What do you mean, you have a ghost in your room? You just can't say something like that then tell me you have to go down to dinner! What if I never hear from you again? What if the ghost gets you? Who will have sympathy cramps for me then?
Calm down, panicked one. I'm OK. The ghost doesn't seem to be interested in anything but my undies. Which is creepy enough, let me tell you! The thought of spectral hands fondling my bras gives me the willies.
Here's what happened—we arrived two days ago. Since Bess was allowed—unfairly (what makes it all right for her to get to do things just because she's eighteen?)—to tour England by herself for a whole week, I got the first dibs on the best bedroom. Brother and Mom took the Old People's room downstairs (so the Ancient One doesn't have to climb the stairs every night, and let me tell you, that's a blessing for those of us who like to sleep at night. Brother's knees sound like cannons going off when he climbs stairs. I'm working on Mom to get him a StairMaster for Christmas, heh heh heh). So there I was with pick of the prime rooms, and of course, having exceptional taste, I chose the tower room. Now get this—the room is almost totally round! There's a turret or spire or whatever they call it overhead, but the room itself is round, with great window seats. Of course, the first thing I did was check the storage space under the window seats for dead bodies, severed limbs, pulsating hearts, etc., but they were empty.
Fine and dandy, say I, and I snaffle the room. Since appearance is everything, I unpacked right away and got my clothes put away in this big old piece of furniture Brother says is a wardrobe (don’t the English understand the necessity of a really big walk-in closet?), and tuck the undies and stuff away in a dresser. A side note: I can't believe Mom only let me bring two suitcases. How can I go out in public with only two suitcases full of clothes? I'm going shopping just as soon as I find out where the nearest mall is.
Anyway, I go off and do family stuff and when I come back, my underwear is ALL OVER THE ROOM! It was soooo creepy! I, of course, did the only thing I could do. I screamed.
Brother cracked and popped his way up the stairs (which was really kind of nice of him considering how old he is), and charged into the room looking like a fifty-two-year-old deranged rhinoceros—he had a hair thing going on that looked just like a horn. I really need to have a talk with him about the benefits of mousse.
“What's wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” he asked in between gasps for air.
I stared pointedly at my undies lying all over the floor. “My underwear is all over the room!”
He looked around, the hair horn kind of quivering in an agitated sort of way. “Your underwear?”
There are times when I am positive that he doesn’t speak the same language I do. “Underwear. As in, those things I wear under my clothes? Get it? Underwear?”
“I know what underwear is, Emily. And I can do without that smart tone.”
Oh, right, this from the man who springs Vlad the Impaler trivia quizzes at the drop of a hat. “Whatever.”
He ruffled back the horn o' hair and looked around the room again. “Why have you strewn your clothes around the room? I thought you were excited about having the tower room?”
“I didn't strew anything around, Old One. I put my things—pitiful and in need of immediate replacement—in the drawer, but when I got back, they were all over the floor. I just knew this house was haunted, and now I've got proof.” I shook an underwire bra at him. “We've got ghosts. I just hope you're happy! God only knows what the ghost is going to do with my—”
Oops! Almost let the cat out of the bag there. Don't want him to find out about my erotic-massage kit.
“With your what?” Brother asked.
“My...um...” I had to think fast. You know how suspicious my father can be. “Um...my personal things. You know, women's things.”
“Oh.” He didn't look like he believed me. “Regardless of that, there are no such things as ghosts, Emily. You probably simply forgot to put your