While I must admit I didn’t want the old Orchid House torn down any more than anyone else, after two hours of crawling around in a dusty, rickety old house, I was beginning to regret my decision to come along. Of course, when we had planned this during History, nobody had mentioned that it would rain tonight. Nobody had mentioned that the inside of the house whose lot we used to play around in smells like mold and cigarette smoke. Nobody had mentioned that spiders had made this place their favorite hangout.
So far I had killed sixty three of the multi-legged buggers.
Orchid House on Chelsea Street was the oldest house in the neighborhood, and nobody had lived there for God knows how long.
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