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Authors: Laurie Notaro

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“I think you’re going to be fine,” she whispered. “I hope you have a happy life, Alice.”

With Martin, she just smiled and touched his arm. “I’m all right, Martin,” she told him. “I am here. And I want good things for you.”

She could have sworn she saw him smile.

“Lucy,” Ruby called, “are you ready?”

She nodded, and together the three of them walked back through the front door.

When they got to the sidewalk, Ruby stopped.

“I have good news for you, Lucy.” Ruby beamed as she put her arm around her student. “You’re not going back to Martin’s. You’ve been elevated. You’ve made it to The State.”

“You’re kidding!” Lucy breathed, barely able to contain her excitement.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! That’s so wonderful! Oh, I can’t believe it! Can you believe it, Naunie? We’re going to The State!
We’re going to The State!”

She grabbed Naunie’s hands and began jumping up and down in unadulterated happiness.

“Wait,” Ruby said cautiously, reaching out for Lucy’s arm. “Wait.”

Lucy stopped jumping and looked at Ruby suspiciously. “You can’t be serious,” she said, her joyous face fallen.

“Clovie is being transferred back to the farmhouse,” Ruby told them. “I’m so sorry. I don’t make the rules, the decisions, any of that, Lucy. I am just the messenger.”

“I don’t want to go without her,” Lucy said, her face flushing red. “I can’t go.”

“You have to,” Ruby replied. “I can’t change that. You completed your mission. Clovie hasn’t.”

Lucy shook her head in opposition.

“When is this supposed to take place?” Lucy asked. “When does this happen?”

“Now,” Ruby answered. “We’re taking Clovie to the farmhouse, and then you and I take the elevator back up, and after that, you’ll move to The State.”

“All right,” Lucy said, definitively as an idea clicked in her head. “Let’s go, then.”

Once they got to the farmhouse, Lucy saw that Alice was right. It was a wreck. It wasn’t that the house needed to be repaired so much as
rebuilt
. Lucy had hardly expected the home of her childhood to look like it had been bombed, but that’s the impression she was left with.

“This is terrible,” Lucy said, walking with Naunie and Ruby
though the darkened skeleton that had once housed holidays, birthday parties, and weddings.

“Well, hello, Lucy,” a voice said from the shadows, and Lucy nearly jumped out of her ethereal skin. “Clovie,” the voice added.

It was Uncle Howe and Geneva, coming out of hiding.

“It is terrible what they’ve done, isn’t it?” Geneva said, sadly shaking her head. “I thought Clovis was a tornado with her pink toilet, but this…”

“Some kids tried to break in last night,” Uncle Howe said rather sadly. “We were just trying to stay unnoticed.”

“You were doing a fine job,” Lucy said, and chuckled. “You scared the crap out of me. What appliances are left here that I can drain?”

Uncle Howe sighed. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he replied sorrowfully. “It’s all gone. I’m not even sure how much wiring is left.”

Lucy took a deep breath and thought.
I can do this
, she told herself.
I can. I moved a chair without even knowing what I was doing, so this should be a piece of cake
.

She looked around for something, anything to use. She saw a claw hammer just poking out of the shadows by Howe and Geneva, and she motioned to them.

“I need your help,” she said simply, and waved over Naunie, who had been standing in what used to be the foyer, with Ruby. “We need to pick this up.”

“That’s impossible,” Geneva balked. “I’m going to need access to an oil lamp if I’m going to do anything.”

“No, it’s not impossible,” Lucy asserted to them. “We can do this. Ruby said Naunie has strong ghost genes, so that means I have them and so do you, Uncle Howe. I’m just including you, Geneva, to be polite. You can help or not help, but you simply must stop talking because you’re sort of a downer and I need to build a sense
of enthusiasm right now. We all need to focus and tap into our ghost potential, and if we can do that, we can pick this up.”

Uncle Howe bent down and grabbed the handle, while Lucy tried to pick up the neck. It slid through their hands on the first several attempts, although on the last one, with a bit of focus, Lucy was able to lift her end off the ground. Uncle Howe, however, couldn’t get a grip and gave up in frustration.

“It’s impossible,” he asserted. “Unless I can get a charge, I’ll never be able to pick that up.”

“Work together,” Ruby urged. “Pool your forces.”

“Naunie,” Lucy called, seeing her grandmother at the opposite side of the living room. “Give us a hand. We need all the strength we can get.”

Naunie didn’t answer, and when Lucy looked back over after several moments of silence, she saw why. Naunie, standing in a corner, was seething. Her house, the house that she’d put everything into and had kept meticulously maintained, had effectively been destroyed. She stared fiercely at the damage all around her, her anger growing like a fire. Every hole in the plaster, every exposed beam, and every molding that had been removed fueled her like a splash of gasoline.

She couldn’t control it, and her rage grew as she thought of all the time and effort she had spent making this old, antique farmhouse into a home. She had grown up here, she had raised her children here, and it been a perfect place for Lucy and Alice when they’d come to live with her. To see it ravaged, and carelessly so, made her want to erupt.

She shook her head repeatedly in disgust. How dare they! She just couldn’t believe that someone would move into an old place with history, memories, a life, and strip that all away and try to build something different on top of it.

Her fists clenched like tiny balls of rage, she charged over to where Howe was crouched, pathetically trying to pick up the hammer, and in one swoop she bent down and grabbed it, leaned back, and hurled it at the wall that separated the living room and the dining room. Lucy and Ruby gasped. The claw hammer chewed into the plaster and stayed there, now firmly planted into the wall as if it was a light fixture. Naunie stared at it for a while, her eyes not moving, simply concentrating.

Then she marched to the spot where the hammer protruded, grabbed the handle, and yanked it out. Chunks of plaster and fine white dust spewed from the hole as if the wall had exhaled. Naunie examined the hole she had made in the wall, and then, without a second of hesitation, she leaned back and smacked the wall again with the hammer, in almost the same spot. Naunie gnawed at the gash in the wall until she was satisfied, then took a good long look at it up close.

“It’s good,” she finally said, and turning to Lucy added, “I can see it. It’s right there. Anyone who is going to have to fix this hole can’t help but get in there and see it.”

“Clovis, do you have to be so dramatic?” Geneva said, her voice full of disdain. “See what? What could there possibly be in there to see?”

“The money your father robbed from the stagecoach,” Lucy said. “It’s been there all along.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Geneva shot back. “How do you know that’s what it is?”

“Any of us can slip through this wall and see it,” Naunie replied. “It’s still in canvas payroll bags.”

“That’s got to be worth a fortune, all of that old currency,” Uncle Howe added. “That’s all highly valuable now, worth way more than what’s printed on it.”

Geneva didn’t say anything in response, and simply looked away. “Lucy,” Ruby said from behind Naunie. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

Lucy looked at Naunie. She couldn’t believe this was it, that she’d be going on without her.

“It’s not fair,” Lucy said. “Naunie helped get Nola out of the house, too.”

Ruby nodded. “I know,” she replied, “but that wasn’t her objective.”

Lucy moved toward Naunie and they met in a hard, clinging embrace.

“You’ll be there soon,” Lucy told her. “She’s going to see it.”

“I love you, Lucy,” her grandmother said. “I’m so happy for you.”

Naunie let go and pushed Lucy gently toward Ruby, who reached out her hand. Lucy took it, and together they walked into the dining room, where the elevator was waiting.

“Lucy?” a voice called out, followed by several loud knocks at the front door. “Lucy? Are you in there?”

“I’m in here,” Lucy called from the kitchen, where she was making a bowl of brownie batter and was planning to eat every last bit of it herself with her finger. She took off her apron, tossed it onto the enormous butcher-block island, and hurried down the sunlit hallway and into the living room, where a homey fire was burning.

“Bethanny!” Lucy cried, throwing her arms around her friend, hugging her tight. “Oh, it is so good to see you!”

“Lucy, this is the cutest house!” Bethanny cried. “I love the brick and stone, and the roses that climb all the way up to the chimney. The fragrance is beautiful!”

“Are you far from here?” Lucy asked, holding her friend’s hand and inviting her to sit on the marshmallowy down-filled cushions of the white linen couch.

“No, no, I’m a five-minute walk,” she explained. “I’m in the tall mirrored high-rise with the steel beams right on the beach.”

“Oh, that’s a great building!” Lucy exclaimed. “Have you been here long?”

“I guess so,” Bethanny said, after thinking a moment. “As soon as I got to my assignment, I found some kids on a sinking boat and a shark that was ready for lunch.”

“You’re kidding!” Lucy replied. “What did you do?”

“I flashed the shark, then punched him in the eye,” Bethanny said with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “That shark had it coming. He looked a little too familiar.”

“I’m so happy to see you,” Lucy reiterated. “I was about to eat a bowl of brownie batter. Can I make you one?”

“Oh, no.” Her friend laughed. “I’m good. I have a carrot cake in my purse. Isn’t this great? Welcome to The State!”

“The State of Elated Bliss,” Lucy emphasized. “Boy, they aren’t kidding, huh?”

Bethanny shook her head happily and laughed. “Elliot lives right down the road from me, and he still hasn’t taken off his Socrates outfit yet. I saw Kirk and the Countess when they drove through last; they have a massive RV and they just drive around The State, on a permanent vacation like a retired couple!”

Frantic, loud banging suddenly interrupted their visit, and the creak of the screen door followed.

“I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it!” a voice cried excitedly. “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy! Guess what!”

“We’re in here,” Lucy called, laughing, and Naunie appeared in the doorway in a flash of a second later.

“Bethanny, this is my grandmother Naunie,” Lucy told her. “She was a White Lady too! She lives next door.”

“Ooooh,” Bethanny cooed. “In the big old white farmhouse? It’s so pretty!”

“Thank you,” Naunie said, catching her breath and smiling. “My other granddaughter lives in the earthly version, and they did a fantastic job fixing it back up, but now it’s a little too fancy for my taste.
She has a garbage disposal
. In my house, though—Lucy, you’re not going to believe this, but my toilet and bathtub are pink! I got them back! I’ve got a pink toilet!”

“Naunie is just moving in,” Lucy said to Bethanny. “She is newly arrived and is discovering all about The State, as long as she promises to leave Frank Sinatra and Steve McQueen alone.”

“Congratulations.” Bethanny beamed. “It will be great to have you here, I just know it.”

A sudden, snorty snore rose up from behind the couch, followed by a high-pitched yawn.

Bethanny looked at Lucy oddly. “What was that?”

Lucy smiled as a fuzzy head with a long tongue peeked around the corner.

“That,” she said, feeling happier than she ever had in any moment of her life or her death, “is my dog, Tulip.”

L
AURIE
N
OTARO
has seen ghosts twice in her life: once on her tenth birthday and again when she mistakenly assumed her husband had come home at 2
A M
. dressed as Dashiell Hammett. Notaro hasn’t made her bed in thirty-two years, was said by
The New Yorker
to have “positively cackled” (a gross exaggeration), and once saw Billie Jean King while eating lunch. She (Notaro, not Billie Jean King) still lives in Eugene, Oregon, with her opaque husband and absurdly charming dog, Maeby. This is her eighth book (note to the newspaper editor who fired her [Notaro, not the dog]).

www.laurienotaro.com

Spooky Little Girl
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Villard Books Trade Paperback Original

Copyright © 2010 by Laurie Notaro

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Villard Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

V
ILLARD
B
OOKS
and V
ILLARD
& “V” C
IRCLED
Design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Notaro, Laurie.
Spooky little girl: a novel / Laurie Notaro.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-345-51972-6
1. Future life—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3614.O785S66 2010
813′.6—dc22      2010001858

www.villard.com

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