Who Let the Ghosts Out? (6 page)

I have this wild daydream that Traci is my assistant for my magic act. I picture her helping me with my Disappearing Girl trick when I perform at the Halloween party at school.

If Traci was my assistant, my act would be the biggest thing in school history. People would see me onstage with her and they might start to think that
I
was cool too!

Sometimes I just shut my eyes and picture what the magic act would be like if Traci was my assistant. Of course, it's a silly daydream. The other kids probably wouldn't think I'm cool, even with Traci. But it's nice to have a daydream, if you're me.

Anyway, I was crossing Powell Avenue, almost to school, when I saw Traci on the corner. I recognized her by her blond hair first. It was fluttering around her head in the wind. She had her backpack down on the ground and was bending over it, searching for something inside it.

I came up behind her. I took a deep breath. “Unnngh unnnngh,” I said. That was supposed to be “Yo, what's up?”

She didn't hear me. She didn't look up. She kept searching for something in her backpack.

“Uh … hi,” I said, but it came out in a dry whisper.

Suddenly, I felt someone beside me. “You like that girl, don't you, Max?” Tara asked.

“What are you doing here?” I cried.

“Searching for my math homework,” Traci answered. “Hope I didn't leave it at home.”

“You're blushing, Max,” Nicky said. “I think you have a crush on that girl.”

“Leave me alone,” I snapped.

Traci looked up at me. “I'm bothering you?”

“N-no,” I stammered. “I just meant—”

Tara said, “Nicky and I are here to help you, Max. Go ahead. Be brave. Bend down and help her search.”

“No. Stop,” I said.

“Stop
what
?” Traci asked.

“Go ahead, Max. She needs help.”

I tried to pull back. But Tara gave me a hard push. I stumbled—
and fell on top of Traci
!

Traci let out a startled cry. My stomach landed on top of her head. We both toppled onto her backpack. “You're
crushing
me!” she shrieked.

I thrashed my arms wildly in the air, struggling to stand up. Finally, Traci shoved me with both hands and I dropped, sitting down, onto the sidewalk.

The papers from her backpack were strewn all over the grass. Her hair was matted against her
head. She turned to me and laughed. “Are you on the football team?”

“No,” I choked out.

“You should be. That was a great tackle.”

“Sorry.” I could feel my face turn hot. I knew I must be as red as the stoplight over the street.

“Go ahead,” Tara said, standing over me. “Be brave. Tell her you think she's hot.”

“No way,” I said.

“No way
what
?” Traci asked. She stuffed her papers back into the backpack.

“I wasn't talking to you,” I said.

She glanced around. “Max, who were you talking to?”

“Uh … myself.”

Traci narrowed her eyes at me. “You're weird.”

“Yeah, I know,” I muttered.

“Ask her to play tennis with you after school,” Tara said.

“It's too cold for tennis,” I said.

Traci looked confused. “What about tennis?”

“I don't play it,” I said.

She tossed her backpack over her shoulder. “Then why are you talking about it? Never mind. We're going to be late.” She turned and started to jog away.

“Traci? Would you like to help me with my magic act?” I called after her.

She didn't hear me. She just kept running down the sidewalk.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for your help,” I muttered to Nicky and Tara.

But of course the two troublemakers had disappeared.

I ran into Ms. McDonald's classroom just as the bell rang. I spotted Traci, already in her seat in the front row. I could feel my face growing hot again.

She didn't see me. She was talking to one of her cool friends, Monica Wendt, who sat beside her.

I knew Traci would never speak to me again.

Can you imagine the horror of having a crush on a girl and then
falling on top of her
? Of course it wasn't my fault. But could I explain to Traci that a ghost named Tara had shoved me into her?

Yeah, sure.

I slunk to my seat in the back. I had grass stains on the knees of my cargo pants. And in my rush to get out of the house and away from the ghosts, I'd forgotten to bring my backpack with all my homework in it.

I froze in panic. I didn't have my homework—
for the first time in my life
!

At the chalkboard, Ms. McDonald was busy
writing an endless algebra equation. Algebra is one of my best subjects. I can solve any equation forward and backward.

Ms. McDonald turned to the class. She's a nice teacher, very young and very pretty. She has curly black hair down past her shoulders, and bright blue eyes. She always wears faded jeans and bright-colored sweaters.

She also has a good sense of humor. Sometimes kids call her Ms. Mickey D, and she doesn't mind it at all.

“Who can solve this equation?” she asked, her eyes shifting from face to face.

I raised my hand.

“I know
you
can do it, Max,” Ms. McDonald said. “Does anyone else want to try?”

No hands went up. “Okay, Max. Come up and show us how to solve it,” Ms. McDonald said.

I walked to the front of the room. I was careful not to look at Traci. “Go, Brainimon!” a boy yelled from the back. A few kids laughed.

“Make it hard. Do it blindfolded,” Monica Wendt called out.

“Brainimon can do it!” another boy shouted.

I felt good. This was the only time in school I felt like a real winner. I took the chalk from Ms. McDonald and turned to the board. I started to factor for X, writing quickly, the chalk squeaking in my hand.

“Hey, I know how to do this one,” I heard Nicky say. “Give me the chalk.”

“No. Go away!” I said.

Ms. McDonald took a few steps back. “Sorry, Max. Was I standing in your light?”

“You're messing up. You should do the fractions first,” Nicky said. “Give me the chalk. I'll show you.” I felt him grab my hand. He tried to pull the chalk away. I struggled to hold on, and we battled for it.

Some kids started to laugh.

“What's wrong, Max? Do you have a cramp?” Ms. McDonald asked.

Nicky wrapped his hand around mine. “Let me help you, Max. I'm an ace at this.” He forced me to write a string of numbers on the board.

“Stop! Don't help me!” I cried.

“I won't help you,” Ms. McDonald said. “I know you never need help, Max.”

“Let go of me,” I whispered to Nicky. But he gripped my hand and wrote out more letters and numbers.

“Am I getting it right?” he asked Tara.

“How should I know?” Tara answered. “I'm only in fourth grade. I never had algebra.”

“Go away,” I whispered. My hand was writing out of control. Nicky wouldn't stop—and he was getting it totally wrong!

I turned and saw Mrs. Wright, the principal,
enter the room. She and Ms. McDonald began talking at the side of the chalkboard.

“Do you know how to do this?” Nicky asked Tara.

Tara tugged at her floppy red hat with both hands. “No way.”

“I think I messed up,” Nicky said. He moved my hand and forced me to erase half the equation.

Kids were mumbling to themselves in shock. They knew I'd never messed up an equation in my life.

“Now what?” Nicky said to Tara.

“Why are you asking
me
?” Tara snapped.

I couldn't take it anymore.
“Shut up!”
I screamed.
“Both of you—shut up!”

Ms. McDonald and Mrs. Wright both gasped.

“Max—I am shocked at you. That's no way to talk to the principal and me!” Ms. McDonald exclaimed.

Mrs. Wright glared at me angrily. “Max, you and I need to have a long talk about politeness. I'll see you right now. In my office.”

M
RS.
W
RIGHT AND
I
had a
very
long talk about politeness. Only, she did all the talking. I didn't get out of her office until lunchtime.

Kids were laughing and shouting in the halls. Lockers slammed. The line was already a mile long in the lunchroom. I looked for Aaron, but I couldn't find him.

“Hey, Max—shut up!” a kid from my class named Wilson Grant shouted across the hall at me. A bunch of kids laughed.

“Yeah, shut up, Brainimon!” another kid echoed. They all laughed again.

So, I was the joke of the day. The Shut Up Kid. Ha, ha. Remind me to laugh someday.

I picked up a tray in the lunchroom and chose a bowl of the tomato soup and a slice of pizza, and a carton of chocolate milk. I was paying for my lunch when Nicky and Tara appeared.

“Sorry about this morning,” Nicky said. “I thought I knew how to do that equation.” He
scratched his spikey brown hair. “Maybe I knew it when I was alive.”

“Go away,” I said, looking for an empty chair. “You got me into major trouble. Let me eat my lunch—alone.”

“There's your girlfriend,” Tara said. She pointed to Traci, seated at the cool kids' table on the side.

“She's not my girlfriend,” I said. “Please—go away.”

“Go talk to her,” Tara said. “There's an empty seat across from her.”

“I can't sit there. That's the cool kids' table,” I said.

Some kids turned to stare at me. I'm sure they wondered why I was standing in the middle of the lunchroom talking to myself.

“You know you want to talk to Traci,” Nicky said. “Come on. You've got to be brave, Max—if you're ever going to help us find our mom and dad.”

“Let go of me!” I shouted.

More kids turned to stare.

Nicky and Tara grabbed me under the arms and moved me toward Traci's table. I gripped the tray tightly in both hands. I tried to pull free.

Despite my struggle to get loose, the two ghosts carried me all the way to Traci. They let go without warning. I lost my balance and tumbled forward.
The tray flew from my hands—and sailed upside down onto Traci.

Traci's hands flew up and she let out a scream as the tomato soup poured down the front of her T-shirt and vest. The pizza slice landed in her lap.

Kids gasped. The other kids at Traci's table leaped away.

I stared at her as she pulled the pizza off her legs. Long strands of cheese stuck to her jeans.

My whole body was trembling. I took a deep breath. I figured I didn't have anything to lose. “Traci, will you be my assistant in my magic show?” I blurted out.

Her mouth dropped open. She squinted at me. “Okay, fine,” she said, tugging cheese from her jeans. “If you promise
never
to come near me again.”

“Awesome!” I said. I staggered away. Was I hearing right? Did she really say yes?

“See?” Tara said, back at my side, a big grin under the red flap of her hat. “Nicky and I are improving your life already!”

“Shut up!” I cried.

I didn't see Mrs. Wright standing beside me. She shook her head angrily. “Max, I guess we didn't have a long enough chat this morning. See you in my office after school. And maybe we should have your parents in too.”

A
S
I
SLUNK DOWN
the long hall to the principal's office, Nicky and Tara appeared beside me. “Go away,” I said through clenched teeth.

“We're sorry,” Nicky said. “We only tried to help.”

“Yes, we're sorry. We'll do a better job this afternoon,” Tara said. “You'll see.”

“No, I won't see,” I said. Two kids from my class turned to see who I was talking to. “Go home,” I told the two ghosts. “Everyone is staring at me. Please—wait for me in my room. Don't go anywhere. I mean it. Wait for me there. We have to have a long talk.”

They both had hurt expressions on their faces. “You don't want us to help you in gym class?” Nicky asked.

“Just wait for me in my room,” I snapped. I spun away and strode into the principal's office for my second lecture of the day.

By the time Mrs. Wright let me go home, the sun was setting. A cold October wind whistled down from the hills above school.

I zipped up my purple and gray Jefferson Middle School jacket, a hand-me-down from Colin. And hunching into the wind, I started to climb the hill toward home.

I really am hamburger meat now, I thought bitterly. When Mom and Dad find out they have to come to school for a talk with the principal, I'm totally busted.

They might even ground me for Halloween. I won't get to perform my magic act, which I've been practicing day and night for at least a year. And I won't have Traci as my assistant.

And then they'll send me to the Plover School, where I'll have to wear an ugly starched uniform and do sit-ups every morning till I barf.

And is it my fault?

No way.

Can I help it if I'm being haunted by two stupid ghosts?

A shiver ran down my body. From the wind? Or from knowing that I was being haunted by two dead kids? Two dead kids who followed me everywhere and wouldn't leave me alone. Two dead kids who wanted me to help them.

I didn't want to help them. I didn't want to be haunted.

Why was I the only one who could see and hear them? How could I be so unlucky?

How could I get rid of them?

A red SUV rumbled past. The back window rolled down. A kid stuck out his head and shouted, “Shut up! Shut up!” Laughing, he rolled up the window.

That's me. Mr. Shut Up.

The bare trees rattled over my head. The ground was crunchy from an early frost.

Almost Halloween, I thought. My favorite holiday. But … it won't be any fun for me this year.

I didn't see the squirrel until I turned onto Bleek Street.

It was a scrawny brown squirrel, and it seemed to be following me. It gazed up at me with its black eyes, twitching its nose as it kept in step with me.

I stopped and waved both hands in a shooing motion. “Scat. Get lost!” I shouted.

To my surprise, the squirrel hopped even closer. It stood right at my feet.

“Go away! Get lost!”

But the squirrel wasn't afraid of me. It stood its ground.

And then the squirrel's jaws opened wide. I stared in amazement as a sticky black goo came spewing out of its mouth—
onto my shoes
. I tried to jump back. But the goo was as thick as tar and held me in place.