The Ghost of Slappy Read online

  “Stop! Leave me ALONE! Go away! I mean it! GO AWAY!”

  To my shock, she stopped. The light appeared to dim behind her. She lowered her hand. And her hard expression faded. She turned her eyes to the floor.

  And vanished in a puff of cold air.

  The cold air brushed over me. I blinked a few times. Did my shout really chase her away? Was she gone for good?

  A loud crash behind me answered my question. Annalee was back!

  No!

  I swallowed hard, fighting back my fear. It wasn’t a crash. It was a knock on the back door. My legs were unsteady as I lurched into the kitchen to let Carlos in.

  “Are you sick?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “A stomach thing. My parents think I ate too much candy last night. It’s hard to stop after only one Snickers bar, you know?”

  I handed him a Coke and we went up to my room to talk. We both sat on the floor, our backs against my bed.

  I told him all about last night. About the graveyard. About how Slappy hit his head. How I buried him. And how his ghost came to haunt me in school today.

  He kept sipping his Coke as he listened. He didn’t interrupt or say anything. I couldn’t tell whether he believed it or not.

  Finally, he said, “Where is that piece of paper? You know, the one with the words on it? The words your sister read out loud?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know, Carlos. I’ve searched everywhere. I tore up my room and Patti’s room looking for it. And I searched the dummy’s pockets. It just disappeared into thin air.”

  We both sat staring at the carpet.

  “How do I get rid of him? We need an idea.”

  We stared at the carpet some more.

  Carlos grabbed his stomach. “Whoa. I’m feeling a little weird again. I’d better get home. Don’t want to be sick for my party.”

  He set the Coke can down, climbed to his feet, and started toward the door. I followed him down the stairs.

  “If you have any ideas …” I said. “I’m kind of stumped.”

  “Let’s talk about it after my party,” Carlos said. He stopped at the front door. “Shep, you could Google ‘ghosts.’ There might be some tips there.”

  Then he hurried away. He was no help at all.

  I climbed back up to my room and did another search for the piece of paper with the words on it. Again, no luck.

  I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t feel like myself. Every sound made me jump. Every flash of light, every shadow made me think that one of the ghosts was back.

  At dinner, Patti asked me where the dummy was. She said she wanted to play with it.

  “I returned it to Mr. Hanson,” I lied. If only.

  I tried to keep calm. It wasn’t easy. I know there are laws against strangling your sister. But in this case, she kind of deserved it. I mean, she had put me in terrible danger.

  And late that night, the danger turned terrifying.

  I was just drifting off to sleep. I’d tried for hours, turning onto my side, then my back. But I was too tense to sleep.

  And then when I finally started to fade, I heard a tapping at my bedroom window. I sat up, instantly alert. A chill tightened my neck.

  I gazed at the window. It was open because I like it to be cold in my room when I sleep. In the light from the streetlamp at the curb, I saw something floating in the window.

  It took my eyes a few seconds to focus.

  Slappy’s head!

  Just his grinning head bobbing in the window, staring in at me.

  “NOOOOO!” I let out a cry and leaped out of bed. My feet tangled in the bedsheet and I fell to my knees.

  Slappy’s laughter rang out through the room. I scrambled to my feet. The head floated in the window, bobbing up and down like a balloon. The rest of him was invisible.

  I had to make him stop. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was still half asleep. I tugged my feet from the tangled bedsheet—and hurtled myself to the window.

  In the dim light from below, the head bobbed in front of me. Slappy rolled his eyes and uttered his ugly cackle.

  I shot forward. Stuck out my hands. Grabbed at the laughing dummy head.

  The head darted backward.

  My hands slipped through it.

  I couldn’t stop myself in time. I didn’t have time to scream.

  The cold night seemed to swallow me as I fell headfirst out the window.

  “Owww.” I landed hard on my shoulder on the shingle roof that slants down from my bedroom window.

  I grabbed for the windowsill, but it was already out of my reach.

  I began to roll down the roof, my body bumping the cold shingles as I came down. I grabbed frantically at the shingles. Grabbed at anything.

  But I couldn’t stop my fall.

  I’m going to die.

  I’m so high off the ground. I’m going to die.

  As I spun down, I saw the grinning dummy head floating above me. Watching. Enjoying my doom.

  “Join me! Join me!” Slappy screeched. “We can be ghosts together!”

  “Noooo!” I protested. I rolled to the end of the roof. I started to slip off the side.

  With a loud groan, I made a desperate grab with both hands. I grabbed the cold metal gutter at the bottom of the slanting roof. Grabbed it with both hands and held on. Held on …

  My feet dangling below me in midair. The gutter cutting into my hands. I gripped the gutter … held on … held on …

  Behind me, I heard Slappy’s laughter. “Hang on!” he screamed. “Hang on! You don’t want to go splaaat—do you?” He laughed some more, enjoying his triumph.

  My arms began to ache. The metal cut into my skin. My body hung heavily down the side of the house. I couldn’t hold on for long. I was about to become a ghost like Slappy.

  With one last burst of energy, I swung my body to one side. Holding on tightly, I swung myself to the other side. Again. And then I swung my leg up … swung my foot onto the shingle roof.

  Yes!

  Still gripping the gutter, I swung my entire leg onto the roof. Then I gave a hard push. Was I strong enough?

  “Whoa!” I cried out as I managed to swing my other leg onto the roof.

  I did it. I was lying on the shingles. Slowly, carefully, I used my hands to claw my way up the roof. Breathing so hard I thought my chest would burst. Slowly … slowly …

  Slappy’s laughter faded as I grabbed the bedroom windowsill with both hands. I tightened my grip and pulled myself into my bedroom.

  “Ohhhhh.” With a long moan, I dropped to the carpet. I lay there for a long while, struggling to catch my breath, to slow my heartbeats.

  When I finally stood up, Slappy’s ghost was gone.

  I survived tonight. But what about tomorrow?

  Carlos had a beautiful day for his birthday party. The sun was bright and high in a clear blue sky. Most of the snow on the ground had melted away.

  I was a little late getting to the stable because Dad had to do some errands before he dropped me off. When we drove through the stable gates, I saw that some kids were gathered around the food table and some kids were already on horseback, riding on the trails that led to the woods. Carlos had invited the entire class. Even Trevor. “If Trevor gives us any trouble, we’ll make him clean up after the horses!” Carlos said.

  “Have fun. Try to stay on your horse,” Dad said as I opened the car door.

  “Thanks for the encouragement, Dad,” I said sarcastically. He knew I was nervous about my first horseback ride. Sometimes he has a sick sense of humor.

  Carlos was standing with his parents near the stable office at the far end. Behind them, I saw a pile of wrapped birthday presents. Gripping my present for him, I started toward them.

  Music poured from a tall black speaker nearby. Carlos’s dad is a DJ on weekends at parties and weddings. He had set up his DJ equipment behind the speaker. The horse stalls were decorated with red and blue balloons. They bobbed in the soft breeze.

  Some kids were already ret
urning from their horseback rides. The horses walked slowly. A trainer from the stable walked along beside each horse. A short line had formed of kids waiting their turn.

  I turned my gaze and suddenly realized I was walking beside Maryjane Dewey. She had pretty much ignored me since the screaming incident in class. And since Slappy covered me in spaghetti and pie in the lunchroom.

  “Awesome day for a party,” I said.

  She nodded. “Feels like spring.”

  I glanced at the present she was carrying. “What did you get Carlos?” I asked.

  “A game,” she said. “Space Panthers.”

  “Hey, so did I!” I cried.

  She stopped walking and narrowed her eyes at me. “You bought him the same game I did?”

  I nodded, grinning.

  “You creep!” She stomped away, taking long, angry strides.

  Hey, it’s not my fault, I thought. I watched her say hi to Carlos and his parents. Then she tossed her present onto the pile. I guessed she planned to be angry at me for the rest of my life.

  Carlos and I low-fived each other and bumped knuckles. “Awesome party,” I told his parents. Mr. Jackson went to change the music. Carlos’s mom began talking to the guy who was piling up charcoal at the grill.

  “I can’t hang out right now,” Carlos said. “My mom says I have to be polite and greet people.”

  “No problem,” I said. I spotted Trevor in the line for horseback rides. He saw me too. He flashed me two thumbs-down.

  Funny guy.

  “Go take your horseback ride before the line gets too long,” Carlos said. “When you get back, we can hang out.”

  I nodded okay, turned, and started toward the line of kids. I stopped when I glimpsed the birthday cake on the food table. It was so tall, like a tower of chocolate icing.

  “Wow. That cake looks excellent,” I said.

  “My aunt Maria is a baker,” Carlos replied. “She’s wild. The cake is almost as tall as I am!”

  I trotted up to the line. I wasn’t happy to be right behind Trevor, but I had no choice. He turned to me as a trainer brought Trevor’s horse up beside him.

  “Whatever you do, Shep,” Trevor said, “don’t ride the horse named Lightning.”

  “Huh? Lightning?”

  Trevor nodded. “Yeah. It’s a real high-strung horse. Needs an expert rider. Stay away from her. That’s what they told me.”

  The trainer was an older guy with a grizzle of white beard over his face and a yellow baseball cap pulled down over his forehead. He wore a red-and-black flannel shirt over tight, faded jeans.

  He set a stool down for Trevor and gave him a boost onto his horse. “Have you ever ridden before?” he asked.

  Trevor nodded. “Yeah. I’ve had some lessons.” Trevor patted the back of the horse’s head. “What’s this horse’s name?”

  “Buttermilk,” the trainer answered. He grabbed the bridle and began to lead the horse to the path.

  I took a deep breath. The air smelled of burning charcoal. The fire for lunch had been started. A few more kids joined the line behind me.

  I saw a young woman walking a horse toward the line. The horse was pure white and very tall. It made a prancing move with its front legs as the woman led it forward.

  She stopped beside me. The horse tossed its head and made a soft whinnying sound. “Your turn,” the woman said. “What’s your name?”

  “Shep.”

  “Mine is Greta.” She placed the footstool beside the horse. “Let me help you up.”

  I slid onto the saddle and fumbled around a bit, getting my shoes into the stirrups.

  “Don’t look so scared. This is going to be fun,” Greta said. “Have you ridden before?”

  “First time,” I said. I glanced down. I was so far from the ground!

  “Just hold on tight to the saddle horn here, and you’ll be fine.” She moved my hands to the leather horn that rose up in the front of the saddle.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Sure. Ready,” I said. “What’s this horse’s name?”

  “Lightning,” she said.

  She started to lead Lightning to the path. I gripped the saddle horn tightly with both hands. The horse kept her head down as we slowly moved.

  “Uh … do you have another horse?” I asked.

  “You’ll like Lightning,” Greta said. “She’s very responsive. We’ll just walk. You don’t have to trot. When you feel more comfortable, you can let go of the horn and take the reins.”

  “Yeah. When I’m more comfortable,” I said.

  The horse seemed to bounce as she walked. She kind of swayed from side to side, and I kept feeling as if I’d slide off.

  The path led up the hill of the pasture, which was still pretty much covered in snow. A woods of snow-covered trees stood at the top.

  Holding on to the reins, Greta walked beside me, keeping perfect pace with the horse. “Are you starting to feel more comfortable?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” I said. My hands were aching from gripping the saddle horn so tightly.

  “We can turn around anytime, if you’re not enjoying it,” she said.

  I opened my mouth to reply—but stopped when I saw the figure float up in front of us.

  Slappy.

  Slappy’s ghost was a few feet away, hovering high off the ground, above the horse’s head.

  “Noooo!” My shout startled Greta. She dropped the reins. “What is it?” she cried.

  “Don’t you see him?” I shouted.

  She shook her head. “See what?”

  Slappy tilted back his head and laughed his rattling cackle.

  Lightning lurched. She raised her head.

  The horse saw Slappy!

  Still cackling, Slappy floated closer. The horse let out a loud, whinnying protest—and rose up onto her back legs.

  I started to slide off. I uttered a cry and grasped the saddle horn.

  I saw the confused look on Greta’s face. She made a frantic grab for the reins.

  Missed.

  The horse whinnied again. She bucked her head up and down, then took off, galloping into the trees. Off the path. Into the woods.

  Oh, help me. This isn’t happening.

  I bounced on her broad back. My legs flew out from the horse’s sides. I gripped the saddle horn with one hand and reached under my shirt for my lucky silver bear charm with the other.

  It was gone!

  In my panic, I remembered I’d taken it off in my bath last night.

  Slappy’s ghost stayed ahead of us. He floated just above our heads, his hands flapping out at his sides, his mouth open in a never-ending laugh.

  Low tree limbs brushed the top of my head as Lightning galloped farther into the woods, running crazily, zigzagging, whinnying in terror the whole way. I ducked my head as low as I could and held on.

  I could hear Greta’s cries for help far behind me.

  Pounding hooves. I felt every thud the hooves made against the hard ground. I bounced hard in the saddle. Staring at the flying ghost of Slappy ahead of us.

  And then the horse wheeled around. Raised her front legs high and spun back toward the pasture.

  I screamed again as we went galloping full-speed toward the stable. I leaned forward. Wrapped my arms around the horse’s neck. Practically strangled her as we galloped. Shut my eyes. Shut my eyes and listened to the heavy thud of the hoofbeats.

  I opened my eyes when I heard screams. The other horses skittered wildly as Lightning charged at them. Some kids fell to the ground in fear. Others ran to get out of my way as Lightning flew to the stable.

  The air was filled with their shrieks.

  “Stop, Lightning! Stop!” I cried out.

  Holding on to her neck, I struggled to slow her down. But I couldn’t manage it. Slappy had terrified her beyond control.

  The big horse ran headlong into the food table. I saw Carlos’s mother hit the ground to get out of the way.

  Food flew in all directions. The tall
chocolate cake rose up in the air—flipped over—and came down on top of a boy. Trevor! The cake landed on Trevor’s head, covered him, appeared to swallow him!

  And then Lightning kicked over the charcoal grill. Hot coals flew into the air. Kids screamed as they struggled to get out of the way.

  Lightning reared up and knocked over the DJ equipment. The speaker toppled to the ground.

  “You ruined my party! You ruined my party!” I heard Carlos shriek.

  No time to think about it. The horse slammed into one of the stalls at the back of the stable. Kicked high. And I went sailing to the ground.

  I landed hard on my back. My breath whooshed out. Pain rolled over me.

  My first horseback ride was over. And suddenly, I knew what I had to do.

  The birthday party broke up early. Everything was destroyed. There was no reason for anyone to stay.

  Carlos wouldn’t even let me explain. When I started to tell him it was Slappy’s ghost that caused the trouble, he just scowled at me. “Maybe Slappy’s ghost can be your best friend now,” he said. He stomped away.

  The ghost was ruining my life. Actually, he was trying to end my life. I had to find a way to defeat him. But how do you defeat a ghost?

  You can’t.

  And that’s what led me to my desperate plan. My plan to dig the Slappy dummy up from the graveyard and bring him back to life. Then try to get rid of him.

  What was I thinking? I was thinking it would be easier to deal with a dummy than with a ghost.

  Even if I couldn’t find the words to put Slappy to sleep, I could lock him in a closet. Or shut him up in a suitcase in the basement. A living Slappy wouldn’t be able to haunt me.

  That’s what I thought about as Dad drove me home from the party in silence. “We’ll probably have to pay the Jacksons for the damage you did” was the only thing Dad said, when we were nearly home.

  I muttered a reply. I was too busy going over and over my plan in my head. No way I wanted to go back to that graveyard. But I knew if I didn’t, Slappy’s ghost would ruin more than a birthday party. He’d ruin my whole life.

  And so, that evening, when Mom and Dad went into town to go shopping with Patti, I gathered my courage and walked back to the cemetery.