I thought I was going to hate moving into a new house. But actually, I had fun.

I played a pretty mean joke on Mom and Dad.

While they were busy in the front room showing the moving men where to put stuff, I went exploring. I found a really neat room to the side of the dining room.

It had big windows on two sides looking out onto the back yard. Sunlight poured in, making the room brighter and a lot more cheery than the rest of the old house.

The room was going to be our new family room. You know, with a TV and CD player, and maybe a Ping-Pong table and stuff. But right now it was completely empty.

Except for two gray balls of dust in one corner, which gave me an idea.

Chuckling to myself, I bent down and shaped the two dust balls with my hands. Then I began shouting in a real panicky voice: “Mice! Mice! Help! Mice!”

Mom and Dad came bursting into the room at the same time. Their mouths nearly dropped to the floor when they saw the two gray dust mice.

I kept screaming, “Mice! Mice!” Pretending I was scared of them. Trying hard to keep a straight face.

Mom just stood in the doorway, her mouth hanging open. I really thought she was going to drop her teeth!

Dad always panics more than Mom. He picked up a broom that was leaning against the wall, ran across the room, and began pounding the poor, defenseless dust mice with it.

By that time, I was laughing my head off.

Dad stared down at the glob of dust stuck to the end of the broom, and he finally caught on it was a joke. His face got real red, and I thought his eyes were going to pop out from behind his glasses.

“Very funny, Jerome,” Mom said calmly, rolling her eyes. Everyone calls me Jerry, but she calls me Jerome when she’s upset with me. “Your father and I sure appreciate your scaring us to death when we’re both very nervous and overworked and trying to get moved into this house.”

Mom is always real sarcastic like that. I think I probably get my sense of humor from her.

Dad just scratched the bald spot on the back of his head. “They really looked like mice,” he muttered. He wasn’t angry. He’s used to my jokes. They both are.

“Why can’t you act your age?” Mom asked, shaking her head.

“I am!” I insisted. I mean, I’m twelve. So I was acting my age. If you can’t play jokes on your parents and try to have a little fun at twelve, when can you?

“Don’t be such a smart guy,” Dad said, giving me his stern look. “There’s a lot of work to be done around here, you know, Jerry. You could help out.”

He shoved the broom toward me.

I raised both hands as if shielding myself from danger, and backed away. “Dad, you know I’m allergic!” I cried.

“Allergic to dust?” he asked.

“No. Allergic to work!”

I expected them to laugh, but they just stormed out of the room, muttering to themselves. “You can at least look after Bonkers,” Mom called back to me. “Keep her out of the movers’ way.”

“Yeah. Sure,” I called back. Bonkers is our cat, and there’s no way I can keep Bonkers from doing anything!

Let me say right out that Bonkers is not my favorite member of our family. In fact, I keep as far away from Bonkers as I can.

No one ever explained to the stupid cat that she’s supposed to be a pet. Instead, I think Bonkers believes she’s a wild, man-eating tiger. Or maybe a vampire bat.

Her favorite trick is to climb up on the back of a chair or a high shelf—and then leap with her claws out onto your shoulders. I can’t tell you how many good T-shirts have been ripped to shreds by this trick of hers. Or how much blood I’ve lost.

The cat is nasty—just plain vicious.

She’s all black except for a white circle over her forehead and one eye. Mom and Dad think she’s just wonderful. They’re always picking her up, and petting her, and telling her how adorable she is. Bonkers usually scratches them and makes them bleed. But they never learn.

When we moved to this new house, I was hoping maybe Bonkers would get left behind. But, no way. Mom made sure that Bonkers was in the car first, right next to me.

And of course the stupid cat threw up in the back seat.

Whoever heard of a cat who gets carsick? She did it deliberately because she’s horrible and vicious.

Anyway, I ignored Mom’s request to keep an eye on her. In fact, I crept into the kitchen and opened the back door, hoping maybe Bonkers would run away and get lost.

Then I continued my exploring.

Our other house was tiny, but new. This house was old. The floorboards creaked. The windows rattled. The house seemed to groan when you walked through it.

But it was really big. I discovered all kinds of little rooms and deep closets. One upstairs closet was as big as my old bedroom!

My new bedroom was at the end of the hall on the second floor. There were three other rooms and a bathroom up there. I wondered what Mom and Dad planned to do with all those rooms.

I decided to suggest that one of them be made into a Nintendo room. We could put a wide-screen TV in there to play the games on. It would be really neat.

As I made plans for my new video game room, I started to feel a little cheered up. I mean, it isn’t easy to move to a new house in a new town.

I’m not the kind of kid who cries much. But I have to admit that I felt like crying a lot when we moved away from Cedarville. Especially when I had to say good-bye to my friends.

Especially Sean. Sean is a great guy. Mom and Dad don’t like him too much because he’s kind of noisy and he likes to burp real loud. But Sean is my best friend.

I mean he was my best friend.

I don’t have any friends here in New Goshen.

Mom said Sean could come stay with us for a few weeks this summer. That was really nice of her, especially since she hates his burping so much.

But it didn’t really cheer me up.

Exploring the new house was making me feel a little better. The room next to mine can be a gym, I decided. We’ll get all those great-looking exercise machines they show on TV.

The movers were hauling stuff into my room, so I couldn’t go in there. I pulled open a door to what I thought was a closet. But to my surprise, I saw a narrow, wooden stairway. I guessed it led up to an attic.

An attic!

I’d never had an attic before. I’ll bet it’s filled with all kinds of great old stuff, I thought excitedly. Maybe the people who used to live here left their old comic book collection up there—and it’s worth millions!

I was halfway up the stairs when I heard Dad’s voice behind me. “Jerry, where are you going?”

“Up,” I replied. That was pretty obvious.

“You really shouldn’t go up there by yourself,” he warned.

“Why not? Are there ghosts up here or something?” I asked.

I could hear his heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs. He followed me up. “Hot up here,” he muttered, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “It’s so stuffy.”

He tugged on a chain suspended from the ceiling, and an overhead light came on, casting pale yellow light down on us.

I glanced quickly around. It was all one room, long and low, the ceiling slanting down on both sides under the roof. I’m not very tall, but I reached up and touched the ceiling.

There were tiny, round windows at both ends. But they were covered with dust and didn’t let in much light.

“It’s empty,” I muttered, very disappointed.

“We can store a lot of junk up here,” Dad said, looking around.

“Hey—what’s that?” I spotted something against the far wall and began walking quickly toward it. The floorboards squeaked and creaked under my sneakers.

I saw a gray, quilted cover over something large. Maybe it’s some kind of treasure chest, I thought.

No one ever accused me of not having a good imagination.

Dad was right behind me as I grabbed the heavy cover with both hands and pulled it away.

And stared at a shiny, black piano.

“Wow,” Dad murmured, scratching his bald spot, staring at the piano with surprise. “Wow. Wow. Why did they leave this behind?”

I shrugged. “It looks like new,” I said. I hit some keys with my pointer finger. “Sounds good.”

Dad hit some keys, too. “It’s a really good piano,” he said, rubbing his hand lightly over the keyboard. “I wonder what it’s doing hidden up here in the attic like this….”

“It’s a mystery,” I agreed.

I had no idea how big a mystery it really was.

I couldn’t get to sleep that night. I mean, there was no way.

I was in my good old bed from our old house. But it was facing the wrong direction. And it was against a different wall. And the light from the neighbor’s back porch was shining through the window. The window rattled from the wind. And all these creepy shadows were moving back and forth across the ceiling.

I’m never going to be able to sleep in this new room, I realized.

It’s too different. Too creepy. Too big.

I’m going to be awake for the rest of my life!

I just lay there, eyes wide open, staring up at the weird shadows.

I had just started to relax and drift off to sleep when I heard the music.

Piano music.

At first, I thought it was coming from outside. But I quickly realized it was coming from up above me. From the attic!

I sat straight up and listened. Yes. Some kind of classical music. Right over my head.

I kicked off the covers and lowered my feet to the floor.

Who could be up in the attic playing the piano in the middle of the night? I wondered. It couldn’t be Dad. He can’t play a note. And the only thing Mom can play is “Chopsticks”, and not very well.

Maybe it’s Bonkers, I told myself.

I stood up and listened. The music continued. Very softly. But I could hear it clearly. Every note.

I started to make my way to the door and stubbed my toe against a carton that hadn’t been unpacked. “Ow!” I cried out, grabbing my foot and hopping around until the pain faded.

Mom and Dad couldn’t hear me, I knew. Their bedroom was downstairs.

I held my breath and listened. I could still hear the piano music above my head.

Walking slowly, carefully, I stepped out of my room and into the hallway. The floorboards creaked under my bare feet. The floor was cold.

I pulled open the attic door and leaned into the darkness.

The music floated down. It was sad music, very slow, very soft.

“Who—who’s up there?” I stammered.