Hauntings Read Online Free Page B

see everything from high up. Almost.
    The street that ran past the building gleamed wetly under the streetlights. It had rained. He boosted the window up and knelt before the sill, listening to the moist sighing of occasional passing cars. A damp breeze puffed through the screen.
    Across the street something moved just out of the bright circle the streetlight threw on the sidewalk.
    When the streetlights came on, it was time to go home.
    A stray dog. It was probably just a stray dog over there. In the distance, a police siren wailed and then cut off sharply. Milo’s mouth was dry as he squinted through the screen. It was too late for kids to be out.
    But if you didn’t get home after the streetlights came on, did that mean you never had to go home ever?
    The movement came again, but he still couldn’t see it clearly. A shadow was skirting the patch of light on the pavement, dipping and weaving, but awkwardly, stiffly. It wanted to play, but there was no one awake to play with, except for Milo.
    He spread his fingers on the windowsill and lowered his head. It was too late for kids to be out. Any kids. The streetlights—
    Something flashed briefly in the light and then retreated into the darkness. Milo’s sweaty fingers slipped on the sill. The game was over. He wasn’t IT. He wasn’t. She’d found him but she hadn’t tagged his goal and all the streetlights had come on. The game was over, had been over for years. It wasn’t fair.
    The figure made another jerky movement. He didn’t have to see it clearly now to know about the funny position of its head, its neck still crooked in that questioning angle, the lopsided but still confident bobbing of the ponytail, the dirty-white sneakers. Another police siren was howling through the streets a few blocks away, but it didn’t quite cover up the sound of a little girl’s voice, singing softly because it was so late.
    Eenie, meenie, ipsateenie
    Goo, Gah, gahgoleenie
    Ahchee, pahchee, Liberace
    Out goes Y-O-U!
    Eenie, meenie, ipsateenie
    Goo, gah, gahgoleenie...
    He covered his ears against it, but he could still hear it mocking him. No one was being counted out, no one would ever be counted out again because he was IT and he had missed his turn.
    Come out, Milo. Come out, come out, come out You’re IT.
    He pressed his hands tighter against his ears, but it only shut the sound of her voice up in his head and made it louder. Then he was clawing at the screen, yelling, “I’m not! I’m not! I’m not IT, the game’s over and I’m not IT!”
    His words hung in the air, spiraling down around him. There was a soft pounding on the wall behind the bed. “Milo!” came his mother’s muffled, sleepy voice. “It’s four in the morning, what are you screaming for?”
    He sank down onto the floor, leaning his head hopelessly against the windowsill. “A, a dream, Mom,” he said, his voice hoarse and thick in his tight throat. “Just a bad dream.”
    The wind poured through his hair, chilling the sweat that dripped down to his neck. Laughter came in with the wind, light, careless, jeering laughter. He knew Angie was looking up at his window, her sharp little teeth bared in a grin.
    â€œâ€™Fraid of a girl,” the laughter said. “’Fraid of a girl...”
    The boy was staring at Milo’s pants pocket and Milo realized he’d been jingling his loose change without thinking as they walked. He thought about giving the kid a quarter, but his mother had probably warned him not to take candy or money from strangers. Most likely he wasn’t even supposed to talk to strangers. But most kids were too curious not to. They were programmed to answer questions from adults anyway, so all you had to do was ask them something and pretty soon you were carrying on a regular conversation. As long as you didn’t make the mistake of offering them any money or candy, the kids