In the middle of a swamp.
This time it was my turn to glower—at Mom and Dad.
I put on my angriest face. I was sure they were going to take us to Atlanta with them now. Absolutely sure.
Dad glanced at Mom. He opened his mouth to speak. Then he turned toward me. And shrugged an apology.
“Guess it’s time for bed!” Grandpa checked his watch. “You two have to get an early start,” he said to Mom and Dad.
“Tomorrow you’re going to have so much fun,” Grandma assured Clark and me.
“Yes, indeed,” Grandpa agreed. “This big old house is great to explore. You’ll have a real adventure!”
“And I’m going to bake my famous rhubarb pie!” Grandma exclaimed. “You kids can help me. You’ll love it. It’s so sweet, your teeth will fall out after one bite!”
I heard Clark gulp.
I groaned—loudly.
Mom and Dad ignored us. They said good night. And good-bye. They were leaving real early in the morning. Probably before we got up.
We followed Grandma up the dark, creaky old steps and down a long, winding hall to our rooms on the second floor.
Clark’s room was right next to mine. I didn’t have a chance to see what it looked like. After Clark went in, Grandma quickly ushered me to my room.
My room. My gloomy room.
I set my suitcase down next to the bed and glanced around. The room was nearly as big as a gym! And it didn’t have a single window.
The only light came from a dim yellow bulb in a small lamp next to the bed.
A handmade rug covered the floor. Worn thin in spots, its rings of color were dingy with age.
A warped wooden dresser sat against the wall opposite the bed. It leaned to one side. The drawers hung out.
A bed. A lamp. A dresser.
Only three pieces of furniture in this huge, windowless room.
Even the walls were bare. Not a single picture covered the dreary gray paint.
I sat down on the bed. I leaned against the bars of the iron headboard.
I ran my fingers over the blanket. Scratchy wool. Scratchy wool that smelled of mothballs.
“No way I’m going to use that blanket,” I said out loud. “No way.” But I knew I would. The room was cold and damp, and I began to shiver.
I quickly changed into my pajamas and pulled the smelly old blanket over me.
I twisted and turned. Trying to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress.
I stared up at the ceiling and listened. Listened to the night sounds of the creepy old house. Strange creaking noises that echoed through the old walls.
Then I heard the howls.
Frightening animal howls on the other side of the wall.
The sad howls from the swamp.
I sat up.
Were they coming from Clark’s room?
I listened hard, afraid to move.
Another long, sad howl. From outside. Not from Clark’s room.
“Stop it!” I scolded myself. “Clark is the one with the wild imagination. Not you!”
But I couldn’t shut out the eerie howls from the swamp.
Was it an animal? Was it a swamp monster?
I pressed the pillows over my face. It took me hours to fall asleep.
When I woke up, I didn’t know if it was morning—or the middle of the night. Without a window, it was impossible to tell.
