Scaredy Kat Read Online Free

looking for the troubled spirit of Suzanne Bennis.
     I had found her, but there had been something else there, too, something dark and menacing. A powerful malevolent force that
     I knew had never been human. That dark shadow had scared me; I knew one day I’d have to face it again. I still dreamed of
     it from time to time. The old man wasn’t like that dark shadow—his was the energy of a human soul, however tormented. But
     his rage chilled me to the bone.
    The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the house was growing darker. I wanted to go home. But the image of the little boy
     gnawed at me. I had come into the house to find him. I was trespassing on private property, and on the territory of the dead.
     Having done all that, could I go home now with-out checking the boy’s room—the one that faced my own bedroom? I had accepted
     the fact that I was always going to see dead people, like it or not. I had to make peace with it. Was I going to let this
     house run me off?
    I turned and faced the second door—the room next to the old man’s. The room whose windows looked directly into my bedroom.
There must be a reason,
I told myself.
Something to explain why I feel so compelled to find this boy. If he needs me so much, he won’t try to frighten me, or hurt
     me.
    Would he?
    I felt light-headed, and a little nauseated. I took a deep breath and walked quickly into the room. The first thing I noticed
     was something painted on the wall—not graffiti or something a child had done. A real artist had painted this. It was a sunburst
     painted in ripples of green, purple, and gold, maybe four feet across. I instantly loved it, and found it hard to take my
     eyes off the painting. I was happy just to stand there and take it in.
    Until I felt a new presence.
    He was sitting on the floor under the window, playing with something that could have been marbles or toy soldiers. He looked
     about ten years old, with soot-colored hair that hung in his eyes. He was humming something to himself—a tune I recognized
     but could not place.
    “Hi there,” I said.
    The boy didn’t look up or indicate that he’d heard me at all. He just kept playing and humming.
    “My name’s Kat,” I continued. “I live in the house next door.”
    Nothing.
    “I can see your windows from my room.”
    Nothing.
    “What are you playing?”
    I was beginning to feel stupid, the way you would if you were talking to a real live kid who was ignoring your every word.
     But there was something about this boy, something about his energy, that made me want to protect him. From what, I had no
     idea.
    “Is this your room?” I asked, taking a few steps closer to him.
    Again, he didn’t respond, but he abruptly stopped humming and looked up. Not at me, but at something else. It was almost as
     if something on the ceiling had caught his attention. Then I did hear him say something, but it was so soft I couldn’t make
     it out.
    “What did you say?” I asked.
    His lips kept moving as he gazed up, his head tilted back so that his bangs no longer hid his eyes.
    “I’m here,” the boy whispered to the ceiling.
    I took another step forward, faster than I meant to move.
    “I know that,” I said, a little eagerly. “I can see you. Can’t you see me?”
    “I’m here,” the boy repeated. “I’m here.”
    He wasn’t talking to me. He hadn’t looked in my direction. Unlike Suzanne Bennis from the school library, or the old man in
     the next room, this spirit didn’t seem to know I was there listening to him. Seeing him.
    “I don’t understand,” I said. “Can you hear me? My name is Kat.”
    Still, he didn’t look at me. I was so close to him right now I could see that his eyes, which were a startling hazel, were
     filling with tears.
    “I’m in here,” the boy whispered.
    What was I supposed to do? Spirits saw me. They always saw me. But this one, whom I had broken into a house to find, could
     not or would not acknowledge I was