Sleepover Stakeout (9780545443111) Read online

  “Once I found out the range of the baby monitor,” Darcy explained, “I figured out the radius around Maya’s house that her monitor could pick up. Then I used Google Earth and Maps to create this.”

  “Go, you!” Fiona said to Darcy, sounding impressed. I was impressed as well, but I’d expect nothing less from my tech-savvy BFF.

  Darcy pointed at the house in the center. “That’s Maya’s.” Her finger moved down and to the left. “This is Hunter’s.”

  And the one to the left of that was Zane’s, I thought to myself.

  A red circle was drawn over the map, with Maya’s house in the middle. Inside the circle were two houses across the street, a large chunk of the woods behind Maya’s house, one big house to the right, Hunter’s house on the left, and half of Zane’s house.

  “So,” I said, “if we stood in any area inside the circle and used some equipment that transmitted on that frequency, Maya could hear it on her monitor?”

  “As long as her monitor was on at the time, yeah,” Darcy said.

  This was really good work. My heart pumped with anticipation. “Now we know exactly where it could be coming from,” I said. “Great job narrowing it down!”

  Darcy beamed. “Thanks! And now we can case the neighborhood after school tomorrow and figure out if anyone in those houses has a baby.”

  “Tomorrow?” I said. “Let’s do it now!” I was really excited. This was our first solid lead.

  “Yeah, I can’t do it tomorrow,” Fiona said.

  “But I can’t do it now.” Darcy looked at me. “I’m getting my braces, remember?”

  Oh yeah. But I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to get answers we could have now. “Fiona and I will do it today,” I said brightly. “And then we’ll text you or call with what we find out.”

  Darcy’s expression soured. “But … what will you say to people when they come to the door? I’m the best liar in our agency,” she added modestly.

  That was true. I was about to backtrack when Fiona said, “Leave it to me. I was the lead in the school play last year. Acting is just like lying, right?”

  “Right,” Darcy said coolly. She put the piece of paper into my hand, turned on her heel, and left.

  Fiona grimaced. “Wow, she’s in a really bad mood because of those braces, huh?”

  I nodded slowly but wasn’t quite sure. I knew the idea of braces was bothering Darcy. But I had the feeling there was something more going on.

  A half hour later, Fiona and I parked our bikes in front of Maya’s house. We had Darcy’s map, and we had a plan. I knew our story, and Fiona said she’d do most of the talking. So now we just had to start knocking on doors. Meanwhile my nerves were knocking all around my stomach.

  I’d been super excited at the prospect of getting answers, but now … not so much about walking up and talking to random strangers. Thankfully, Fiona had enough confidence for the both of us.

  “Let’s see,” she said, taking the map. “Half of the circled area is in the woods, so we can skip that, obviously. I know Hunter doesn’t have any younger siblings, and his older brother’s in college, so no baby monitors there. What about Zane?”

  She raised her eyebrows at me. Like I was the authority on Zane Munro. I blushed. “He has a sister, but she’s in high school,” I said sheepishly. “No babies.”

  The corner of Fiona’s mouth lifted up a bit. “We could knock on his door anyway, just to be sure….”

  I gave her a look. “I get this enough from Darcy.”

  Fiona waved the map at me. “I’m only teasing. I think your crush on him is adorable.”

  I grimaced. “Wonderful. Glad I could entertain you. Moving on …”

  Fiona returned her attention to the map. “I guess we should do the house on the other side of Maya’s, then. After that, we’ll do the ones across the street.”

  Anything that got the topic of conversation off The Crush That Would Never Be Returned.

  We walked down the sidewalk, skipping over cracks. I always avoided stepping on them, and it was funny to find that Fiona had the same habit. We reached the house on the other side of Maya’s and stopped. It was green with dark red shutters. There were no telltale signs of kids — no swing set, basketball hoop, or abandoned tricycle. But there was one car in the driveway, so someone was home.

  The owner apparently loved garden gnomes, because they lined the narrow path to the front door. There was a laughing gnome, a napping gnome, a golfing gnome, a guitar-playing gnome, and more. Except one spot where it looked like a gnome had been taken away, and only a small circle of dead grass remained. Maybe he went for gnome repair?

  We got to the front door, and Fiona rang the bell. I stood beside her. My hands were fidgeting so much, I put them behind my back.

  “Do you remember your lines?” I asked.

  Fiona said, “No problem. It’s just like a play.”

  A moment later the front door swung inward and a face appeared behind the screen. He was bald, maybe in his late sixties, and he narrowed his eyes at us.

  Oh no. A grumpy old man.

  “What’re you sellin’?” he snapped.

  Fiona smiled wide. “We’re not selling anything, sir. As part of a community service project, we’re going door to door handing out coupons for diapers to any family with babies or toddlers.”

  (And hoping that you didn’t actually ask for those coupons … since we had none.)

  We figured if someone really wanted the coupons, Fiona could turn to me, and I could pretend that I thought she’d brought them and we’d wander off pretend-confused.

  Hey, we made it up on the way there. It was the best we could do.

  The man’s frown softened a bit as Fiona continued to flash her giant smile.

  “My babies are thirty years old,” he said. “But that’s a nice thing you’re doing.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Fiona said.

  And then we backed away. Quickly, before he got grumpy again.

  In the house across the street, we found a young woman who only had a million cats. No babies. That left us with only one more house to check.

  The Old Witch’s house.

  Fiona and I stood before it, gazing. The house must have been beautiful years ago, but now it was kind of sad-looking. The pale blue paint was peeling. One of the wooden porch steps sagged. The yard was full of weeds that were probably taller than Maya. The black mailbox was a bit crooked on its post and the stenciled name, WOLFSON, was faded.

  “Do we really need to knock on this door?” Fiona’s voice trembled a bit. That confidence she’d had before seemed to disappear. “I mean, everyone knows she lives alone.”

  “If anyone really lives there at all,” I whispered. I still wasn’t convinced the old lady actually existed.

  “Maybe we could just creep up and peek in the windows.” As Fiona pointed at the house, the silver bracelets on her wrist jangled.

  “You’re not exactly dressed for sneaking around,” I said, motioning at her loud jewelry. “Let’s just go up to the front door and knock like normal people.”

  “But she definitely doesn’t have a baby,” Fiona insisted.

  “Yeah, but the voice could still be her. Maybe she has a monitor for some other reason. Maybe she needs help right now! At the very least, we can get some clues.”

  Fiona frowned. “Or get eaten.”

  I shivered, but we slowly stepped forward, closer to the house. A tiny sound escaped Fiona’s lips. Then another. Was she … holding back a giggle fit?

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  She covered her mouth for a moment, then said, “Sorry. Sometimes I laugh when I get nervous. I can’t help it. It happens during horror movies.”

  “Well, this isn’t a horror movie.”

  “Tell that to the creepiest house in the world!” She pointed at the front door. “I mean, if that’s not haunted, I don’t know what is.”

  “Let’s just get this over with,” I said.

  My h
eart started pounding faster, but my brain told me to move forward. Use logic, it said. She’s not a kid-snatching witch. She’s just a little old lady. I gingerly stepped up the rickety porch steps and to the front door. I looked to my side, but Fiona wasn’t there. I turned around.

  She was still standing down on the grass.

  “Fiona!” I hissed. “Get up here! You have to do your lines.”

  She shook her head. “You do this one. I’ll stay here.”

  I groaned. It seemed I had no choice. My hands were shaking, but I lifted one in the air to make a fist, ready to knock on the door.

  Before I could, though, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. The window to my left had a white lace curtain. And it moved, like someone had taken a peek at me.

  “Norah?” Fiona said nervously. “Norah, let’s go.”

  No, I thought. I’d come this far. I lifted my fist and knocked three times.

  Only silence. I looked at the window again, but the curtain didn’t move. I heard a scrape, like someone reaching across the door, maybe to open it. I took one step back.

  “Norah! Come on!” Fiona yelled, more insistent now.

  A thump came, then a dragging sound, then another thump … clump … clump … coming to a stop right behind the door.

  I stepped forward and leaned my face near the wood. “Hello?” I called.

  And a voice whispered back, “Go … away.”

  When you’re standing at the front door of the creepiest house you’ve ever seen and a mysterious voice tells you to go away, you should probably go away. But, though my brain was working, my legs were useless and suddenly felt as if they were made of jelly. I was frozen. And therefore couldn’t run.

  Fear squeezed my heart like a stress ball. I looked over my shoulder for help from Fiona, but she had already run across the street and was standing safely in Maya’s front yard. She held her hands up in the air. A gesture that clearly meant What are you doing? Get over here!

  I forced myself to take a deep, calming breath. I tried to reason with my panicked muscles. An old witch does not live in this house. Those stories are made up. If she wanted to abduct me and cook me in her hearth, she already had plenty of time to do it since I’ve been standing here like a dummy.

  The wood beneath my feet creaked. The woman was still standing there on the other side of the door. I coughed feebly.

  The voice came again, “What do you want?”

  Startled, my eyes opened wider. Something was different about the voice, though. Instead of trying to scare me, the woman sounded fearful herself. I struggled to remember the name I’d seen on the battered mailbox. I nervously licked my lips and said, “Um, Mrs. Wolfson?”

  Suddenly a bunch of sounds came from within. She must’ve unlocked three or four dead bolts. Then the door swung inward.

  For a supposed witch who abducted and ate children, she didn’t look very intimidating. Her long hair was held up in a bun, and wisps of gray framed her thin face. She wore a long housedress and held a cane. That must have been what had caused the clunking sound.

  She eyed me warily. “Yes?”

  I glanced frantically over my shoulder at Fiona, who was now hiding behind a hedge, probably watching the action and shaking. All that was visible of her were her high-heeled booties — totally inappropriate detective gear, by the way. I turned back to Mrs. Wolfson and racked my brain for something to say. I decided to go with something close to the truth. “I’m sorry to bother you. Um, my friend lives across the street and she heard some strange noises and I just wanted to check to make sure you were all right.”

  Mrs. Wolfson’s hard eyes softened. “Oh. I’m fine, dear. Thank you for checking.”

  “Okay.” My legs decided they could work again, so I began to back away. “Have a nice day.”

  She held out a pale, bony hand. “Wait …”

  I swallowed and my throat felt tight. “What is it?” Please don’t let this be the part where she turns evil and abducts me.

  “I’m sorry I was rude to you before. I thought it was those dang Danville boys again.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Just some darn teenagers that come up and knock on my door only because their friends dared them to bother the Old Witch.”

  I gasped. Mrs. Wolfson let out a loud laugh, and it sounded nothing like a witch’s cackle. “You think I don’t know about my nickname?” She shrugged. “I don’t mind it too much. People leave me alone and don’t try to sell me stuff.”

  “Oh … okay,” I said, mainly because I didn’t know what else to say.

  Her face turned sad, and she began speaking as if she’d been waiting to tell her story. “I know I should have moved after my husband died so long ago. This big old house is too much for me to take care of. I let the lawn go dead and weedy. The paint chipped. And then I was so embarrassed by the house, I stopped socializing with neighbors. I watched out my window as old friends moved away and new people moved in. And I just … stayed inside. So I can understand how you kids came up with the nickname and all the rumors. But I don’t mean anyone any harm. I just wanted to stay in the house my husband and I bought together. It makes me feel closer to him.”

  My heart broke into a thousand pieces. “Of course,” I said, feeling choked up.

  Her voice cracked. “Will you tell the other children I’m not mean? I turn on the outside light on Halloween, but all the children skip my house.”

  I swallowed hard. “I will personally make sure that doesn’t happen this year,” I said. And I would keep my promise. Somehow.

  I ran across the street to Fiona, who breathlessly asked me for every single detail. I explained that Mrs. Wolfson was not a witch. Just a nice, misunderstood old lady.

  I took one last glance at the old run-down house. I had to figure out a way to change the neighborhood’s perception of Mrs. Wolfson.

  But first, we had to solve Maya’s mystery.

  And, at the moment, unfortunately, I had to head to the eye doctor.

  “Cover your right eye with this and read the top three lines to me.”

  I took the black plastic thingamabob from the eye doctor. It looked like a ladle, but I used it to cover my eye like he said and then squinted at the chart on the wall.

  “E,” I said. You’d have to be completely blind not to see the top letter. “F and P for the second line. And then T, O, Z.”

  “Great.” The doctor nodded. He wore glasses and I briefly wondered if he tested himself like this or if he had another doctor do it.

  He asked me to keep going. By the time I got to the fifth line, I was squinting.

  “O, B, C, L, T …” I could make out most of the letters, except the one at the far right. Was that an E or an F? I squinted harder but that didn’t help, so I just guessed. “E?”

  I looked at the doctor to try to see his reaction, but his face was unreadable. My stomach turned over with anxiety. I reminded myself that getting something wrong here wasn’t like failing a test. It wasn’t my fault my eyes weren’t perfect.

  “Okay, now the next line,” he said.

  This one was much harder. It was so blurry. I blinked a few times, but that didn’t help. I read the letters, basically guessing at half of them. “T, E, P, O, L, F, D, Z.”

  “Hmm, okay. Can you read any letters on the bottom row?”

  I squinted, blinked, opened my eye wider, everything I could think of. Then I sighed. “No, not a one.”

  We repeated the process with my left eye covered. Then I sat my chin on this weird metal contraption and said “better,” “worse,” or “the same” to a million different combinations of glass the doctor flipped in front of my eyes. After that, he scribbled my prescription on a pad of paper and told Mom and me to head to the showroom to look at frames.

  Frames! That meant it was real…. I was getting glasses. I walked from the dimly lit office into the bright front store area with my shoulders hunched. I’d had a glimmer of hope that t
his was all some mistake. That the doctor would say, “Your vision is perfect! That teacher didn’t know what he was talking about!”

  But that didn’t happen.

  “They have such a great selection here,” Mom said, gazing at all the frames. “You’ll find a beautiful pair. So many of these would look pretty on you.”

  There were, like, a hundred frames on display and I think I tried on every one. Red, black, tortoiseshell, wire, plastic, huge, small, narrow, wide, circular, rectangular. Forced enthusiasm continued to pour from Mom as I picked up each pair. I appreciated that she was trying to make me feel better, but as she oohed and ahhed over all of them, it just didn’t help. They all looked the same to me — unnatural. As if it wasn’t my face anymore.

  I turned to Mom and said hopefully, “How about contact lenses?”

  She gave me a half smile, but I knew the answer before she even started talking. “Maybe in high school. Your father and I would like you to wait a couple years.”

  Part of me wanted to throw myself on the floor like a two-year-old and have a tantrum, but that wouldn’t solve my problem. I wouldn’t be cured. I’d keep squinting. My grades might drop because of all these mistakes I kept making. I had to face it.

  I picked up the tortoiseshell pair. “These ones, I guess.”

  Mom nodded her approval. “Lovely.”

  Luckily (or UNluckily), they had my prescription in stock, so I was able to get the lenses fitted into the frames while we waited at the store. The saleslady fit the new glasses onto my nose, and that was that. I sighed.

  “Why don’t you go wait in the mall while I finish paying?” Mom suggested. She gave me a nudge with her elbow and added, “Maybe the boys will look cuter now that you can see them.”

  I turned around so she wouldn’t see me roll my eyes. I knew she was only trying to put me in a good mood, but come on!

  I slunk out into the mall and looked at my reflection in the storefront’s glass window. I turned to the side, then faced front again. I guess the glasses didn’t look that bad. Maybe I was just slow to accept change. They’d grow on me. I’d get used to them. All that good stuff.