Free The Red Ghost by Marion Dane Bauer Page A

their neighbor was suddenly so cross? Sometimes it was hard to figure grown-ups.
    “Let’s go to my house first,” Dallas said. “We’ll gift-wrap the doll before you take it home. Then Quinn won’t see it and spoil the surprise.”
    Jenna gave the red-velvet doll another squeeze and followed Dallas across the street. Wasn’t this lucky? A birthday present for her little sister. An absolutely free birthday present.
    And Quinn was sure to love it!

2
Ftt-t-t-t-t!
    J
enna and Dallas couldn’t find gift wrap at Dallas’s house. The best they could do were the comics from last Sunday’s paper. But the comics were colorful, and Quinn wouldn’t care. She was a package ripper, anyway. She never stopped to admire the wrapping, no matter how pretty it was.
    Dallas spread the comics out on the table.
    Jenna held the doll and gazed into hereyes. “There’s something about this doll’s eyes,” she said to Dallas. “They’re so …” She searched for the word.
    “Blue,” Dallas supplied.
    Jenna looked closer. Yes, the doll’s eyes were blue. They were a sunburst of different shades of blue. But that wasn’t what she had meant to say. What made her study the eyes had nothing to do with their color.
    She tipped the doll back. The eyes closed with a small clunk. She righted her again. They snapped open. When she tipped the doll sideways, the eyes rolled to one side. The doll peered back at Jenna as if she were saying,
What do you think you’re doing, anyway
?
    “It’s not the color,” Jenna said at last.

    “Her eyes look sad … or angry. Or … I’m not sure what it is.”
    Dallas laughed. “Woo-o-o-o! Woo-o-o-o!” She fluttered her fingers in front of Jenna’s face. “I’ll bet Miss Tate’s old doll is haunted!”
    Jenna didn’t respond. She just laid the doll down on the paper. She and Dallas had been friends as long as she could remember, but sometimes the girl could be annoying.
    Jenna folded the newspaper over the doll, covering her eyes. They were closed now, anyway. “It’s just a feeling,” she said. “I know it’s silly.”
    Dallas and Jenna both worked at taping the package. It took lots of tape. The doll was an odd shape. A hand or a foot or a snub nose seemed to poke back out every time they had the package closed.
    When they were done, Jenna tucked the gift under her arm. They headed next door to her house. The moment they stepped through the door, Quinn appeared. “What’sthat?” she asked. She pointed at the package.
    “That’s for us to know and you to find out,” Dallas tossed back.
    It wasn’t the smartest answer to give Quinn. She was the kind of little kid who refused to be left out of anything. Jenna could be scooping poop out of the cat’s litter box, and Quinn would be at her elbow. A secret package was going to be too much for her to bear.
    Jenna thought fast. “It’s just some garbage Dallas’s mom asked us to throw away.” She ducked down the hall toward her room.
    “Then why are you taking it to your room?” Quinn yelled after her.
    That was a fair enough question. Why was she taking garbage to her room?
    “Because she’s got a trash can in there. Didn’t you know?” Dallas called back.
    Quinn followed them to the door of Jenna’s room. “Don’t you have trash cans at your house?” she asked.
    “No,” Dallas said, shutting the door firmly in Quinn’s face.
    The two girls looked at one another and collapsed into giggles. Jenna couldn’t help laughing, even though she knew Quinn could hear. She also knew that nothing made Quinn madder than being laughed at.
    “Jen-n-n-n-n-a!” Quinn wailed.
    Jenna ignored her. She leaned the lumpy package against her pillow. Then she stepped back to study it.
    Their black-and-white cat, Rocco, layasleep in his usual spot at the foot of Jenna’s bed. He was curled into a tight ball, his nose tucked beneath his tail.
    “The package needs something,” Jenna said. “Ribbon, I think.”
    Dallas nodded. “That would