It's All Downhill from Here by P.J. Night Page B

from the room, stopping short at the top of the stairs. There, scrawled in dripping red paint—or was it blood?—in huge letters painted on the wall were the same three words that had been plaguing her since her arrival: LEAVE THIS PLACE!
    She bounded down the stairs and stumbled intothe dining room. There she saw the same three words crudely carved into the dining room table: LEAVE THIS PLACE!
    Maggie staggered backward and bumped into someone. Spinning around, she found herself face-to-face with Old Man Wharton. His empty black eye sockets peered down at her. Through rotted teeth and foul-smelling breath he barked, “LEAVE THIS PLACE!”
    â€œNo! No! No!” Maggie screamed over and over.
    â€œMaggie, wake up! Wake up!”
    Maggie opened her eyes and stared up at Sophie, who had been shaking her for almost a full minute.
    â€œYou were shouting in your sleep,” Sophie said as Maggie sat up.
    Maggie breathed deeply, glad that it was just a dream. But she started to wonder if everything that had happened last night was a dream. Had she dreamed that Sophie also saw the writing in the snow? Was she still the only one who believed in the ghost of Old Man Wharton?
    â€œUh, Soph, did you see something weird tonight?” Maggie asked tentatively.
    â€œYou mean, you screaming ‘No! No! No!’ in yoursleep?” Sophie replied. “Unless, of course, you mean the writing in the snow?”
    â€œOh, Sophie, you have no idea how relieved I am.” Maggie sighed and hugged her friend.
    â€œWell, don’t be so relieved yet,” Sophie said. “We still have to convince the rest of your family that this house is haunted!”

Chapter 8
    â€œPass the orange juice, Soph,” Maggie said sleepily across the breakfast table later that morning. She had gotten very little sleep the previous night, and she now sat with her elbows on the table and her chin resting in her hands. Even pouring orange juice into a glass seemed to take major effort.
    â€œYou look wiped, Mags,” Sophie commented, having not gotten all that much sleep herself.
    Maggie groaned, rubbing her eyes with her palms.
    â€œEggs, anyone?” Mr. Kim asked cheerfully, leaning over Sophie’s plate with a panful of scrambled eggs in his hand.
    â€œThanks, Mr. Kim,” Sophie said.
    â€œYou still mad at me, Dad?” asked Maggie, waving away a large spoonful of eggs.
    â€œNah!” Mr. Kim exclaimed, smiling. “Nothing could get me down today. Today your mother and I are going to the bank to finalize the loan so we can buy this place and transform it from the old Wharton Mansion into . . . drumroll, please . . . the Piney Hill Ski Resort!
    â€œThat is, if your mother finishes getting ready anytime soon,” he added, glancing at his watch.
    â€œWhat was that, dear?” said Mrs. Kim, strolling into the dining room.
    â€œI said, I can’t wait to see how lovely you’ll look once you’re all ready for our big day,” Mr. Kim lied.
    â€œUh-huh,” Mrs. Kim replied. “Good try. Sad, but a good try.”
    At that moment Simon came bounding down the stairs.
    â€œGood morning, family!” he announced energetically. “And what a beautiful morning it is!”
    â€œWhat do you want, Simon?” Maggie asked. “You’re never this nice unless you want something.”
    â€œMaggie, what a terrible thing to say about your brother,” Mrs. Kim said.
    â€œJust wait,” said Maggie. “I’m not wrong.”
    The Kims didn’t have to wait long.
    â€œSo Mom, I was thinking that since it has stoppedsnowing and it’s a beautiful, sunny day, maybe I could check out the skiing at the future Piney Hill Ski Resort!” Simon asked.
    â€œWhat a terrible thing I said, huh, Mom?” said Maggie, smiling for the first time that morning.
    â€œThat’s enough, Maggie,” Mrs. Kim replied, then she turned to