Cursed! Page 4

  She made us work almost until the party started, finally letting us dash to the bathroom to change. Kara helped me with the face paint. It didn’t look as good as when her mom did it, but I liked it.

  The party should have been fun. Byron was away with chicken pox, the food was great and the games silly. Kara’s Spirit Man wasn’t too scary under the school lights, but I still felt spooked. My costume was itchy, and the paint made my face twitch.

  I trudged home after school through deep snow. Lewis followed, goofy from too much candy. As soon as I got home, I scrubbed off the face paint. I’ll put it on fresh for tonight, I thought as I rubbed my skin.

  For some reason my stomach felt itchy too. I gave it a good scratch and then took a look. The skin was red from my fingernails, but there were spots in the redness too. Weird.

  I changed, left my costume in my room and headed upstairs. When Mom and Dad built their office in the third-floor attic, they put dormer windows into the sloping ceilings. Their desks are nestled into the dormers, one at each end of the room. There are worktables in the middle, with skylights above them. The room was in its usual chaos, with piles of papers everywhere, artwork tacked to the walls and a table piled high with computer gear, Dad’s toys, packing material and cardboard boxes.

  I stopped to let R2D2 by, delivering a sticky note. Then I walked up to Mom, hard at work on her computer. “Mom, I have an itchy spot on my stomach.”

  She frowned and turned from the computer. “Let me see.”

  I pulled up my shirt.

  “That’s weird. It looks like chicken pox, but you’ve already had it. And all the kids in your grade should have had it or been vaccinated.”

  “Byron has it.”

  “Who’s Byron?” she asked, sounding distracted.

  “He’s in my class. He sits in front of me and pulls my hair whenever he can. Except right now he’s home with chicken pox.”

  Dad joined us, examining my stomach. “Looks like chicken pox to me. I guess you’ll be missing Halloween.”

  “What?” I squeaked.

  “You’re contagious. You can’t go out.”

  I sagged. “But I’ve already had it!”

  “BB and Lewis were really sick, but you barely had any spots,” Dad said. “Some people get it again if they had it lightly the first time.”

  I sniffed. “Can I hand out candy, at least?”

  Dad shook his head. “Sorry, no. You have to stay away from other kids.”

  “But it’s Halloween!” I cried. What could be more horrible than this? I stumbled down the stairs, knowing it was all the Spirit Man’s fault.

  By the time we’d eaten and cleaned up after dinner, it was obvious to everyone that I had chicken pox. Red spots were appearing all over my face. I was itchy everywhere: my face, my stomach, even the soles of my feet.

  Mom kept nagging me not to scratch. “If you scratch the spots, they might get infected and leave a scar. It’s really important that you don’t scratch.”

  My spots had a different opinion. They begged to be scratched.

  BB set out early to go trick-or-treating with his friends. Lewis got ready to go out with Dad. His Bear costume was amazing—Lewis looked just like a big black dog. Oddly, Bear was still bigger than Lewis.

  Lewis wanted to bring Bear with them, so there would be two of them.

  “He’ll bark,” I said.

  Dad agreed. “But he only barks at Daleks, and any Daleks will be big enough to bark back.”

  “Dad!”

  Dad smiled. “I’ll keep him on a leash.”

  When the first trick-or-treaters called out at the front door, Bear came barreling down the stairs. I snagged him as he swept past me, and yanked him back. We sat on the stairs and watched three tiny kids creep up to the door, afraid of the jack-o’-lanterns lining the front steps.

  Kara bounced up to the door behind them, scary in her Spirit Man costume. Her eyes widened when she saw my spots. “Cool! A new costume! This is even better than a mouse. You look exactly like you have chicken pox!”

  “I do have chicken pox!”

  “That’s so good! You sound exactly right too, like you really are sick.”

  I moaned.

  “Kara, she really is sick,” Dad said.

  Kara spun around. “What? Oh, no!” She rushed to the stairs.

  Dad grabbed her and held her back. “No—you’ll get it too.”

  “Oh, I had it years ago. I was really sick.” She walked up the stairs and sat beside me. “It’s the Spirit Man again, isn’t it?” she whispered.

  “I’m sure it is,” I whispered back, tears stinging my eyes.

  Kara took a big breath. “I’ll do the rounds really quickly, come back and share my candy with you.”

  Dad said, “You can have it when you feel better.”

  “You have to fix this,” said Kara.

  “I know.”

  After Kara, Lewis and Dad left, I lay on the sofa listening to trick-or-treaters at the door, with only the Spirit Man for company. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there, smirking. He was the scariest thing I saw that Halloween.

  In between trips to the door, Mom described all the cute little-kid costumes, but that just made me feel worse.

  Eventually Kara came back. She divided her haul with me, and then we sat on the stairs while Mom handed out candy. When Dad and Lewis got home, they joined us. We played with the Dalek and R2D2 when the older kids came to the door. They all loved it.

  When little kids came up the walk, Mom would call out a warning, “Don’t scare the little ones.” When we got too silly, she scolded us. “Behave yourselves!”

  We dissolved into giggles and played some more. I had so much fun, I almost forgot how itchy I was.

  CHAPTER 8

  I Hate Chess

  All the next day I dozed on the sofa, bored and itchy. Bear and Old Moby kept me company. I lay listening to noises from upstairs—the murmur of voices, the phone ringing, R2D2 talking to himself.

  Dad brought down his newest toy, a remote-controlled helicopter. Mom had kicked him out of the office when he buzzed the helicopter too close to her head, so he practiced flying it in the living room.

  This was his third helicopter. The first one was too hard to fly to be any fun; the second crashed and broke. Now he was trying another brand. I knew that BB and his friends would go nuts over it. I was too tired and itchy to care.

  Bear tried to catch it. He danced below, hoping it would come low enough for him to snap at. Dad teased him until Bear got too close and bent a rotor.

  When Dad wrote his review of the helicopter, he added a Bear Report at the end. He claimed Bear gave the helicopter four paws. When I asked out of how many possible paws, Dad looked at me like I was nuts.

  “How many paws does he have?” Dad asked.

  I didn’t think I was the crazy one.

  Kara came by after school for a quick visit. She brought an eraser mummy she’d made for me—an eraser shrouded in strips of tissue.

  I dozed off after Kara left and dreamed about the eraser mummy. In my dream I unwrapped it and found the Spirit Man inside. I woke feeling like ice water was pouring down my spine. Then the itching started again.

  After everyone else ate dinner, Lewis asked if I wanted to play chess.

  “I hate chess,” I said, probably sounding more cranky than I should have.

  Mom glanced up and saw the look of disappointment on his face. She frowned at me and said, “I’ll play,” as she put down her book. Chess is the one thing Mom makes time for with Lewis. She says it helps her relax.

  At first Lewis just liked all the chess pieces. Then, as he learned to play, he started to like the game itself, to see the patterns and figure out strategies.

  My head hurt as I tried to follow their game. I remembered something Mom had read out loud once about chess, about being in control, thinking ahead and taking charge. I could never do that.

  As I watched Lewis totally focused on the game
, I spotted the Spirit Man in the doorway. He was a dark shadow, face still, hands on his hips, his grass skirt faintly rustling in the draft. I decided I must really be sick, to be seeing him. I wasn’t just imagining him out of the corner of my eye, like before. I could look directly at him and watch him watching the game.

  Was he planning something? Making Lewis lose? I studied him, alert for anything he might try. As I watched, I decided I needed a strategy, like in chess, to learn to play his game, to outmaneuver him. But how could I do that?

  I went to bed feeling feverish. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the Spirit Man. When I opened my eyes, he was standing by the foot of my bed.

  I shrieked and leaped up. I rushed at him, waving my hands, shouting, “Get out. Get out!” He slowly backed away as I advanced, his face still but his arms rising just a little to fend me off. As soon as he had backed out of my room, I slammed the door. Ughhh!

  I dreamed he was prowling around the house, looking for something bad to do. I shivered all night, curled up in my blankets.

  Dad woke me early in the morning. “Jane, the furnace died. The house is getting really cold. I’m going to carry you downstairs to the living room. I have a big fire going—it’ll be warmer there.”

  I moaned and tried not to think about the Spirit Man.

  Dad bundled me in my blankets and carried me through the cold house. It was snowing outside, but the living room was warm, with a big fire hissing and snapping. At least the Spirit Man hadn’t ruined that.

  Mom baked muffins for breakfast so she’d have an excuse to have the oven on. We ate in the living room, huddled around the fire, while Dad argued over the phone with the furnace repair company. “We’ve been your customers for years. We have no heat. I have a sick child. Yes, I’ll pay a premium for emergency service.”

  The furnace guy arrived just after eight, and by eight thirty he’d left again, muttering about what he needed to buy.

  “What’s wrong with Mary Jane?” I asked. That’s what we called our cranky ancient furnace.

  Dad groaned. “Well, she needs a major repair, and she’s so old and finicky, she’s not really worth it. So we’re finally getting a new furnace.” He sighed. “Of course, we have to get it today, because it’s so cold out, so we can’t shop for a bargain or wait for a sale.” He sighed again.

  This was the Spirit Man’s fault, I thought. I just knew it!

  The furnace guy came back midmorning with a new furnace and a second guy to help him haul away the old one. All day I listened to clanging and banging as they took apart the old furnace, dragged it out of the house and installed the new one.

  Cold gusted through the kitchen and into the living room every time they opened the back door. Snow blew in, and puddles were tracked across the floor.

  The Spirit Man watched from the top of the basement stairs, where he could see both the basement chaos and Mom and Dad in the kitchen. He looked stern, but I knew he was happy.

  When Dad brought in another load of wood for the fire, he said, “The good news is that now that we’ve replaced the furnace, we can start renovating the basement.”

  Mom and Dad hadn’t wanted to start the basement renovation until they’d replaced the furnace, but they didn’t want to replace the furnace until they absolutely had to. Now there was no reason to wait.

  They kept the oven going all day to help heat the house. They felt guilty about leaving it on without food in it, so they took turns cooking, baking two pies, fresh buns, a roasted chicken and baked potatoes. I wasn’t hungry.

  Bear kept me company on and off. When he got too hot by the fire, he’d head down to the basement to supervise the furnace guys and then come back with his fur chilled, whining about the Spirit Man.

  All day, as I lay on the sofa and itched, I tried to figure out how to beat the Spirit Man, how to lift his curse. I couldn’t think of any way except to get back to Grandma’s house. We drove out every summer, but I couldn’t wait that long. What could I do instead?

  Lewis and BB came home from school full of energy and bouncing everywhere, driving Mom and me crazy. Dad grabbed BB and hauled him downstairs. “We can help with the furnace.”

  When Mom laughed, he said, “We’ll be the cleanup crew!”

  Lewis suggested we play a game of chess. I suggested reading. I looked over at the collection of Chrsitmas stories we kept on the bookshelf by the window. “Try How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” I said. “You already know the story, so you’ll be able to figure out the big words.”

  Slowly Lewis read the story, with Old Moby helping when he got stuck.

  Then he got an idea!

  An awful idea!

  The Grinch got a wonderful, awful idea!

  As he read, I got an idea—my own wonderful, awful idea. I knew how to beat the Spirit Man! I plotted while Lewis finished the story, so I would be ready by dinnertime.

  CHAPTER 9

  Renovation Chaos

  I lay on the sofa trying to summon up enough Mackenzie to make my plan work. I felt my stomach knot up. I wasn’t sure I could do it. While I worried, the doorbell rang and Bear galloped up the stairs. BB leaped after him and grabbed the remote for the Dalek. By the time Dad arrived, Bear and the Dalek were ready. Dad had to push past them to get the door open.

  A courier stood on the doorstep, package in hand, staring as the Dalek advanced on him, waving his little toilet plunger and exclaiming, “Ex-ter-min-ate! Ex-ter-min-ate!” Bear barked hysterically at the Dalek.

  “Bear, sit!” Dad ordered. Then he turned to BB and ordered, in exactly the same voice, “Brandon, stop!”

  “Sorry about that,” he muttered to the delivery guy.

  I watched it all from the sofa. BB was getting worse. He needed a new room so Lewis could have a quiet place of his own. My idea would fix that and get us to Grandma’s for Christmas. I would just have to find enough Mackenzie to do it.

  At dinner I launched my plan. “Why don’t we start the renovation right away, now that we have a new furnace?”

  “It’ll take a long time,” Dad said. “We’ll have to empty the basement, tear out the old walls and floor, and hire a crew to do the construction. If we start now, it won’t be done until after Christmas. And we can’t have Grandma here for Christmas if the house is in chaos.”

  Mom snorted.

  Dad laughed. “I mean, more chaos than usual.”

  I took a deep breath. “We could go to Grandma’s for Christmas,” I said, careful not to show how desperately I wanted this.

  Dad looked surprised. “You never want to go anywhere at Christmas.”

  “Well, this year I do,” I said, shrugging. “We really need that room for BB, so Lewis can have his own room.”

  BB and Lewis both looked pleased. That was rare.

  “That’s a good idea, Jane,” said Mom.

  You don’t have to sound so surprised, I thought.

  “It’ll be chaotic,” Dad warned. “A real mess. Lots of noise and people and stuff out of place. Just what you don’t like.”

  “I can manage,” I said. I could cope with anything, if we could get to Grandma’s for Christmas. “Let’s get it over with.”

  “Hmmm,” Mom said. “Am I sensing a little Mackenzie here?”

  I ducked my head. “I just think we’ve talked about this long enough, and now we should do it.”

  “What do you guys think?” Dad asked. Lewis and BB cheered, and Mom and I nodded. Even Bear snuffled. The Spirit Man watched from the kitchen doorway. He was probably pleased too. He likes chaos.

  Dad pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil and started planning while Mom and BB and Lewis washed the dishes.

  They spent the next week emptying the basement. Mom’s allergies flared up with all the mess, so Dad and BB did most of the basement work. Once I was feeling better, I helped Lewis with his homework and reading, so I didn’t have to descend into the chaos too often.

  Every time Kara came over, she took treasures home from t
he giveaway pile. “It’s like a free garage sale every day!” she said joyfully.

  Soon the house was lined with boxes of books and costumes and Dad’s toys. BB claimed as many of the toys as he could. I didn’t mind—at least they’d be stored in his room. But there was less and less room for Lewis.

  We discovered mice in the basement. I insisted Dad use a live trap, although we weren’t sure how kind it was to release mice outside in the middle of winter. Still, I hated the thought of killing them.

  The Spirit Man watched it all. I figured he’d be happy with the chaos, but his face never showed it.

  Bear went back and forth between Lewis and me and the basement, supervising everyone. He whined every time he passed the Spirit Man. At least BB was too busy to torment Bear with the Dalek.

  Once the sorting was done, and a ton of junk tossed or given away, Dad told BB they could start tearing things apart.

  “The more we do ourselves, the less it will cost,” Dad said.

  “Yeah, but do I have to do it?” BB asked.

  Dad nodded. “Sure. You’re strong enough to be a really big help. And you get a bedroom out of it.” Then he grinned and pulled something out of his back pocket. “And this.” He tossed BB a thin silver tool.

  “Cool,” said BB, his eyes lighting up.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A sonic screwdriver,” Dad said.

  I choked on my milk. “But, Dad, they don’t actually work!”

  “You just see how much work we get done!” Dad said as he and BB, happy now, headed downstairs.

  I giggled. The sonic screwdriver was another Doctor Who toy. For the Doctor, it locks, unlocks or fixes anything. I didn’t think it was going to do much good for BB.

  Deconstructing the basement was almost worse than the big cleanup. Dad and BB took out all the old wallboard and flooring. They found rotted wood and tore that out too.

  Mom got more and more tired. Dad took charge, working with BB in the basement every evening and on weekends, while I looked after Lewis. We sat in my room with Bear and worked through the alphabet. Lewis was getting better, remembering the sound of each letter and beginning to figure out the huge words he liked so much.