Hazy Bloom and the Mystery Next Door Page 3

  I heard the rattling again.

  “Do you hear that?” I squeaked to Elizabeth.

  “Yes—what is it?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  “I don’t know,” I said. I stood up and inched a few steps closer.

  “Hazy Bloom, get back here! What if it’s the—”

  She stopped talking. Because on the ground in front of us, a large, looming shadow appeared. I think we were both too stunned to speak—was it the ghost? Was it right behind us? My heart skipped a beat as the shadow grew bigger and bigger and—

  “Doo doo!”

  Huh?

  I whirled around. Standing behind us, with a bewildered look on his face, was Dad. And The Baby.

  “Hazel?”

  “Dad?”

  “Mr. Bloom?”

  “Elizabeth?”

  “Squer!” The Baby said.

  I followed The Baby’s gaze, wondering what a “squer” was. Then I saw it, scampering across the ground and up the side of a tree. It was the same creature I’d seen in front of the house … and now I could see that it was a squirrel. Which is not nearly as creepy as a mouse (but a lot more creepy than an iguana, just so we’re clear).

  Relief washed over me as I realized there was no mouse or ghost—only Dad, The Baby, and a squirrel. Unfortunately, that relief lasted for about two seconds before the interrogation began. Dad sternly asked me what I was doing in the Thibodeauxs’ backyard, and I pointed out that he was in the Thibodeauxs’ backyard, too, so I could ask him the same question. This answer did not fly with him, and I was sure he was going to demand that I answer him right this minute or “face the consequences, missy,” which was a name he used when he was either a) mad at me or b) forgot my real name.

  But instead he said, “Come on home, Hazel. There’s someone here to see you.”

  “There is?” I asked.

  Then, I heard, “Yoo-hoo! Hello, Hazy Bloom! It’s me, your favorite aunt, here to babysit!” Aunt Jenna stuck her head over the fence that stood between the Thibodeauxs’ house and ours. “I’ve got presents! I already gave The Baby his. Show Hazy your mousie, sweetie!”

  Mousie?

  Only then did I notice that The Baby was holding a new toy. It was a small, plush, whiskery mouse. The very one from my vision.

  “Doo doo!” The Baby said gleefully.

  I dropped my face into my hands as Elizabeth stifled a giggle.

  8

  After the Mapefrl-mouse-squirrel fiasco, Elizabeth decided it was probably better if she headed back home. I said goodbye, then followed Dad and The Baby back to our house while I pondered various questions, such as:

  1. How can I figure out if there’s really a ghost?

  2. What was that horrible rattling sound?

  3. How did Mapefrl get even more annoying?

  4. Why would anyone want a toy mouse?

  I didn’t get any of these answers, however, because as soon as we stepped through the door, Aunt Jenna grabbed me in a hug.

  “We are going to have SO much fun together this week! I can’t wait!”

  “Me too, I can’t wait, too. Yay. Fun,” I replied not so enthusiastically.

  So here’s the thing about Aunt Jenna: I wasn’t totally bummed she was going to be watching us for the week. After all, Aunt Jenna was a great cook, she’d taught me how to do things like birdcalling and playing a thumb piano, and she liked to have impromptu dance parties, which I would never consider a bad thing. But she was also a little, well, odd. She was always just a little too cheerful, she wore a perfume that made me sneeze, and she had a habit of giving me strange gifts, which brought us back to the current moment.

  Aunt Jenna joyfully held out a large, sparkly box. “Open, open, open!” she sang like she was in an opera.

  I opened the box to find a polka-dotted bathrobe. I thanked her, even though I was pretty sure I’d never wear it. What ten-year-old has ever had the need for a bathrobe?

  * * *

  That night, we were having one last dinner together before Mom and Dad left for their trip the following morning. As Dad served his famous lasagna, Mom was rattling off a million last-minute instructions to Aunt Jenna.

  “Milo starts his soccer clinic on Wednesday, so make sure he puts on sunscreen every day,” she was saying. “And The Baby loves the playground, but don’t let him play in the sand too long or he’ll start to eat it.”

  “Got it.”

  “Oh, and just as a reminder, Hazy likes to argue.”

  “I do not!” I said.

  Aunt Jenna chuckled. “Theresa, we’ll be fine.”

  “You’re right,” Mom said, waving her hand. “Once I’m on the plane tomorrow I’ll start to relax.”

  Aunt Jenna paused. “You should take earplugs,” she said, “just in case there’s a baby sitting in the seat right behind you.”

  “All right,” Mom said, nodding.

  “Oh, and wear short sleeves in case the air conditioning isn’t working.”

  “Okay…”

  “And bring a pen, because you might end up sitting next to a nice lady you’d like to exchange a recipe with.”

  “Jenna, you sure seem to think you know a lot about our plane ride tomorrow!” Mom said with a laugh. I was thinking the same thing. But unlike Mom, I knew why Aunt Jenna was saying all of that stuff.

  It was because Aunt Jenna had tomorrow power, too.

  How did I know this for sure? I didn’t. In fact, I’d even asked her about it one time over the phone, and she’d said she didn’t know what I was talking about. But I don’t think she was telling the truth. I’m not sure why she hasn’t admitted she has tomorrow power or if she ever will. All I know is that she was now telling Mom that she should probably bring a snack because the airplane might be out of peanuts.

  Dad stood up and gave a big grin. “In honor of our trip, for dessert I present … French vanilla ice cream!”

  Okay, that was a nice touch. Everyone started grabbing bowls and spoons, and right as Dad started scooping the ice cream, it happened. I felt the prickles and goose bumps, and my skin got hot and cold at the same time. “Hazy, what toppings do you want?” I vaguely heard Dad ask.

  My vision appeared.

  “Hazy…? Hello?”

  It was a piano, flying through the air, and something else I couldn’t quite make out. What was that? Then I realized.

  “An avocado!” I said.

  Dad looked at me. “You want an avocado on your ice cream?”

  Oops. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  I told Dad I was joking of course, and then asked for strawberry syrup and sprinkles. But I caught Aunt Jenna eyeing me with a crooked smile, as if she knew exactly why I’d said that.

  After dinner, I continued to practice my backbend writing (I’d moved on from my first to my last name), while also trying to figure out what a flying piano and an avocado could mean. Could they have something to do with the mystery next door? I needed to find out. But how?

  When I was done hanging out upside down, I went digging through my closet, where I found an old pair of binoculars I’d gotten for my seventh birthday. I’d only used them twice: once for observing a bird’s nest outside my window, and once when I tried to look deep inside a Hostess cupcake. I didn’t think I’d have a use for them again, but now I realized they would be perfect for one thing in particular.

  Ghost-spying.

  9

  The next morning, I walked Mom and Dad out to the waiting taxi.

  “Have fun in France! Bonjour! Merci! Chocolate croissant!” I said, giving them big hugs.

  Milo pointed out that none of those words meant “goodbye” in French, but Mom and Dad didn’t seem to mind.

  “We’ll see you next week!” Dad said.

  “We love you!” Mom added.

  After one more round of hugs, they got into the taxi and headed off to the airport.

  As I watched them go, I felt a little pang of sadness. I was going to miss them. But at lea
st I had a busy day ahead of me to keep my mind off that. I turned and beelined for my room to begin a full day of ghost-spying.

  I’d been staring through my binoculars for approximately six minutes (and had so far only discovered some dried filling from a Hostess cupcake on one of the lenses) when Aunt Jenna knocked on my door.

  “Hazy Bloom?” she called.

  “Busy!” I said back.

  But Aunt Jenna did not take the hint, because instead of walking away, she threw open my door and practically waltzed into my room. “Yes, we WILL be busy. Because for our first full day together, I have planned a Fantastic Day of Fun! Whaddaya say?”

  “No, thank you, I have plans,” I replied, not adding that those plans involved investigating a flying piano, an avocado, and possibly a ghost that might or might not be haunting the house next door. The point is, Aunt Jenna didn’t seem to care what my plans were, because twenty minutes later I found myself piled into Mom’s car along with Milo and The Baby, heading off to do a whole bunch of stuff I didn’t want to do.

  Also, just to be perfectly clear, Aunt Jenna’s Fantastic Day of Fun was neither fantastic nor fun. It was an epic fail.

  First, we went to the local merry-go-round, and after the ride was over The Baby spit up on my sandal.

  Then we went to lunch, where I ordered a hamburger with pickles but they messed up and gave me a hot dog with onions.

  Then Milo spotted a video game store, so we went in there for like a million and a half hours and I almost passed out from boredom, for real live.

  Then on the way back to the car, I got three mosquito bites.

  By the time we got home, it was already getting dark, my mosquito bites were itching like crazy, and I was sure I’d missed the chance to see any evidence of the ghost.

  I was sitting on the front steps drowning my sorrows in a glass of chocolate milk when I heard the same whooshing sound from yesterday. It was Mapefrl, back on his lightning skateboard. He was munching on cheese puffs again.

  Just great.

  “Don’t you have anywhere better to skate?” I inquired.

  “This street is the smoothest,” he said with a shrug.

  “Well, I know that,” I replied, even though I’d never noticed any such thing. I tried to ignore him while he rudely continued skateboarding around my cul-de-sac, but it was difficult since he kept saying things like “Check this out!” and “Watch this one!” and “Look at this!”

  Finally, I told him I was going inside.

  “Suit yourself,” he said, and continued to skate. But just as he passed in front of the Thibodeauxs’ house, Mapefrl suddenly lost his balance and stumbled from his skateboard and fell onto the grass.

  “Whoa!” he said.

  “Hey! Are you okay?” I asked, running over to him. I mean, I still thought he was annoying, but I wasn’t heartless.

  He jumped up and brushed off his pant leg. “Yeah. But that was weird. I never fall like that. It just happened out of nowhere.”

  Not nowhere, I realized with dread. In front of the Thibodeauxs’ house.

  If that wasn’t a sign of a ghost, I didn’t know what was.

  Mapefrl hopped back on his skateboard and headed down the street back to his uncle’s, leaving me standing in front of the neighbors’ house by myself. And since I hadn’t seen anything yet resembling a flying piano or an avocado, and had just gotten more evidence of a ghost, I made a decision right then and there.

  I took a deep breath and walked toward the Thibodeauxs’ front porch.

  10

  The porch light was flickering again, and now that it was dark it looked a lot more spooky. I climbed the front steps and glanced in both directions. Did I really want to do this? I decided yes. If I saw a flying piano in the house, then I’d know for sure there was a ghost in there. It would be my proof! I just needed to find the perfect window to peek through …

  Darn. The windows were covered by shutters, so I couldn’t see in. Then I noticed a broken slat way high up on one of the shutters. I could climb onto the window ledge and then peek through there.

  I propped one foot on the ledge and hauled myself up, frustrated that I was wearing flip-flops instead of more reliable window-climbing shoes. Now I was standing up high, and once I steadied myself, I peeked through the broken slat. The good news was that I could see everything in the front room. The bad news? None of those things was a flying piano. Maybe the piano was in the next room over? I tilted my body a little more, just to see around the wall …

  All of a sudden, I heard a SLAM—from inside the house. I was so startled, I lost my balance.

  I screeched as I fell off the ledge and into the bushes below. After checking to make sure I hadn’t sprained my ankle, broken my arm, or gotten any thorns in my butt, I quickly looked around to make sure no one had seen me—not only because I was peeking into someone’s house, but because if anyone witnessed that fall it would be totally embarrassing, for real live.

  I spotted a knob close by and grabbed it to pull myself up. What I didn’t realize is that on my way up I accidentally turned it. Suddenly, about ten sprinkler heads sprang to life, and water started spraying all over the lawn, and all over me. So you see I really had no choice but to start screaming my head off.

  I sputtered and snatched at the knob, finally managing to turn it and the sprinklers back off. Meanwhile, Aunt Jenna must have heard the commotion, because she ran out of our house holding The Baby and rushed over to me.

  The Baby looked at me oddly, then grinned in delight. “Yay!” he said, as if celebrating the fact that I now looked like a drowned rat (which is even worse than a mouse).

  “Hazy Bloom, what in the world happened?” Aunt Jenna cried.

  I knew I needed a convincing explanation, and usually I was pretty good at coming up with these kinds of things (you might remember my story about Stapler-arctica). But I think my brain was waterlogged.

  “Well, Aunt Jenna, see, I was trying to get a good look at the Thibodeauxs’ greenery, because … I’ve become very interested in, um, gardening.”

  She tilted her head at me. “Gardening?”

  “Yep. Gardening. I mean, how does it all work? The grass … the trees … the flowers. It’s just fascinating!”

  Aunt Jenna nodded slowly. Then she told me it was time to come home.

  As I walked—cold, wet, and shivering—I fended off The Baby, who was currently trying to squeeze water from my shorts. Talk about embarrassing.

  A few minutes later, I was sitting on the couch, wrapped in the polka-dotted bathrobe Aunt Jenna had given me. And I’ve got to admit—it felt heavenly. It was like wearing a big, soft, polka-dotted cloud. I guess it had come in handy after all. Like all of her other gifts.

  “Okay, kids,” Aunt Jenna said, calling over Milo. “I have one more surprise planned for our Fantastic Day of Fun!”

  Great, I thought. What’s it going to be now? Mr. Cheese peeing in my shoe?

  “We’re watching a movie!”

  I was in no mood for a movie, but I was too warm and dry now to relocate. I reached for my (new) glass of chocolate milk and took a sip, just as the movie was starting. I didn’t even know what the movie was called, but I do know this: in the first frame, a piano flew across a white backdrop. That’s right. A flying piano. I was so surprised, I spit out my chocolate milk.

  Aunt Jenna handed me a napkin as she set out a snack. Chips and some kind of green dip.

  “This is really good. What’s in it?” Milo asked, scooping some dip onto a chip.

  All of a sudden, I knew what she was going to say. So I said it for her. “Avocados,” I barely whispered.

  “That’s right!” Aunt Jenna exclaimed.

  I sank deeper into the couch.

  11

  The next morning, I was finishing the maze on the back of my cereal box when Aunt Jenna told me she had a surprise for me.

  “Really? What is it?” I asked.

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, silly
! Now, go get dressed and meet me at the car.”

  After our Fantastic Day of Fun, which I had secretly renamed the Dreadful Day of Doom, I couldn’t imagine a surprise from Aunt Jenna being all that wonderful. Plus, I was incredibly frustrated that my vision had nothing to do with the mystery next door and everything to do with a movie about a piano (which was actually pretty entertaining, but that’s totally beside the point).

  Still, my curiosity got the best of me. Before long, I had gotten dressed, brushed my teeth, fed my fish, tried to make a natural-looking messy bun, failed at the messy bun and made pigtails instead, and then searched all over the house for my left shoe, which someone (I’m looking at you, The Baby!) had put in the bathtub. Meanwhile, during all of this rigmarole, I had narrowed down Aunt Jenna’s surprise to three possibilities:

  1. We were going to a ghost investigation ceremony, where I’d learn that I’d been right all along and was being honored with a medal.

  2. We were going to a secret location where Aunt Jenna was finally going to tell me she had tomorrow power, at which time we’d create a master plan to destroy the enemy (enemy to be determined).

  3. We were going to the aquarium.

  I would have been happy with any of these things, so imagine my surprise when—of all the places in the entire city of Denver and the surrounding world—Aunt Jenna drove down the street, through our neighborhood, and into the parking lot of my school.