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Do White Lies Count?
Tonight, I don’t need to exaggerate when I tell Daleni about my day and the scary events in the playroom. I leave off the part, though, about how happy I was to see Mrs. Hallovich when she came upstairs.
“Ella, are you sure you’re going to make it three more days?”
“I’m not going back in the playroom. That’s for sure.”
“Have you told your parents?”
That is a sticky question, because I really don’t want my parents to stop sending us to Willow House. “No,” I say.
“Why not?!”
“There’s too much going on there! Mysteries I need to solve! I haven’t even been up to the second floor of the carriage house! Or the attic!” (I’m not really sure I want to go into the attic. I’m just listing uncharted territory.)
If I’m being honest, I’m not ready to say how much I’m starting to like Mrs.Hallovich. The facts I’m giving Daleni are starting to bug me. Why does it feel like I’m lying?
“You know,” I start. “Mrs. Hallovich isn’t so bad. I think she just lives in a house that’s bad.”
“You told me yesterday that you thought she put a sleeping curse on you. Maybe she’s used some kind of spell so that you start to like her!”
“Maybe,” I say, but I’m pretty sure she’s just kind of likable.
“I’m scared for you, Ella”
“Don’t be,” I say with confidence. “I’ll avoid the playroom and I’ll keep a close eye on Tommy. We’ll be fine. We’ll spend more time outside. It’s not supposed to rain again this week, and we only have three more days to go.”
“Okay. You better live until after my party.”
“I promise.”
I’m about to tell her I have to go, when I think of something. “Hey, you haven’t been telling Mandy and Melanie about any of this, have you?”
“Oh! I’m sorry! You never said not to.”
That’s true. Yesterday I wanted everyone to know how brave I was to spend time in Witch House.
“It’s okay. No worries. I’ve got to go though. Mom’s calling me that dinner’s ready.” (This isn’t exactly true but small white lies don’t count.)
“Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’ll call you when I get home.”
Just as I disconnect, my mom calls, “dinner’s ready!”
What-do-ya-know? It was barely even a small white lie.
Dad’s already sitting at the table when I get downstairs.
“There’s my girl!” he says.
I walk around the table and give him a hug.
“How was Mrs. Hallovich today?”
“Today!” Tommy shouts from across the table.
My dad laughs. “Apparently he had a good time . . . today.”
“It was okay,” I say. I’m not really sure how much information to give. “The house has a really cool playroom . . . and a big dollhouse.”
Mom enters the room with a steaming, casserole dish. “You must have been in heaven!”
Mom knows how much I’ve always wanted a dollhouse.
“It was okay,” I repeat.
Mom gives me a confused frown. “It must not be a very fancy one.”
“Oh, it’s fancy alright! There’s food in the kitchen, and clothes in the dressers, and . . .” I forget myself for a couple of minutes and continue on and on about how awesome it really was.
Mom and Dad look at each other and I realize I’ve gotten a little carried away. I stop rambling.
“Yeah, that sounds kind of okay. Sort of.” Dad teases me.
I shrug my shoulders.
“Are you going to be able to hang in there for a few more days?”
I nod. The problem is, I don’t know how I’m going to figure this all out in only three days.
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