The Dead House!

~Ch 3 Goodbye!~

Sam dodged and went dieways running wildly across the graveyards.
Then I saw, that he was not being chased. He was chasing Petey.
Ofcourse you can have misunderstanding at nights like this at a graveyard. I called over to Sam, "Sam!! What happened?" This time Sam heard me and turned to me and said that "Petey came down here running. Come quickly help me." I ran as fast as I could and managed to reach behind Sam, Dad and Mom also came running after me. Sam let out a huge gasp and Dad over took Sam and in two-three tries he managed to lift Petey up in air in his arms. "Petey have never been such a pain in the noise." Josh let in a big breath and held Petey in his arms.
We fasted towards our car and Sam got himself and Petey in the backseat too. "You should get a dod collar and dog crates." suggestingly said Mr. Willingston waiting for us in the front side of the car. "Petey isn't used to those things and she has always been a good dog." protestingly said Sam.
Petey retrieved. Dad drove Mr. Willingston to his office - the small real estate agency and tells the parents they can come back next week after he's finished finalizing all the paperwork. The Bensons are given his business card and contact info and learn his first name is "Compton." The group briefly jokes about such an odd first name. Mr. Willingston insists he's the only Compton in his family so where his parents got the name is a mystery. "Maybe they didn't know how to spell Charlie!"
Everyone laughs at the joke even though they know it's bad.

On the drive back to their current house, Sam said nothing and wouldn't acknowledge my assurance he'll like the house. For the next couple of weeks leading up to the move, I found herself stranded in a sea of stress. While having to deal with the uncomfortable idea that soon, everything I've been familiar with my whole life will be gone, also I had to deal with her parents constantly snapping at each other and Sam sulking like a petulant brat. Hell, even Petey's sulking!

The next couple of weeks seemed to crawl by. I walked around the house thinking about how I'd never see my room again, how I'd never eat breakfast in this kitchen again, how I'd never watch TV in the living room again. Morbid stuff like that. middle of the afternoon, I went up to my room and flopped down on my bed. I didn't nap or anything. I just stared at the ceiling for more than an hour, and all these wild, unconnected thoughts ran through my head, like a dream, only I was awake.
I wasn't the only one who was nervous about the move. Mom and Dad were snapping at each other over nothing at all. One morning they had a big fight over whether the bacon was too crispy or not.
In a way, it was funny to see them being so childish. Sam was acting really sullen all the time. He hardly spoke a word to anyone. And Petey sulked, too. That dumb dog wouldn't even pick himself up and come over to me when I had some table scraps for him.
I guess the hardest part about moving was saying good-bye to my friends. Carol and Amy were away at camp, so I had to write to them. But Kathy was home, and she was my oldest and best friend, and the hardest to say good-bye to.
I think some people were surprised that Kathy and I had stayed such good friends. For one thing, we look so different. I'm tall and thin and dark, and she's fair- skinned, with long blonde hair, and a little chubby. But we've been friends since preschool, and best friends since fourth grade.
When she came over the night before the move, we were both terribly awkward. "Kathy, you shouldn't be nervous," I told her. "You're not the one who's moving away forever."
"It's not like you're moving to China or something," she answered, chewing hard on her bubble gum. "Duskwood is only four hours away, Lily. We'll see each other a lot."
"Yeah, I guess," I said. But I didn't believe it. Four hours away was as bad as being in China, as far as I was concerned. "I guess we can still talk on the phone," I said glumly.
She blew a small green bubble, then sucked it back into her mouth. "Yeah. Sure," she said, pretending to be enthusiastic. "You're lucky, you know. Moving out of this crummy neighborhood to a big house."
"It's not a crummy neighborhood," I insisted. I don't know why I was defending the neighborhood. I never had before. One of our favorite pastimes was thinking of places we'd rather be growing up.
"School won't be the same without you," she sighed, curling her legs under her on the chair. "Who's going to slip me the answers in math?"
I laughed. "I always slipped you the wrong answers."
"But it was the thought that counted," Kathy said. And then she groaned. "Ugh. Junior high. Is your new junior high part of the high school or part of the elementary school?"
I made a disgusted face. "Everything's in one building. It's a small town, remember? There's no separate high school. At least, I didn't see one."
"Bummer," she said.
Bummer was right.
We chatted for hours. Until Kathy's mom called and said it was time for her to
come home. Then we hugged. I had made up my mind that I wouldn't cry, but I could feel the big, hot tears forming in the corners of my eyes. And then they were running down my cheeks.
"I'm so miserable!" I wailed.
I had planned to be really controlled and mature. But Kathy was my best friend, after all, and what could I do?
We made a promise that we'd always be together on our birthdays—no matter what. We'd force our parents to make sure we didn't miss each other's birthdays.
And then we hugged—again. And Kathy said, "Don't worry. We'll see each other a lot. Really." And she had tears in her eyes, too.
She turned and ran out the door. The screen door slammed hard behind her. I stood there staring out into the darkness until Petey came scampering in, his toenails clicking across the linoleum, and started to lick my hand.
The next morning, moving day, was a rainy Saturday. Not a downpour. No thunder or lightning. But just enough rain and wind to make the long drive slow and unpleasant.
The sky seemed to get darker as we neared the new neighborhood. The heavy trees bent low over the street. "Slow down, Jack," Mom warned shrilly. "The street is really slick."
But Dad was in a hurry to get to the house before the moving van did. "They'll just put the stuff anywhere if we're not there to supervise," he explained.
Sam, beside me in the backseat, was being a real pain, as usual. He kept complaining that he was thirsty. When that didn't get results, he started whining that he was starving. But we had all had a big breakfast, so that didn't get any reaction, either.
He just wanted attention, of course. I kept trying to cheer him up by telling him how great the house was inside and how big his room was. He still hadn't seen it.
But he didn't want to be cheered up. He started wrestling with Petey, getting the poor dog all worked up, until Dad had to shout at him to stop.
"Let's all try really hard not to get on each other's nerves," Mom suggested.
Dad laughed. "Good idea, dear."
"Don't make fun of me," she snapped.
They started to argue about who was more exhausted from all the packing. Petey
stood up on his hind legs and started to howl at the back window.
"Can't you shut him up?" Mom screamed.
I pulled Petey down, but he struggled back up and started howling again. "He's
never done this before," I said.
"Just get him quiet!" Mom insisted.
I pulled Petey down by his hind legs, and Sam started to howl. Mom turned
around and gave him a dirty look. Sam didn't stop howling, though. He thought he was a riot.
Finally, Dad pulled the car up the driveway of the new house. The tires crunched over the wet gravel. Rain pounded on the roof.

"Home sweet home," Mom said. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. I think she was really glad the long car ride was over.
"At least we beat the movers," Dad said, glancing at his watch. Then his expression changed. "Hope they're not lost."
"It's as dark as night out there," Sam complained.
Petey was jumping up and down in my lap, desperate to get out of the car. He was usually a good traveler. But once the car stopped, he wanted out immediately.
I opened my car door and he leaped onto the driveway with a splash and started to run in a wild zigzag across the front yard.
"At least someone's glad to be here," Sam said quietly.
Dad ran up to the porch and, fumbling with the unfamiliar keys, managed to get the front door open. Then he motioned for us to come into the house.
Mom and Sam ran across the walk, eager to get in out of the rain. I closed the car door behind me and started to jog after them.
But something caught my eye. I stopped and looked up to the twin bay windows above the porch.
I held a hand over my eyebrows to shield my eyes and squinted through the rain. Yes. I saw it.
A face. In the window on the left.
The boy.
The same boy was up there, staring down at me.