The Haunted_Edit Copy 4-7-17
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“Well, I mean, I’ll probably have to work Saturday morning.<br />
I don’t know ...” I trailed off as I realized my words were vacuuming<br />
the happiness right off of his face. Serious guilt nailed me in the gut.<br />
I hadn’t seen my dad so enthusiastic about anything since the<br />
divorce. He was constantly working his butt off just to keep some<br />
kind of security for Gunner and me. And here I was shooting down<br />
the first thing he wanted to do for himself in a solid six months.<br />
Hoping that he would forgive my total assholeishness, I said,<br />
“You know what, forget work. I can get my Saturday switched. I’d<br />
love to go, Dad.”<br />
It was like flipping a switch and turning the lights on. <strong>The</strong><br />
smile sprang back onto his face and he leaned down to hug me.<br />
“Great! I would have brought your brother, but you have to be over<br />
eighteen. I know you’ll enjoy it, Chels. It’s not like a horror movie,<br />
I promise.”<br />
I winced as his beard scraped my cheek and patted his arm<br />
tentatively. I had seen him watching the shows on TV; I had a basic<br />
idea of what ghost hunting was supposed to be about. From my<br />
understanding, it was a bunch of dudes creeping around some<br />
ancient buildings that had tons of reports of people being tormented<br />
by spirits. It was pretty much like, “Hey, I hear that some lady got<br />
pushed down the stairs here by something she can’t see. I’m going<br />
to come in and try to figure out who this ghost is and why they’re<br />
being a royal pain.”<br />
But I wanted my dad to be happy, especially since it was his<br />
birthday. And if this was going to do it, then so be it. I would grow<br />
a pair for the night. Or at least pretend to, for his sake.<br />
Finally, he let me go and bounded off, probably to go find<br />
Gunner and tell him about it, even though he was too young to come.<br />
My brother would probably think it was seriously the coolest thing<br />
ever. He had totally inherited my dad’s love of the creepy, crawly<br />
stuff.<br />
That was how, on June 2 at 5:45, I scurried quickly after my<br />
dad through the doors of <strong>The</strong> End Shelf. My head was bowed so my<br />
hair would hang around my face, just in case anyone I knew<br />
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