#9: The Ghost at Dawn's House - Part 2
I wish I could have had the whole book done in time for Halloween, but I rarely get time to myself at home anymore.
Chapters 1-5
Chapter Six
Still freaked over Nicky's brief disappearance, Dawn relaxes by going to the barn to read. She says that she goes there because it's so quiet and there's nothing to interrupt her...right after she tells us she's home alone anyway. Clearly she's not as concerned about unseen bugs as I would be, because she finds a spot on top of some hay that seems surprisingly cool and has a seat.
The next moment, she crashes through the floor and feels herself falling. She probably lives in daily fear that this is what will happen if she eats any junk food. She compares herself to Alice in Wonderland, falling down the rabbit's hole. Perhaps Dawn has found the hiding place where her mother keeps her hallucinogens?
Dawn suspects that she may have found the barn's basement. Wait a minute...barns don't have basements. BARNS DON'T HAVE BASEMENTS.
Before she can come to any logical conclusions, she realizes she's standing in a pitch-black hole and opts to gtfo. She worries that there might be spiders on the wall as she feels around for a way out, but comforts us by saying she doesn't. In fact, there's never a mention of a stray insect or cobweb in this old-ass passage, and I call bullshit.
Back in the barn, Dawn sees that she's fallen through a trap door. Let's see...trap door...ladder...dark place...I give up, Dawn, what is it?
She retrieves a flashlight and starts exploring. She follows the underground tunnel as it veers off toward her house. She thinks about how if she were just a little older, she could be Nancy Drew! Reach for the stars, Dawn.
Eventually, she comes across a "crude wooden staircase," which she has no qualms about climbing. When she comes to a dead end, she feels around on the wall until something beside her gives way and she finds herself looking into her own bedroom. And, yes, the opening to the passage is behind the wall with the hollow sound.
Going back to explore more carefully, Dawn kicks up dust bunnies...and signs of bug life? No, just dust bunnies. She finds a worn metal button, an old key, and a tarnished buckle, which, with her background in buckle expertise, she immediately proclaims to be a nineteenth-century shoe buckle. She also comes to the only obvious conclusion, which is that someone was locked up in the passage and left to die. They tried to use the key to escape, but died before they could, leaving only a button and one shoe buckle. If they had the damn key, how'd they die before they managed to get out? Were they just a really slow walker? And where, exactly, did you see a keyhole, Dawn? No mention is made of what may have mysteriously happened to this dead person's bones, and even as a child, that annoyed me.
Though she knows no one will believe her, she is instantly certain that her house is haunted by the ghost of the secret passage.
Chapter Seven
Warning: Babysitting chapter ahead. Kristy blames Dawn for "the most embarrassing moment of her life." She admits that Karen's stupid stories about Morbidda Destiny and Ben Brewer actually scared her, which is not the most embarrassing moment she's referring to, but it should be.
It's Karen and Andrew's Big House weekend, which means, of course, that Watson and Elizabeth have made plans to go to a theater in Stamford, leaving Kristy to take care of the Brewer kids and David Michael. She's trying to force a game of Chutes and Ladders on them (I never, ever played this when I was little), but everyone's distracted by the storm raging outside. With each clap of thunder, David Michael screams (ha ha), Andrew cowers in Kristy's lap, and Louie the collie jumps and skids across the game board. Karen sits back looking disgusted and insulting everyone. Can we banish her to the attic already?
Kristy finally suggests a book-reading instead. Andrew wants to hear The Little Engine That Could, David Michael wants Fantastic Mr. Fox, and Karen pulls for Ramona and Her Father. I don't remember that last book very well, but I feel like this is a veiled hint at the ever-absent Watson. Kristy rolls her eyes at their choices. I'm sorry, Kristy, were you expecting someone to suggest The Great Gatsby?
Karen offers to tell a story. Kristy asks if she knows any nice, happy stories. Karen thinks for a moment, but finally says, "Nope." David Michael insists he wants to hear a scary story, and Andrew quickly agrees, "not to be undone." I think "not to be outdone" would make more sense in this case, but okay.
Kristy, sensing that this would be a bad idea, says they're gonna tell jokes, not some stupid fucking scary stories. She does the orange you glad I didn't say banana? knock-knock joke, which mystifies the children, but I think the most confusing part is that Kristy actually "bursts into giggles" over it.
After an appreciable pause, Karen says, "So, this is the tale of what made old Ben Brewer so weird," as if Kristy hasn't said a word. Kristy leaves to do some cleaning up and returns mid-story to find Andrew sitting, terrified, in the lap of a giant stuffed panda. How fucking big is this thing? David Michael has backed himself against a chair and Karen is sitting in the middle of the room, telling her dumb story, waving around a wand, wearing a witch's hat and a ballroom mask. Okay, Stevie Nicks, take it down a notch.
Kristy arrives in time to hear that Old Man Brewer had shut himself into his bedroom and was rocking in his chair for six hours. "And now," says Karen, lowering his voice dramatically, "it was almost midnight." (On one hand, maybe I should cut Karen some slack, because she's just sprucing up a boring story about her grandfather telling a ghost to get the hell of his damn lawn, but she loses several million points in style for her stupid wand-and-mask get-up, so we take the Characters Speaking in Dramatic Tones Count up to 4.) David Michael yelps, "Oh, no!" Oh, yes. "And you know what that means," Karen whispers. (Count: Up, wayyyy up, to 5.) Although she thinks we know what that means, she explains, "It means that the headless ghost was going to come to Ben Brewer...and turn him into a crazy man."
"Ew," says Kristy, and though I am also registering disgust at Karen's misguided ideas on what causes insanity, I don't think that's quite the right word for this situation.
Ben, Karen tells us, locked himself in the room and didn't intend to leave for any reason--not even if he had to go to the bathroom. She also mentions that he'd put garlic around the room. When Kristy points out that this is actually done to ward off vampires, David Michael matter-of-factly states that Ben wasn't taking any chances. So brainwashed already, and he's only been living with Karen every other weekend for the last three books.
Kristy explains to us that Ben Brewer was Karen and Andrew's great-grandfather. I always remembered him being their grandfather, weird. Unrelated, but my boyfriend's last name is Brewer. My favorite name is Benjamin, but I don't feel like I'd ever been able to name a child Ben Brewer. Thanks for ruining a perfectly good name for my future use, Karen.
Karen tells them to take in the fact that this was all happening in their own house, on the third floor. Andrew whispers, "The room we never go in." (Count: 6.) David Michael says that the entire third floor is haunted, citing as proof the fact that Boo-Boo the cat never goes up there. Karen reminds everyone that they're sitting right under Ben Brewer's room and David Michael screams (ha ha again). Kristy calls Karen on her bullshit: last time, Karen said Boo-Boo won't go onto the third floor because it's under the attic and the attic is haunted.
Karen brushes this off and continues her story by counting down to midnight. Andrew is near tears at this point, whimpering about what's going to happen next. What happened next was that the headless ghost apparently came down the chimney to Ben. I guess it couldn't get through a locked door or walls, but the fire going in the fireplace was no problem. Karen starts wailing like the ghost and Boo-Boo flips his shit and runs off yowling, with Louie in pursuit. Karen starts screaming that it's Ben's insane ghost and Kristy has to tell her through chattering teeth to calm down. Andrew bursts into tears. Nice going, Karen.
Kristy tells them it's time for bed, which is kind of a stupid thing to tell kids right after a scary story. Unsurprisingly, they all want to sleep with Kristy. Kristy is actually relieved. She wakes up the next morning surrounded by the sleeping kids and pets, and hears Charlie and Sam laughing at her from the doorway. Sam chides, "Hey, Kristy, what were you guys doing last night?" Even when I was little, this had an uncomfortably sexual undertone to it. They tease Kristy about being afraid of the storm, which she "fiercely" denies, telling them, "It's a long story." Really, it's not. You let Karen tell a scary story, everyone pussed out, and the kids wanted to sleep with you. The end. And somehow, this is the most embarrassing moment of your entire life.
Chapter Eight
Meanwhile, back at the ranch Dawn's house, Mama Schaefer's going on a date. Dawn is pouting because the date is not with Mary Anne's father, and Dawn doesn't want her mother to truly be happy unless it is also convenient for Dawn. She tells us the couple plan to have dinner at a restaurant, followed by dessert at Dawn's grandparents' house. She refers to this as "much too serious." Sounds like a crappy date to me.
Dawn is a rude little bitch to her mom before she leaves. When her mother senses something is wrong and hesitates, Dawn says, "Goodbye, Mom," pointedly. Fucking brat. After her mom leaves, she feels bad. As she should.
I have to laugh as Dawn and Jeff watch "All in the Family" over dinner, each noting how much they hate the show. Me, too, guys. Me, too. Then the electricity goes out. Dawn is scared to think that maybe it's just their house. I'd be more annoyed than anything, having to call the electric company and probably argue with someone over the phone. When she looks outside and sees it's the whole street, she starts hoping it'll ruin her mom's date and she'll have to come home. Fucking. Brat.
They're sure to turn off the TV, so it doesn't come blaring back on when the power's restored. Ah, you have dated yourself yet again, 80's book. I realized a few months ago when I couldn't find the remote that there IS no physical way to turn my television on or off on the set itself.
Bored, Jeff wonders aloud, "What can you do in the dark?" and I wish I were drinking something, just so I could do a spit-take. Dawn suggests reading stories to him. What kinds of stories? "Ghost stories," Dawn whispers. (Count: 7.) After a few stories, he asks her to stop. She can't tell if he's bored, scared, or sleepy. I've got a pretty good guess.
Then they try making shadow puppets, but quickly give up, maybe because making shadow puppets is even more boring than watching The Big Sleep. "Wellll," Dawn says, "there is something we could do, and all we need is a flashlight." I wince at how horribly sexual this sounds. When Jeff asks for more details, Dawn orders him to her bedroom, and I slap my forehead.
She pushes the catch she discovered on her bedroom wall and opens the entryway to the secret passage. Still, Jeff flatly states, "I don't believe it." You don't believe what, Jeff? She just caused a wall to open right before your fucking eyes.
They enter the passage. At the top of the steps, Jeff stops Dawn to point out a buffalo head nickel lying against the wall. When they can't find a date on it, Dawn determines that it must be "ancient" because "it takes forever for metal to wear down." I chuckle to think of all the 2007-era change I've seen that looks like it's been through several wars. To be fair to Dawn, Wikipedia tells me these coins were struck between 1913 and 1938, and were notorious for their easily-worn dates. I applaud AMM for doing some research for this one.
As they continue along the passage, Dawn hears something crunch under her foot and screams, certain it's part of a skeleton. Pretty sure you would have noticed a skeleton sitting in the passage with that flashlight, girl, chill the fuck out. Jeff investigates and finds a small, brown mound. Dawn speculates that it might be part of an ice cream cone. Jeff counters that ice cream cones--at least, the few they've had--were yellow and kind of airy-looking, with a flat bottom (I hate that kind), but Dawn insists this is an "old-fashioned" one. Since the, like, universal symbol for ice cream has the kind with the pointed bottom, I wouldn't think this was unheard of to even Dawn and Jeff, but whatever.
Dawn brilliantly feels that it is time to share. She tells Jeff she "doesn't want to scare him," but the passage is haunted by the angry ghost of someone who was locked up there a long time ago. Jeff scoffs at her. Ha ha. She replies that she's not kidding "in a hushed voice." (Count: 8.) Jeff's all, "Prove it, bitch," then shoots down all her theories about creaks and moans. I wouldn't think that standing by themselves in a pitch-black tunnel with only a flashlight for company would be an opportune moment to start imitating eerie moaning, but Dawn does it anyway. She then tells Jeff that she took other things out of the passage, and the ghost is mad, so he'd better take his happy ass back down the passage alone and put that nickel back.
Jeff points out that if he goes back alone, the light goes with him. I love how logical Jeff always is. He really is written as more mature than their other baby-sitting charges. Hey, Pike we-can't-wipe-up-our-own-spilled-milk triplets, I'm looking at you. Just then, they hear a creak, followed by a moan, and race back to Dawn's room, screaming. Jeff drops the nickel on the way.
Chapter Nine
Dawn and Jeff burst back into Dawn's bedroom and slam the wall shut behind them, having forgotten that the electricity was out and they're still in total darkness. When they hear more creaking from inside the passage, Jeff exclaims that the ghost is probably in there right now! Well, yeah, I thought we'd already established that. Isn't that why you guys were screaming and running?
Dawn announces that she's calling their mother. Take your Baby-Sitter of the Year trophy on the way out, bitch. Jeff grabs her around the waist and follows her to their mother's room. Dawn notes that they probably look like two little kids playing choo-choo train, and this is actually kind of legitimately amusing.
When they reach the phone in their mother's room, Jeff remarks that he hopes the phone lines aren't out, too. Dawn freezes in horror at the idea. I like to picture an angry ghost plunging their entire neighborhood into darkness, then cutting the phone line (possibly with the hedge clippers that were in the living room) just to fuck with these two kids. Dawn slowly picks up the phone. When she hears the dial tones, she murmurs a string of thank-yous to "no in particular," and I realize for the first time how well these books dodge religion.
Figuring Mama Schaefer's date must have moved to the grandparents' house by now, she calls and tells Pop-Pop that they're having an emergency. When her poor, scared mother comes to the phone, Dawn tells her that the power's out and there's a secret passage and she and Jeff went in it and they have a ghost on their hands. Dawn explains about the passage in more detail to her perplexed mother. Her mom asks if she's positive about it. Well, she just told you she and Jeff have both been in it, so unless they've gotten into your drug stash again, yeah, I'd say she's pretty sure.
Her mom tells her to wait inside and stay out of the passage, saying she and Trip will be right there. When Dawn hangs up, all she can do is laugh over her mom's date's stupid name. They speculate over what cool, cool Trip must be like, deciding that he probably wears pink socks, his eyes are gray but he wears contacts to make them blue, and "his friends call him, like, the Trip-Man or something." This is also legitimately funny to me, just because of the "like."
Then they stop laughing because the thought hits them that maybe while they're yukking it up in Mom's room, the ghost is sneaking into Dawn's. Do ghosts have to sneak? They float. Silently. Through walls, even. Unless they decide to fuck with you by throwing out some mwah ha ha's, you might not even know they're there.
So they block off the door to the secret passage. They shove Dawn's dresser in front of it, throw a chair on top, push the bed in front of that, and start piling books from the shelf onto the bed. At that moment, the electricity comes back on. I guess Dawn had her bedroom lights on when the power went out, even though she wasn't in the room. Not much of an energy conserver, are we, Dawn? In the sudden flood of light, Dawn and Jeff see two people in the doorway they assumed was empty, and everyone screams. Dawn and Dawn Mom start talking at the same time and the Trip-Man tells everyone to calm the fuck down, and I feel like in real life, I would resent that. Dawn Mom pauses and makes introductions. When she refers to her date as Theodore Gwynne, Dawn and Jeff look at each other and start laughing. Ommmm, RUDE. Dawn notes with disappointment that his eyes are brown and his socks aren't pink, but his shirt is.
When Dawn Mom demands an explanation for the mess her kids are making, Dawn says they're blocking off the passage so the ghost won't get them. Her mom points out the obvious, that ghosts can supposedly float through walls anyway. Dawn feels stupid, but quickly tries to cover by saying that this is true, but the passage is home base. Yeah. Good call, Dawn. They move the things away from the wall and open the passageway. The Trip-Man takes a flashlight and offers to have "a look-see," for which Dawn silently mocks him. Whatever, Schaefer. Judge him when you're not the one piling books onto your bed to ward off ghosts. "Oh, Trip, do you think you should?" Dawn Mom asks, which sounds awfully damsel-in-distressy. Dawn and Jeff crack up again, and this, too, is funny to me. When the Trip-Man returns, he says he found no one--and nothing--in the passage, with a pointed look at Dawn. Fuck you, Trip. Dawn does the, "Yeah, yeah, it was just the storm we heard," routine, which is a tired excuse, but the Trip-Man has a point. Every time she hears moaning in there, it seems to be storming. I'd imagine at least a little wind is squeezing under that trap door and the creepy ghost-sound that terrified me as a child is echoing through that empty tunnel, which really would make me uneasy, even if I knew exactly what was causing it.
The Trip-Man tells them he found a nickel, which he hands to Dawn, who barely manages not to scream as she takes it. Trip tells them they should find a way to lock it so intruders can't get in. When Dawn worries that none of those measures will keep a ghost out, Mama Schaefer and Trip-Man start to look impatient. I feel like Dawn Mom is allowed to do this, because they're her kids, but seriously, Trip, you are not giving off a very good first impression, even if they are cock-blocking you.
Dawn opts to sleep downstairs for the night. She notices her mother's purse in the dining room and thinks about how scatterbrained her mother is, how she should take her the purse. I don't really see why it's not fine in the dining room overnight, but all right. Under the purse, Dawn finds A History of Stoneybrooke. "Eff that purse," she says, and settles down with the book. Looking at the Roman numeral copyright, she thinks about how she sure could use Stacey's math brain right around then. It's Roman numerals, Dawn. You don't need a math genius. The book, she works out, is from 1872.
In the section on local legends, she finds a story about Jared Mullray. In 1810, a family called the Mullrays lived in "a clapboard structure out past the Smythe property." They fell on hard times, sold their farm to pay their debts, and decided to start over in Vermont. Their thirty-year-old son, Jared, "wasn't quite right in the head" and loved the farm too much to leave. His family called to him from the yard as they were packing, but everyone present heard Jared shout, "I ain't leaving!" from somewhere between the house and the barn, though no one could see him. The family give in with zero fight and decide to leave their mentally troubled son to fend for himself. What, is he God's problem now? Get him the fuck off someone else's property.
The witnesses that day searched the house, but never did find Jared. They decided that he must know some secret hiding spot to stay during the day, coming out only at night to scavenge for food. After years passed, everyone assumed he was dead and his tale became a ghost story. A bigger farm had been built on his property, and people said he haunted it, looking for valuables to pay off his family's debt.
From this, Dawn determines unquestionably that her house is where the old farm used to be and that Jared's hiding place was the secret passage. I mean, stranger things have happened, but that's an awfully cramped, dark place for the guy to see out his days. And if he lived there for years, how did he really keep it that clean? I also find it hard to believe that someone in the passage would be able to clearly hear you talking outside of it, or vice versa. But now Dawn has the perfect scapegoat for all the weird happenings, the ghost of "crazy Jared Mullray."
Chapter Ten
Handwriting. And it must be Claudia's because, no kidding, "the" is misspelled. She tells us how hard it was babysiting for Jamie Newton last nigt. (Lucy, it seems, was an angle.) She didn't even have to give him diner, just put him to bed, which she was very eager to do, because there was a good porgram on that she really wanted to watch.
Claudia arrives to find Lucy in bed and Jamie hyper as shit. She promises they'll have some fun before he goes to bed, then immediately tells him to put his pajamas on because it's almost sleepytime. cvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvahhhhhhhhr My cat just jumped on the keyboard and typed that, and I'm leaving it, because he's right, Claud's full of shit. Unsurprisingly, Jamie senses this and stalls for time, telling her there's something he wants to show her in the playroom.
When they make it downstairs, Jamie plays it by ear, grabbing random old toys and pretending to show them off. Claudia's all, "Um, yeah, you're going to bed now." They argue over what pajamas he'll wear, then he tells Claudia to turn around so he can change. Claudia is outraged because he's "too young to be modest," and although he is pretty obviously playing her at this point, I call bullshit again ftr555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555 That was my cat on the keyboard again, but he's right.
Claudia agrees to turn and face the wall while he changes. The room gets quiet and it takes her a minute or two to realize Jamie isn't even in there anymore. Claudia, you were just outsmarted by a four-year-old. She looks all over and eventually finds him in the playroom, still fully dressed, riding a toy car and playing it cool.
This time, Claud tells him to get his ass upstairs and go the fuck to sleep. She finally gets him into his pajamas (and I notice the book uses "pyjamas," which is odd to me, because I've always thought of that as the spelling used outside the U.S.), but then he insists on the world's longest session of dental hygiene. Then he needs to go to the bathroom. Then he needs a drink of water. Then he acts like a little smart-ass, and I remember being that age and pulling that shit, and I also remember why I'm not very fond of children. Then he wants Claudia to read him a story. A long story. He does the annoying "pretty puh-leeeeze with a cherry on top?" thing and she caves. Then he has about a million questions about the stupid story. When she finally leaves to watch TV, he appears a few minutes later asking for more water. This has nothing, nothing, nothing to do with Dawn or ghosts, secret passages, or anything else, ever.
Chapters 1-5
Chapter Six
Still freaked over Nicky's brief disappearance, Dawn relaxes by going to the barn to read. She says that she goes there because it's so quiet and there's nothing to interrupt her...right after she tells us she's home alone anyway. Clearly she's not as concerned about unseen bugs as I would be, because she finds a spot on top of some hay that seems surprisingly cool and has a seat.
The next moment, she crashes through the floor and feels herself falling. She probably lives in daily fear that this is what will happen if she eats any junk food. She compares herself to Alice in Wonderland, falling down the rabbit's hole. Perhaps Dawn has found the hiding place where her mother keeps her hallucinogens?
Dawn suspects that she may have found the barn's basement. Wait a minute...barns don't have basements. BARNS DON'T HAVE BASEMENTS.
Click to viewBefore she can come to any logical conclusions, she realizes she's standing in a pitch-black hole and opts to gtfo. She worries that there might be spiders on the wall as she feels around for a way out, but comforts us by saying she doesn't. In fact, there's never a mention of a stray insect or cobweb in this old-ass passage, and I call bullshit.
Back in the barn, Dawn sees that she's fallen through a trap door. Let's see...trap door...ladder...dark place...I give up, Dawn, what is it?
She retrieves a flashlight and starts exploring. She follows the underground tunnel as it veers off toward her house. She thinks about how if she were just a little older, she could be Nancy Drew! Reach for the stars, Dawn.
Eventually, she comes across a "crude wooden staircase," which she has no qualms about climbing. When she comes to a dead end, she feels around on the wall until something beside her gives way and she finds herself looking into her own bedroom. And, yes, the opening to the passage is behind the wall with the hollow sound.
Going back to explore more carefully, Dawn kicks up dust bunnies...and signs of bug life? No, just dust bunnies. She finds a worn metal button, an old key, and a tarnished buckle, which, with her background in buckle expertise, she immediately proclaims to be a nineteenth-century shoe buckle. She also comes to the only obvious conclusion, which is that someone was locked up in the passage and left to die. They tried to use the key to escape, but died before they could, leaving only a button and one shoe buckle. If they had the damn key, how'd they die before they managed to get out? Were they just a really slow walker? And where, exactly, did you see a keyhole, Dawn? No mention is made of what may have mysteriously happened to this dead person's bones, and even as a child, that annoyed me.
Though she knows no one will believe her, she is instantly certain that her house is haunted by the ghost of the secret passage.
Chapter Seven
Warning: Babysitting chapter ahead. Kristy blames Dawn for "the most embarrassing moment of her life." She admits that Karen's stupid stories about Morbidda Destiny and Ben Brewer actually scared her, which is not the most embarrassing moment she's referring to, but it should be.
It's Karen and Andrew's Big House weekend, which means, of course, that Watson and Elizabeth have made plans to go to a theater in Stamford, leaving Kristy to take care of the Brewer kids and David Michael. She's trying to force a game of Chutes and Ladders on them (I never, ever played this when I was little), but everyone's distracted by the storm raging outside. With each clap of thunder, David Michael screams (ha ha), Andrew cowers in Kristy's lap, and Louie the collie jumps and skids across the game board. Karen sits back looking disgusted and insulting everyone. Can we banish her to the attic already?
Kristy finally suggests a book-reading instead. Andrew wants to hear The Little Engine That Could, David Michael wants Fantastic Mr. Fox, and Karen pulls for Ramona and Her Father. I don't remember that last book very well, but I feel like this is a veiled hint at the ever-absent Watson. Kristy rolls her eyes at their choices. I'm sorry, Kristy, were you expecting someone to suggest The Great Gatsby?
Karen offers to tell a story. Kristy asks if she knows any nice, happy stories. Karen thinks for a moment, but finally says, "Nope." David Michael insists he wants to hear a scary story, and Andrew quickly agrees, "not to be undone." I think "not to be outdone" would make more sense in this case, but okay.
Kristy, sensing that this would be a bad idea, says they're gonna tell jokes, not some stupid fucking scary stories. She does the orange you glad I didn't say banana? knock-knock joke, which mystifies the children, but I think the most confusing part is that Kristy actually "bursts into giggles" over it.
After an appreciable pause, Karen says, "So, this is the tale of what made old Ben Brewer so weird," as if Kristy hasn't said a word. Kristy leaves to do some cleaning up and returns mid-story to find Andrew sitting, terrified, in the lap of a giant stuffed panda. How fucking big is this thing? David Michael has backed himself against a chair and Karen is sitting in the middle of the room, telling her dumb story, waving around a wand, wearing a witch's hat and a ballroom mask. Okay, Stevie Nicks, take it down a notch.
Kristy arrives in time to hear that Old Man Brewer had shut himself into his bedroom and was rocking in his chair for six hours. "And now," says Karen, lowering his voice dramatically, "it was almost midnight." (On one hand, maybe I should cut Karen some slack, because she's just sprucing up a boring story about her grandfather telling a ghost to get the hell of his damn lawn, but she loses several million points in style for her stupid wand-and-mask get-up, so we take the Characters Speaking in Dramatic Tones Count up to 4.) David Michael yelps, "Oh, no!" Oh, yes. "And you know what that means," Karen whispers. (Count: Up, wayyyy up, to 5.) Although she thinks we know what that means, she explains, "It means that the headless ghost was going to come to Ben Brewer...and turn him into a crazy man."
"Ew," says Kristy, and though I am also registering disgust at Karen's misguided ideas on what causes insanity, I don't think that's quite the right word for this situation.
Ben, Karen tells us, locked himself in the room and didn't intend to leave for any reason--not even if he had to go to the bathroom. She also mentions that he'd put garlic around the room. When Kristy points out that this is actually done to ward off vampires, David Michael matter-of-factly states that Ben wasn't taking any chances. So brainwashed already, and he's only been living with Karen every other weekend for the last three books.
Kristy explains to us that Ben Brewer was Karen and Andrew's great-grandfather. I always remembered him being their grandfather, weird. Unrelated, but my boyfriend's last name is Brewer. My favorite name is Benjamin, but I don't feel like I'd ever been able to name a child Ben Brewer. Thanks for ruining a perfectly good name for my future use, Karen.
Karen tells them to take in the fact that this was all happening in their own house, on the third floor. Andrew whispers, "The room we never go in." (Count: 6.) David Michael says that the entire third floor is haunted, citing as proof the fact that Boo-Boo the cat never goes up there. Karen reminds everyone that they're sitting right under Ben Brewer's room and David Michael screams (ha ha again). Kristy calls Karen on her bullshit: last time, Karen said Boo-Boo won't go onto the third floor because it's under the attic and the attic is haunted.
Karen brushes this off and continues her story by counting down to midnight. Andrew is near tears at this point, whimpering about what's going to happen next. What happened next was that the headless ghost apparently came down the chimney to Ben. I guess it couldn't get through a locked door or walls, but the fire going in the fireplace was no problem. Karen starts wailing like the ghost and Boo-Boo flips his shit and runs off yowling, with Louie in pursuit. Karen starts screaming that it's Ben's insane ghost and Kristy has to tell her through chattering teeth to calm down. Andrew bursts into tears. Nice going, Karen.
Kristy tells them it's time for bed, which is kind of a stupid thing to tell kids right after a scary story. Unsurprisingly, they all want to sleep with Kristy. Kristy is actually relieved. She wakes up the next morning surrounded by the sleeping kids and pets, and hears Charlie and Sam laughing at her from the doorway. Sam chides, "Hey, Kristy, what were you guys doing last night?" Even when I was little, this had an uncomfortably sexual undertone to it. They tease Kristy about being afraid of the storm, which she "fiercely" denies, telling them, "It's a long story." Really, it's not. You let Karen tell a scary story, everyone pussed out, and the kids wanted to sleep with you. The end. And somehow, this is the most embarrassing moment of your entire life.
Chapter Eight
Meanwhile, back at the ranch Dawn's house, Mama Schaefer's going on a date. Dawn is pouting because the date is not with Mary Anne's father, and Dawn doesn't want her mother to truly be happy unless it is also convenient for Dawn. She tells us the couple plan to have dinner at a restaurant, followed by dessert at Dawn's grandparents' house. She refers to this as "much too serious." Sounds like a crappy date to me.
Dawn is a rude little bitch to her mom before she leaves. When her mother senses something is wrong and hesitates, Dawn says, "Goodbye, Mom," pointedly. Fucking brat. After her mom leaves, she feels bad. As she should.
I have to laugh as Dawn and Jeff watch "All in the Family" over dinner, each noting how much they hate the show. Me, too, guys. Me, too. Then the electricity goes out. Dawn is scared to think that maybe it's just their house. I'd be more annoyed than anything, having to call the electric company and probably argue with someone over the phone. When she looks outside and sees it's the whole street, she starts hoping it'll ruin her mom's date and she'll have to come home. Fucking. Brat.
They're sure to turn off the TV, so it doesn't come blaring back on when the power's restored. Ah, you have dated yourself yet again, 80's book. I realized a few months ago when I couldn't find the remote that there IS no physical way to turn my television on or off on the set itself.
Bored, Jeff wonders aloud, "What can you do in the dark?" and I wish I were drinking something, just so I could do a spit-take. Dawn suggests reading stories to him. What kinds of stories? "Ghost stories," Dawn whispers. (Count: 7.) After a few stories, he asks her to stop. She can't tell if he's bored, scared, or sleepy. I've got a pretty good guess.
Then they try making shadow puppets, but quickly give up, maybe because making shadow puppets is even more boring than watching The Big Sleep. "Wellll," Dawn says, "there is something we could do, and all we need is a flashlight." I wince at how horribly sexual this sounds. When Jeff asks for more details, Dawn orders him to her bedroom, and I slap my forehead.
She pushes the catch she discovered on her bedroom wall and opens the entryway to the secret passage. Still, Jeff flatly states, "I don't believe it." You don't believe what, Jeff? She just caused a wall to open right before your fucking eyes.
They enter the passage. At the top of the steps, Jeff stops Dawn to point out a buffalo head nickel lying against the wall. When they can't find a date on it, Dawn determines that it must be "ancient" because "it takes forever for metal to wear down." I chuckle to think of all the 2007-era change I've seen that looks like it's been through several wars. To be fair to Dawn, Wikipedia tells me these coins were struck between 1913 and 1938, and were notorious for their easily-worn dates. I applaud AMM for doing some research for this one.
As they continue along the passage, Dawn hears something crunch under her foot and screams, certain it's part of a skeleton. Pretty sure you would have noticed a skeleton sitting in the passage with that flashlight, girl, chill the fuck out. Jeff investigates and finds a small, brown mound. Dawn speculates that it might be part of an ice cream cone. Jeff counters that ice cream cones--at least, the few they've had--were yellow and kind of airy-looking, with a flat bottom (I hate that kind), but Dawn insists this is an "old-fashioned" one. Since the, like, universal symbol for ice cream has the kind with the pointed bottom, I wouldn't think this was unheard of to even Dawn and Jeff, but whatever.
Dawn brilliantly feels that it is time to share. She tells Jeff she "doesn't want to scare him," but the passage is haunted by the angry ghost of someone who was locked up there a long time ago. Jeff scoffs at her. Ha ha. She replies that she's not kidding "in a hushed voice." (Count: 8.) Jeff's all, "Prove it, bitch," then shoots down all her theories about creaks and moans. I wouldn't think that standing by themselves in a pitch-black tunnel with only a flashlight for company would be an opportune moment to start imitating eerie moaning, but Dawn does it anyway. She then tells Jeff that she took other things out of the passage, and the ghost is mad, so he'd better take his happy ass back down the passage alone and put that nickel back.
Jeff points out that if he goes back alone, the light goes with him. I love how logical Jeff always is. He really is written as more mature than their other baby-sitting charges. Hey, Pike we-can't-wipe-up-our-own-spilled-milk triplets, I'm looking at you. Just then, they hear a creak, followed by a moan, and race back to Dawn's room, screaming. Jeff drops the nickel on the way.
Chapter Nine
Dawn and Jeff burst back into Dawn's bedroom and slam the wall shut behind them, having forgotten that the electricity was out and they're still in total darkness. When they hear more creaking from inside the passage, Jeff exclaims that the ghost is probably in there right now! Well, yeah, I thought we'd already established that. Isn't that why you guys were screaming and running?
Dawn announces that she's calling their mother. Take your Baby-Sitter of the Year trophy on the way out, bitch. Jeff grabs her around the waist and follows her to their mother's room. Dawn notes that they probably look like two little kids playing choo-choo train, and this is actually kind of legitimately amusing.
When they reach the phone in their mother's room, Jeff remarks that he hopes the phone lines aren't out, too. Dawn freezes in horror at the idea. I like to picture an angry ghost plunging their entire neighborhood into darkness, then cutting the phone line (possibly with the hedge clippers that were in the living room) just to fuck with these two kids. Dawn slowly picks up the phone. When she hears the dial tones, she murmurs a string of thank-yous to "no in particular," and I realize for the first time how well these books dodge religion.
Figuring Mama Schaefer's date must have moved to the grandparents' house by now, she calls and tells Pop-Pop that they're having an emergency. When her poor, scared mother comes to the phone, Dawn tells her that the power's out and there's a secret passage and she and Jeff went in it and they have a ghost on their hands. Dawn explains about the passage in more detail to her perplexed mother. Her mom asks if she's positive about it. Well, she just told you she and Jeff have both been in it, so unless they've gotten into your drug stash again, yeah, I'd say she's pretty sure.
Her mom tells her to wait inside and stay out of the passage, saying she and Trip will be right there. When Dawn hangs up, all she can do is laugh over her mom's date's stupid name. They speculate over what cool, cool Trip must be like, deciding that he probably wears pink socks, his eyes are gray but he wears contacts to make them blue, and "his friends call him, like, the Trip-Man or something." This is also legitimately funny to me, just because of the "like."
Then they stop laughing because the thought hits them that maybe while they're yukking it up in Mom's room, the ghost is sneaking into Dawn's. Do ghosts have to sneak? They float. Silently. Through walls, even. Unless they decide to fuck with you by throwing out some mwah ha ha's, you might not even know they're there.
So they block off the door to the secret passage. They shove Dawn's dresser in front of it, throw a chair on top, push the bed in front of that, and start piling books from the shelf onto the bed. At that moment, the electricity comes back on. I guess Dawn had her bedroom lights on when the power went out, even though she wasn't in the room. Not much of an energy conserver, are we, Dawn? In the sudden flood of light, Dawn and Jeff see two people in the doorway they assumed was empty, and everyone screams. Dawn and Dawn Mom start talking at the same time and the Trip-Man tells everyone to calm the fuck down, and I feel like in real life, I would resent that. Dawn Mom pauses and makes introductions. When she refers to her date as Theodore Gwynne, Dawn and Jeff look at each other and start laughing. Ommmm, RUDE. Dawn notes with disappointment that his eyes are brown and his socks aren't pink, but his shirt is.
When Dawn Mom demands an explanation for the mess her kids are making, Dawn says they're blocking off the passage so the ghost won't get them. Her mom points out the obvious, that ghosts can supposedly float through walls anyway. Dawn feels stupid, but quickly tries to cover by saying that this is true, but the passage is home base. Yeah. Good call, Dawn. They move the things away from the wall and open the passageway. The Trip-Man takes a flashlight and offers to have "a look-see," for which Dawn silently mocks him. Whatever, Schaefer. Judge him when you're not the one piling books onto your bed to ward off ghosts. "Oh, Trip, do you think you should?" Dawn Mom asks, which sounds awfully damsel-in-distressy. Dawn and Jeff crack up again, and this, too, is funny to me. When the Trip-Man returns, he says he found no one--and nothing--in the passage, with a pointed look at Dawn. Fuck you, Trip. Dawn does the, "Yeah, yeah, it was just the storm we heard," routine, which is a tired excuse, but the Trip-Man has a point. Every time she hears moaning in there, it seems to be storming. I'd imagine at least a little wind is squeezing under that trap door and the creepy ghost-sound that terrified me as a child is echoing through that empty tunnel, which really would make me uneasy, even if I knew exactly what was causing it.
The Trip-Man tells them he found a nickel, which he hands to Dawn, who barely manages not to scream as she takes it. Trip tells them they should find a way to lock it so intruders can't get in. When Dawn worries that none of those measures will keep a ghost out, Mama Schaefer and Trip-Man start to look impatient. I feel like Dawn Mom is allowed to do this, because they're her kids, but seriously, Trip, you are not giving off a very good first impression, even if they are cock-blocking you.
Dawn opts to sleep downstairs for the night. She notices her mother's purse in the dining room and thinks about how scatterbrained her mother is, how she should take her the purse. I don't really see why it's not fine in the dining room overnight, but all right. Under the purse, Dawn finds A History of Stoneybrooke. "Eff that purse," she says, and settles down with the book. Looking at the Roman numeral copyright, she thinks about how she sure could use Stacey's math brain right around then. It's Roman numerals, Dawn. You don't need a math genius. The book, she works out, is from 1872.
In the section on local legends, she finds a story about Jared Mullray. In 1810, a family called the Mullrays lived in "a clapboard structure out past the Smythe property." They fell on hard times, sold their farm to pay their debts, and decided to start over in Vermont. Their thirty-year-old son, Jared, "wasn't quite right in the head" and loved the farm too much to leave. His family called to him from the yard as they were packing, but everyone present heard Jared shout, "I ain't leaving!" from somewhere between the house and the barn, though no one could see him. The family give in with zero fight and decide to leave their mentally troubled son to fend for himself. What, is he God's problem now? Get him the fuck off someone else's property.
The witnesses that day searched the house, but never did find Jared. They decided that he must know some secret hiding spot to stay during the day, coming out only at night to scavenge for food. After years passed, everyone assumed he was dead and his tale became a ghost story. A bigger farm had been built on his property, and people said he haunted it, looking for valuables to pay off his family's debt.
From this, Dawn determines unquestionably that her house is where the old farm used to be and that Jared's hiding place was the secret passage. I mean, stranger things have happened, but that's an awfully cramped, dark place for the guy to see out his days. And if he lived there for years, how did he really keep it that clean? I also find it hard to believe that someone in the passage would be able to clearly hear you talking outside of it, or vice versa. But now Dawn has the perfect scapegoat for all the weird happenings, the ghost of "crazy Jared Mullray."
Chapter Ten
Handwriting. And it must be Claudia's because, no kidding, "the" is misspelled. She tells us how hard it was babysiting for Jamie Newton last nigt. (Lucy, it seems, was an angle.) She didn't even have to give him diner, just put him to bed, which she was very eager to do, because there was a good porgram on that she really wanted to watch.
Claudia arrives to find Lucy in bed and Jamie hyper as shit. She promises they'll have some fun before he goes to bed, then immediately tells him to put his pajamas on because it's almost sleepytime. cvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvahhhhhhhhr My cat just jumped on the keyboard and typed that, and I'm leaving it, because he's right, Claud's full of shit. Unsurprisingly, Jamie senses this and stalls for time, telling her there's something he wants to show her in the playroom.
When they make it downstairs, Jamie plays it by ear, grabbing random old toys and pretending to show them off. Claudia's all, "Um, yeah, you're going to bed now." They argue over what pajamas he'll wear, then he tells Claudia to turn around so he can change. Claudia is outraged because he's "too young to be modest," and although he is pretty obviously playing her at this point, I call bullshit again ftr555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555 That was my cat on the keyboard again, but he's right.
Claudia agrees to turn and face the wall while he changes. The room gets quiet and it takes her a minute or two to realize Jamie isn't even in there anymore. Claudia, you were just outsmarted by a four-year-old. She looks all over and eventually finds him in the playroom, still fully dressed, riding a toy car and playing it cool.
This time, Claud tells him to get his ass upstairs and go the fuck to sleep. She finally gets him into his pajamas (and I notice the book uses "pyjamas," which is odd to me, because I've always thought of that as the spelling used outside the U.S.), but then he insists on the world's longest session of dental hygiene. Then he needs to go to the bathroom. Then he needs a drink of water. Then he acts like a little smart-ass, and I remember being that age and pulling that shit, and I also remember why I'm not very fond of children. Then he wants Claudia to read him a story. A long story. He does the annoying "pretty puh-leeeeze with a cherry on top?" thing and she caves. Then he has about a million questions about the stupid story. When she finally leaves to watch TV, he appears a few minutes later asking for more water. This has nothing, nothing, nothing to do with Dawn or ghosts, secret passages, or anything else, ever.