Who Ghost There? Read online

  “We have an old grandfather clock with some serious spooky potential,” I said. Clyde’s eyes widened.

  “Ooh, just like when Hunter tracked the spirit of the cuckoo cuckoo-clock maker!” Clyde said.

  “Exactly!” I replied. We headed into the dining room, video camera rolling.

  Instead of a haunted grandfather clock, however, we found another one of my sisters—and about twenty dolls and stuffed animals. Lola, the glitter-loving half of the six-year-old twins, informed us that she was holding a pageant for her toys. She was wearing a sash with Judge spelled out in sequins.

  “Would you two like to be guest judges? You’re just in time for the talent portion!” she exclaimed as one of her animatronic stuffed bears danced jerkily across the dining-room table. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t going to let our paranormal investigations be thwarted by a dancing bear.

  “Sure, we’ll judge,” I said, grabbing the clipboard.

  “Gosh, Lincoln, do you really think we’re qualified?” Clyde asked.

  “Just go with it,” I muttered, then drew a big number ten on the score sheet and held it up for Lola. “I think Mr. Sprinkles is the clear winner—look at that fancy footwork! Ten out of ten, pageant’s over. How about you retire to the kitchen for the after-party?”

  Lola’s face instantly transformed from a sweet smile to a stony glare. It’s unnerving how she can do that.

  “Are you kidding?” she asked incredulously, her eyes flashing with anger. “We haven’t even gotten to the eveningwear competition! I was up all night sewing their gowns.”

  Clyde and I took a step back, alarmed. I knew better than to get into it with her. One time, I’d asked her to relocate her hopscotch grid so Clyde and I could set up a bike ramp in the driveway. She wasn’t even using it! But the next day, both of my bike tires had been slashed—and there were traces of glitter on the wheel spokes.

  “Come on, Clyde,” I said. “Maybe we’ll have better luck in the living room. I heard some weird noises coming from the chimney last week. It could have been that possum again, but it also could have been—”

  “—the spirit of a lonely chimney sweep, just like the one Hunter found!” Clyde chimed in. I grinned and headed into the living room—only to be knocked off my feet.

  OOF! I looked up to see Lana, the mud-loving half of the six-year-old twins, bounding away on all fours. I stood up.

  “Lana, what the—?” I started to say, but then—OOF! —I was knocked down again, this time by our bulldog, Charles. As Clyde pulled me to my feet, I saw that the living room had been converted into a homemade dog agility course. Clyde and I watched, confused, as Lana plowed over a set of hurdles, crawled through a tunnel, jumped across a seesaw, and bounded through a hoop with Charles following close behind. As they crossed the finish line, Lana stood up and clicked a stopwatch.

  “One minute, ten seconds,” she said to Charles. “Not bad, but let’s see if we can get over those hurdles a little faster.” She handed him a treat, then turned to Clyde and me while Charles chowed down.

  “Sorry about that, Lincoln,” she said. “But I couldn’t stop in the middle of a run—Charles and I are training for an agility competition.”

  “The humans have to go through the course, too?” Clyde asked, confused.

  Lana shook her head. “I wish! But nah, I’m just showing Charles how to do the obstacles. It’s how he learns best. Well, that and lots of treats.”

  There had to be a way to get Lana and Charles to leave. I glanced out the window, then back at Lana. “This is a pretty sweet course,” I said. “But couldn’t you make an even better one in the yard? You could use the baby pool as a water obstacle!”

  Lana shook her head. “No can do. Lucy’s out there grave-digging. Didn’t want to risk falling into one and twisting a paw, did we, boy?” she said, looking down at Charles, who was trying to pull the bag of treats out of her pocket. She handed him one, then sneaked another for herself.

  “Lana! Mom and Dad said you aren’t supposed to eat Charles’s treats anymore,” I said. Lana growled at me. Charles looked up at her, then started growling at me, too. I guess that really is how he learns best. I sighed.

  “So much for investigating the chimney,” I said to Clyde. I was starting to get a bad feeling about this ghost hunt—were my sisters really going to turn up everywhere Clyde and I went? There had to be someplace they hadn’t infiltrated. Clyde seemed to be thinking the same thing.

  “We’re not having much luck on the first floor, are we? Should we try upstairs?”

  I looked around, thinking for a second.

  “I’ve got a better idea! Why don’t we try somewhere in between. …”

  Clyde and I peered into the air vent.

  “Good thinking, Lincoln. It’s just like when Hunter was tracking the ghost of the angry AC repairwoman!” Clyde exclaimed.

  “Exactly! You know, sometimes I do hear strange sounds coming from the vents,” I said as we took off the grate and climbed inside. We crawled forward and were soon swallowed up in the darkness.

  “It’s times like these I really wish we had sprung for the real night-vision gogg— GAH!” I yelped as I bumped into something solid in front of me.

  “Is it a ghost?” Clyde asked optimistically, scrambling to turn on the video camera.

  “Sigh. If only,” came a monotone reply. I knew that monotone.

  “Lucy?” I asked into the darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I saw her sitting cross-legged in the vents, her pet bat, Fangs, on her shoulder. Fangs squeaked at us. Lucy stared at us. Or at least, I think she did. Her bangs covered her eyes.

  “What are you doing in here? Lana said you were outside digging graves,” I said.

  “Sigh. I was—until I hit the gas line and was forced to abandon my work. Mom and Dad have zero appreciation for the mortuary arts,” Lucy replied, then held up a black notebook and pen. “So I came in here to vent.”

  I know that sounds like a joke, but trust me when I say she’s not the type.

  “This is where I always come to express my inner torment,” Lucy said. Guess that explained the strange sounds I’d heard coming from the vents before. Clyde tapped my shoulder.

  “We should probably leave her in peace. Dr. Lopez says journaling can be a positive outlet for negative emotions,” he said, referring to his therapist. “And it can serve as inspiration for our creative endeavors.” Then he turned to Lucy. “I hope your torment turns into your best poem yet!”

  For a second, I could have sworn I saw Lucy break into a smile. But then Fangs flapped off her shoulder and flew straight at me.

  “Okay, okay, I can take a hint! We’re leaving!” I said, scooting backward with my hands over my neck, just to be safe.

  Back outside, Clyde and I regrouped. We’d searched more than half of the house without finding a single trace of paranormal activity—all thanks to my ever-present sisters.

  “Maybe we should try upstairs after all—say, starting with Lori’s room?” Clyde suggested hopefully.

  “No way, Clyde. I know better than to snoop in my sisters’ bedrooms … unless we want to become ghosts ourselves,” I said.

  There was always my room. My kingdom. My domain. True, it’s just a converted linen closet, but I’m pretty lucky to be the only Loud kid with a room to myself. Or at least, I’d always assumed I had the place to myself. If there was even a slight chance that I had a ghostly roommate, now was the time to find out.

  Clyde and I climbed the stairs and peered into the upstairs hall. All the bedroom doors were closed, and there wasn’t a sister in sight. I couldn’t believe our luck.

  “Wow,” I whispered to Clyde. “It’s never this quiet. Maybe our ghost hunt is finally about to pick up!” He flashed me an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and together we crept down the hall toward my room. Clyde got out the video camera; then I slowly pushed open the door.

  Dark shadows fell across my bedroom. My clock ticked ominously. Clyde and I stepped into the darkness, holdi
ng our breath. Suddenly, a jarring voice rang out behind me. We both jumped.

  “Say, what do you call two bananas?” it squawked. Clyde and I turned to see my sister Luan the comedian holding her ventriloquist dummy, Mr. Coconuts.

  Luan stared at her dummy, feigning cluelessness. “Gee, I don’t know, Mr. Coconuts, what do you call them?”

  “A pair of slippers. Get it?” Mr. Coconuts replied, before Luan burst into her trademark giggle. Clyde laughed and clapped.

  “Good one, Mr. Coconuts!” he said. Luan smiled and made the dummy take a bow.

  “If you found that joke a-peeling, we’ve got bunches more to tell before you split,” Mr. Coconuts gabbled. “Like this one: What did the banana say to the monkey?”

  Clyde furrowed his brow, thinking. I sighed.

  “We don’t have time for your ventriloquist act right now, Luan. Clyde and I are in the middle of a ghost hunt.”

  Mr. Coconuts glared at me. “Yeah, well, I’m in the middle of a joke, pal! And you just stepped on my punch line!”

  I pleaded with Luan. “Look, we can’t hunt for ghosts if it’s not quiet. Can’t you just work on your mime act instead?” Mr. Coconuts’s mouth fell open, probably to deliver a searing comedic retort, when—BLANGGG!—an earsplitting power chord rang out in the hallway. There was no need to ask where it came from.

  “Luna!” Luan, Clyde, and I all said at once. I stormed into the hall, Clyde right behind me, and knocked loudly on my third-oldest sister’s door. Luna stopped playing for a second and knocked back in a rhythmic pattern. I frowned.

  “Not in the mood right now, Luna. Just open the door!” I shouted. The door opened and Luna leaned out, her electric guitar slung around her neck.

  “’Sup, li’l dudes? I’m just taking my new whammy bar for a spin. Wanna come jam?” she asked.

  Sometimes I understand only half of what Luna says, but it’s usually safe to assume it involves some kind of song lyric or musical equipment. Clyde stepped forward.

  “I’d love to jam! Do you have a recorder I could borrow? We just learned ‘Frère Jacques’ in music class,” he said eagerly. Luna grinned and waved Clyde inside, but I pulled him back, getting frustrated.

  “Luna, we’re not here to jam—we’re here to look for ghosts! So will you please quit playing for a minute?” I asked. She shook her head.

  “Dude, asking me to quit playing is like asking me to quit breathing,” she replied.

  Geez, dramatic much? Usually Luna’s the chill, easygoing type. In fact, that gave me an idea.

  “How about changing things up and going acoustic?” I tried. Luna paused to consider.

  “Hmm, the mellow vibe. I can dig it,” she said, putting down her electric guitar. Clyde and I exchanged surprised grins—finally, some progress! But just as she picked up her acoustic guitar, we heard a roar from inside the bathroom. What now?

  I turned and rapped angrily on the bathroom door. My second-oldest sister, Leni, poked her head out, blow-dryer in hand. The tiled bathroom walls were amplifying the sound.

  “Oh, hey, guys. Did you want me to style your hair next?” she asked. “I’ve always thought you’d look good with a fauxhawk, Lincoln.”

  I sighed. Of all my sisters, Leni is by far the sweetest—but my patience was wearing thin.

  “No, we need you to turn the blow-dryer off. Can’t you just let your hair … I don’t know, dry by itself?”

  Leni laughed. “And look like a total frizz ball? I thought Luan’s doll was funny, but you, Lincoln, are hilarious!”

  Before I could stop her, she ducked back into the bathroom—just as we heard Luna strike up another electrified chord in her room. Guess the mellow vibe didn’t stick. Between Luan’s comedy, Luna’s music, and Leni’s hair regimen, there was no hope of continuing our ghost hunt on the second floor. I was starting to feel desperate—we were running out of places to search. But then it hit me. As Lori would say, literally. I walked straight into the pull cord for the attic trapdoor.

  “Clyde, there’s still one place we haven’t looked!” I exclaimed, pointing upward.

  “The attic! Of course!” Clyde said. “It’ll be just like when Hunter tracked the ghost of the angry old hermit. Or the ornery exterminator. Or the disgruntled insulation installer!” As Clyde ticked off seven more classic episodes of ARGGH! that featured attics, it occurred to me that maybe we should have started there in the first place.

  Together, Clyde and I pulled open the trapdoor and peered up the stairs into the attic. Dust motes floated in the dim light. We got out the video camera and started climbing.

  “This is our last chance,” I said gravely. “If we don’t find any paranormal activity up here, we aren’t going to find it anywhere in my house.”

  Just then, we heard a deafening shriek.

  Clyde and I dashed to the top of the attic steps and looked around wildly, trying to adjust our eyes to the darkness. My sister Lori came into view, pacing back and forth across the attic, talking on her cell phone.

  “OMG, she did not! She did not!” Lori exclaimed, clearly in the middle of another gossip session with her friends. Behind me, I heard Clyde start to stutter. Oh no.

  “L-L-L-Lori?” he said, growing faint. I grabbed him just as he passed out and set him down gently on the attic floor. Lori, oblivious, continued pacing with her phone, completely engrossed in her conversation.

  “Chinah, this is too juicy, I can’t even!” she squealed. I dug into a nearby dress-up trunk, pulled out a fan, and waved it over Clyde’s face to try to rouse him.

  “Hey, Lori?” I said, attempting to get her attention. “Lori? LORI!” I shouted. She finally looked over, irritated.

  “Lincoln? What are you doing up here?”

  I gritted my teeth and explained that we were trying to ghost hunt. “So do you think maybe you could take your phone call elsewhere? Or, I don’t know, try a group text?” I begged. Lori looked at me as if I were crazy.

  “This is literally the only place in the house I get reception,” she said, before adding, “Now get out. This gossip is top-secret!”

  Clyde was starting to come to. Before he could spot Lori again, I quickly put the night-vision goggles over his eyes and pulled him toward the attic steps.

  Back in my room, I flopped down on my bed in defeat. Clyde slumped in my desk chair, equally discouraged.

  “Let’s face it, Clyde,” I groaned into my pillow. “We’re never going to be able to find a ghost with all my sisters running around the house.”

  He nodded sadly. “Maybe we could try my nana’s retirement condo instead. Everyone there is really quiet.”

  “That’s a good idea, but I don’t want to bug your nana. Besides, it’s the principle of the thing,” I said, sitting up. “This is my house, too! Just once I’d like to be able to do what I want without ten sisters getting in the way.”

  Clyde looked sympathetic, even though I knew this was outside only-child territory. He’s a great friend like that.

  “I’m not ready to give up on our paranormal investigations yet,” I said. “If we can just get my sisters out of the house, I’m positive we’ll find something spooky.”

  “But what would lure all of them out of the house? Your sisters are so different from each other,” he pointed out.

  “True …,” I began slowly. “But there has to be something they all have in common.” Apart from an uncommon talent for driving me crazy, I thought.

  Clyde and I racked our brains for somewhere to send my sisters. Not the mall—Lana, Lynn, and Lisa couldn’t care less about shopping. Not Burpin’ Burger—Lori was on another one of her health-food kicks. Not the movies, since our entire family was on a thirty-day ban after Lily somehow crawled inside the popcorn machine—sans diaper.

  “Dairyland!” It’s my family’s favorite a-moos-ment park! Every one of my sisters is a huge fan.

  Clyde looked impressed. “Wow, Lincoln. Did you get a raise in your allowance?” Good point. There was no way I could afford t
en passes to Dairyland.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, getting an idea. “What if my sisters just thought they were going to Dairyland?”

  Clyde looked confused. I went on, trying to piece together a plan.

  “We could tell them there’s a giveaway at Flip’s Food and Fuel, and that the first ten people to say the magic word get free passes to Dairyland. That would get them out of the house in a heartbeat!”

  Clyde frowned. “But that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? What happens when they get to Flip’s and there’s no giveaway?” Admittedly, I hadn’t quite worked out that part yet.

  “Okay, so they’ll probably be a little mad, but that’s nothing I haven’t handled before! The important thing is, while they’re off at Flip’s, we’ll have the whole house to ourselves. Think of all the ghost hunting we could do!” Clyde still looked unsure. I pointed to the official ARGGH! logo on my jumpsuit. “Come on, what kind of cadets would we be if we didn’t at least try?”

  Clyde sighed. “Okay, but you have to be the one to tell them—I can’t lie to my future bride.”

  “Free passes to Dairyland? Like, completely free?” Lori asked skeptically. My sisters surrounded me in the living room, looking dubiously at the homemade flyer I’d just shown them. Clyde hid in the dining room, avoiding Lori’s gaze.

  “That’s right,” I said brightly. “All you have to do is go up to the counter and say the magic word: moo.”

  “Why aren’t you going, Lincoln?” Lola asked, eyes narrowed. “You love Dairyland just as much as we do.” I tried to look innocent.

  “Yeah,” Lynn chimed in. “Remember the time you rode the Curdler over and over until you puked?”

  Lana got a dreamy look in her eyes, reminiscing. “The barf went everywhere!”

  “Yeah, well, I’m glad you all remember that so vividly,” I said.

  “We took pictures!” Luan cried, getting out her phone. “Here, one’s actually my lock screen right now—”

  “Look,” I interrupted. “There aren’t enough free passes for Clyde and me to go, too, so we figured you guys should have them. For, you know … all the hard work you’ve been doing lately.”