“I can’t find the wipers,” he scowled. “Do you see the wiper control?”
I leaned forward as far as the seat belt would allow me. I squinted at the dashboard. Radio … heater … flash signal …
“No. I don’t see it, Dad.”
Dad uttered a frustrated sigh. He pulled the car to the side of the road.
Rain washed over the car like ocean waves, one wave right after another.
“Quick — open the glove compartment,” Dad ordered. “Find the manual. It will tell us where to find the wiper control. Hurry.”
He continued to search the dashboard. “Where is it? Where is the stupid knob?”
Dad hates things like this. He always loses it in an emergency.
“I’ll find it,” I assured him. I pulled down the lid to the glove compartment. A tiny light flashed on.
I lowered my head and peered inside.
“Hey!” I cried out in surprise. No car manual in there. Nothing. Empty.
Except for a torn scrap of white paper.
“What is it?” Dad demanded, still searching the dashboard.
I pulled the scrap of paper from the glove compartment and, holding it in the dim light, read the scrawled words.
Two words: I’M EVIL.
I’M EVIL.
I read the words to Dad.
“What kind of stupid joke is that?” he growled.
Rain pelted the car. A heavy, dark wave washed over us. The car rocked under the weight of it.
Dad let out a cry. I heard a scraping sound and saw the wiper blades begin to slide over the windshield. Beyond the windshield, I could see the yellow blur of our headlights.
“I found it!” Dad exclaimed. “Stupid control is on the steering wheel shaft.”
The wipers slid slowly up, then back, clearing the glass for only a second before the rain covered it again.
We waited by the side of the road for a while, listening to the steady roar of the rain, watching the wipers push the water away. Finally, the rain slowed enough to see clearly. Dad shifted into drive and guided the car back onto the road.
“Some storm,” he muttered as we followed the curving road up the hill toward home.
“Yeah. Some storm,” I repeated.
But I wasn’t thinking about the rain. I held the scrap of paper in my hand and stared down at it the whole way back.
I’M EVIL. Why would someone write that? Why was it left in our glove compartment?
* * *
My friends Allan and Steve dropped by the next night after dinner. I was in my room sketching the new car. I planned to design my own model of it and then build it.
“Bet you ten bucks Mitchell is drawing a car,” I heard Allan say from out in the hall.
“No bet,” Steve replied. “That’s a sucker bet.”
They were always betting each other on everything.
They burst into the room and laughed when they saw me hunched over my drawing.
They’re both big guys, taller than me and athletic-looking, with broad necks like football players. Allan has curly red hair and a lot of freckles. Mom says he looks like the all-American boy, whatever that means.
Steve has black hair, shaved really short, and wears a silver ring in one ear.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked, setting down my pen.
“You’ve been talking nonstop about your awesome new car,” Allan replied. “So we came to check it out.”
Steve grinned. “You have the keys, Mitchell? You want to take us for a ride?”
“Ha-ha,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re a riot.”
“You told us your dad let you drive,” Steve insisted, picking up my car drawing and studying it.
“Yeah, last summer. But that was way out in the desert in Arizona, and there wasn’t another car around for a hundred miles,” I replied.
He set the drawing back on the desk and pulled my arm. “Come on. Show us the car.”
I led the way to the stairs. Of course, we bumped into Todd. When my friends come over, Todd always manages to be around.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, blocking the stairway.
“To Brazil,” Allan joked. “Get out of the way, or we’ll miss our plane.”
“Take me with you,” Todd insisted, crossing his scrawny arms over his scrawny chest.
“Why do you want to go to Brazil?” Allan asked him.
“You’re not going to Brazil. You’re going to check out the new car,” Todd replied.
“Okay, okay, you can come.” I sighed. I knew if I didn’t agree, he’d come anyway.
I grabbed a jacket and we stepped outside. It was a cool, cloudy night. The ground was still wet from the heavy rains the night before.
Allan and Steve ran past me to the car parked near the bottom of the driveway. Light from the streetlamp poured over it, making the blue finish gleam.
“Way cool!” Allan declared.
Steve ran his hand over the hood, then bent down to examine the headlight covers. “It’s built so low,” he commented. “Like a race car.”
“It sounds like a race car, too,” I told him. “It has a V-8 that roars when you floor the gas.”
“Cool,” he murmured. He stood up. “Can we get inside?”
“Yeah. Why not?” I replied.
I grabbed the handle on the driver’s side and pulled open the door. The memory of the lock sticking flashed into my mind.
But it hadn’t happened again, so I didn’t worry about it. Dad probably had everything fixed at the garage.
I slid behind the wheel. Allan climbed in beside me. Todd and Steve piled into the back. We closed all the doors.
“Mmmm. Real leather seats,” Steve declared.
“Crank up the radio,” Allan demanded.
“I can’t,” I told him. “I didn’t bring the key.”
“Well, go get it,” Allan insisted.
“I don’t think Dad would like it,” I said. “He says if you sit in a car with the radio on, it wears down the battery.”
I heard the door locks click.
The sound made me jump.
I turned to Allan beside me. “Did you hit the lock control on your door?”
He shook his head. “No way.”
I shivered.
“Hey — it’s getting cold in here!” Todd whined.
He was right.
I could see my breath steaming toward the windshield. I shivered again and zipped my jacket up all the way.
I felt a wave of cold air sweep over me. And then another blast, even colder.
“Hey, Mitchell, turn off the AC,” Steve called, leaning over the seat. “It’s freezing in here.”
Shivering, I turned back to him. “The air conditioning isn’t on. I told you, I don’t have the key.”
“I’m f-f-freezing,” Todd stuttered.
I stared at the windshield. The glass was icing up on the inside!
It’s not a normal cold, I realized. It’s such a heavy, deep cold. Where is it coming from?
“This is totally weird,” Allan murmured beside me.
“I’m getting out,” Todd declared from behind me. “My face — it’s freezing off!”
I heard him tug the door handle. And then I heard him cry out. “Hey — it’s locked. Mitchell — unlock the door.”
I tried my door. Locked.
Once again, I searched for the lock control.
“It’s s-so c-cold!” I heard Steve stammer. “Mitchell — come on. Open the doors.”
“I’m trying,” I told him. My hand fumbled over the door controls searching for the right button.
The air grew colder. I rubbed my nose and ears. They were numb. My nostrils hurt when I breathed in.
So cold …
My chest ached. It suddenly felt tight. I struggled to breathe, but it made my chest throb with pain.
The cold is shutting off my air, I realized. Each breath made a high, wheezing sound.
My chest throbbed. I couldn
’t stop shivering.
I tried the door again. But my numb fingers wouldn’t bend. I couldn’t grab the handle.
Frantic, choked with panic, I shoved my shoulder against it. No.
It wouldn’t budge.
And then I heard laughter. Very faint. A girl’s laughter. Soft and … cruel.
Mean laughter.
The air grew even colder. I choked. Struggled to draw in a breath. But I couldn’t.
Did my lungs freeze?
“Let us out!” Todd shrieked.
“Let us out of here!” Steve screamed.
We were all pounding on the doors and windows.
“Let us out! Somebody — let us out!”
My door flew open.
I toppled out. Shivering, my whole body shaking from the cold, I landed on my side on the driveway.
And stared up at Marissa.
Marissa pulled open a back door, and Todd and Steve burst out. Hugging themselves, they began hopping up and down, trying to warm up. A second later, Allan slid out through the open driver’s door and joined them.
I climbed to my feet, forcing myself to stop shivering. The night air felt balmy and warm compared to the inside of the car.
“What’s going on?” Marissa asked, turning from me to the others. “What is wrong with you guys?”
“F-f-freezing,” Steve choked out.
“I’m going in,” Todd announced. “Got to get warm!” He took off in a run and vanished into the house.
Marissa eyed me. “Mitchell, were you locked in again?”
“Yeah. We were locked in,” Steve growled, answering for me. “And the dumb cluck had the air conditioner on!”
“I did not!” I cried.
“Funny joke, Mitchell,” Allan muttered. “Real funny.”
Steve gave me a shove. “You’ve got a weird sense of humor.”
“Come on, guys —” I pleaded. “You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t —”
But they took off, running along the street, toward their houses.
I watched them until they disappeared into the next block. Then I turned back to Marissa. “Lucky you came along again,” I said.
“Yeah. I guess so,” she replied, still studying me. “You really should get those doors fixed.”
“I thought my dad had them fixed at the garage,” I told her.
As I talked to Marissa, I was thinking about the laughter I’d heard inside the car. The girl’s soft, cruel laughter.
Laughter as cold as the air in the car.
“I’m afraid to tell Dad about the doors,” I said. “He might try to fix them himself.” I shook my head. “If he does, he’ll only make them worse.”
“But you can’t leave them like this,” she insisted, her eyes locked on mine. “It’s dangerous, Mitchell. It’s really dangerous.”
* * *
It was nearly midnight, but I couldn’t get to sleep.
Mom and Dad had gone to bed at eleven. The house was quiet and still. Gusts of wind rattled the old windowpanes in my bedroom window.
In my pajamas, I leaned on the windowsill and gazed down at the car at the bottom of the driveway. It suddenly looked to me like a leopard about to pounce.
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I screamed — and spun around.
“Todd — what are you doing in here? Why are you still up?” I demanded.
He didn’t reply. In the light from the street, I could see his face, tight with fear.
He stepped beside me and gazed down at the car.
“It’s haunted,” Todd whispered.
“What?”
“The car is haunted,” he said.
I groaned. “Todd — please don’t start with that ghost stuff again.”
“It’s haunted,” he repeated, leaning on the windowsill and staring down at the car. His entire body shuddered. He turned to me. “I heard that girl laughing, Mitchell.”
My mouth dropped open. “You heard it, too?”
He nodded.
“It might have been Marissa from outside the car,” I said softly.
“Maybe,” he replied. “But somebody locked those doors. Somebody locked us in and then made it cold.”
“Todd —”
“It was a ghost!” he declared, his voice trembling, his face so pale in the gray light from outside. “I know it was a ghost. The car is haunted, Mitchell.”
He was trembling. I put my hands gently on his shoulders. “That’s crazy, Todd,” I whispered. “You’ve got to stop imagining ghosts all the time.”
“But — but —” he sputtered.
“The car needs work, that’s all,” I assured him. “It’s a used car. It just needs a little work.”
We talked a while longer. I think I calmed him down. He said good night and padded back to his room.
I started to bed. Stopped halfway across the floor.
Something pulled me back to the window. I had to see the car one more time.
Heavy black clouds floated low over the hill. The moon and stars were covered behind a blanket of darkness.
I peered down to the driveway — and gasped in surprise.
The car was bathed in an eerie green glow.
The pale green light circled the car, shimmered around it, growing brighter, brighter, then fading.
Then brighter again.
Pulsing.
What is doing that? I wondered. I stared down through the window, my forehead pressing against the cold pane.
Is Todd right? Is the car really haunted?
I turned from the window and grabbed my clothes.
I had to find out.
I made my way down the stairs, carrying my shoes. If Mom and Dad heard the steps creaking, I’d be caught. And how could I explain why I was sneaking out in the middle of the night?
I sat down in the hallway and pulled on my sneakers. I didn’t bother to tie them. I wanted to get out to the car before that strange green glow disappeared.
I could hear the wind whistling through the living room windows. The old glass panes rattled. It sounded as if someone were shaking the house.
No wonder poor Todd thought the place was haunted!
Dad planned to replace the old window frames. But he hadn’t had time. When it got really windy, we had to wear sweaters or coats inside the house.
I pulled on my down jacket. The car keys rested on the little table beside the front door. I picked them up and tucked them into my coat pocket. Then I carefully slid the front door open and slipped outside.
A strong blast of wind blew me back against the door. My hair flew into my eyes. I fumbled with my jacket zipper and finally managed to zip it up to the collar.
The night dew had frozen, leaving a thin layer of frost over the front lawn. Slipping and sliding, I jogged across the grass to the driveway.
The car no longer glowed.
It sat under the light from the streetlamp, shimmering and still. I ran up to the driver’s door, my breath rising in front of me in puffs of white steam.
I peered into the frosted window. Dark inside the car.
Dark and empty.
I ran my hand over the roof.
Why isn’t it glowing? I wondered. Was that some kind of optical illusion, a trick of the light from my upstairs window?
I felt disappointed.
The car held a mystery, and I wanted to solve it.
But here I was, out in the cold, windy night, standing in the driveway, staring at an empty car.
“Mitchell, you’re acting like a jerk,” I scolded myself. Shaking my head, I turned and started trudging back to the house.
I had walked only a step or two when I heard the soft voice: “Climb in. Come on — get in.”
“Huh?” I let out a startled cry — and spun around so hard, my feet nearly slid out from under me on the frost-covered driveway.
“Get in. Hurry. Climb in.”
I moved back to the car, leaning into another strong blast of wind. “Who are you?” I cal
led. “Where are you?” My muffled voice blew back in my face.
Silence now. Except for the rush of wind through the nearly bare trees. Dead brown leaves swirled at my feet, spun around my legs as if trying to hold me back.
But I grabbed the door handle. “Who are you?” I repeated.
Cold fear made my whole body shudder. I knew I shouldn’t obey the voice. I knew I should stay out of the car.
I remembered the locked doors, the frigid air, the cold, cruel laughter.
But I had sneaked outside to solve the mystery. And I couldn’t solve it standing out here, shivering, staring into an empty car.
I pulled open the door and slid behind the wheel.
The leather seat was so cold, it stung my skin through my clothes. My breath steamed the windshield. I rubbed my hands over the cold, smooth steering wheel.
“Are you in here?” I whispered, turning, searching around. “Is someone in here?”
I listened for the girl’s soft voice.
Silence.
“Mitchell, you’re an idiot,” I murmured out loud.
I was falling for my brother’s stupid ghost talk. “Yeah, right,” I told myself, rolling my eyes. “You’re sitting in a haunted car.”
The furious wind sent a clump of dead leaves scuttling over the windshield. Startled, I raised my hands as if to shield myself.
The leaves pressed flat against the glass as if pushing to get inside. Another wind gust carried them away.
“Is anyone in here?” I tried again. “Did someone call me?”
Silence.
Shivering, I shoved my hands into my coat pockets. And felt the car keys.
I pulled them out and stared at them. Why did I bring them with me? Did I plan to start the car?
No. Of course not.
I picked them up because it’s the middle of the night and I am half asleep and not thinking clearly and going crazy because there’s something strange about this car that I can’t figure out!
I slipped the key into the ignition and turned it one notch. It didn’t start the engine. You have to turn the key all the way to start the engine.
“What am I doing?” I asked myself.
I knew I shouldn’t be out here. I should be up in my bed, safe and warm and asleep.