The Haunting of Heck House by Lesley Livingston

ornate overhead fixture glowed to orangey-yellow life.
    â€œWhat is it?” Tweed asked, rushing over to see what had startled her cousin.
    Cheryl peered closely at the mirror. And then the one beside it. And then the one beside that. Nothing. Not even the handprints she thought she’d seen. “Uh … nothing …” She shook her head. “I guess.”
    A gloomy silence shrouded the house. And then …
    Giggling.
    â€œD’you—”
    â€œShh!” Tweed silenced her cousin and pushed her hair back from her ear, cocking her head and listening.In answer to Cheryl’s unasked question, yes—she clearly heard it, too. The sound of mocking laughter, echoing and distorted, drifted through the house. But the owners of those voices were nowhere to be seen.
    The girls stepped out into the corridor and tiptoed back to the main hallway, where the three corridors branched off.
    After a moment …
    â€œThat way!” Cheryl whispered, pointing down one of the corridors. The girls took off at a silent run. Tweed took the doors on the left side and Cheryl took the ones on the right. There seemed to be dozens of them— almost as if the corridor was growing longer the farther down it they went—but eventually they reached the end. After much turning and jiggling of knobs and peering through darkened keyholes, all the girls learned was that they were all locked. They shared a perplexed moment at the end of the hall and then turned to retrace their steps … only to see that all the doors—every single one of them—now stood wide open.
    â€œWhat the …?” Cheryl blinked and did a double take.
    â€œInteresting,” Tweed said.
    â€œI’d bet our hourly sitter rate—snacks included— that Cindy Tyson and Hazel Polizzi are behind this.” Cheryl glowered at the shadows painting the hallway in stripes of gloom.
    â€œYou think?” Tweed was skeptical. “Isn’t trying tocrush us with a piano going just a little overboard? Even for those two?”
    â€œYou know, they’re probably freaking out because we totally owned that Bottoms Boys’ Birthday Bash gig,” Cheryl said. “We left them with a lotta cake on their faces. I’m pretty sure they’re not going to forgive us for that any time soon …”
    â€œYeah, but … a piano ?”
    â€œHarsh, I know. But what else could it be? Maybe they just meant to push it to the top of the stairs and lost control. But I think they’re trying to rattle us out with these ‘spooky’ shenanigans.” Cheryl put air quotes around the word spooky , just in case Cindy and Hazel were around somewhere, spying on them and operating under the false impression that she and Tweed were the least bit rattled. Because they weren’t. At all. Not one bit. No siree—
    SLAM!!
    The door nearest them slammed shut with a resounding crack like a thunderclap and the girls nearly leaped out of their skins and took off down the corridor to the main hall! As they ran, the doors on either side swung closed one after the other— SLAM!!SLAM!!SLAM!!SLAM!!SLAM!!—all the way along. Except for the very last door. Even after they’d made it past, back to the landing at the top of the stairs, it still stood widely … weirdly ... open.

 
    7 A ROOM WITH A BOO!
    C heryl and Tweed exchanged a glance and, communicating through their exclusive series of custom hand signals, agreed to investigate. They backtracked toward the door—crouching low and using the tall dusty vases and hall tables spaced along the walls as cover—and approached with extreme caution. First Tweed poked her head around the door frame, then Cheryl did.
    â€œOkaaay …” Tweed said.
    â€œAll riiight …” Cheryl glanced around.
    â€œThere’s, um, nothing here.”
    â€œNope. Nada.”
    â€œOkay, so … what’s the deal? Why is this door open?