The Haunted_Edit Copy 4-7-17 no reviews

As Friday approached all too quickly, my nerves stretched
tighter and tighter inside me. I almost called Tucker and backed out
about thirty times over the course of three days, but every time I held
strong. Gunner was practically writhing on the floor with envy, and
when I bumped into my dad in the kitchen Thursday morning, he
was ten brands of enthusiastic. I didn’t mention it to Michelle, and
she didn’t ask.
Finally, it was 5:00 on Friday night, and I was in my room
hopping out of a towel and into a pair of jeans. What were you
supposed to wear to a paranormal investigation? I picked the jeans
because, well, I always wore jeans. But as far as shirts went, were
flashy colors a no-no? Did we need to look professional? Should I
dress warm in case the people had their air conditioning on killer
high? Or would they need to keep the AC turned off in case of
allegedly ghost-caused cold spots?
Gosh, I was spending more time trying to pick out an outfit
for a ghost hunt than I did for senior prom. Finally I decided on a
black polo, which seemed to be the most ambivalent item I could
find.
Once I was dressed, I headed out into the family room for a
better view of the street. Gunner was perched stiffly quite literally
on the very edge of the big arm chair in the corner, his eyes wide as
he scanned the pages of the book in his lap.
“You okay, Killer?” I asked. “You look like you just pooped
yourself.”
He took a few seconds more to finish reading whatever
sentence he was on before raising his eyes very calmly. Regardless
of how engrossed he had been, I hadn’t startled him in the least. The
kid was way too desensitized from all those horror movies. “I’m
fine. I’m reading the story behind the Amityville Horror.”
“Oh, sounds like wholesome family fun. Please refrain from
sharing until after I’ve marched into the ghost pit,” I requested,
planting myself on the couch across from him.
Gunner sighed longingly and closed his book, being sure to
use his index finger to hold his place. God forbid he should fold a
corner. “You are so lucky.”
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