Heather drove everyone in her tiny car, talking a million miles a minute about possible places the fountain could be. She was very excited about being part of Team Awesome.
After a few near-death experiences during the ride there—thank you, Heather—Gabriel, Nate, Scarlet and Heather finally arrived at the end of Peach Drive, Mr. Brooks’ street.
Peach Drive was a neglected cul-de-sac lined with empty lots and a single, old house. Scarlet had never been to Peach Drive, partly because she’d had no reason to venture to the east side of Avalon before. But also because people in town claimed the house on Peach Drive was haunted.
Heather had failed to mention that Mr. Brooks lived in said haunted house.
After parking, everyone slowly exited Heather’s small car. The boys stretched their backs and necks as they unfolded their large bodies from the vehicle.
“Remind me never to go on a road trip with you,” Nate said to Heather.
Heather made a face at him as she grabbed the plate of cookies she’d made and shut the car door behind her. Making their way across the street, they all stopped on the sidewalk in front of Mr. Brooks’ yard.
None of them spoke as they looked up at the old house.
“So….” Scarlet shifted her eyes to her friend. “You forgot to mention that Mr. Brooks’ house looks like something from a horror movie.”
The house stood three stories tall, with cracked and peeling paint coating the withered black boards of the frame. In the winter wind, the old house creaked and groaned. Shutters, hung at jagged angles from windows, slapped against the house and cobwebs littered the window corners and siding.
An empty rocking chair swayed on the shadowed front porch. Sure, the wind was probably responsible for the chair’s idle rocking. But it was still creepy.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Heather scoffed. “I thought you guys wanted help finding the fountain. I didn’t realize Mr. Brooks’ living arrangements were going to be an issue.”
“They’re not an issue.” Scarlet tried not to shiver in the February weather. “I’ve just never been to a haunted house before.”
“It’s not haunted. It’s just…old,” Heather said.
Gabriel stepped beside Heather. “And the guy who lives here has a valuable collection of historic materials?”
She nodded. “He’s, like, filthy rich or something.”
The wind kicked and a broken shutter fell from one of the top windows, hitting the porch roof with a crack before breaking into pieces and dropping to the ground.
Nate said, “It doesn’t look like he spends his money on home repairs.”
Scarlet twisted her lips. “Where does he get his money?”
Heather said, “He used to own most of downtown Avalon. Everything from the bookstore to The Millhouse. But he lost his money somehow.”
“So, he’s not wealthy?” Nate jumped a little as a loud crack of thunder broke through the dark afternoon sky and a howl of damp wind swept past them.
Perfect weather for a haunting.
Heather shook her head. “The rumor is that he sold something pretty valuable a few months ago and got a lot of cash for it. So he’s rich again.”
“Huh.” Scarlet eyed the dilapidated house.
“Whatever. Let’s go.” After glancing at the dark clouds looming above, Heather lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, leading the four of them up a questionable set of steps to the front door.
The doorknocker was a gargoyle head with a ring in its mouth.
Not spooky at all.
Heather lifted the large ring and knocked three times, the sound reverberating up and down the rickety porch.
One minute, then two, passed in silence before the front door slowly creaked open, with no one on the other side.
Another crack of thunder boomed, this time louder than before, and the rocking chair began to rock faster as the wind raced past them.
Pursing her lips, Scarlet whispered to Heather, “Are you kidding me?” Goosebumps that had nothing to do with the weather rose on Scarlet’s skin.
Heather put a finger up to her lips and motioned for Scarlet to be quiet. “Mr. Brooks?” she called into the dark house, using her sweetest voice. “It’s Heather Baxter, sir. I brought some cookies.”
Scarlet saw Gabriel shift uncomfortably, Nate standing a foot or so behind him.
“Heather?” said a quick, sharp voice coming from the dark house. Without a face attached to the voice, it sounded like the old house was speaking to them.
Which wouldn’t have surprised Scarlet at all.
“Yes, sir.” Heather put on a big smile.
A head covered in wild tufts of thick, white hair popped out from behind the door.
Mr. Brooks.
He wore thick spectacles, which made his eyes look larger than they probably were and his chaotic hair stuck out from his skull in haphazard triangles.
He looked like a more frazzled version of Albert Einstein.
Or, at least, the head of Einstein. He had yet to slide the rest of his body out from behind the open door.
His big eyes searched beyond the kids on his porch, looking around the neighborhood suspiciously.
Like his house wasn’t the creepiest thing on the street.
“The storm comes,” he said quickly, his eyes darting to the four people standing on his porch. “You brought visitors. Three of them.”
“These are my friends. We’ve come to see if you would be so gracious as to let us look through some of your old town records.” She held out the plate of cookies in her hand. “I brought treats.”
Mr. Brooks shifted his eyes across Scarlet, Nate and Gabriel, before returning them to Scarlet.
He stared at her for a long time.
So…creepy….
Mr. Brooks released his gaze and swiftly stepped out from behind the door. His tall body was lean and covered in a thin, green bathrobe as he stood before them with a cane in his hand.
“What an interesting request.” Mr. Brooks didn’t look at the cookies. “Yes, a very interesting request.”
He was an older gentleman, but he moved like a mischievous kid, quick and sneaky, as he leaned out from the entryway and peered around. “Yes, yes. The storm comes,” he said again.
He spoke quickly, his words clipped and over-enunciated, and his big eyes—which, Scarlet realized, were naturally large and only made slightly bigger by his glasses—were very shifty.
And they shifted back to Scarlet.
Heather swallowed. “We would be in and out quickly, sir. We just wanted to see if you had anything from the town’s founding days. Maps…journals….”
“Hmm.” Mr. Brooks yanked his eyes away from Scarlet and looked at everyone else. “Such a request seems odd from so young a group.” He tapped his cane three quick times on the wooden floor of the house. “Very odd. Very odd.”
Heather laughed nervously. “Yes, well. That’s us. Odd.”
Rain started to fall from the heavy clouds above, lightly tapping against the porch roof.
Twitching his lips and shifting his eyes, Mr. Brooks said, “I will let you in and give you access to what you seek. But,” he raised his cane and pointed it right at Gabriel, “information can be deadly.” He poked the cane out a bit further, jabbing it a few times. “You remember that.”