The Dead House!

~Ch 4 The mysterious boy~

"Wipe your feet! Don't track mud on the nice clean floors!" Mom called. Her voice echoed against the bare walls of the empty living room.
I stepped into the hallway. The house smelled of paint. The painters had just finished on Thursday. It was hot in the house, much hotter than outside.
"This kitchen light won't go on," Dad called from the back. "Did the painters turn off the electricity or something?"
"How should I know?" Mom shouted back.
Their voices sounded so loud in the big, empty house.
"Mom—there's someone upstairs!" I cried, wiping my feet on the new welcome
mat and hurrying into the living room.
She was at the window, staring out at the rain, looking for the movers probably.
She spun around as I came in. "What?"
"There's a boy upstairs. I saw him in the window," I said, struggling to catch my
breath.
Sam entered the room from the back hallway. He'd probably been with Dad. He
laughed. "Is someone already living here?"
"There's no one upstairs," Mom said, rolling her eyes. "Are you two going to
give me a break today, or what?"
"What did I do?" Sam whined.
"Listen, Lily, we're all a little on edge today—" Mom started.
But I interrupted her. "I saw his face, Mom. In the window. I'm not crazy, you
know."
"Says who?" Sam cracked.
"Lily!" Mom bit her lower lip, the way she always did when she was really
exasperated. "You saw a reflection of something. Of a tree probably." She turned back to the window. The rain was coming down in sheets now, the wind driving it noisily against the large picture window.
I ran to the stairway, cupped my hands over my mouth, and shouted up to the second floor, "Who's up there?"
No answer.
"Who's up there?" I called, a little louder.
Mom had her hands over her ears. "Lily—please!"
Sam had disappeared through the dining room. He was finally exploring the
house.
"There's someone up there," I insisted and, impulsively, I started up the wooden
stairway, my sneakers thudding loudly on the bare steps. "Lily—" I heard Mom call after me.
But I was too angry to stop. Why didn't she believe me? Why did she have to say it was a reflection of a tree I saw up there?
I was curious. I had to know who was upstairs. I had to prove Mom wrong. I had to show her I hadn't seen a stupid reflection. I guess I can be pretty stubborn, too. Maybe it's a family trait.
The stairs squeaked and creaked under me as I climbed. I didn't feel at all scared until I reached the second-floor landing. Then I suddenly had this heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I stopped, breathing hard, leaning on the banister.
Who could it be? A burglar? A bored neighborhood kid who had broken into an empty house for a thrill?
Maybe I shouldn't be up here alone, I realized.
Maybe the boy in the window was dangerous.
"Anybody up here?" I called, my voice suddenly trembly and weak.
Still leaning against the banister, I listened.
And I could hear footsteps scampering across the hallway.
No.
Not footsteps.
The rain. That's what it was. The patter of rain against the slate-shingled roof.
For some reason, the sound made me feel a little calmer. I let go of the banister
and stepped into the long, narrow hallway. It was dark up here, except for a rectangle of gray light from a small window at the other end.
I took a few steps, the old wooden floorboards creaking noisily beneath me. "Anybody up here?"
Again no answer.
I stepped up to the first doorway on my left. The door was closed. The smell of fresh paint was suffocating. There was a light switch on the wall near the door. Maybe it's for the hall light, I thought. I clicked it on. But nothing happened.
"Anybody here?"
My hand was trembling as I grabbed the doorknob. It felt warm in my hand. And damp.
I turned it and, taking a deep breath, pushed open the door.
I peered into the room. Gray light filtered in through the bay window. A flash of lightning made me jump back. The thunder that followed was a dull, distant roar.
Slowly, carefully, I took a step into the room. Then another.
No sign of anyone.
This was a guest bedroom. Or it could be Sam's room if he decided he liked it. Another flash of lightning. The sky seemed to be darkening. It was pitch-black
out there even though it was just after lunchtime.
I backed into the hall. The next room down was going to be mine. It also had a
bay window that looked down on the front yard.
Was the boy I saw staring down at me in my room?
I crept down the hall, letting my hand run along the wall for some reason, and
stopped outside my door, which was also closed.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. "Who's in there?" I called.
I listened.
Silence.
Then a clap of thunder, closer than the last. I froze as if I were paralyzed, holding
my breath. It was so hot up here, hot and damp. And the smell of paint was making me dizzy.
I grabbed the doorknob. "Anybody in there?"
I started to turn the knob—when the boy crept up from behind and grabbed my shoulder.