Ghost House Revenge by Clare McNally Page A

you’ve been through the mill,” Gary said when he entered the kitchen
     the next morning to find Derek already up.
    “I didn’t sleep much last night,” Derek answered, yawning into a cup of coffee. He
     poured another and set it in front of Gary.
    “Thanks,” Gary said, adjusting himself in his wheelchair. “I thought I heard Lad barking.”
    “I was here in the kitchen,” Derek explained. He took a sip of coffee. “Hey, Gary,
     are there any other families around here?”
    “Not for a mile or so. And we told you the house down the road’s been empty for several
     months. Why?”
    “Well, some crazy kid’s been bothering me lately. I made the stupid mistake of giving
     her a lift in my car one day—right down on Houston—and she’s been following me around
     ever since.”
    “Maybe she’s got a crush on you?” Gary asked.
    “Oh, no,” Derek said, shaking his head. “This isn’t infatuation, it’s harassment She
     is probably out of her mind. You should see her. She has stringy blond hair, blue
     eyes, and sickly pale skin. I mean, you can almost see her veins through it.” He thought
     a little more, then said, “Oh, yeah, and her hands are always red. Like she has frostbite.”
    “It’s a little late in the spring for frostbite, don’t you think?”
    “Of course,” Derek said. “She’s using some kind of makeup on her hands. And on her
     face, too. She’s just too pale—like something out of a horror movie.”
    Melanie entered the kitchen just then. She greeted them cheerily as Kyle scooted around
     her to the refrigerator.
    “What intense expressions!” she cried. “What’s going on?”
    “Some girl’s been harassing Derek lately,” Gary said. He cast a look at Kyle, who
     seemed to be busy filling his cereal bowl. “Do you know any young women with blond
     hair and pale skin?”
    “Yea,” Melanie said, laughing. “Me.”
    “Paler,” Derek said. “Like death warmed over. And her hair was a lighter blond. It’s
     down to her waist and looks like she hasn’t combed it in a week or two.”
    Melanie shook her head. “No, I don’t know anyone like that.” She went to the refrigerator
     and took out a container of milk.
    “Wait,” Derek said. “She told me her name. Do you know anyone named Janice?”
    The milk container fell to the floor, the white liquid spilling all over the floor.
     “Oh, God,” Melanie said in a soft voice. She waved her hands. “No, damn it. I don’t
     know anyone named Janice.”
    She went to the pantry for a mop. Her heart was beating rapidly, and she felt a chill
     crawling over her. She rubbed hard at the milk, keeping her back to the others. Derek
     eyed her, wondering why she had reacted so strangely to the mention of Janice’s name.
     Perhaps she did know her?
    Later Derek asked Gary about Melanie’s reaction. Gary tried to explain it.
    “See, Melanie had a good friend once named Janice,” he said. “But she died the same
     night I was hurt. Uhm—I was unconscious at the time, but they told me later that the
     same—uhm—the same guy who pushed me from the window killed her.”
    “No wonder Melanie was upset. I probably brought back painful memories,” Derek said
     apologetically.
    “Melanie’s sensitive about it,” Gary said. “She somehow feels responsible for what
     happened to Janice, but of course that’s ridiculous.”
    “What did happen to her?”
    Gary stopped and stared into his eyes. “I don’t really know,” he said.
    “Well, okay,” Derek replied. “But I know of course that that Janice isn’t the one
     who was in my car. Not if she’s dead. There’re no such things as ghosts.”
    Across the room, an unseen woman laughed silently.
    Oh, but there are ghosts, my handsome Derek!
she cried, unheard by him.
You’ll soon learn how real I am! They’ll all learn, and they’ll pay for what they
     did to me
.
    Derek decided he would simply ignore the woman the next time she showed up. But a
     week had gone