By Donna Hruska

Jeffrey pushed up the garage door.

“Oh, no!” he exclaimed. “It’s happened again!”

Jennifer peered over his shoulder. The garage floor was covered with papers and cans, orange peels and coffee grounds, and trash of all kinds.

“Ugh! What a mess,” Jennifer made a face. “I’d like to know who’s doing this.”

“So would I. I’m sure tired of picking up garbage every morning,” answered Jeffrey.

Jeffrey and Jennifer were the nine-year-old twins in the Wilson family. They had been so happy to move to their new house just a week ago. They had planned to spend the summer exploring the county forest preserve that was only a few blocks away, but so far, they had spent every morning cleaning up their garage. Something or someone was slipping in each night and overturning the trash cans.

“Maybe it’s a robber,” Jennifer said. She loved to be scared and was always hoping for an exciting adventure.

“But nothing is missing,” Jeffrey frowned. “It’s almost like someone is trying to scare us away.”

Jennifer looked around the dim garage.

“It could be a ghost,” she whispered. “Maybe our garage is haunted.”

“Oh, ghost! That isn’t just like a girl. You know there’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Is that so! Billy Martin told me there was a haunted house just down the road. If it’s not a ghost, then who is it, Mister Smarty?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

“How?” asked Jennifer, forgetting that she was mad at him.

“By putting a stake-out on the garage. That’s what all the detectives do on T.V.”

He looked all around to make sure no one was listening, then whispered his secret plan in Jennifer’s ear.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, her eyes opening wide. “Can I come, too?”

“You’d probably be scared. I never heard of a detective who believed in ghosts.”

“Oh, don’t act so smart Jeffrey Wilson. I’m just as brave as you are.”

“O.K., but don’t expect me to take care of you if you get scared.” He looked over his shoulder again. “And don’t tell anybody our plan,” he whispered.

That night after all was dark and silent, two shadowy figures slipped out of the house and quietly climbed the apple tree by the garage door. The driveway looked ghostly in the moonlight. Somewhere off in the distance a dog howled. Jeffrey was glad he’d let Jennifer come along. In the dark branches of the tree he didn’t feel nearly as brave as he had in the morning.

“Jeffrey?” Jennifer whispered. “What do we do if someone does come?”

“Well, if he’s bigger than us, we’ll just see who it is and call the police after he’s gone. If he’s just a kid, we’ll jump on him and capture him.”

“What if it’s a ghost?”

“I told you, there’s no such thing as ghosts.” Just the same, Jeffrey felt a little shiver down his back. A breeze blew through the leaves on the tree, making shadows move on the garage door.

Suddenly, they heard a noise.

“What’s that?” Jennifer grabbed Jeffrey’s arm.

“Shhh!”

Around the corner of the garage crept a shadowy figure. Two smaller shadows followed behind. Jeffrey felt Jennifer’s grip on his arm tighten. His heart was pounding and he thought how warm and safe he could have been in his bed.

The figures moved into the moonlight.

Jeffrey saw three masked faces.

He held his breath to keep from laughing.

The ghost who had been haunting their garage was a family of raccoons. He and Jennifer watched as one of the baby raccoons stuck his nose in a crack where the garage door did not fit tightly. With a little push of his nose he moved the door up an inch or two, stuck his head in farther and pushed again, until even the fat mother raccoon could squeeze under the door. The twins giggled as they heard the crash of the trashcans hitting the floor.

“Well,” said Jeffrey to his sister. “We’ve solved the mystery of the haunted garage, all right. And the ghost wore a black mask.”

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All rights in this work are the property of
Donna Hruska
2711 2nd Private Road
Flossmoor, Illinois 60422.

All rights transferred must be by separate contract.

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