The Ghost in the Third Row Read Online Free PDF Page B

so much fun gossiping about the show that it was nearly half an hour before we got back to the subject of the microfilm. Actually, I was the one who got us on track again when I suddenly shouted, “July, 1935!” in a voice far too loud for the library.
    Sam looked at me strangely.
    â€œThat’s the date of the play,” I said, blushing. “I just remembered it.”
    Sam was surprised we were bothering to do research for our roles. He got a bigger surprise when he opened the drawer where the microfilm for the July, 1935, Syracuse Herald American was supposed to be stored.
    I happened to be looking over his shoulder when he pulled the drawer open. I saw about a hundred square boxes, each about an inch thick and small enough to fit in my hand. They were arranged in neat, tight rows.
    It was all in order, except for the gaping hole where the July, 1935, box should have been.
    Chris and I would have been disappointed, but not much more, except for one strange fact: Syracuse had four daily newspapers in 1935, and the library had complete files on all of them. Or more accurately, nearly complete files.
    July, 1935, was missing from every single one of them.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Young Women Who Love the Theater
    â€œTime for dinner!” called my father.
    Chris pushed a large orange blob of fur off her lap. It batted her leg once, then stalked away in a huff.
    â€œDon’t be a creep, Sidney,” I said.
    â€œAll cats are that way,” Chris said. “Come on, I’m starving.”
    My father had invited Chris to join us for dinner after I dragged her to his office with the promise of a ride home.
    â€œWell, did you girls have an interesting day?” he asked now, passing a heaping platter of fried chicken to Chris.
    â€œVery,” said Chris. She gave me a sidelong glance as she forked a juicy drumstick onto her plate. “We spent a lot of time at the library.”
    â€œWait,” said my father. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. One of the librarians is a—what’s that word? Oh, yes! One of the librarians is a hunk!”
    â€œDad!” I yelped. I blushed, partly because of what he had said and partly because it was embarrassing to have my father know me so well.
    Ignoring me, he turned his attention to Chris. “And how are rehearsals going?” he asked.
    She rolled her eyes. “They’re interesting, too,” she said. “Our leading lady saw the theater’s ghost last night.”
    My dad was really cool. Other than raising an eyebrow, he didn’t miss a beat.
    â€œHow did she take it?” he asked, his voice as calm as if we were discussing a change in Lydia’s costume.
    â€œNot too well,” said Chris. “She sort of flipped out.” She shot me a sideward glance and said, “To tell you the truth, Mr. Tanleven, I don’t think she’s very mature. When Nine and I saw the ghost, we handled it a lot more calmly than Lydia did.”
    I would like to be able to tell you that I stayed calm when Chris dropped that particular bombshell. The truth is I nearly spit a mouthful of mashed potatoes across the table. As for my father, he just raised his eyebrow a little higher.
    â€œIs that so? I don’t think Nine bothered to mention it to me.”
    No one said anything for a moment. The only sounds around the table were the ones that came from me trying to swallow the potatoes while I worked out a way to kill Chris without getting caught.
    â€œI guess it must have slipped my mind,” I said when I was finally able to talk again.
    My father seemed to find this considerably more difficult to believe than the idea that we had seen the ghost. He didn’t say anything, but I thought his eyebrow was going to twitch its way right over his forehead.
    â€œIt’s quite a compliment, you know,” he said at last, scooping a forkful of salad into his mouth.
    It was our turn to be surprised, and he looked smug