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  ivaluecanadianstories.ca

  Ghost Girl

  Brooke Carter

  Illustrated By

  Alyssa Waterbury

  Text copyright © Brooke Carter 2023

  Illustrations copyright © Alyssa Waterbury 2023

  Published in Canada and the United States in 2023 by Orca Book Publishers.

  orcabook.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Title: Ghost girl / Brooke Carter ; illustrated by Alyssa Waterbury.

  Names: Carter, Brooke, 1977- author. | Waterbury, Alyssa, illustrator.

  Series: Orca echoes.

  Description: Series statement: Orca echoes

  Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20220477167 | Canadiana (ebook) 20220477205 | ISBN 9781459836884 (softcover) | ISBN 9781459836891 (PDF) | ISBN 9781459836907 (EPUB)

  Classification: LCC PS8605.A77776 G56 2023 | DDC jC813/.6—dc23

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2022950486

  Summary: In this partially illustrated early chapter book, ten-year-old nonbinary Sly works to solve riddles and locate the spell that can save them, their grandmother and a ghost girl from being stuck forever in an enchanted mirror.

  Orca Book Publishers is committed to reducing the consumption of nonrenewable resources in the production of our books. We make every effort to use materials that support a sustainable future.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Alyssa Waterbury

  Edited by Debbie Rogosin

  For Pauline,

  Who Loved

  Everything About

  Her Grandchildren.

  1

  I don’t get scared easily. I love horror stories and scary places. Even the tales about Madsen Mansion—my grandma’s mysterious old house—didn’t bother me. I couldn’t wait to stay for a whole weekend. It was the only good thing about moving across the country. But when Mom and I pulled up to the mansion on Friday night, I got chills. Now I understood where the nickname “Madness Mansion” came from. The place gave me the creeps!

  The sun was setting behind the house, leaving the front in darkness and casting an eerie orange glow over the grounds. A low mist floated across the driveway. Deep shadows stretched between the trees. As the bare branches scraped together in the wind, they seemed to come alive. I shuddered and looked away just as a flurry of black wings swooped down over the rooftop. Bats! It was like a scene from a movie. My heart pounded with excitement.

  I’d never visited Madsen Mansion before. Sure, I’d seen Grandma Madsen lots of times when she’d visited us, but this was the first time I’d ever been to the place where my mom grew up. I wished it was a visit just for fun and not because I needed somewhere to stay while my mom set up our new place. Our new place across the country from Dad, away from our old life together, our family split in two.

  The mansion looked as scary as I’d imagined. It had a pointy tower on one side and lifelike statues of wolves along the roof. Iron bars protected the large windows, and the heavy double doors seemed like the gates to a castle. There was no way someone could break into—or out of—those doors. Mom said the house used to be a sunny yellow, but now the paint was dirty and peeling. If you googled “haunted house,” this is what you’d see. But it couldn’t really be haunted, could it?

  Mom parked at the top of the circular driveway. “Here we are, Sly. Your home for the weekend. What do you think, honey?” She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye.

  I shrugged. “I’ve seen scarier,” I said. That was a fib.

  Mom smiled. “I’m going to miss you.” She reached out to stroke my face. I could see her eyes welling with tears. Oh no.

  “Mom, stop it! I’m ten.” I swatted her hand away. “I’ll see you on Sunday morning.”

  “It has been too long since I was here,” Mom said as she looked up at the house. “I used to sleep in the tower.”

  I followed her gaze to a half-open window waiting in darkness. “Sometimes I thought I could hear someone calling my name.”

  I shivered. “Nice try, Mom.”

  “What?”

  “You’re just trying to scare me.”

  She smiled. “Am I?”

  Just then I saw something move in the tower window. I hoped it was only the curtains flapping.

  “Mom, is there anything else I should know about this house?” I asked.

  Mom laughed. “Believe me, it was interesting growing up here with your grandma. It’s a…special place.”

  I smiled. “Okay.”

  As we walked up the cobblestone path, the rosebushes reached out to scratch us as we went by. There were symbols carved into the wide doors. They looked like stars and letters, but I couldn’t read the fancy writing.

  “What is that, Mom?” I asked.

  “Gaelic,” she said. “An old language. The language of our ancestors.”

  “What does it say?”

  “It’s hard to explain,” she said. “It means that this door is the threshold between without and within.”

  “Huh?”

  Mom laughed. “Exactly. You’ll find that this place is full of mysteries.”

  “Cool,” I said, but a shiver ran through me all the same. “Should we knock?”

  “I’m sure she already knows we’re here,” said Mom. And with that the big doors groaned open, spilling warm light at our feet. I jumped as a dark shadow appeared in the doorway.

  “My vision,” said the shadow, “has come true.”

  The doors swung inward, and the shadow stepped out. It was Lady Madsen, fortune teller and local legend. Also known as Grandma.

  “Hi, Grandma,” I said, feeling a bit shy.

  Lady Madsen was no ordinary grandma. She wore a flowy dressing gown with stars and moons and mysterious symbols on it. Her hair was big and white and wiry. Her eyes twinkled.

  She must know lots of juicy secrets, I thought.

  “Sly,” said Grandma. “Heart of my heart.” She seemed to float toward me in her robe.

  “Thank you for inviting me to stay with you,” I said, remembering my manners. “I’ve always wanted to see Madness—I mean, Madsen—Mansion.” I grimaced. Oops.

  But Grandma laughed. “I’ve always loved that name. Madness Mansion! How wonderful.” She opened her arms and gathered me in for a tight hug. She smelled like cookies and fancy candles.

  “I’m so happy you’re here, Sly, and at the very best time of year.”

  “Oh, because it’s Halloween?” I asked. “I’m not into trick-or-treating anymore, so don’t worry.”

  “Halloween? Humph, no.” Grandma shook her head, and her hair waved at me. “I mean Samhain, the most important night of the year.”

  She whispered, “It’s when the spirits can cross over into our world. And it’s tomorrow.”

  Grandma was sweet even if she was weird. Weird I could handle. I was kind of weird too. But spirits? Was Grandma trying to scare me?

  Mom cleared her throat. “I’ve got to go. Lots to do getting things moved in this weekend. I want everything settled by the time Sly starts their new school next week.”

  Ugh. New school. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about with Mom and Dad splitting up. I don’t like new things.

  “Hmm,” said Grandma as she looked at me. “Yes, lots of new things for Sly.”

  Wait. Did she just read my mind?

  “It’s too bad you can’t stay,” Grandma said as she hugged Mom. “But thank you for bringing my sweet grandchild.”

  “Are you ready, Sly?” Mom asked.

  I nodded, but I wasn’t ready. Not yet. I wasn’t ready to stay alone in this big scary place. I wasn’t ready to hang out with a grandma who I was pretty sure had some kind of magical powers. I wasn’t ready for Mom to go yet. I wasn’t ready for her to move us into our new place. And I wasn’t ready for being in two families instead of one. I needed two of me, it seemed, but I was one person. Just Sly, pulled in two.

  Mom gave me a hug, holding on longer than usual. I knew she was nervous too.

  “Sly has everything they need,” she said to Grandma. “They’re ten now, so they’re all grown up.”

  Grandma winked at me. “I see that. They certainly are bigger than the last time I saw them.”

  “Call me later,” Mom said.

  “Maybe not,” said Grandma with a cheeky smile. “We’re going to be busy having fun. Come on in, Sly, if you dare.” She step ped aside and motioned to the open door.

  I wished Dad was here. Ever since Mom and Dad had decided to live apart, it was like Dad was fading away. He was kind of like a ghost now, I thought.

  I shivered and pulled my long black cape around me. It was my favorite item of clothing. It was soft and had a pointy collar and a hood.

  Mom had made it for me a couple years earlier, when I was a vampire for Halloween, but now I wore it all the time. That started around the time I changed my name to Sly. The cape suited me. It fit me like my new name did—and my new haircut. Mom had shaved one side of my hair short, and the other side fell in a swoop over my right eye. I liked soft clothes that didn’t dig in, and I hated anything tight around my tummy. So I liked to wear my dad’s big button-down shirts over leggings, with my cape and a pair of boots. Like this, I was the most “me” I’d ever been.

  “This house is a special place. A thin place,” said Grandma.

  “A what?” I asked.

  “A place where the veil between worlds is thin and the spirits can squeeze through,” she said. “Come in and see the house. It has been waiting for you.”

  Goose bumps popped up all over my body. I pulled my cape even tighter and stepped across the threshold.

  2

  Grandma shut the heavy doors behind me. The sound echoed, and it was no wonder—this place was huge!

  “Wow,” I whispered. Madsen Mansion was as cool as I had imagined. The entrance opened into a massive room with a high domed ceiling covered in swirling designs. The room was round and lit with a sparkly chandelier. A giant staircase curved up the wall to the right. Old paintings dotted the walls—picture after picture of people dressed in old-fashioned clothing on the grounds of Madsen Mansion. Were these my ancestors?

  “This is the great room,” said Grandma. “But I like to think of it as the family room, because it has generations of Madsens watching over us.”

  I felt a chill. “Um, Grandma, don’t you feel a little creeped out with all those eyeballs following you?” I nodded to the paintings. Dozens of eyes seemed to watch us as we walked.

  “Not at all.” Grandma laughed. “I always keep this room open, along with the tower room, my bedroom, my reading room and the kitchen, of course. Everything else is closed.”

  “Closed?” I asked. I was still trying to take it all in.

  “Off-limits,” said Grandma. “There is no staff here, Sly, and it’s a big place. I can’t keep it up by myself.”

  “Do you ever think about moving?” I asked.

  Grandma stopped walking and looked deep into my eyes. “Never. I keep this home because it is special to our family. I will always be here.”

  “But aren’t you lonely?”

  Grandma smiled. “Oh no, sweetheart. I have friends. And the townsfolk come to have their fortunes read. Besides, you’re here now, and we’re going to have a great Samhain.”

  A bell sounded from a grandfather clock. Bong! I counted six slow tones.

  “Ah,” said Grandma. “Six o’clock. Time to eat, yes?”

  My tummy rumbled. “Yes, please,” I said. I was suddenly very hungry.

  Grandma took my hand, and we walked down a narrow hall to the kitchen. It looked like something out of a restaurant. There were three ovens, a walk-in fridge and a huge sink that looked big enough to swim in. The floor was made up of black-and-white checkerboard tiles.

  “Apple pie and ice cream for dinner?” asked Grandma.

  “Um, sure,” I said in disbelief. I could hear Mom’s voice in my mind. Sugar, sugar, sugar.

  “A little sweet is good for the soul,” said Grandma as she set our dishes on the counter and loaded them up.

  I looked around for a table.

  “Where do we eat?” I asked.

  “There is a formal dining room upstairs,” said Grandma, “but it’s closed, and the furniture is covered in sheets. Besides, it’s too big for two people. I like to eat here. Pull a stool up to the counter.”

  “Okay.” That was fine by me. I used to eat at the counter in my old house. Would I do it in my new house?

  As we ate, Grandma reached out and touched my cape. “Tell me about this,” she said.

  I put my spoon down. “I don’t know,” I said. “It makes me feel…like me. Safe. I don’t know how else to say it.”

  Grandma nodded. “I understand,” she said. “I like your cape. And I like your hair too. In fact, I like everything about you.”

  She winked, and I couldn’t help but wink back.

  “We’ll have to leave some pie for the spirits,” she said.

  “The what?”

  “It’s a Samhain tradition,” she said. “We leave food for the hungry spirits who cross over.”

  “Hungry spirits?” I asked. “Hungry for food, right? Not for people?”

  Grandma laughed. “You watch too many scary movies. The spirits are harmless. Unless…” She trailed off.

  I gulped a bite of pie. “Unless?”

  Grandma leaned in. “Unless they lure you to the Otherworld. So be wise to any strange mists, and don’t go stepping into fairy rings.”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “Okay, Grandma,” I said. “I won’t.”

  I scooped up the rest of my pie and immediately bit into something hard.

  “Blech,” I said as I spat it out. It was a little stone charm with a symbol on it that looked like a knot. “What is that?”

  “Ah!” said Grandma with delight. “You found the Samhain prize! It’s a tradition. The prize is hidden in a cake or pie, and whoever finds it is blessed.”

  “What does it mean?” I asked. I didn’t say how weird I thought it was to put rocks in people’s pie.

  “That’s a Bowen knot,” Grandma said. “It’s a symbol of protection.”

  “Can I keep it?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  Grandma handed me the half-empty pie dish. “This is for the spirits. Put it on the doorstep.”

  She opened the kitchen door, and crisp fall air rushed in.

  It was very dark. I placed the dish on the cracked stone steps and looked out across the grounds. Was that a cemetery in the distance?

  As I hurried back into the kitchen, I noticed a funny little sliding door in the wall, with some buttons beside it. “Hey, what is that?”

  “Oh, that’s a dumbwaiter.”

  “A what? That’s not a very nice name,” I said.

  “No, I suppose not,” Grandma said. “It’s like a little elevator. The kitchen staff used it to move things between floors so they didn’t have to carry heavy trays.”

  “Neat.” I took a closer look.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” said Grandma. She slid the door open. “When your mother was young, she would hide in here. And sometimes she would even ride from floor to floor.” She narrowed her eyes at me in a challenge. “Are you brave enough to try it?”

  My heart thumped with excitement. “Yes!”

  “Then climb in,” said Grandma.

  I got inside. There was just enough room for me to sit cross-legged.

  “I’ll slide the door shut,” said Grandma, “and press the button to move you up. There’s a little rope pulley inside that you can use to come down. Just tug on it. Okay?”

  “Got it,” I said.

  Grandma closed the door, and as soon as she did, I wished I hadn’t gotten in. It was so dark inside. But then the little elevator started to move. Up, up, up. It went slowly, and I wondered how long it would take to get to the top. And where would I end up?

  When the elevator stopped, I slid the door open and peeked out. There was a long, dark hallway filled with mirrors. Big mirrors, round mirrors, tall mirrors, square mirrors—every shape and size you could imagine. But something about that hallway scared me. I couldn’t explain it.

  I slid the door shut and was just about to pull the rope to go back down when I heard a faint voice. I opened the door again. There was no one there—just endless mirrors. Weird. I shivered.

  I shut the door quickly and pulled the rope. Nothing happened. I pulled again. Nothing.

  Sly.

  Someone had just said my name. Or was it just in my head?

  “Who’s there?” I whispered.

  Silence.

  I gave a desperate tug on the rope, and the dumbwaiter lurched. Finally! I wanted to get away from that hallway. I thought about what Mom had said—how she used to hear someone calling her name. I decided it was probably just a trick she and Grandma were playing on me.

 

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