“This is different,” Clark explained. “Hide-and-seek in this house is definitely not for babies.”

“Clark, I am not—”

He didn’t let me finish. “NOT IT!” he cried. Then he took off, running down the hall to hide.

“I don’t want to be It,” I grumbled. “I don’t want to play hide-and-seek.”

Okay, I told myself. Get this over with. Find Clark fast. Then you can go to your room and read.

I started to count by fives.

“Five, ten, fifteen, twenty …” I called out, counting to one hundred. Then I started down the dark hall. When I reached the end, the hall turned—revealing an old winding staircase that led up to the third floor.

I started to climb the dusty, wooden stairs. They wound round and round. I looked up ahead, but I couldn’t see where the steps led.

I couldn’t even see my own feet. It was totally black in there.

The stairs creaked and groaned with every step I took. A thick layer of grime coated the banister—but I held onto it anyway. And I groped my way up—up the dark, winding staircase.

Breathing hard, I climbed higher and higher. The dust in the air stuck in my throat. It smelled sour and old.

I finally reached the top of the staircase and peered down the third-floor hallway. It looked like the one below—with the same twists and turns.

The same dark green walls. The same dim shaft of light that entered from a single window.

I slowly moved down the hall and opened the first door I reached.

It was a huge room. Almost as big as the living room. But totally empty.

The next room was just as large. Just as empty.

I moved carefully down the dark hall.

It was really hot up here. Beads of sweat dripped down the sides of my face. I blotted them with the sleeve of my T-shirt.

The next room I entered was small. Well, not exactly small, but the smallest I’d seen so far. Against one wall stood an old player piano.

If it wasn’t so gross up here, I’d come back to this room, I thought. I’d come back and see if the old piano worked.

But right now all I wanted to do was find Clark in his hiding place. And leave.

I walked a little farther.

Rounded a corner.

And choked on a scream—as I started to fall.

No floor!

No floor at all beneath my feet!

My hand shot out in the dark, fumbling for something to grab onto.

I grabbed something hard—an old banister.

And held on. Held on. Held on.

I gripped it tightly with both hands and swung myself back. Back up to the solid hallway floor.

My heart pounding, I stared down into the gaping black hole where I had fallen. A hole where an old staircase once stood. Now rotted away with age.

I let out a long sigh. “I’ll get you for this, Clark,” I cried out loud. “I told you I didn’t want to play.”

I hurried down the hall, searching for my stepbrother. Searching quickly. To get this dumb game over with.

And then I stopped.

And stared—at the door at the end of the hall.

A door with a shiny metal lock.

I moved slowly toward the door. A tarnished silver key rested in the keyhole.

What is inside there? I wondered. Why is it locked?

I stepped closer.

Why don’t Grandma and Grandpa want us in that room?

They said it was a supply room.

Practically every room in this weird old house is a storage room, I thought. Why don’t they want us to open that door?

I stood in front of the door.

I reached out my hand.

And wrapped my fingers around the silver key.

No.

I pulled my hand away from the doorknob.

I have to find Clark, I decided. I’m tired of playing this stupid game. I’m tired of being It.

Then I had a great idea.