My Best Friend Is Invisible by R. L. Stine Page A

opening. I peeked
inside—and there stood Hedge House. Three stories high, tall and narrow, with
lots of windows—most of them shattered. Sharp shards of glass poked up from
the frames.
    Wow! The hedges did grow as tall as the highest windows—just as the book
said. The shingles on the outside of the house were blackened and rotted with
age.
    A strong gust of wind blew.
    The hedge tops beat against the pointed roof—and sent a loose shingle
hurtling through the air.
    Roxanne and I jumped back—just in time.
    I could see Roxanne shiver.
    This house was really creepy!
    “If you’re scared, we don’t have to go in,” I told her. “We can still go see
the movie.”
    “ Me? Scared? Have you totally lost it?” she snapped. “Let’s go!”
    Roxanne headed up the broken stone steps to the front door. I followed right
behind her.
    She walked up onto the wooden porch. “Be careful,” she said, glancing back at
me. “These planks are kind of wobbly.”
    She reached out for the front door. She slowly turned the doorknob.
    The door swung open with a creak—and we stepped inside.

 
 
23
     
     
    We stood in a large entrance hall.
    A fancy chandelier hung from the ceiling directly over our heads. Crystals in
the shape of teardrops dangled from it. Crystals draped in a thick layer of dust
and cobwebs.
    It felt icy cold in here. Much colder than outside. A sour odor rose up to
greet us.
    I shivered. I groped for a light switch, and found one on the wall next to
the door.
    I flicked the switch—but nothing happened.
    “It’s not going to work!” Roxanne whispered. “Nobody has lived here for
years! Turn on your flashlight.”
    “What flashlight?” I asked.
    “You didn’t bring a flashlight? You were supposed to bring a flashlight,” she
whispered.
    “I forgot,” I admitted.
    Roxanne sighed. “Did you bring the camcorder?” she demanded.
    “Yes, it’s right here.” I pulled the video camera out of my backpack.
    “At least you remembered something ,” she muttered. She started to say
something else. But instead, a cry escaped her lips.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked.
    “Didn’t you hear something—like a low moan?” she asked, excited.
    “No,” I told her. “I didn’t hear anything.”
    “Oh,” she said. “Well, we just got here. I bet we hear moaning soon. Make
sure your camcorder is ready.”
    We stepped forward—into the living room. Into a cold white mist.
    “I can’t see a thing,” I whispered. “How did the living room get so foggy?”
    “Look.” Roxanne pointed to one of the walls where the fog came seeping
through the cracks. It entered in narrow streams, then billowed and swirled,
filling the room.
    I took another step—and the wind howled outside.
    Something white flew at me.
    I jumped back—then realized it was just the curtains. Filmy, white curtains
flapping over the broken front windows. Flapping hard.
    Another gust blew. Stronger this time. It drove the streams of fog through
the cracks.
    “There’s nothing in here,” I said. Another shiver ran through me. “Let’s go
upstairs.”
    Roxanne led the way through the dining room and kitchen before we headed
toward the steps. Both rooms were empty. Cold and empty.
    We walked down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway we found the
staircase. The old, wood banister was badly splintered. Parts of it were missing
completely.
    “Ready?” Roxanne groped the wall as she started up.
    I whispered “yes,” but I wasn’t so sure. I mean—I really didn’t think this
house was haunted. But it was so dark, and damp, and foggy, and empty…. Anyone would be a little scared in here!
    As we climbed the staircase, the steps groaned under our feet. The air grew
colder.
    At the top of the stairs we faced three doors. We peered into each doorway.
Into small, dark rooms.
    I let out a relieved sigh when I saw they were all empty.
    We climbed the stairs to the third floor. It took us into a large room. This
one wasn’t