguing so David wouldn’t hear.

  Chapter 3

  We were running late as usual, with only a half-hour until it was time for the church’s harvest festival to start. Dad smeared green grease paint under my eyes, then grabbed my chin to turn my head. The paint felt heavy and wet on my face. He inspected it with a nod.

  “There you go, you little fart. Now you look Army proud.” He called my brother over to him as I climbed off the kitchen stool and ran to the bathroom to check it out.

  “Did you do your face like this in the Army?” I yelled from the bathroom and s
tuck my tongue out at the mirror.

  “Yeah, I’m sure I had it like that a time or two,” Dad said, putting dark smears on David’s face.

  Every night this week, Dad had been coming home from his new job building docks on the lake with a smile on his face. There weren’t any alcohol bottles clinking about in the back of his truck, and no boozy apologies for breaking things. He’d told Mom he quit drinking because life was good and alcohol would mess it up. “I’ve got this, Pearl.”

  Mom had said, “I hope so,” and patted her belly. It was round with another baby.

  Dad still got angry right quick, but it no longer had the crazy in it. Even so, I kept my guard up. I might be working with him on the car, both of us laughing and having a good time. Then, he’d need a tool, and maybe I wasn’t holding the right one in my hand. All hell would break loose with his burst of swearing. The best defense was to freeze and let him rant, and not ‘poke the bear’, as Mom called it, in any way.

  He put the last finishing touches on David’s face, who then scrambled away to show Mom. She had his pirate costume ready and got my brother wiggling into it, while he called, “Where’s my sword Ma?”

  I buttoned my camo shirt and threw on a hunter’s orange hat. Rounding the corner back to the living room, I winked at Mom and formed guns with my hands.

  Dad said he was too tired to go tonight. “You kids have fun!” he said, and popped his recliner to watch Bonanza on TV.

  We piled into Mom’s rusty Datsun, and listened to the clutch grind as Mom tried to get it into gear. “Stupid car,” Mom muttered, as she shifted again and again until it finally slipped into first. “Better,” she smiled, and we drove to the party.

  Outside the church were tall bundles of corn stalks and rows of orange pumpkins. My Sunday school teacher greeted me at the door dressed as a scare crow.

  “Hi Mrs. Neely,” I said to be polite because Mom was behind me.

  “I’m not Mrs. Neely! I’m Scare-Crow.” She smiled through a thick mask of face paint and scratched at her wrist where hay was stuffed in her flannel sleeve.

  I rushed past her before I laughed and caught it from Mom.

  There were hay bales and signs directing the crowds through the church. The gymnasium was an explosion of color and chaos where kids screeched, people laughed, and babies looked wide-eyed at the excitement. Thrumming inside of me was one thought, Candy! Candy! Candy!

  I wasn’t in the gymnasium two minutes when someone started to follow me disguised in a Batman costume.

  “Hey! I know you!” He grabbed my arm, his eyes dark behind his black mask.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s me, Logan!”

  Oh great. Logan, the kid who wore matching sweater vests with his dad. “Hey,” I answered, then pretended to be interested in a beanbag game on the other side of him.

  “Can I have a turn?” I asked the clown the game. I grabbed the beanbags from her hand and took careful aim at the basket.

  Another tug on my arm. Logan wasn’t giving up.

  “You know, I saw you the other day. We moved up to WildFire Rim, too. Yeah, you were playing outside with your brother.”

  I shrugged. Great, he’s my neighbor again.

  “Can we hang out sometime?” Logan asked.

  I sighed inside, and reluctantly nodded. I couldn’t be mean to his face. Besides, maybe he’d lost the sweater vest by now.

  “Tomorrow maybe? By the horse pasture?”

  I started to nod, when a refrigerator-sized box rammed into me and knocked me into Logan. I pushed off of Logan, and then shoved back at the box, annoyed. The cardboard was painted black, with crooked gold letters stenciled across the front that proclaimed “King James Bible.” Blue jean legs stuck out from underneath. In between the “King” and “James” was a one inch slot cut into the cardboard.

  I peered through the opening.

  A water pistol materialized and shot a spray of water into my eyes. I jerked back while the box shook with silent laughter.

  Wiping my eyes with my sleeve, I sneered, “Oh, you think you’re so funny! Who are you anyway?”

  Mom came up to my side. “Ohhh, who’s in the box?” She gave a giggle and poked her fingers in the slot. “Hello in there.” She peeked inside, and let out a shriek as the water hit her face. She back-tracked quickly, and staggered into to Pastor Larson for support.

  Pastor Larson looked surprised by the sudden attack of a pregnant lady grabbing his shirt front, and let out a yelp. Mrs. Neely suddenly appeared asking Pastor Larson if he was okay. Together, they helped Mom get steady on her feet. Then, they all studied the bible.

  It did a little sashay bow towards them and strode away through the crowd.

  The bible walked throughout the party all night squirting unsuspecting people. Everyone laughed and tried to get a peek inside, before blinking sharply at the water in their eyes. I just itched to know who it was, and wished I’d thought of the idea myself.

  When the party ended, Mom packed me and my brother into the car. David and I compared our treasures in the back seat.

  “Hey! Look what I got. Want to trade?”

  “Yuck! Black Jelly beans! No way!”

  When we got home, Dad’s car was in the driveway, but the house was dark. Mom flipped on the living room lights and threw her purse on the buffet, then let out a squeal.

  There, in the middle of the floor, sat the large bible box.

  Mom’s mouth fell open.

  “What the heck?” I trailed, off speechless. David ran over and climbed in the box and spun around, hollering, “Bam! Bam! Bam! I got you!”

  Dad had pulled a good one over on us.

  The next day Dad was as pleased as punch at the way he’d tricked every one. Mom wasn’t so happy about it.

  “Why’d you squirt me in the face, you, idiot?” She frowned at him while she slipped on her sneakers, heaving a breath over her big belly.

  He just laughed as he grabbed his morning thermos, and headed out to work.

  David and I slurped through our cereal as fast as we could. Mom picked off her apron from the back of the chair and unfolded it. She was about to leave for her job at the deli.

  “You boys behave yourself today. Quit destroying the house. I have enough to do without coming home to this place looking like it’s been chewed up and spit out.”

  David and I nodded. I scuffed my toe and looked down at the floor, trying to cough up a picture of innocence.

  “Aww, that’s my good boys,” Mom said, and patted me on the head.

  We listened to her car make its usual grinding noises until she pulled out of the driveway.

  With big grins, David and I high-fived each other. We dove out the back door and jumped on our bikes. Behind our house was a thin trail that made its way through the tall grass and led up to the train tracks. I pumped my bike along it, while David followed.

  If we wanted to, we could follow the railroad tracks and eventually we’d hit a lake. But, we weren’t allowed to go to the lake by ourselves, and were sufficiently afraid of Dad to not try. He’d told us before that if he ever caught us up there he’d put his boot so far up our rears we’d taste shoe polish.

  Instead, we dumped our bikes in the grass and crossed the tracks, aiming for the horse pasture on the other side. Logan was already there, waiting for us.

  “Hey,” he nodded and pushed his glasses up higher on his nose.

  Logan and I had talked about coming here the night before, so I wasn’t surprised to see him there.

  “Hey,” I nodded back, and pulled a grass stem to chew like I’d seen old cowboys on the TV do.

  The three of us climbed up the fence and sat all casual-like. One of the horses, splotched brown and white, trotted over to us.

  “You got any sugar cubes?” I asked Logan.

  “What’s a sugar cube?” Logan wrinkled his nose to keep his glasses from slipping.

  “How the heck do I know?” I shifted on the fence. “Some type of horse food.”<
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  There was no answer. David swatted at a fly that had come along with the horse. “That horse sure is fat,” he said, and then gave a big yawn.

  “He looks big enough to hold my dad,” Logan replied. The horse nibbled on Logan’s pant leg. “Hey, leggo there.” He pulled his leg away.

  An idea started to grow in my mind.

  This was my chance to be a real cowboy, like Little Joe.

  I stood up with my heels hooked over the bottom railing of the fence,. With slow movements, I patted the back of the horse. His coat was bristly and warm under my hands. “Nice boy, good boy,” I cooed in a sing-song. My heart pounded. I climbed up to the top of the fence and gently swung my leg over the horse’s back.

  He twitched a bit under me, but otherwise didn’t move. I smiled and looked over at my brother.

  “Scoot up! Make some room!” David shouted. He jumped on behind me with a quick grab around my waist.

  Logan pushed at his glasses again with his thumb.

  “I don’t know about this, guys.” He drew a deep breath in.

  The horse took a few steps away from the fence and swished its tail.

  “It’s your loss!” David called back to him.

  Logan took a giant leap and landed across the animal’s hindquarters. The horse laid back its ears and gave a little snort. A second later it was galloping like it’d stepped into a fire ant’s nest.

  Logan fell off immediately and tumbled like one of those round weeds in the movies. I held on to its neck for dear life, and David held on to me. Neither one of us knew how to stop this blasted animal. The horse’s back was darn slippery, and pretty soon we started jittering in opposite directions. David slid to one side and me on the other, the both of us staring boggle-eyed at one another from underneath the neck. David finally let go of its mane with a whoop. He rolled along neatly in the dust while I hung on. I craned my head to look and saw a fence ahead, fast approaching.

  Time was up, unless I wanted to get scraped against the side of the fence. I let go and flew into a thistle bush.

  Logan came running to where I was caught like a bug on fly paper. He gave me a hand and yanked me out.

  “Woohooo! Did you see how that fat old honey bucket ran?”