Now she was good and pissed.
She hauled back and whaled on the window like the building was on fire until finally, with a crunch and a tinkle, the glass gave way. She kept smacking until most of the glass was clear of the frame. Then stood on her toes and hollered through it. “Help! HELP! HEELLLP!”
Maybe she ought to yell “Get the paddles!” instead. She entertained a fleeting fantasy of her family convening upon Devil’s Leap, their Spidey senses a-tingle.
“Mac!” she bellowed. “Maaaaaaaaac!”
She suspected that even if he heard her, he might mistake her for one of his goats.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!”
Now, who wouldn’t get curious about the birthday song emerging from the middle of nowhere?
Still nothing.
She really was in the middle of freaking nowhere. And to think, only a day or so ago she’d been pondering why anyone would live anywhere other than in the country.
“YOP!” she tried finally. “Yop!”
That’s how the Whos got Horton’s attention, after all.
“Avalon? Is that you?”
Mac’s voice was right underneath the window. She nearly crumpled with relief. “Yes!”
A little silence. “Did you... did you just sayyop?”
She hesitated. “I said a lot of other things before you showed up,” she hedged.
“I thought for a minute one of my goats had gotten out and a coyote had him. That must have been you.”
“Probably.”
“Are you...stuckup in the attic, by any chance?”
“Yes.”
There was more silence. “I’m guessing you kind of understand why I told you not to go up there.”
He was really going to make her work for it. The sheer effort of holding in his laughter was probably building yet another quadrant of muscle on his abdomen.
“Also?” she added. “There’s... something up here with me. Something that... moves.”
“Oh, you’ve met our ghost?”
“There’s a fuckingghost?” Her voice went up an octave.
“Don’t you guys have a ghost at the Misty Cat?”
“It’s less theideaof ghost than the context in which the ghost is currently occurring.”
“I see,” he said, gravely as an academic. “So if you passed the ghost in the hall on the way to the bathroom you’d high-five it. But it’s the dark... close... stuffy... cobwebby... attic that gives you pause?”
There was a beat of silence.
“It’s a her?”
“One of them is.”