Sunny Sweet Is So Not Scary (6 page)

I sucked in a big breath of air instead of bopping the spawn of the devil right in the head. “Just read the next one,” I said in a high-pitched voice that I hoped sounded positive.

“‘Number seven,” she read. “Have you seen an apparition?'”

“What's an apparition?” asked Alice. She looked at me. I knew she knew what it was and was just hoping that this wasn't the answer.

“An apparition is the ghost,” Junchao said. “Did we see the ghost?” Now Sunny looked at me. “Masha?” she asked. “Did you see it in the closet?”

I shook my head.

“You said that you saw it,” Alice said.

“No I didn't.” I pulled at the neck of my pajamas. It felt a little tight.

“Yes you did,” Junchao said.

“Did I?” My forehead felt sweaty.

“You did,” said Sunny.

“No I didn't,” I insisted.

I thought about the closet door and how it was opened up just a bit. It had felt like someone was watching me. But the truth was, I didn't really
see
anything. I really didn't.
I didn't see anything!
Then my heart felt like birds were singing inside of it. I hadn't really seen anything!

“NO!” I shouted.

Everyone shushed me.

“No,” I whispered. “I didn't see anything.”

That was the truth. And now we were another warning sign closer to not having a ghost.

Everyone stared at me in the dark. I couldn't tell if they believed me or not. But then Sunny read number eight. “‘Do you feel like you're being watched?'”

My heart fell so deep into my stomach that I swear I heard the thump of it landing. Sunny looked up from the iPad. “Does anybody feel like someone is watching us?”

I kept my mouth shut. Maybe no one had been watching us from the front hall closet. Maybe it was my mom's umbrella with the big, curvy handle that looked like it was peeking out at me. Or maybe it was just Sunny's rain boots. They have duck faces on them, and I bet it was those duck eyes that I felt staring out of the closet.

All four of us looked around the room. Sunny's closet was closed, thank goodness. But there were plenty of dark places in Sunny's room that could be hiding a spying ghost.

Under her desk, for one.

Or in Sunny's laundry basket. A ghost could totally be in there watching us from underneath Sunny's dirty underwear. Although that would be kind of gross.

“I don't think anyone is watching us,” Alice whispered. “What about you guys?”

Sunny gave a little shrug, and Junchao mumbled that she didn't think so. I joined in on the end of her mumble. We were almost safe. There were only two more warning signs left. “What's the next one, Sunny?” I said, trying not to sound too pushy.

“‘Number nine: Do you sometimes hear footsteps?'”

Junchao let out a little gasp, and Alice grabbed my arm.

We were done for.

“Wait, you guys. That's only two warning signs,” I said.

“But the site says ‘especially more than one,'” Junchao moaned.

“Yes, true, but it also says something about good evidence. Read it again, Sunny.”

Sunny read it again. “‘If you experience any of these ten incidents, especially more than one, this is good evidence to support that you may not be alone in your home.'”

“Oh, oh, oh,” Junchao cried.

“Hold on. It says this is good evidence. It doesn't say that it's great evidence. And good isn't great.” I looked over at Sunny. “Right?” I asked. “Good isn't great.”

Sunny agreed that good wasn't great.

“Read the last one. We still have one more.”

Sunny read it. “‘Number ten: Do your lights flicker on and off?'” She looked up at us with a gasp.

Junchao gave a howl and dove under our pillow wall.

Alice and I grabbed hold of each other.

We were not alone in our home!

 

Ridding Your House of Unwanted Spirits: Just Ask Nicely

So we had a ghost . . .

And it was all my fault . . .

Because I'd been mean to Sunny
.

This was supposed to be the most fun night of my entire life. But instead of talking about how cute Michael Capezzi was and eating way too many microwave pizza bites and trying to get Junchao to laugh her crazy Santa Claus laugh, we were stuck on Sunny's bed hiding from an evil spirit.

“What should we do?” I asked. I was kind of hoping that someone would suggest getting Mrs. Song. It
wasn't like I wanted my best friend to never see another sleepover as long as she lived, but I also didn't want a ghost to get us.

“We should call the police.” Junchao's voice was muffled by all the pillows on top of her.

“The police?” I said. I pictured my mother's cell phone ringing in her conference hotel room. I pictured her sleepy face saying hello. And then I pictured her jumping up out of bed when she heard it was the police calling her from
our house
. “We are so NOT calling the police!” I said.

“Okay,” said Junchao, still not coming out from under the pillow wall. “Then we have to at least wake up Mrs. Song. Maybe she won't have to call your mom, Alice.”

Alice moaned. “You said that we were all in this together. If you wake up Mrs. Song then she will definitely call my mom, and I won't ever be in
anything
again.”

“But then what should we do?” I whined.

“‘What you should do,'” Sunny read from the website.

Junchao popped her head out from under the wall.

Alice and I looked at each other and then down at Sunny.

“Does it really say that?” I asked.

Sunny nodded her little head.

“Read it,” I commanded. The three of us held our breath as Sunny read.

“‘First of all, do not panic. You do have some control over these situations, and in many cases you can rid these spirits from your home.'”

“Many cases,” Junchao said. “Many is just most of them. It's not all of them.”

“But most is a good thing,” I said.

“But not a great thing,” noted Sunny.

I ignored her.

“Well, we're not panicking, right?” I asked.

Junchao and Alice stared at me.

“Right?” I repeated.

My friends mumbled “right,” but not with much enthusiasm.

“You can do better than that,” I said, sounding very much like my science teacher, Mrs. Hull, when no one
would come forward to try to answer one of her questions.

Junchao and Alice mumbled “right” again in the exact same dull way.

I huffed. Maybe there was more to being a teacher than getting to use your cell phone when you wanted and being able to drink soda and stuff during class.

Sunny read on, “‘Some ghosts can be pretty moody, and others, just plain irritable and bad-tempered, although in most instances ghosts want to get your attention and let you know that they are there. They thrive on your responses and emotions. Sometimes simply ignoring them will send them on their way.'”

“I like that,” I said. “That sounds easy. Let's ignore it.”

A flash of lightning blinded me. And before I could blink the light out of my eyes, thunder slammed the room. The four of us clocked heads as we grabbed each other. “Okay!” I yelled out to the ghost. “We won't ignore you.”

Light thunder rumbled in the distance . . . It was as if the ghost were saying “okay.”

“Masha, this is too scary,” Junchao whispered into my ear.

My stomach ached. I thought so too.

We held on to each other. No lightning. No thunder. Finally we let go and I looked over at Alice. I could see that she was feeling as freaked out as Junchao but wasn't going to say it.

Sunny continued her research. “This is good, Masha. It says here on the site that when you feel or see their presence, you need to address them.”

“What do you mean, address them?”

“It says you should speak to them, but only to explain politely that you would appreciate it if they would leave. It says to be loving because you don't want to get them angry or they might stay around. It says that often this will do the trick and that the ghost will leave.”

“Wow,” said Alice. “That sounds so easy. Go ahead, Masha, ask it to go.”

“Nicely,” added Junchao.

“Why do I have to do it?” I whispered so the ghost couldn't hear me.

“It was your negative energy that brought it,” Sunny said.

I rolled my eyes.

“That's negative,” Sunny said.

I growled.

“Masha,” Junchao and Alice said together.

“All right,” I snapped. Being nice to Sunny was just about impossible.

I turned and faced the room. I didn't know where the ghost was. I figured that if I were a ghost, I'd probably be under the desk in the corner. It was a really dark place and no one would step on you or anything if they didn't know you were there.

“Hi,” I said. And I gave the ghost the peace sign.

“Don't do that,” Sunny said. “The ghost might be French, and to the French that sign doesn't mean good things.”

“What?” Alice said.

“Don't get her started . . . ,” I said, but it was too late.

“Some people claim that the two-fingered V sign came about during the Hundred Years' War between the
French and the English. The French would cut off the two arrow-shooting fingers of captured English archers so they couldn't fire an arrow at them ever again. The English took to holding up two fingers to the French as a sign of defiance. In other words, they were saying to the French that they still had two fingers and could shoot them.”

“In other words,” I said, “shh!” And then, because I was supposed to be nice to Sunny, I patted her sweetly on the head.

“Ouch,” she said.

Then I turned back to the ghost.

“Uh, I was wondering if you'd mind . . . well, if you wouldn't mind leaving. It's not that we don't like you. Because we don't really even know you. I'm sure if we knew you, you know, when you were alive . . . not that you're dead or anything. I mean, I don't know exactly what you are.”

This wasn't going great. It wasn't even going good.

“I'm sure that whatever you are, it's something nice. I bet it's something very, very nice.”

“Super nice,” Sunny added.

“Yes,” I said. “Super nice.”

“Super-duper nice,” Sunny said.

“Of course. Super-duper nice.”

“Super-di-duper nice,” said Sunny.

I leaped at Sunny's throat.

Alice tried to hold me back, but I was all over my little sister.

The lights in Sunny's room flashed on and then off again. And I froze, mid-strangle.

“Masha,” Junchao whispered. “You're being mega negative.”

“She started it,” I hissed.

Sunny's three-way radio blasted on.

None of us moved. The scratchy garble on the radio was so loud that it seemed to be playing inside my head.

But then Sunny reached over and snapped it off.

The silence sizzled in my ears.

“I think you made it angry,” Sunny said.

 

The Story of Trudy Day

Maybe it was already angry,” I said angrily.

“A lot of ghosts are,” said Alice. “My grandmother says that this town has its very own ghost and that she is really angry.”

“Why?” asked Junchao. Her eyes scanned the room. And I couldn't stop mine from doing the same.

“Her name was Trudy Day, and she lived here a long time ago.”

“Where?” Junchao shivered and rubbed her arms with her hands.

“I don't know. My grandmother never said where. She just said that she was supposed to be majorly beautiful and that all the boys kept asking her out. But she never went out with any of them. She was saving all her love for her one true soul mate.”

“What's a soul mate?” I asked.

“There is no such thing as a soul mate,” Sunny said.

“You said that about ghosts,” I snapped. “And look at us now.”

“Anyway, there is too such a thing,” Alice insisted. “My grandmother says that everyone has one. Your soul mate is the one person in the world that gets you more than any other.”

I thought about Michael Capezzi and wondered if he was my soul mate.

“And Trudy Day was waiting for hers to come,” continued Alice. “Then one day, this really cute guy came to town. Trudy and this guy went out a few times. He took her on long walks. He wrote her love letters. They held hands. Trudy fell totally in love and believed that this guy was her soul mate.”

“Was he?” asked Junchao.

Alice shook her head no. I didn't like where this story was going.

“One day, the guy brought her a beautiful red rose. He said that she was prettier than anything in the world, including the rose. But he told her that he didn't love her and that he was going away.”

“Oh no.” Junchao sighed.

“Trudy got so mad. I mean, my grandmother said that Trudy got madder than anybody else has ever been mad before. And that her anger built up and up and up, until it became a monster that tracked down that guy and killed him.”

“What?” I said. “Anger can do that?” I glanced over at Sunny. My anger at my little sister got pretty big sometimes.

“Trudy couldn't control her anger. It had a mind of its own. And it boomeranged right back at Trudy and killed her too!”

“Wow,” I breathed. “People should learn how to not get so mad.” I felt a little sweaty under my arms.

“And this is the worst part,” Alice continued.

“There is a worse part?” squeaked Junchao.

“My grandmother says that the day after Trudy died, guess who came into town looking for her?”

“Her real soul mate!” Junchao yelled.

“That's right. And so Trudy rose from the dead to be with him. But of course she couldn't because she was dead. And so her ghost haunts anyone in town who is filled with love.”