I hadn’t given in to it then, and I wasn’t going to now. Not on the first day like some baby who was upset she’d gotten in trouble.
I sniffed hard and swabbed at the mirror. Okay. Okay, maybe this was supposed to be a punishment and a waste of my time, but that didn’t mean I had to treat it like one. I could still make this whole thing whatever I wanted it to be, could still point at Live Oak House and say, “I helped make that place pretty.” Power of positive thinking.
I cleaned as much of the mirror as I could, even getting down on my hands and knees to clean near the bottom. The baseboards down there were dusty and gross, so I cleaned those, too, even though I’m not sure the glass wipes were all that effective.
I was thinking about going to ask Mrs. Freely if she had something else when I heard music drifting out from the hallway.
And not just any music.
The same music I’d heard that first day, the music box sounds coming from behind that one door.
Frowning, I got up and approached the doors to the ballroom, then stuck my head out, looking up and down the hall. The bedroom we’d been in when I’d heard the music the other day was nearby, and sure enough, that seemed to be where the music was coming from.
I stood there for a second, trying to decide what to do. I could ignore it and get back to cleaning. That seemed like the best option. Safe, sensible, all of that.
Or I could go to the bedroom and see for myself where that music was coming from.
Hesitating, I waited for . . . I don’t know, some kind of sign? Maybe for the music to stop so I wouldn’t have to choose.
But it kept playing, and then suddenly my feet were moving toward that bedroom and its little door.
CHAPTER 12
RUBY
“How is this supposed to take us all day?”
I looked up from the table of knickknacks to see Garrett staring down the hall, his own notebook in hand.
“I mean,” he went on, “it’s not like there’s that much back here. It’s . . . like, ‘here’s a bird,’ ‘here’s a book.’”
Lifting his head, Garrett shrugged at me. “Should we go ask them for something else to do?”
I was sitting on the floor with my notebook resting on my knees. So far, I’d only cataloged five things, but I’d really spent my time on those five entries, drawing elaborate pictures of them, using fancy, curlicue script. I reminded myself that next time, I should totally bring colored pencils or something, really draw this whole thing out.
Heh. Draw it out.
But now I stared at Garrett. “Dude,” I said, shaking the notebook at him. “The more time we take on one little thing, the less we have to do. Get your head in the game.”
He grinned at that, that stupid grin that made my cheeks go hot, and I looked back at my notebook, studiously making little scallop designs around the words Really old book (older than other old book on line 2).“Good point,” he said. “And I guess that means I could also do this.”
Taking his pencil, he pressed it down hard on the cover of his notebook until the point snapped, the sound loud in the quiet hallway.
“Oh no,” he said in a flat voice. “I seem to have broken my pencil.”
I gave him my best solemn face. “Guess you’ll have to go get a new one,” I said. “And maybe even sharpen it. Could really take some time.”
“Thirty minutes at least,” he said, and I screwed up my face at him.
“An hour if you were really serious about it.”
He grinned again, flipping his hair out of his eyes, and ugh, ugh, ugh.
But then he nodded back at the door. “You’ll be okay back here by yourself?”
I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted by that or not, but it did kind of feel like a reminder that Garrett was a year older than me, and while I might be sitting here thinking he was cute, he could just as easily be standing there thinking that I was a little kid.
I didn’t like that feeling.
In the end, I gave him a thumbs-up and he headed out, the door to the hallway swinging closed behind him.
Sighing, I looked back at my notebook, then lifted my gaze to the tables of stuff. There was still one more under the window that I could get to, but I didn’t really see the point. Like I’d told Garrett, the longer we could draw this out, the better, as far as I was concerned, so I flipped to an empty page and started doodling.
First I did a cartoon version of the bird under the bell jar, but I made it bigger than it really was, giving it fangs and wings that ended in sharp tips. For added weirdness, I gave it heavy eyebrows, smiling as my giant creepy bird took shape on the page.
“Total Fridge Material,” I muttered to myself, almost without thinking, but then my pencil stuttered on the page.
That’s what Grammy had said about my drawings. Whenever I went to her house after school, she’d ask what I’d drawn that day, and if it was weird enough, she’d pronounce it “Total Fridge Material.”
All those drawings were in the boxes now, the ones still in our garage from when Mom had cleaned out Grammy’s place. We only had a few things left to go through, but we’d been putting it off. We weren’t saying why, but I knew that for me, it felt like the last little link to Grammy. Once we were done with that, what else would there be?
Clearing my throat and scrubbing at the sudden stinging in my eyes, I flipped to another blank page, and this time I didn’t draw any of my own stuff, only monsters from video games I liked.
I’d just finished a pretty good Creeper (if I do say so myself) when I heard the hallway door open.
“Duuuuuude,” I drawled out. “You were only gone for like five minutes! Weak!”
Grinning, I lifted my head.
But while the hallway door was open, there was no sign of Garrett.
That was . . . not cool.
Especially because I remembered how the door had slammed behind me and Garrett when we’d first come in, and how it had slammed again behind Garrett when he left. There was something about the hinges that made it close on its own, maybe for fire code reasons or something, maybe because the house was old, and for all I knew, there was a slant or something to the floor.
But the point was, that door had closed on its own, and now it was open.
Halfway.
Which would be impossible.
“Garrett?” I called, because I really, really wanted to believe this was still some kind of prank. Maybe he’d wedged it a certain way and had ducked back into the hall, laughing at me.
If that was the case, all the smiles and hair flicks in the world would not save him. I would stab him with his newly sharpened pencil and possibly kick him somewhere painful.
“This isn’t funny!” I called, then immediately rolled my eyes at myself. Great, just a few spooky seconds and I was already talking like someone in a bad horror movie.
“Seriously! If you’re being a jerk, I’m going to make you list all the dead stuff by yourself!”
Still nothing, but the door didn’t move.
I slowly got to my feet, my back still against the wall, the notebook slipping from my fingers to land on the hardwood floor. Okay. Okay, I would walk over to the door and see if Garrett was out there myself.
No big. I had this.
“You are brave,” I said out loud to myself, feeling comforted and stupid all at the same time. “You are a warrior woman who can play Silent Hill with the lights out. You can walk over to a door.”
I inched down the hallway. “See, look? You’re doing it now! You are walking toward that door.” I kept my voice pitched low, just in case Garrett was waiting there to jump out at me or laugh, but I couldn’t seem to stop talking, the flow of words making it easier to keep moving. “So brave, so not scared of creepy houses or open doors. Who’s scared of a door? Not this girl, that’s who. And Garrett, if you’re out th
ere and listening to me, you should be scared, because I will murderize you super hard for this.”
There was no reply, and in my heart, I knew Garrett wasn’t out there, but there was something weird about the silence. It felt . . . weighted. Heavy, somehow, like someone was waiting on the other side of that door, holding their breath.
I seemed to be holding mine, too, my chest tight as I eased myself right up to the door.
It still stood there, half open, and there was a part of me almost expecting it to shut in my face, and a sudden, awful image rose up in my mind of taking hold of the door, only to have it slam and catch my fingers or something.
I shuddered at that and was about to take a step back when I heard something from out in the hallway.
Music.
Not just any music, but the same sad, soft music box melody I’d heard on that first day. The music playing behind the little door in the second-floor bedroom, the music everyone claimed not to hear except for me.
And Olivia. Even though she’d said she hadn’t.
It was hard to make myself ease out of the doorway and into the hall, my brain still shouting that the door was going to close and squash me, but I did it, letting out a long breath once I was safely in the hallway.
I turned back around to look at the door, and from the bigger hallway, that small, cramped hall with its tables of junk seemed . . . spookier somehow. Darker.
And then, as I watched, the door very slowly swung closed.
Swallowing hard, I backed up, nearly tripping over my untied shoelaces.
“Old houses are weird,” I muttered to myself again. “So weird, doing weird things because . . . architecture.”
But I could still hear the music box playing, and even though my stomach was queasy and my knees felt kind of weak, I made myself turn down the hall and walk toward it.
The bedroom was around a corner on the second floor, and I turned it, pushing my shoulders back, determined to find out where that music was coming from.
But someone had already beat me there.
CHAPTER 13
OLIVIA
“Ohhhhh, you are such a liar!”
I jumped back from the door to see Ruby Kaye standing in the hall, and I scowled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, holding my chin up, and she snorted at me, crossing her arms over her chest and thrusting out a hip. As she did, I glanced down at her shoes.She was wearing turquoise laces in one, red in the other. Who did that, seriously?
“Um, yeah, you do. You heard it, too.”
The faint music was still echoing in my ears, and I glanced at the closed bedroom door even as I said, “I didn’t hear anything.”
Ruby threw her hands up, looking toward the ceiling, “Whyyyyyy?” she groaned before lowering her head to look at me again. That blue streak had come loose from her ponytail, and it swung in front of her eyes. “Why are you being this way?”
She walked toward me, and I found myself taking a step back, even though that was stupid. It wasn’t like Ruby was going to fight me or anything. But she wasn’t heading for me, she was heading for the door.
Curling her fingers around the antique doorknob, she gave it a rattle, but the door didn’t budge.
And then, faintly, the sound of the music box started up again.
Ruby’s gaze shot to me, and this time I couldn’t even pretend I didn’t hear it.
I walked closer to the door, the floorboards squeaking under my sneakers, and leaned in close, facing Ruby.
“Suuuuuch a liar,” she whispered, and I held one finger over my lips.
“Hush,” I hissed.
The music wasn’t nearly as loud as it had been on Monday, but then we weren’t in the bedroom this time. Still, I could make out the melody—something sad and sweet that made goose bumps break out on my arms—and I almost held my breath, straining to hear better. I felt like I could almost recognize the song, and if I just—
“What are y’all doing?”
Ruby and I both jumped away from the door, making nearly identical yelps of surprise.
Susanna stood there, notebook in hand, frowning at us.
“Okay, do not sneak up on people who are listening to spooky music box sounds, Susanna,” Ruby said, and Susanna raised her eyebrows at us.
“What spooky music box sounds?”
Ruby and I looked at each other. It was getting hot up here on the second floor, the air close, still smelling like about a million years of dust had settled over the place, but even over the sound of our breathing and the muffled noises of people working downstairs, I could still hear the music. If anything, it was a little louder now, like it was out in the actual bedroom, not behind that one little door.
What was that little door, anyway? A closet?
Ruby waved at Susanna, beckoning her closer. “Listen,” she said.
Susanna kept standing there, her dark eyes moving back and forth between us like she was trying to work out if this was a trick or not.
But after a second, she shrugged and walked over, placing her ear to the door.
Ruby and I scooted back to give her room, both of us on either side of her, waiting.
Then her eyes widened. “Oh, wow,” she breathed, and Ruby grinned at me over the top of Susanna’s head.
“I do hear something,” Susanna went on.
Then she pulled away from the door and fixed me with a look. “I hear two jerks who think I’ll fall for this.”
Ruby’s grin collapsed on her face. “What?”
With a scoffing sound, Susanna backed away from the door and put her hands on her hips.
“‘Oooooh, we hear a spooky music box in a spooooooky house!’” Susanna mocked, waggling her fingers at us.
Then she dropped her hands. “Please.”
“This isn’t a trick!” Ruby insisted, and I shook my head.
“It’s really not,” I said, then stepped back to the door again. “Can’t you hear it?” I asked Susanna, because once again, it was clear as day to me, as loud as though someone were holding a music box on the other side of the door.
Ruby joined me, pressing both her palms to the wood as she leaned in.
We both stood there, ears pressed to the door, facing each other as inside the bedroom, the tune played on and on. It was going a little slower now, like it was winding down.
“It’s—” I started, but Ruby nodded, finishing my thought for me.
“It’s almost done.”
The melody slurred and slowed, and finally, with a few more distant plinks, it faded out altogether.
Ruby and I turned to look at Susanna, who was still watching us, hands on hips, head cocked to one side.
After a second, she rolled her eyes again and, muttering something about how dumb we must think she was, turned and headed back downstairs.
Ruby and I stood there in the silent hallway. There was sweat dripping down my back, but I was still covered in goose bumps, and Ruby was fiddling with the red string bracelet around one wrist.
“That’s . . . weird,” she finally said, and I stepped back from the door.
“What, that we heard it, or that Susanna didn’t?”
She shrugged, tucking her blue streak behind one ear. “Both, I guess. Maybe we’re magic?”
I wanted to scoff at that and point out that hearing a mysterious music box didn’t seem all that magical to me, but then it was really weird. No one had heard it the other day, either, but I’d thought maybe I had been mishearing things, too. There was no doubt in my mind that I’d heard the music box today, though, and I also didn’t think Susanna was lying about not hearing it.
So what did any of that mean?
“We should explore more of the house!” Ruby suddenly said, her eyes bright. “Maybe we’ll hear more creepy things!”
; That sounded like the last thing in the world I wanted to do. I just wanted to go and eat my PB&J in peace and maybe see if I could get some kind of duty that kept me on the ground floor for the rest of the day.
Near the adults.
Which felt stupid and babyish, and not like something I should say out loud.
Emma would do it, I suddenly thought. Emma would have loved this, the idea that she and Ruby were hearing something, just the two of them. She would’ve jumped at the chance to turn this boring summer of chores into an adventure, even if she didn’t really believe in this stuff.
But I wasn’t Emma, and I shook my head, jerking my thumb toward the stairs.
“It’s almost lunch,” I said, “so I’m gonna . . . go do that.”
Ruby’s face didn’t exactly fall, but I could tell she was disappointed. Her shoulders slumped a little.
“Okay, whatever,” she said, kneeling down to tie her shoe.
I stood there awkwardly, wondering if I should wait for her to come down with me, or if she was expecting me to leave already.
And then, with a soft clicking sound, the bedroom door swung open.
Ruby and I both froze, Ruby still crouched on the ground. Her hair had swung into her face, so I couldn’t see her as she said, “That door was locked.”
There was no music coming from the bedroom now, but I thought I caught a faint, sort of flowery smell. Like perfume or the scented powder my grandmother bought me and Emma for Christmas.
Ruby rose to her feet and made for the door, but I found myself catching her elbow, pulling her up short.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, then realized there was no reason to be quiet.
“Um, I’m going in the room that opened up mysteriously by itself, duh,” she replied, also keeping her voice low.
And when she stepped through the doorway, I found myself following her, even as I told myself that I was going to tell her to stop, that she needed to come back into the hallway and go downstairs.
But when we walked into the bedroom, the first thing I saw was the little door in the back of the room.