Free The Ghost Wore Gray by Bruce Coville

and began rubbing her eyes.
    The ghost didn’t even waver. I figured he must be getting used to us.
    For a moment no one said anything. The two of us lay in our beds, looking at the ghost. He stood there looking back.
    Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. “What do you want?” I asked.
    He smiled. (That ghost had the most gorgeous smile!) Then he crooked one finger and made a gesture that indicated he wanted us to follow him.
    Then he walked through the door.
    â€œQuick!” yelled Chris. “Grab your flashlight.”
    I jumped out of bed and stifled a yelp. The floor was cold on my bare feet. I started scrabbling under my bed for my slippers.
    â€œWe don’t have time for that!” said Chris impatiently. “Let’s get moving!”
    Unlike Captain Gray, we had to open the door. When we tumbled into the hall, he was waiting for us.
    He nodded and then started walking down the hallway in that strange, floating kind of way that ghosts have.
    I looked at Chris. She looked at me.
    We began to follow him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    The Attic
    I had expected Captain Gray to lead us back to the kitchen. But when he reached the stairwell, he went up, instead of down.
    Suddenly this expedition didn’t seem like such a good idea. It was one thing to go back to the familiar territory of the first floor. Going up to the third floor, which we hadn’t even seen, seemed far more frightening. I didn’t know what we were apt to find up there.
    I stood at the foot of the stairs, not moving. That was a mistake, since the only move that would get me out of that situation was a swift step backward. I didn’t figure that out soon enough, which gave Chris, who does not believe in hesitating, time to grab my elbow. “Come on,” she said as she began dragging me up the stairs after Captain Gray.
    When I complained about that later, her response was: “You stand around and think and think, and then decide to do whatever it is, anyway. Why should we waste all that time, when we can just go ahead and do it?”
    So there we were, two eleven-year-old girls, dressed in nightgowns and carrying nothing but one flashlight, following a ghost up the stairs of a creepy old inn. When I write about it now, I don’t know how I managed to keep from turning around and running back to my room. I guess it was mostly because of Chris; one thing I’ve learned from all this ghost stuff is that nothing is quite as scary when you share it with a friend. Besides, I wasn’t about to admit that I was too scared to follow her someplace that she was willing to lead. (Please notice, though, the way she grabbed my arm before she started.)
    We tiptoed slowly up the stairs, trying not to make a sound. If we woke anyone, I didn’t think we could count on the ghost to hang around and prove our story. We’d sound like a couple of idiots. We’d also get in a lot of trouble.
    When we reached the third floor, I aimed the flashlight down the hallway. It appeared much the same as the second floor, except that there weren’t any pictures on the walls. The ghost continued gliding down the hall. We had to scurry to keep up with him. Scurrying isn’t easy when you’re trying not to make any noise.
    At the end of the hallway the ghost faded through another door. Chris and I stopped. The idea of opening that door seemed scarier than anything we had done so far that night.
    For a moment I thought we might turn back.
    I should have known better.
    â€œWell, here goes nothing,” Chris whispered. She put out her hand and turned the knob.
    The door swung open with a creak.
    On the other side, by the light of the flashlight, we could see a long, dark stairway. The ghost was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at us.
    â€œM-m-must be the attic,” I stammered. I wasn’t too pleased. I have a thing about attics. I think an attic is the scariest place in anyone’s house.
    As I