Why I'm Not Afraid of Ghosts

by R. L. Stine

  She didn’t have enough energy left to do anything!

  It was almost sad to see her so low, Robbie thought. He didn’t even feel like gloating over her failure.

  “Why am I wasting all my talent on a dodo like you?” Dora screamed. “This is ridiculous! Let’s go home, Robbie! Let’s go home and plan something really big!”

  “But I haven’t tried anything here yet,” Robbie protested.

  “What could you possibly do that would be better than what I did?” Dora demanded.

  “You mean, what could I do that would be worse?” Robbie retorted.

  He wished he knew!

  He was starting to think there was nothing they could do to scare Oliver Bowen. The kid was a rock!

  And Robbie sure didn’t have enough energy yet to do the kind of fantastic tricks Dora had just done.

  But then, even Dora’s best tricks hadn’t scared Oliver.

  What Robbie needed was a totally different idea.

  He didn’t have one yet. But he planned to come up with one.

  Very soon!

  * * *

  Robbie didn’t have a big idea until science class, later in the day.

  He spent the time in between studying Oliver.

  Word about Oliver, the pencils, and the spinning had spread quickly. Kids glanced at Oliver sideways and whispered about him everywhere he went.

  Kids asked Oliver how he had done the pencil-in-the-ceiling trick. Others wanted to know how he spun in the chair without falling over. Oliver just shrugged and smiled.

  “Can you show me?” a boy asked in the hallway. “I want to add it to my magic act!”

  “Maybe later,” Oliver replied.

  Robbie shook his head. Dora’s haunting just gave Oliver something to talk about! It actually made Oliver popular.

  Dora seemed stunned by her defeat. She drifted silently beside Robbie. Every now and then she would tug at Robbie’s sailor shirt, whining, “Can we go home now?”

  Robbie had never seen her so pathetic. Maybe this problem with Oliver had a good side!

  Science was the last class of the day.

  Oliver took the lab table farthest from the front.

  Mr. Gosling, the science teacher, tapped his desk to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, folks, find a lab partner,” Mr. Gosling instructed.

  All the kids paired up. Except Oliver.

  There was an odd number of kids in the class. Somebody had to be left out.

  Did Oliver mind? Robbie didn’t think so. Oliver just smiled.

  “Today we’re going to learn about Bunsen burners,” Mr. Gosling began. “Bunsen burners are ingenious devices, but they can be dangerous because they make a really hot flame. Which is also why they’re so helpful. We’re going to cook a lot of cool stuff over these little campfires!”

  Sounds fun, Robbie thought wistfully.

  When he was alive, they never did stuff like this in school!

  Mr. Gosling glanced around the room, making sure the class was paying attention. “I want you kids to respect your Bunsen burners,” he continued. “Check your lab tables now. Anyone missing a Bunsen burner? Raise your hand if you are.”

  No one raised a hand.

  Robbie drifted closer to study the Bunsen burner.

  “Anyone missing a spark striker? Or a pair of safety goggles?”

  Again nobody raised a hand.

  “Does everybody see that big red fire extinguisher on the wall over there?” Mr. Gosling pointed.

  Everyone nodded.

  “Okay,” Mr. Gosling said. “If things get out of hand, I’m going to grab that and spray you all with white foam. Now watch what I do. Don’t do anything yet! Just watch!”

  Mr. Gosling demonstrated how to light Bunsen burners.

  Oliver squeezed the striker arm across the flint on his sparker. Sparks shot out.

  Hmmm, Robbie thought. Looks as if Oliver’s done this before.

  “Ready?” Mr. Gosling asked the class.

  “Yeah!” the kids shouted. Everybody wanted to light fires!

  “All right! Everybody practice making sparks. Share your strikers. Switch back and forth.”

  Robbie watched the kids working with their strikers. Mr. Gosling checked each table for problems. He helped a girl who was scared of her sparker, and showed a boy how to, scrape the striker arm against the flint fester.

  “Okay, now comes the fun part!” Mr. Gosling declared. “One partner grips the sparker in his or her right hand. The other turns the stopcock at the bottom of the Bunsen burner a half turn. Gas will come out! Be careful and ignite it with your sparker.”

  Whooshing noises sounded all over the room. The air smelled of gas. Blue flames sprang up everywhere.

  Oliver’s flame burned fine.

  That was when Robbie got an idea. A totally great idea.

  He glanced around. Dora floated in an upper corner of the room. She looked bored and tired. Robbie had managed to ignore her whining, so she stopped.

  “Hey!” Robbie muttered to his sister. “Watch this!”

  He set himself to become visible and audible to Oliver at just the moment he wanted.

  Then he jumped into the flame.

  His presence made the flame whoosh almost to the ceiling. It sparkled with all kinds of extra colors.

  Vwoom! Robbie made himself visible to Oliver.

  He stretched first tall and then wide and let his face melt into a skull.

  He lifted his arms and waved them at Oliver. His arms were bright gas-flame blue. He could feel his eyeballs glowing.

  He mustered his best deep, spooky laugh.

  “MOO-HOO WHA-HA HA-HA!” he laughed, looming over Oliver. Blue flames flared over him, flickered up from his fingers.

  “OLIVER BOWEN,” Robbie bellowed. “I HAVE YOU NOW!”

  14

  Robbie leaned toward Oliver, eagerly waiting for his terrified shriek.

  Oliver frowned.

  Not screamed, frowned!

  Robbie reached toward him, twitching blue-flame fingers and roaring with evil laughter.

  Oliver backed up half a step.

  It was the most response Robbie had ever gotten out of him. Maybe, just maybe, the scare was working!

  “JUST YOU WAIT, OLIVER BOWEN!” Robbie yelled in his deep, scary voice. He clacked his jaw-bone.

  Oliver yawned.

  Yawned!

  Any normal kid would have run screaming in terror!

  Robbie looked around. None of the other kids seemed scared either. Maybe they couldn’t see him.

  By this time Robbie was feeling pretty feeble—all his energy was going up in smoke!

  Oliver raised his hand. “Mr. Gosling?”

  “Yes, Oliver?” Mr. Gosling asked.

  “Could you help me? My flame is way too high.”

  Mr. Gosling came and turned down Oliver’s Bunsen burner.

  Feeling weak and discouraged, Robbie drifted to the floor. He was so tired, he could hardly hold up his head.

  “Can we go home now?” Dora demanded.

  What? She wasn’t going to nag him for failing again? She really must be sick!

  He peered at her. Even for a ghost, she looked thin and transparent.

  He gazed down at his own hands. He could see through them.

  Neither of them had enough energy to yell boo!

  “Later,” Robbie mumbled. “I’m too pooped to move.”

  * * *

  What an exhausting, weird day, Oliver thought as he stood at his locker. He sorted through his books, figuring out which ones to take home and which to leave at school.

  Pencils in the ceiling. Spinning in class. Kids talking about him. And then science class.

  Oliver’s lammed his locker shut. He didn’t even want to think about everything that had happened. He just wanted to go home and forget all about this day.

  It was late. Most of the kids had already left. Oliver headed for the exit.

  That was when he got the weird feeling that so
meone was watching him.

  It felt like a tingle between his shoulder blades. And an itch on his scalp, as if his hair were trying to stand on end.

  He turned quickly to look over his shoulder.

  There was no one there.

  Cut it out, Oliver scolded himself. You’re being a jerk.

  Maybe all the strange things at school had set him on edge. Because, no doubt about it, he felt very nervous.

  Nervous enough to pick up his pace. He clutched his science book and darted through the empty halls.

  He hated feeling jumpy. But he couldn’t stop the feeling.

  There it was, that tingle again in his back!

  A wave of prickles over his head.

  His stomach rumbled. Not from hunger.

  His chest began to tighten. He tucked his book under his arm and prepared to sprint out the door.

  Something cold brushed the back of his neck.

  Icy cold!

  Frigid fingers crept around his neck!

  15

  Oliver almost leapt out of his skin!

  He whirled, his heart pounding, his breath coming in gasps. His science book fell to the floor.

  Shawn stood in front of him, blinking through his glasses. He looked surprised.

  It was only Shawn!

  Oliver felt like an idiot.

  “Don’t do that!” he snapped, rubbing his neck.

  “Sorry. I—I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Scare me? You didn’t scare me,” Oliver bluffed. “It’s just that your hands are freezing cold!”

  “Sorry,” Shawn said again. He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets.

  Oliver’s heartbeat finally slowed down to normal. “What are you doing here anyway?” he asked as he picked up his book. “You don’t go to Shadyside Middle School.”

  “I was looking for you,” Shawn explained. “I need to talk to you.”

  “You need to talk to me? About what?” Oliver asked.

  Shawn studied the ground. Then he glanced up at Oliver again. He blinked faster now.

  “Ghosts,” he mumbled at last.

  “Ghosts? Man!” Oliver pushed the glass front door open. They stepped out into a dark, blustery afternoon. A few cold raindrops spattered on Oliver’s windbreaker.

  “Anybody ever tell you you have a one-track mind?” he asked.

  “No,” Shawn said, trailing after him.

  “Well, you do. Ghosts this, ghosts that. Get a life!”

  Oliver glanced toward the school yard. He waved to a few kids from class. One or two waved back. Mostly they just stared.

  They must have heard about the pencils. And the spinning, Oliver thought.

  Together, he and Shawn headed for Shadyside Elementary.

  “Oliver?” Shawn began.

  “Huh?” Oliver grunted. He had nearly forgotten about Shawn. He was distracted, wondering what tomorrow would be like in school.

  “I have to tell you about the ghosts,” Shawn insisted as they reached Nell’s school. “This isn’t just some dumb story. I have to warn you!”

  “Hey!” Nell jumped up from the bottom step, twirling her pink umbrella. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting. You promised to walk me to Tracy’s house!”

  Oliver clapped a hand to his forehead. “I forgot,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, remember it now,” Nell insisted. “Come on!”

  “Nell, Shawn and I were—”

  “Shawn can come too, but he’s got to come now. Tracy said we’d have ice cream. Let’s go!” Nell tugged on Oliver’s arm.

  “For Pete’s sake! Why didn’t you just go home with Tracy?”

  “You promised you’d walk me! Mom said you have to walk me! And you have to come back to Tracy’s house at five and walk me home!”

  “Oh, brother,” Oliver muttered.

  Nell grabbed his hand, something she almost never did unless she really wanted him to do something, or she wanted to embarrass him. “Come on. She lives on Melinda Lane. Hurry up.”

  Oliver glanced at Shawn.

  Shawn looked terminally depressed. He shrugged and walked away. “Later,” he called over his shoulder.

  Oliver let Nell pull him toward the street, but he still watched Shawn fading into the shadows of the dark day.

  What was so important?

  What did Shawn want to tell him about ghosts that he hadn’t already said?

  What was going on?

  16

  Rain poured down for real now.

  Robbie sat by the attic window and watched the street. He was still worn out from his trick with the Bunsen burner, but Dora was pretty perky now that they were back in the attic.

  Robbie gazed at Oliver trudging up the street through the rain. His hair was plastered to his head, and his jacket looked sopping wet.

  The front door slammed as Oliver entered the house.

  Robbie drifted downstairs. He watched Oliver take off his jacket and get a towel to dry his hair with.

  No one else was home. Mr. Bowen usually worked at home, but today he had a meeting.

  The doorbell rang. Grumbling, Oliver went to the door.

  Shawn shivered in the rain on the front steps.

  How did Shawn always know exactly when Oliver was home? Robbie wondered. Did he keep track of Oliver from his window or something?

  “Oh, good!” Oliver smiled at Shawn. “Come on in. You can help me move my desk up to the attic. I’ve got most of my stuff up there now. Well, except for the bed.”

  It was true. Oliver had been messing around with their attic a lot in the last few days. Cleaning out the cobwebs, washing away dust, moving furniture around, storing some of it in the crawl space. It was clear to Robbie that Oliver planned to stay.

  Shawn blinked behind his glasses. “Is the desk heavy? I don’t feel too strong today.”

  What a weird thing to say, Robbie thought.

  “Oh,” Oliver replied. “Well, I guess I can wait till Dad gets home. Want to play checkers?”

  “Sure.” Shawn hung his wet raincoat on one of the hooks by the door.

  “I’m going to make hot chocolate first. I’m freezing. You want some?”

  “No thanks,” Shawn replied.

  “You sure? It’s the kind with little marshmallows.”

  “No, really. I’m not thirsty.” Shawn followed Oliver into the kitchen.

  “Oh yessss,” Dora whispered in Robbie’s ear, startling him. She rubbed her hands together. “I’m going to get that Oliver. I’ll make him believe. There’s no way I can fail this time!”

  * * *

  Oliver carried a mug of hot chocolate into the living room. He set it down on the coffee table. Chocolate-scented steam curled up past his nose, making his mouth water.

  “Oliver, I have to talk to you,” Shawn said in a serious tone.

  Again? Oliver thought. He pulled the coffee table away from the couch and got down the board and the box of checkers from the game shelf.

  “Okay, go ahead,” he said, opening the checkerboard. He plopped down on the opposite side of the coffee table from Shawn and took a sip of chocolate.

  Mmmm! He squished a mini-marshmallow on his tongue.

  Shawn took the red checkers and started putting them in the black squares on one side of the board. “I know it isn’t safe here, but I have to say something anyway.”

  “Not safe?” Oliver repeated, mystified. Shawn sounded like someone from one of those dumb old black-and-white spy movies. “What do you mean?”

  “No, it’s not—not safe here,” Shawn stammered. “The ghosts—they . . .”

  But Oliver stopped listening. The mug on the coffee table was shaking. Puzzled, he stared at it. What was going on? An earthquake?

  Checkers slid in slow motion toward Shawn. Something bumped Oliver’s elbows.

  The coffee table was rising off the floor!

  It floated slowly up past his eyes.

  Oliver stared, his mouth dropping open. Fear pumped through him.
<
br />   His hot chocolate mug still sat there, steaming gently, on the flying coffee table!

  Oliver slapped his palms on the tabletop and tried to push it down. The table began to tilt. He grabbed for the checkers and his mug, but everything slipped away from him.

  A second later, Oliver rose from the floor.

  “Hey!” he yelled. He grabbed frantically at the air.

  He was already three feet off the ground. It felt so weird! He flapped his arms over his head, trying to force himself down.

  It only made things worse. Oliver lost his balance completely. He began to turn slow cartwheels in the air.

  This was much worse than spinning on a chair. He was totally out of control!

  “The—the—” Shawn stammered. “Oh, no! Nooooooo!” And he rose off the ground too!

  Shawn’s mouth opened wide in a silent yell. His eyes were huge behind his glasses.

  The checkers lifted from the board and twirled around the room.

  The table started spinning faster and faster. Oliver and Shawn spun around it in the other direction.

  “Whoa!” Oliver cried, trying to reach something—anything! His heart pounded. “No! Stop!”

  He couldn’t reach the floor!

  He couldn’t even grab the table!

  “Oh, man!” Oliver moaned. The room whirled by him.

  He ducked as Shawn’s foot nearly caught him on the chin. He glimpsed Shawn’s terrified face.

  Spinning . . . spinning. . . . He was getting dizzy.

  I’m going to lose it, Oliver thought. Toss my cookies.

  Then—wham! He fell. He slammed to the floor. He landed right on his rear end.

  “Yeeowch!” he yelped. That hurt!

  Shawn thudded down right next to him.

  A shadow loomed over Oliver.

  He glanced up.

  Oh, no! His heart stopped beating.

  The coffee table!

  It was falling right toward him!

  17

  “No!” Robbie shrieked. Horrified, he watched the table plunge toward the boys. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. But there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  “Ahhhhhhhhh!” Oliver screamed. He quickly rolled toward the couch. The table clonked him on the side of his head.