12

"Drooper, what are you doing?"

I straightened up and spun around.

"Mickey!"

"That's my name. Don't wear it out," he replied.

"Mickey! Did you hear them? Did you?"

Mickey glanced around the room. "Hear who?" he asked. Then, before I could answer, he snapped, "Cooper, you jerk, why did you throw potato chips around the living room?"

"The dogs!" I cried. "The dogs did it! Did you hear them?"

Mickey shook his head. "No way. I didn't hear anything."

I was stunned. "You didn't hear wild dogs running around the room a few minutes ago?"

Mickey rolled his eyes and whistled. "You're losing it, Cooper. Hearing invisible dogs is one thing. But feeding them potato chips? You're really messed up, man."

"I didn't do this!" I said angrily. "I told you. The dogs did."

Mickey shook his head. "Just promise me one thing," he said seriously.

"What?" I asked.

"Promise me when school starts next week, you won't tell anybody you're related to me."

I wanted to throw something at him. I wished I had Great-grandma's lamp in my hand, but I didn't. So I threw what I did have — the empty potato chip bag.

It flew about three inches, then dropped at my feet.

"You're pathetic!" Mickey laughed. "I know why you're doing this, too. You're trying to make Mom and Dad think the house is haunted. So then they'll move back to Boston, and you can see your dweeby little friends Gary and Todd again."

He made a face at me. "Dumb, Drooper. Really dumb."

He shuffled away, shaking his head.

Just you wait, Mickey, I thought. I'm going to get even with you. Just you wait.

And I'm going to make everyone believe me about the dogs. I'm going to make everyone believe that I'm telling the truth.

But how? I wondered, gazing around the empty, silent living room.

How?

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