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We’re going to pack a lunch and everything. Is that okay?”
    â€œWhere are you going?” her mother asked.
    â€œOver to this kid L.J.’s house. He showed up at school for the last two days, and Mr. Henry asked us if we’d be nice to him this summer ’cause he didn’t have time to make any friends.”
    â€œThat was thoughtful of Mr. Henry,” said Mrs. Nichols. “And you and Dub, too.”
    â€œWell, Dub and I don’t really want to do it,” Allie confessed.
    Her mother looked surprised. “Why not?”
    â€œWe didn’t like L.J. too much.”
    â€œReally?” Mrs. Nichols asked. “Why is that?”
    â€œWe think there’s something creepy about him,” Allie said.
    Her mother looked at her and scolded gently, “Allie, you’re not letting your imagination run away with you again, are you? After all, you’ve only seen the boy at school—what?—twice? How could you know what he’s like?”
    â€œThat’s what Mr. Henry said,” Allie admitted with a sigh. She wanted to add, But sometimes even a cool teacher like Mr. Henry can be kind of clueless. She didn’t, though. And she certainly didn’t want her mother to get started on her “runaway imagination” again. Instead she said, “We promised Mr. Henry we’d give him a chance, so that’s what we’re doing.”
    â€œWell, I think that’s very nice.”
    Easy for you to say, Allie thought. You’ve never met L.J.

Seven
    Soon Allie and Dub were letting themselves in through the door of Mr. Henry’s kitchen. “Hoover?” Allie called. “We’re here, girl. Ready for food and a walk?”
    When the dog’s bowl was empty, Allie took the leash from its place in the closet. Hoover began prancing around the room with excitement, her tail wagging like a furry, golden flag.
    â€œI’d say she’s ready,” declared Dub.
    â€œLet’s go.”
    They walked slowly, letting Hoover stop to sniff wherever she pleased. Observing this behavior, Allie said, “Maybe if we watch Hoover carefully, we’ll learn something that will help. Look at her nose go. She can probably tell which dogs already passed by that signpost this morning and when.”
    â€œYou said you and Michael were smelling something disgusting, right?”
    Allie wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, it was gross.”
    Watching Hoover happily slurping water from a muddy puddle, Dub said, “Gross to you. To a dog it might be delectable.”
    â€œTrue,” Allie said. “But maybe trying to think like a dog isn’t such a great idea. Probably we should try to imagine the kind of thing that might happen to a dog to make it into a restless ghost.”
    Dub looked thoughtful. “Well, there’s the obvious car accident. A hit-and-run driver.”
    â€œAnd remember that story that was going around a while ago about some people who got mad at their neighbors’ dog for barking, so they poisoned it?”
    â€œYeah,” said Dub. “And did you know that some people actually raise dogs for fighting? They make bets on which dog will win, and sometimes one dog kills the other one.”
    Allie shuddered. “That is totally sick. Actually, this whole conversation is a real bummer.”
    â€œYou started it.” They walked in silence for a while before Dub added, “The only other thing I can think of is that dogs sometimes get used for scientific experiments.”
    â€œGee, there’s another cheerful thought,” Allie said bleakly. “But, cheerful or not, we have to get used to thinking about this stuff. Because one thing we’ve learned is that ghosts are unhappy for a reason.”
    Soon they were approaching the old bean packing plant. It gave Allie the willies. The gray paint was peeling badly, giving the walls what she thought of as a scabby, unhealthy appearance. Most of