The Secret of the Painted House Read Online Free Page B

of a tree. She stood still and listened. If Logan was out here in the real woods, she would hear him. He would rustle the leaves. He would snap a twig. Maybe he’d stub his toe on a root.
    She heard nothing. The only sound was the light whisper of a summer breeze through the leaves.
    Emily went back to the playhouse. She climbed through the window again. What choice did she have?
    She couldn’t leave Logan alone with that girl. She couldn’t let her brother be lost inside a picture!
    Emily stopped in front of the paintedpicnic and studied it carefully. Had anything changed?
    She could see the unlit campfire. She could see the food on the red and white cloth. The hot dogs, the mustard, the potato salad. She could see everything except the marshmallows. The marshmallows were gone. Every single one was gone.
    Logan loved marshmallows!
    “Emileeee!” The voice was still distant, but closer this time. It must be coming from inside the picture! She had no choice. She had to go in again.
    But how had she done it before?
    Emily moved close to the wall. She moved so close that when she raised her arms, her fingers almost brushed the surface. Then she closed her eyes and stepped forward.
    She expected to bump into the wall. Butshe didn’t. She took another step. Then another.
    When she opened her eyes, she saw trees everywhere. Painted trees. And all was silent again.
    She took a deep breath. She’d done it! She was inside the picture once more.
    But where was Logan?

8
A Flash of Red
    E mily looked in the woods. She checked behind every tree. She looked under a weeping willow. She climbed over a pile of rocks. She couldn’t find Logan.
    Finally, she tried the playhouse door. The handle turned. The door swung open. She peeked in. Again, this playhouse was perfect. There was no broken glass on the floor. There was no Logan, either.
    She walked to the wall on the opposite side. The picture was the same. It was the woods and another playhouse. The picnic lay beside it. The campfire was unlit. There were no marshmallows.
    Then Emily looked more closely. The hot dogs were there. The mustard and pickles were, too. But the ketchup was gone.
    Logan was a funny kid. He didn’t like hot dogs, but he loved ketchup. Once Mom had caught him drinking it right from the bottle.
    Clearly he had been here. Pin must have taken him into the wall twice. Maybe more.
    Emily sighed. She squeezed her eyes shut and stepped forward. She didn’t even lift her arms to protect herself. She just stepped. Then she kept on stepping.
    When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the woods.
    “Logan!” she called. She got no answer. These woods were much quieter than the real woods. No breeze stirred. No squirrels rustled through the leaves. No birds sang.
    Why hadn’t Pin’s mother painted squirrels and birds? This place needed a little life. But if she had painted them, would they have come alive?
    Emily shuddered. She didn’t want to think about things like that.
    She called again. “Logan!”
    Would she have to go inside the playhouse and do it all over? How many pictures had he gone through? If they kept going deeper, would it be harder to get back?
    That was something else she didn’t want to think about.
    So she didn’t. She just opened the door and walked back inside the playhouse. She cameover to the picnic in the wall again. This time the mustard bottle had been tipped over. It oozed yellow onto the cloth.
    “Logan!”
    She stopped to listen. Was that someone calling her name? She wasn’t sure.
    She closed her eyes and pushed through the wall.
    And then when Logan wasn’t there, she did it again. And again.
    Once she caught a flash of red disappearing behind a tree. She had seen that red dress before. She heard a mournful voice, too.
    “Sorry!” it moaned. “I’m sorry.”
    But Emily didn’t care about anyone in red. And she didn’t care about anyone being sorry, either. Logan was wearing blue. And Logan was never sorry for