R. L. Stine_Mostly Ghostly 03 by One Night in Doom House Page A

and over the back window. I crouched behind it in the driveway and stared at the house.
    The garage door was open. I could see her dad's Camry inside. Two cars here meant that her parents were probably home.
    This made my job a lot tougher.
    Were they in the front of the house or the back? I made my way along the side of the house to the kitchen. My heart began to thud in my chest. I’d never sneaked into anyone's house before.
    A snowblower stood at the back of the house next to a shovel. I stepped around them and crept toward the kitchen window.
    Anyone in there? The sun covered the window with yellow light. I couldn’t see a thing.
    I’ll try the kitchen door, I thought. If I can get through the kitchen, it’ll be an easy run to the front stairs, then up to Traci's room.
    I heard the TV. Maybe the parents and her little brother were all in the den. I’d only been in Traci's house once, for a birthday party when we were five or six. But I remembered a wood-paneled den with a big TV at the back of the house.
    I crossed my gloved fingers for luck.
    Just let me grab those metal things and get out of here without being seen.
    Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the back stoop. My boot slipped on a patch of ice and I fell forward. My head banged the kitchen door.
    I froze. Did anyone hear that? Was someone coming?
    Hunched over, I waited, not moving or breathing. After a few seconds, I pulled myself up. Okay. No problem. Easy does it, here.
    I reached for the doorknob—and the door swung open.
    I gasped and staggered back. “Hi,” I choked out. “I … I’m a friend of Traci's.”
    Mrs. Wayne gasped too. “I didn’t see you back here. You startled me.”
    She wore a bulky red ski sweater over black leggings and had a red wool cap pulled down over her blond hair. She looked like Traci's twin, only older. She pulled a pair of skis out of the house.
    “I’m meeting some friends,” she said, stepping onto the stoop. “We’re doing some cross-country.”She squinted at me. “What are you doing back here?”
    “Uh … looking for Traci,” I said. “I have to ask her something … about school.”
    Mrs. Wayne started toward her SUV. “Traci is at Miller Hill,” she said. “Didn’t you pass her? She's sledding with a whole bunch of kids from your class.”
    “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll go back and find her.”
    But I didn’t do that. I headed to the sidewalk and trudged slowly toward Miller Hill. But as soon as Mrs. Wayne backed down the drive and pulled away, I turned and hurried back to the house.
    Again I listened at the kitchen door. The TV was going in the den. I grabbed the knob, pushed open the door, and sneaked into the kitchen.
    It was warm inside. The house smelled like hot chocolate. I saw three empty cups on the sink. I could hear the TV in the next room. A SpongeBob cartoon. Traci's little brother was probably in there. But where was her father?
    I crept as silently as I could toward the front of the house. I saw that my boots were leaving dirty puddles of water on the kitchen floor. But what could I do?
    I found the front stairs and started to climb. The wooden steps creaked beneath me. Could anyone hear? My skin tingled. I was alert to every sound.
    I reached the top of the stairs. The hall lights were on. I saw four bedrooms, a bathroom, and some closets. If Mr. Wayne was up here, I’d be totally busted.
    Holding my breath, I tiptoed down the hall. It didn’t take long to find Traci's room. I crept inside and carefully closed the door behind me.
    I glanced around as I waited to catch my breath. Traci had two framed posters of ballerinas on the wall over her bed. I kinda remembered she was into dance.
    The room was a cluttered mess. Books and papers and CDs and DVDs tossed everywhere. A big brown basket on the floor overflowed with magazines.
    The bed wasn’t made. Dirty clothes were strewn over it. Stuffed animals, schoolbooks, backpacks, a boom box, jeans and T-shirts, empty shopping