Poltergeist Read Online Free Page A

.”
    Diane turned out the lights.
    “Closet light, turn on the closet,” Robbie cried urgently.
    “Okay, okay,” Diane answered. “I’m getting it now.” She turned on the bulb in the closet they used for a night light. “Now, good night.”
    “No, wait, look inside first,” the boy pleaded. He sat up in bed. Far away, thunder growled.
    Diane opened the closet door wide and made a grand show of exploring its depths. “Okay, I’m looking behind the clothes. Nothing here. Now inside the shoe boxes. Nope. Now behind the broken footstool. Nobody here. Looks okay.” She emerged smiling. “Looks clear, nothing hiding.”
    Robbie appeared satisfied. Diane went to each bed, gave them each a good-night kiss, and went back to her own bedroom.
    That was when Robbie noticed the clown doll sitting in the rocking chair.
    He actually jumped, it startled him so. Not that the clown had suddenly appeared, exactly—it was only that Robbie had become suddenly aware of its being there. And suddenly aware that it had been outside, lying under a pile of cinderblocks earlier in the day. It seemed to be laughing now, a silent, frozen laugh.
    Robbie got up from bed without looking at the laughing doll, picked a plaid shirt off the floor, and threw it over the clown’s head. Then he got back in bed.
    Lightning struck far away, electric blue, and a few seconds later the thunder throatily thundered.
    Or was it muffled laughter?
    Steve sat in bed in his shorts, rolling a joint and watching an old Bogart movie on the tube. Diane jumped in and sat beside him.
    “Were you that scared when you were his age?” she asked.
    “What scared?”
    “Robbie—the poor kids scared of the closet.”
    “It’s the age. Seven is closets. I remember.”
    “Oh yeah? What’s thirty-seven?”
    “Interest rates. I’m scared of interest rates now. What worries you?”
    Lightning sizzled miles away; the television set crackled with static. Steve licked the paper, put one end in his mouth, lit the other, inhaled.
    “Carole Anne’s sleepwalking. That’s what really worries me.”
    “Shell outgrow it.” He passed her the joint. Thunder.
    “But did you see her last night? Glued to the set downstairs and having a conversation?”
    “All kids talk to themselves.”
    “She was talking to the TV. And she was sleeping.” Diane took a long drag, then brushed a lock of hair out of Steve’s eyes. “And then that business this afternoon . . . it was frightening, Steven.”
    “What did the psychologist say?” he asked.
    “Said she’ll outgrow it,” Diane answered.
    Steve smiled. “Want to get a second opinion?”
    Diane shrugged. “Maybe. Doris Melnick said we should. Or maybe we shouldn’t start building the pool now, is all. Maybe we should wait until she does outgrow it. I mean, Steve, she could walk right out there in the middle of the night and fall into it and we’d never even know until morning.”
    “Relax, honey; take it easy. We just have to remember to keep the doors locked, that’s all; she can’t get out then.” He leaned over and nibbled Diane’s ear; her face softened. “Don’t you want a pool?” he crooned.
    “Pool, schmool, big deal.” She pushed him back, laughing. “First pool on the block. First family on the block . . .”
    “First kiss of the night,” he rumbled, in the same register as the approaching thunder.
    They kissed. On the little screen at the foot of the bed, Humphrey Bogart kissed Lauren Bacall. On the dressing table against the wall, two ceramic figurines curtsied and bowed.
    “Mommy, I’m scared.” It was Robbie standing at the bedroom door. Diane tried to hide the joint.
    Steve smiled at her and sighed. “Ah, the family life.” Then to Robbie, “Okay, come on, partner, let’s chase it away.” He walked over to his son, picked the boy up, and lifted him to his shoulders. “Watch your head.” They marched down the hall.
    Steve sat on the bed beside Robbie. The tree scratched at the