The Case of the Haunted Homework

I

I’m trying to work my way down the slide at recess, but the sun’s done a number on that sliver of silver. I skip the hotplate and save myself some burned sticks. Instead, I check my notes one more time.

Haunted homework is all it says. I would have written more, but we haven’t covered how to spell Gene’s name yet.

I do remember the way Ginnie tells it. Gene was in his room doing his homework when he heard a creepy voice. I don’t know which part is scarier: the fact that there was no one in the room with him or that it was reading his math homework. School is scary enough without the spook act.

I spent the previous night tracking down some leads about a ghost in their part of town, but I 've got nothing to show for it. You'd be surprised how many ghosts refuse to come out in the daylight and I’m supposed to be in bed before dark. The whole thing fits like your right shoe on your left foot.

I knew I'd have to get in that house, and I knew that my only way in was Feliz.

The school bell goes off at seven-fifty-five in the morning. I know because I'd go off if it went off a second sooner.

I pour myself into a seat like a lump of melted ice cream and wait for class to start.

Kindergarten on about eight hours of sleep. Why do I do this to myself?

The question is still ringing in my ears like the last of that school bell when Ginnie storms up to my table. “I haven’t even had my first cup of coco,” I warn her, but she doesn’t even hesitate.

“Gene is still out sick,” she yelps. “What are you going to do about it?”

Ginnie’s your standard fare. Stick straight hair. A crooked smile that's going to put an orthodontist's kids through college. Unremarkable, if loud.

She is a twin, though, and I’ve found that where there’s one, there’s the other. Just seems to be how they operate. Add a newborn baby brother to the mix and I can see why she’s wound so tight.

That being said, if she doesn’t stop drumming away on me, I’m gonna get my own drumsticks.

“He won’t leave his room,” she blasts out before the teacher tells everyone to take their seat. I guess you never know when your guardian angel is going to show up in some finger-painted pants.

I I

I I I

I knew I was going to have to bring in an operator if I wanted to do this right. It's not easy to let yourself into someone's house. Trying it a second time is a one-way ticket to Embarrassment, USA. This has to be right the first time.

Feliz is the quiet type. You probably wouldn't say much either if you had to do your business in a sandbox, so I cut her some slack. Besides, she's the only cat I got.

I throw Feliz in the basket on my bike and we make for Ginnie & Gene's house. "When we get there," I beg her, "let me do all the talking."

She stares at me and licks herself.

I don't have to dwell on it long because we're at the house. I walk up to the door with Feliz in my hands and it's now or never. I've come up with a story I think is gonna work about needing to call my Mom, and I remind Feliz that I'll take the lead on this.

When the door opens, she flies out of my hands. She's into the house like she was shot out of a teeshirt cannon.

Outloud I say, "Excuse me, I have to get my cat." On the inside, all I can think is that Feliz listens about as well as she waterskis.

Feliz is nowhere to be found, but I see Gene and he's twice the wreck his sister said. He's in the baby's room and he won't say a word. It doesn't matter, though. Gennie's on me like a frilly dress for picture day.

Twins. Where there's one, there's the other.

"Look at him. Just look! He's shaking like a pack of trampoline springs," she cries!

First of all, I let her know that I do the similes around here. Then I point out that her baby brother is crawling down the hall. She might want to look after him. Fortunately, she goes for it and follows him out the door.

"Hey, Gene. The kickball team missed you today."

I like to start with flattery when I'm trying to talk someone off the ledge. He doesn't budge. I guess it could be worse.

"Your sister tells me you're hearing voices. Is that a new video game?"

I'm on the ledge next to him now, pushing a little harder. Screaming on the way down might be the only way he's going to open his trap. Somehow, the sound of that would be better than what I hear next.

I could swear I hear a strange voice. It’s close. Maybe the parent’s room? Gene and Ginnie go whiter than a couple of freshly scrubbed snowmen. My eyes get as big as two hula hoops.

If I didn’t know better I’d say a monster is laughing at us.

At this point, Feliz staring at me with a pair of hula hoops of her own!

We get out of there so fast we both leave claw marks on the carpet.

If I didn't know better, I'd say that I hear some voices myself. My eyes get as big as a couple of My Lil' Pony thermos caps. It's like the ghost is laughing at us!

I'd assume it was all in my mind if Feliz didn't stare at me with a pair of thermos caps of her own!

We get out of there so fast we both leave claw marks on the carpet!

I V

After my heart rate gets back into double digits, I put my notes on cards.

I’m not sure why, but I’ve seen it in movies and I’m six. Movies are more reason than most of us need to do anything.

• Gene’s twin sister is worried because he won’t leave his room.

• Twins. Where there’s one there’s another.

• Ginnie says her brother heard a ghost or monster reading his math problems.

• I write down Haunted Homework again because I like the sound of it.

• After Genie and the baby went down to the nursery, I heard laughing with my own two ears. (This I do not like the sound of.)

What’s the missing piece I ask myself over and over. What am I missing?

What am I not seeing?

Suddenly it hits me like a teenager throwing a case of water balloons! The answer’s been right in my face this whole time.

V

Suddenly it’s morning. I meant to head to Gene and Ginnie’s house last night but I’m six. I guess that bike ride really took it out of me.

I grab Feliz and head back to my bike. As I swing my foot over the seat I say to no one in particular, “I’ve gotta start working cases that are walking distance from my house.”

There’s something about showing up with the solution to a mystery that makes it easier to ask to be let in a house.

When I get inside I scoop up Ginnie and the baby like a handful of Legos and we head to Gene’s room. He looks like he hasn’t slept since preschool.

“Are you ever gonna find this ghost monster or are you just gonna sit in here petting your cat,” Ginnie barks as an opener. I nod at Feliz and she saunters out of the room and down the hallway.

“The mystery is in this room,” I admit, “but you’re right that the answer isn’t in here.”

“If you know where the answer is, then what are we doing here,” Ginnie blasts.

“Waiting.”

The words are no sooner out of my mouth when we hear the monster come through again. This time it sounds like it’s hissing at us and then falling down a flight of stairs.

I peel Gene and Ginnie off the ceiling as Feliz comes back in the room. She’s got the camera from a fancy baby monitor and a pound of wire hanging out of her mouth. She couldn’t look any prouder if she was a genuine peacock.

“Where do you do your math homework, Ginnie?”

“In the room with my baby sister. Why?”

“It was YOU!” Gene screams, the color suddenly rushing back into his face.

“Ginnie, no one would exactly accuse you of being quiet,” I saw trying not to smile.

“You were reading your problems when I was reading my homework,” Gene shouts, suddenly as loud as his sister.

“It couldn’t have been me,” Ginnie protests. “I heard it too yesterday! When I was in here with both of you!”

Right on cue, the baby crawls over to the camera and starts pretending to do math homework. She’s laughing so hard at herself that I can barely get my sentence out.

“You gotta be careful, Ginnie. Kids don’t miss a trick.”

I can’t imagine that it’s gonna get through to her. Ginnie and Gene are so busy screaming at each other I can’t imagine they’ll hear much of anything for a while.

Ah, twins.