The Dead House!

~Ch 11 Missing Petey~

Several days went by. Sam and I were getting used to our new house and our new friends.
The kids we met every day at the playground weren't exactly friends yet. They talked with Sam and me, and let us on their teams. But it was really hard to get to know them.
In my room, I kept hearing whispers late at night, and soft giggling, but I forced myself to ignore it. One night, I thought I saw a girl dressed all in white at the end of the upstairs hall. But when I walked over to investigate, there was just a pile of dirty sheets and other bedclothes against the wall.
Sam and I were adjusting, but Petey was still acting really strange. We took him with us to the playground every day, but we had to leash him to the fence. Otherwise, he'd bark and snap at all the kids.
"He's still nervous being in a new place," I told Sam. "He'll calm down."
But Petey didn't calm down. And about two weeks later, we were finishing up a softball game with Ray, and Karen Somerset, and Jerry Franklin, and George Carpenter, and a bunch of other kids, when I looked over to the fence and saw that Petey was gone.
Somehow he had broken out of his leash and run away.
We looked for hours, calling "Petey!" wandering from block to block, searching front yards and backyards, empty lots and woods. Then, after circling the neighborhood twice, Sam and I suddenly realized we had no idea where we were.
The streets of Duskwood looked the same. They were all lined with sprawling old brick or shingle houses, all filled with shady old trees.
"I don't believe it. We're lost," Sam said, leaning against a tree trunk, trying to catch his breath.
"That stupid dog," I muttered, my eyes searching up the street. "Why did he do this? He's never run away before."
"I don't know how he got loose," Sam said, shaking his head, then wiping his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt. "I tied him up really well."
"Hey—maybe he ran home," I said. The idea immediately cheered me up.
"Yeah!" Sam stepped away from the tree and headed back over to me. "I'll bet you're right, Lily. He's probably been home for hours. Wow. We've been stupid. We should've checked home first. Let's go!"
"Well," I said, looking around at the empty yards, "we just have to figure out which way is home."
I looked up and down the street, trying to figure out which way we'd turned when we left the school playground. I couldn't remember, so we just started walking.

Luckily, as we reached the next corner, the school came into sight. We had made a full circle. It was easy to find our way from there. Passing the playground, I stared at the spot on the fence where Petey had been tied. That troublemaking dog. He'd been acting so badly ever since we came to Duskwood.
Would he be home when we got there? I hoped so.
A few minutes later, Sam and I were running up the gravel driveway, calling the dog's name at the top of our lungs. The front door burst open and Mom, her hair tied in a red bandanna, the knees of her jeans covered with dust, leaned out. She and Dad had been painting the back porch. "Where have you two been? Lunchtime was two hours ago!"
Sam and I both answered at the same time. "Is Petey here?"
"We've been looking for Petey!"
"Is he here?"
Mom's face filled with confusion. "Petey? I thought he was with you."
My heart sank. Sam slumped to the driveway with a loud sigh, sprawling flat on his back in the gravel and leaves.
"You haven't seen him?" I asked, my trembling voice showing my disappointment. "He was with us. But he ran away."
"Oh. I'm sorry," Mom said, motioning for Sam to get up from the driveway. "He ran away? I thought you've been keeping him on a leash."
"You've got to help us find him," Sam pleaded, not budging from the ground.
"Get the car. We've got to find him—right now!"
"I'm sure he hasn't gotten far," Mom said.
"You must be starving. Come in and have some lunch and then we'll—"
"No. Right now!" Sam screamed.
"What's going on?" Dad, his face and hair covered with tiny flecks of white paint, joined Mom on the front porch.
"Sam—what's all the yelling?"
We explained to Dad what had happened. He said he was too busy to drive around looking for Petey. Mom said she'd do it, but only after we had some lunch. I pulled Sam up by both arms and dragged him into the house.
We washed up and gulped down some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Then Mom took the car out of the garage, and we drove around and around the neighborhood searching for our lost pet.
With no luck.
No sign of him.
Sam and I were miserable. Heartbroken. Mom and Dad called the local police.
Dad kept saying that Petey had a good sense of direction, that he'd show up any minute.
But we didn't really believe it.
Where was he?
The four of us ate dinner in silence. It was the longest, most horrible evening of my life. "I tied him up really good," Sam repeated, close to tears, his dinner plate still full.
"Dogs are great escape artists," Dad said, "Don't worry. He'll show up."