could barely breathe.
âHarry! Harry! Harry!â
I knew what I had to do. I had to call the police.
My phone. Where was my phone?
Downstairs. On the living room couch. I hurled myself down the stairs. I ran into the living room. Grabbed my bag off the couch. Frantically pawed through it for the phone.
Where is it? Where?
I heard a knocking sound. Very nearby. The bag fell from my hand. I heard scraping. Another knock. A soft thud.
Someone is in the house.
I could feel the panic tighten its grip on me. I couldnât think. I couldnât breathe.
Someone was at the front of the house.
The masked intruder had returned.
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22.
Another soft thud.
I stood frozen by the couch, my bag at my feet, and listened.
It sounded like knocking. Someone knocking on the front door?
Without thinking, I lurched to the entryway. No one there. No one in the house.
The knocking sounds again.
I turned. The coat closet! The sounds were coming from the coat closet! âWhoâs there?â I tried to shout but the words came out in a choked whisper. âWhoâ?â
I stepped to the closet, yanked open the doorâand gasped. âHarry? What are you doing in here?â I cried.
He stood huddled against the back wall, surrounded by coats. His whole body was trembling, and his face was as pale as flour. âIâm scared,â he said in a tiny voice.
I reached for him with both hands, and he let me pull him from the closet. The poor little kid was shaking so hard. I lifted him up and held him close until the shivers seemed to end.
âS-someone came into my room,â he stammered. âSomeone scared me. So I ran ⦠to the closet.â
âItâs okay,â I said, smoothing back his blond hair. His pale forehead was drenched with sweat. âItâs okay now.â
I led him to the couch. He wanted to sit on my lap. I tugged him up and wrapped my arms around him. âDid you see the man?â I asked. âDid you see his face?â
Harry shook his head. âIt was too dark. I didnât really see him. I ⦠heard someone ⦠in my room. So I ran. Downstairs. And I hid in the closet.â
I suddenly had an idea, a way to calm Harry. âMaybe it was a nightmare,â I said. âMaybe it was just a bad dream you were having.â
I was lying, of course. But if it would calm him down and make him feel safe â¦
He looked up at me with those big blue eyes. âReally? You think I was dreaming?â
I nodded. âYes. We all have nightmares. I have nightmares a lot. But then I wake up and everything is fine.â
He stared at me, thinking about it. âMaybe,â he said finally. âIt felt kind of like a nightmare.â
He nestled his head against my shoulder, and we sat there in silence for a while. I pictured the intruder again, with the ugly strip of fur down his misshapen head. Once again I pictured him leaping from Harryâs bedroom window and scrambling across the backyard. I saw his face in the moonlight as he turned and stared up at me. The wolfish snout. The twisted, hideous face.
Was it a mask? Like that horror-movie mask Nate wore?
No. No way.
Why would someone put on a mask, break into the house, run upstairs, and leap out a window?
It was totally crazy. It made no sense at all.
I was glad I lied to Harry. I was glad that maybe I convinced him the whole thing was a bad dream.
It felt like a bad dream to me, too. But I knew better.
After a few minutes, I realized that Harry had fallen asleep on my lap. He was snoring gently, his head still pressed against me. My legs started to ache. He began to feel heavy. But I didnât want to move him.
I sat there holding onto him, and maybe I dozed off, too. Because the next thing I knew, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I blinked. Turned my head. And saw Brenda gazing down on me.
âOh. Hi,â I managed, trying to wake up.
She had dark rings around