32 - The Barking Ghost Read Online Free Page A

sure,” Mom answered. “Your father and I met some of them a few weeks
ago when we came to see the house.”
    “Did you meet the Fergusons?” I asked.
    Mom squinted her eyes, thinking. Then she shook her head. “No, I don’t think we met them. We met the Martells. Joel and
Shirley. Very nice people.” Then she asked, “Who are the Fergusons?”
    I didn’t answer. I pressed on. “Did the Martells tell you our house was
haunted?”
    Mom laughed. “No, Cooper, they didn’t. It must have slipped their minds,” she
joked.
    “Ha-ha. It’s nothing to laugh about,” I insisted. “Our house is haunted. And so are the woods!”
    “Cooper, what are you talking about?” my mother demanded.
    “Enough, Cooper,” my father warned. “Eat your breakfast.”
    “Yeah,” Mickey said with a snort. “Eat your breakfast, Drooper.”
    I could feel my face turn red. I hated when Mickey called me Drooper. He
called me that because of my big droopy ears.
    “Shut up, Sickey,” I replied.
    “Cut it out, you two,” Dad snapped.
    I dug my fork into the French toast. How could they not believe me? Did they
really think I made this story up?
    I lifted a chunk of toast to my mouth and stuffed it in.
    “Aghhhh!”
    Choking and coughing, I spit the food out on my plate.
    “Gross!” Mickey cried, grinning. “Gross! A guy could lose his appetite around
here.”
    My eyes teared, and I coughed a few more times.
    “You okay, Cooper?” Mom asked.
    “Somebody dumped salt on my French toast!” I exclaimed angrily.
    Mickey started to laugh.
    That creep.
    My father climbed up from the table. Without saying a word, he stomped out of
the room.
    That’s how my Dad acts when he’s angry. He gets all quiet, then just walks
away. Punishments come later.
    I gulped down a glass of milk, trying to wash the salt out of my mouth. Mom
returned to the stove to make another batch of French toast for me.
    “Mickey,” she said, sighing, “you know that wasn’t funny. Now apologize to
your brother.”
    “Apologize? But it was just a joke!” Mickey complained.
    “We’re all cracking up,” I muttered bitterly, gulping down a second glass of
milk. “You’re a real riot.”
    “Apologize!” my mother insisted again.
    Mickey hung his head and stared at the floor.
    I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m waiting!” I sang happily.
    Mickey made an ugly face at me. When Mom turned around, he changed his
expression to an innocent smile.
    “I’m so sorry, Cooper,” Mickey oozed. “It won’t happen again.” He blinked
innocently.
    Satisfied, Mom turned back to the stove.
    As soon as she did, Mickey pulled on his ears, trying to stretch them as big
as mine.
    I’d had it with Mickey. I pushed my chair away from the table and hurried out
of the room. I didn’t want to get into another fight with my stupid brother now.
    I had more important things to do. I had to talk to Dad about the dogs. I had
to make him believe me.
    Dad sat in his favorite chair, which just didn’t look right in our new living
room. Even he seemed to notice. He kept shifting uncomfortably.
    “Maybe it’s time for a new chair,” he muttered.
    “Dad, can I talk to you for a second?” I asked.
    “What is it, Cooper?” he asked as he moved Great-grandma’s lamp closer to the
chair.
    “It’s about the dogs,” I said.
    Dad sighed. “Really, Cooper. Aren’t you making too big a deal about this? So what if you saw dogs in the woods? They could belong to anybody!”
    “But they chased me!” I replied, getting all worked up again. “And then they disappeared into thin air! And after that
girl told me the woods were haunted—”
    “What girl?” my dad demanded.
    “She said her name was Margaret Ferguson,” I told him. “She said her family
lived next door.”
    Dad rubbed his chin. “That’s strange,” he said. “The real estate broker never
mentioned the Fergusons.”
    “Well, I met her this morning, and she told me everyone around here