One hour and an entire box of cookies later, Misty had finished telling Yoshi about her mysterious experience at Madame Zaster's house and Fannie Belcher's diary and coat.
Yoshi sat on Misty's bed, exhausted from listening and eating.
"Incredible," decided Yoshi, her mouth covered with crumbs.
"I didn't tell my family, because I knew they wouldn't believe me," said Misty, straightening her glasses. "But you believe me… don't you?"
Before Yoshi could answer, a loud thump sounded from the desk drawer.
"What's that?" Yoshi whispered.
"It's Fannie Belcher's old diary," said Misty shakily.
"Really?" said Yoshi, her eyes glittering. "That diary really wants to get out of there, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," said Misty. "But it's not going anywhere. I locked the drawer."
"You know what I think?" said Yoshi in a hushed voice. "I think Fannie Belcher hid that diary in the phone, and it's trying to escape because it doesn't want to be read. Yeah, I bet it contains Fannie Belcher's deepest secrets… secrets that she never intended to share."
"That might explain Fannie Belcher's coat stalking around," guessed Misty. "Maybe it's trying to get the diary back. I really think that coat is stalking me! I swear I felt like it was looking at me through the window at assembly."
The diary slammed against the drawer, and the girls jumped.
"What should we do?" asked Misty.
"I think we should read it," answered Yoshi excitedly. "It might reveal some explanation for all the weird stuff going on."
"Okay," said Misty, unlocking the drawer. "Here it goes."
The moment she pulled open the drawer, the diary flew from the compartment, bounced off the ceiling, and landed on the floor, where it began flopping about like a fish out of water.
Yoshi jumped up and down on the bed screaming, "Get it! Get it!"
FOOM!-Misty nailed the diary with a pillow, knocking her glasses from her face. The diary darted toward her, grazing her ear. Misty ducked, then leapt forward.CRUNCH! -her glasses shattered beneath her feet.
"My glasses!" Misty groaned, really swinging at the diary now. A few more clumsy FWOPS from the feather pillow, and the book rose into the air, flicked its pages at Misty, and dropped onto the bed. It twitched for a moment, then went still.
"What's going on in there?" Mrs. Gordon called from the hallway.
"Nothing!" Misty replied.
"I think you knocked it out," whispered Yoshi. "Better read it while we have the chance."
The girls sat on the bed. Misty bravely took the diary into her lap and opened it. She squinted at the first page. "You're going to have to read it," she told Yoshi. "Without my glasses, I can't see a thing."
"Okay," said Yoshi, leaning over to read. "Hmm, there's no date for the entry, but judging by how old these pages are, it's an entry from a long, long time ago. Anyway, this is what it says:
"A clairvoyant by the name of Madame Zaster has moved into a cottage on Shadow Street. Since none of us three Descendants knew if the Golden Three had been destroyed or were in fact buried in Ashcrumb, we thought we might see if Madame Zaster might be able to help us."
"Descendants?" blurted Misty. "What does Fannie Belcher mean by Descendants?"
"How should I know?" said Yoshi, irritated. "And don't interrupt!"
Yoshi continued reading.
"So we three Descendants paid Madame Zaster a visit. She led us to her séance table and asked us to sit and hold hands while she gazed into her crystal ball.
"Hazel Monger, always impatient, was in no mood to wait for Madame Zaster to 'see' anything. 'Don't waste our time with a hocus-pocus show!' Hazel shouted at Zaster. 'Just tell us about the Golden Three! Are they buried in Ashcrumb?'
"Madame Zaster peered into the crystal ball. We Descendants couldn't see a thing, but evidently she could. Slowly, she nodded and spoke a riddle-"
"Misty!" Mrs. Gordon called. Misty slammed the diary shut and tossed it back into the desk drawer.
"What?" wailed Misty.
"Remember, you have to babysit at the Sweethouses' tonight," said her mother. "Don't be late!"
"Great," Misty grumbled to Yoshi. "I totally forgot that I had to babysit tonight."
"That's the least of your problems," Yoshi said, pointing to Misty's mangled glasses. "You'll have to wear your spares."
"Those were my spares," Misty said.
"Wait a second," remembered Yoshi. "Didn't you say that you could see out of Madame Zaster's eyeglasses?"
"Oh, yeah," said Misty. "I guess I could wear those until I get another pair."
Misty took Madame Zaster's cat-eye glasses from the vanity and slipped them on.
Yoshi roared with laughter.
"Do they look that bad?" asked Misty, the pointy tips of the thick-rimmed glasses sticking out from her hair.
"No, no," said Yoshi, clearing her throat. "They're actually very retro."
"MISTY!" Mrs. Gordon called again. "You're going to be late!"
"Not if I take the Vespa," Misty yelled back.
"The Vespa?" said Yoshi. "Did your dad finally get that old thing to run?"
"Kinda," said Misty. "It's still backfiring and stalling pretty badly."
"Okay, well, I'm going home," said Yoshi. "We'll read more of the diary tomorrow." Halfway out Misty's door, Yoshi turned. "Hey, I wonder if the Hazel Monger who Fannie Belcher was talking about in the diary is the same Hazel Monger who lives down the street?"
"Hazel Monger, the freaky hermit?" said Misty. "I bet it is! After all, how can there be more than one Hazel Monger in town?"
Misty glimpsed her reflection in the vanity mirror and sighed. "These glasses look awful."
"Cheer up," giggled Yoshi as Misty locked the desk drawer. "At least you're babysitting for the Sweethouses. At least that's some good news!"
It was good news for a couple of reasons. First, the Sweethouses owned a candy and condiment supply company, which meant their house was filled to the brim with every imaginable candy and food spread known to humankind. Just in their kitchen pantry alone, they had enough chocolate and ketchup to feed a small country. Second, their child was a babysitter's dream. Nicknamed Sweetpea, he was a sluggish nine-month-old baby who slept all the time. Which meant less time having to actually babysit and more time for raiding the pantry.
Thunder was rumbling as Misty set off on the Vespa. An antique motor scooter, the banged-up red Vespa wasn't the smoothest or most reliable ride, but it did come in handy sometimes, and for the moment, it was behaving fine.
Drizzle began to fall as Misty motored slowly down the street, nearing the Monger mansion. Though four families could have lived easily within the mansion, it was home to just one person: Hazel Monger. Without a doubt, Hazel was the most loathsome person in town. She hated children and kept a bag of rocks with her at all times, just in case some child trespassed onto her lawn.
Misty glanced at the home's vast front porch. There sat one-hundred-year-old Hazel Monger in the flesh, rocking slowly in her creaky, old rocking chair. The woman's snaky eyes followed Misty as she drove past the mansion's iron gate.
Then, without warning-
KA-POW!
-the Vespa backfired, the explosive noise sending Hazel Monger straight up out of her chair.
"Get out of here!" Hazel Monger screeched, rattling her bag of rocks.
Misty gulped as the Vespa coughed miserably and sputtered slowly forward. "Oh no," groaned Misty. "Don't conk out now!"
"Nasty little brats, always spying on me!" Hazel yelled, flinging some rocks at Misty. "Always coming around my house! Trying to sniff out my secret!"
Misty quickly throttled the gas. With a jolt, the Vespa took off and didn't stop until reaching the Sweethouses' home.
"Hello, Misty," Mrs. Sweethouse said, opening the door. "Well, look at those new glasses!"
"Oh, these things?" said Misty, pushing the cat-eye glasses up the bridge of her nose. "They're just temporary."
Mrs. Sweethouse glanced at the boiling sky. "It's lightning again? This rain just doesn't want to stop. I've never seen anything like it."
Misty walked inside and smiled. It was a wonderful house, very cozy, with matching sofas and chairs, all situated around the biggest television she'd ever seen.
"I've left emergency telephone numbers on the refrigerator," said Mrs. Sweethouse as her husband came into the room. "Sweetpea is asleep already," she continued, buttoning her coat. "Oh, and his baby monitor is on the sofa. Everything should be just fine. The pantry's stocked, so make yourself at home, and we'll be back before nine o'clock." Then they were gone.
Misty trotted into the living room, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed on the mushy sofa. The Sweethouses' terrier appeared, barking to be picked up.
"Shh," Misty said. "You'll wake the baby." He pawed at her hand. He was always begging for food.
"Are you hungry?" Misty asked.
The dog wagged his tail.
"Then follow me.I know where we can find the good stuff."
The terrier padded alongside Misty as she shuffled to the kitchen's enormous walk-in pantry and flipped on the light.
"Jackpot," she grinned, gazing at the amazing display of junk food. Every square inch of the room was filled with something that could either rot your teeth or your stomach. Huge boxes filled with chocolates stood stacked on shelves. Bags stuffed with hard candies, taffies, chewing gums, and jawbreakers leaned against the wall. Sitting on the floor were tall, industrial-size barrels of pickles, mustard, and other food spreads, often seen in the kitchen of Ashcrumb Elementary's cafeteria.
Atop a shelf a radio played."More thunderstorms headed our way," the announcer said smoothly. "Expect heavy showers and severe lightning throughout the evening. Looks like it's going to be another stormy night for Ashcrumb!"
"Ah, here's something for you," Misty told the terrier, handing him a doggie treat. "And here's something for me," she said happily, scooping up some chocolates. Her pockets filled, she returned to the couch and turned on the TV.
Dracula was playing. Misty tossed some candy in her mouth, chewing nervously as she watched the vampire creep across the screen, his eyes gleaming hungrily as he stalked a visitor inside his castle.
Misty picked up the baby monitor and held it to her ear. She could hear the hushed breathing of the baby, deep in sleep. "Sounds like he's out for the night," she said, laying the monitor back down.
Thunder rumbled, and rain began pelting the window. Misty huddled deep into the couch and cringed as Dracula exposed his fangs, lifted his cape, and swooped upon his hapless victim.
The telephone rang. Misty fumbled for it.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's me," came Yoshi's anxious voice on the other end.
"Hey," said Misty. "Do you want to come over?"
"No. Listen," Yoshi said in a rush. "There's been a breakout at the asylum."
"Right," Misty laughed, guessing this was some kind of joke.
"It's true!" Yoshi yelled. "You've got to believe me! The police are looking for-"
"Looking for what?" Misty said, playing along. "Looking for what?" Misty blinked. "Hello? Yoshi, are you there?"
But it was no use. The phone line had gone dead. As dead as the blood-drained person lying on Dracula's castle floor.
As Misty tried Yoshi's number, a noise came over the baby monitor that made Misty's heart skip a beat. It was the sound of a window shattering.
Misty gasped, sitting bolt upright, her heart thumping in her throat. The dog growled, hackles rising on his back.
Misty grabbed the monitor and pressed it to her ear. An icy chill came over her as she listened in utter terror to another sound, the sound of low grunts and footsteps.
Someone had broken into the house.
"The baby," Misty whispered in panic. "I've got to get the baby!" She jumped from the couch and dashed toward the baby's room, only to see the frightening shadow of an intruder moving down the hall. To Misty's relief, the intruder had already passed up the baby's room, but to Misty's alarm, it was headed right toward her.
Run! Misty heard herself screaming inside her head.Run and hide! Misty turned on her heels and bolted to the kitchen, skidding inside its huge pantry. She slammed the door and looked frantically around the dim room. Where could she hide?
Spying the barrels, Misty dropped to the floor and scooted behind them, drawing her knees to her chest and backing herself against the wall. Over the pounding of her heart, she heard an announcement from the radio:
"We interrupt this broadcast for some breaking news. A patient has just escaped from the Ashcrumb Mental Facility! This man is considered extremely unstable! Police are presently searching for him, so stay inside and keep your doors locked! We will keep you updated as the events unfold. Now, back to our regular programming."
As a song began playing, Misty peeked through the gap between the barrels. Except for a sliver of light from the kitchen passing underneath the pantry door, the room was almost completely dark. Though Misty couldn't see anything, she could hear everything going on inside the house. She bit her lip as the terrier's barking sounded from the living room.
Another wave of panic washed over Misty as the grunts and footsteps grew louder. Just then, as if a tornado was spinning through the kitchen, pots and pans began crashing to the floor and cabinet doors started slamming. She heard the refrigerator door open and its contents tumble to the floor.
What is that maniac doing? thought Misty. She shut her eyes tight, as if she were riding a roller coaster. The sensation was just the same, for here came the sick, stomach-dropping feeling as the pantry door flew open.
Panting and snorting, the intruder began tossing and shoving everything from the shelves. Bags exploded on the floor, boxes landed with deafening crashes, and cans clattered and rolled.
Don't make a sound! Misty told herself. She gagged as an awful stink filled the room. It smelled like the decaying stench of sour mud. Misty couldn't take it any longer. She had to look.
She opened her eyes and peeked again through the gap between the barrels. In the dim light, she could see the escapee's dirty institution pants and big, mud-covered feet. The crazy man's toes were right in front of her, twiddling excitedly. Evidently, something had caught the freak's attention. He breathed in heavily, grunting and groaning.
Can he see me? Misty wondered, keeping her head low.
"More breaking news about the escapee from Ashcrumb Mental Facility!" the radio announcer blared. "This lunatic is known as May Nays!"
Misty gulped, remembering what Yoshi had said about May Nays:He will do anything to get his hands on mayonnaise. I mean… he'll kill for the stuff.
Horror-struck, Misty read the label on the barrel behind which she was hiding. Apparently, the freak was reading it, too.
"MAYONNAISE!" his gargled voice erupted. Misty gasped as his filthy hands crept around the sides of the barrel. "ME FOUND MAYONNAISE!"
Misty was just about to bolt when the rims of her eyeglasses grew instantly cold. Their lenses fogged over, as if she were passing through a mist. Yet she could still see perfectly through them. And what did she see through the gap but Madame Zaster's ghost, floating by the pantry door.
In its eerie, static-y voice, the ghost declared, "Misty, stay where you are… and move only when I say!"
Against all reason, Misty obeyed, keeping her body still and her eyes fixed on the ghost.
"MAYONNAISE!" the escapee laughed wildly, tugging on the barrel. "GIMME! GIMME!"
At any moment, the barrel would slide out, and Misty would be doomed.
"Run now!" the apparition suddenly called."Hurry!"
Out dashed Misty, catching May Nays off guard.
"Rarrrr!" he growled, making a swipe at Misty.
"This way!" Madame Zaster's ghost wailed, beckoning from the pantry doorway.
Her heart racing, Misty rushed out of the pantry, slid through the kitchen, and raced down the hall to the baby's room. He was still sleeping! Misty swept him up into her arms and climbed out the window.
Outside the rain fell in torrents. Her ears ringing with fear, Misty sprinted across the wet yard and down the street, candy dropping from her pockets as she ran.
