Ghost Ride

by Marina Cohen

  This is the creepiest neighbourhood, thought Sam, shaking his head and letting the curtain fall.

  He had to be quick. His father just might wake up if the guy continued to make noise.

  Sam minimized Cody’s blog and opened his email account. He clicked send/receive and waited as some thirty-five messages downloaded. Most were junk mail — advertisements for the latest medications, stock market picks, and people trying to sell him useless stuff. But three emails were as good as gold. They contained the pictures he’d sent himself of the riderless bike. Those photos were his in with Cody.

  Minimizing his email account, he returned to Cody’s blog, clicked on contact, and watched an email box open with Cody’s address. Sam memorized it, went back to his email, and forwarded all three messages with attachments to Cody. He hadn’t even looked at the pictures yet, but he was sure they had turned out all right. In the body of the last email he wrote: “Cool stunt. Lucky my dad’s got solid reflexes.”

  Sam stopped, thought for a moment, then signed the email “Maestro.” After that he clicked on send. Now all he had to do was wait and see what Cody had to say. The ball was in the daredevil’s court.

  He glanced at his clock. It was now 1:30 a.m. The rain was letting up. He lifted the corner of the curtain, but the driveway at number six was empty again. The guy must have finished whatever the heck he was doing. Sam was about to shut down his computer when he decided to check out the pictures to see if they had gone through all right. He clicked on “Sent Items” and opened the first message he’d forwarded to Cody. As the pixels arranged themselves before his eyes, Sam’s mouth fell open.

  He shut the first email and opened the second. Then the third.

  All the pictures he’d taken had turned out perfectly — the one through the windshield of the Volvo with the bike coming at them and the two outside with the bike in the middle of the road.

  Everything was exactly as Sam had remembered it. Every single last detail. The motion. The movement. The position. Everything except the actual bike. The bike in these photos wasn’t retro at all. Kronan wasn’t written on the crossbar, no mousetrap contraption on the back, no huge fenders, no funny handlebars.

  These photos were all of a plain modern mountain bike.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Ichabod Crane …”

  Sam was sitting at the back of the English class, his head resting in his hand. His eyes were closed. He was exhausted from not sleeping much the previous night. But the teacher’s words jolted him upright in his chair.

  “… was a tall and gangly schoolmaster living in a secluded glen known as Sleepy Hollow …”

  Sam shook away the cobwebs. Unbelievable! This is it! The story I was thinking about!

  “Seeing as we have our very own Sleepy Hollow, complete with spooky legends, evil curses, and ghostly sightings right here in good ol’ Ringwood —” Cate Wolfe’s dark eyes narrowed, adding a hint of mystery to her claim “— I thought Washington Irving’s short story would be a perfect way to begin the semester.” She reached for a huge stack of photocopies, and amid a chorus of groans, began handing them out.

  When Sam received his package, he counted the pages. “Eighteen? Single-spaced? And she calls this short!”

  In the past Sam would never have dreamed of shouting in class, but since he was determined to break free from his old image, he thought it was a pretty good start. He got a few chuckles.

  As Ms. Wolfe droned on and on about description, dialogue, and story arches -whatever those were — Sam couldn’t help thinking about what she’d said. There were spooky legends and evil curses surrounding Sleepy Hollow. As a new resident of the eerie place, and what with all the strange things that were happening, he didn’t much like the sound of that.

  “Well, Mr. Barns, how good of you to join us,” Ms. Wolfe said as the classroom door swung open.

  Grinning, Cody swaggered to the teacher’s desk and handed her a pink late slip. Then he ambled down the aisle and dropped into a seat beside Sam at the back of the class. Raising his eyebrows, he nodded once at Sam approvingly.

  He must have seen the pictures!

  Sam had been disappointed when Cody wasn’t on the bus that morning. Now he’d finally get the chance to clear up the mystery. He rehearsed the conversation in his mind.

  Hey, Maniac, you know those pictures I took of your bike? Well, I didn’t exactly take them of your bike. I took them of someone else’s bike doing the exact same thing, at the exact same spot, on the exact same day. Thing is, your bike is the one that ended up in my computer and that other bike is, well, nowhere …

  Sam shook his head. No good. No matter how he tried to rephrase it, it came out sounding ridiculous. As if he was some kind of raving lunatic. There was no way he could ask Cody about the bike. But … he could ask him more about the stunt.

  Anxiously, he waited throughout the teacher’s lengthy lesson on point of view, stealing glances at Cody now and then. The guy’s face was as blank as a sheet of white paper.

  “For homework,” Ms. Wolfe said finally, “read the first five pages of the story up to the part where Ichabod first meets the lovely Katrina Van Tassel.” She surveyed the rows with sharp eyes and a smug smile. “I’d assign you more, but I’m afraid some of you might find the language a bit challenging, given the story was originally published in 1820.”

  Sam took a quick look at the first page:

  In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail, and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies a small market-town or rural port, which by some is called Greensburgh …

  He sighed. Ms. Wolfe wasn’t kidding. The first sentence went on forever, and there were words Sam didn’t know how to pronounce, let alone understand. Bosom not being one of them. He smiled to himself.

  The bell rang shortly after, and the teacher dismissed the class. Sam gathered his things slowly, watching Cody out of the corner of his eye. He had history next, but he was hoping Cody would speak to him about the pictures first. Maybe they would even start hanging together. But Cody didn’t seem remotely interested. He didn’t even look at Sam. He just scooped up his binder and followed the crowd toward the doorway where Javon and AJ were waiting.

  AJ looked especially pretty today. She wore skinny jeans and a long leopard-print T-shirt and smiled at Sam through the crowd of people. He smiled back. Then Cody arrived at the door, and the three friends disappeared into the hall.

  Sam’s heart sank. The pictures had been his only shot. For a moment he thought he should race up to Cody and say something, but in the back of his mind he heard Mike’s voice telling him to chill. The classroom cleared quickly, and Sam found himself alone with the teacher.

  “Can I help you?” Ms. Wolfe asked, noticing Sam lingering near her desk.

  Sam cleared his throat. “Uh … yeah.” He fumbled for the right words. “I, uh … I was wondering, if uh … maybe you could tell me more about the spooky legends.”

  “The legends about our Sleepy Hollow?”

  “Yeah, those.”

  Ms. Wolfe shook her head. “Sorry. Can’t help you there — Sam, isn’t it?” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I just moved to town. I’ve heard the odd murmuring about that place. Some say Sleepy Hollow’s haunted. Cursed. But I haven’t found anyone who could give me any specifics.”

  Haunted? Cursed?

  Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He eyed the teacher steadily as his pulse raced. It was probably all garbage. It had to be. Still, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he got just thinking about all the weird stuff that had been happening since he’d moved here.

  “If you’re really interested, why not find some elderly person?” she suggested. “You know how old people like to tell stories.”

  Sam smiled weakly. “Sure.”
>
  “First five pages …” he heard Ms. Wolfe call as he exited the classroom.

  In the hall Sam was surprised to see Cody, Javon, and AJ still hanging around.

  “Hey, Maestro,” Cody said, raising his chin, “thanks, man.”

  “No worries.” Sam willed himself to appear blasé, though he was pretty excited they had waited for him. He dropped his backpack and pretended to rifle through it for something. The last thing he wanted was to look too eager.

  “Whaddya got now, Maestro?” Cody asked.

  Yes! Excitement pulsed through Sam’s veins. “History,” he said, forcing himself not to look up.

  “Yo, we’re kickin’ it in the caf. Wanna come hang?”

  Skip class? It was only the second day of school — his dad would kill him if he got caught! The old Sam would never have dared.

  “Sure,” he said, surprised to hear the word slipping so easily off his tongue. He picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “Lemme just throw some books into my locker and pick up my math text.”

  Sam didn’t say another word as the four walked through the halls. Cody had his arm around AJ, but more than once Sam caught her glancing in his direction. He opened his locker, stuffed his history textbook inside, and grabbed his math book. Javon was goofing around. He took a running start and leaped over a guy bending in the hall to tie a shoelace.

  “Javon Willis!” a deep voice boomed. “No hurdling in the hallway.”

  Sam saw a short, husky balding man in a grey suit staring coldly at Javon.

  “Yo, Mr. G.,” Cody said. “Javon can’t help it. He’s got mad hops.”

  The man in the grey suit glared at Cody. “What are you and your friends up to, Mr. Barns? Skipping class?”

  Sam gulped. This was it. He’d get caught for sure.

  Cody’s eyes widened innocently. “Skipping? Who, moi? Nah, Mr. G. We’ve got spares. You can check.”

  The man flushed slightly. “Count on it, Barns.”

  Sam breathed a sigh of relief as the man turned and strode down the hallway, disappearing into an office. “Who was that?” he asked as they headed to the cafeteria.

  “That’s our lovely principal, Mr. Gordon,” AJ said. “He’s got it in for Cody. Their fathers used to be enemies or something.”

  Sam shook his head. He had to get used to small-town life. He’d had no idea what it was like to live in a place where everybody knew one another, where the sins of the father were passed down to the son.

  In the cafeteria Sam bought a plate of fries drowned in gravy and a can of pop. Cody paid for himself and AJ, but he came up short at the cash register, so Sam tossed him a buck. Things were working out perfectly.

  “Cool blog,” Sam said as they sat down.

  Cody shoved some fries into his mouth. “Uh-huh.”

  Javon raised an eyebrow. “Cool? It’s outta control. He gets a hundred hits a day at least.”

  AJ shot a look at Sam and rolled her eyes. Clearly, she wasn’t as impressed with Cody’s stunts as Javon was.

  “So what exactly were you trying to do with that bike?” Sam asked, easing the conversation toward the mysterious pictures.

  “Not much. Just a bit of old school ghost riding,” Cody said. “I wanted to see how far the bike would get. J-Man couldn’t make it, so I had no one to take any digital pix for my blog. You saved me, man.”

  Old school ghost riding? Sam wondered what Cody meant by old school. Was there a new school type of ghost riding?

  “Hope I didn’t wreck your bike when I tossed it onto the shoulder,” Sam said.

  Cody shrugged. “Nah. It’s a piece of junk.”

  Sam was about to ask what kind of bike it was when he felt shivers creep up his spine. He had that same eerie feeling he’d had the other day — the sensation that he was being watched. Slowly, he peered over his shoulder.

  The cafeteria was fairly quiet, since first lunch didn’t begin until next period. A few guys were playing cards at a table in the far end. A group of girls were talking and laughing across from him. One or two students were scattered here and there, doing homework, reading books, listening to music.

  Sam kept one eye on Cody. He could see the blogger’s lips moving, but he wasn’t listening to a word the guy was saying. AJ was smiling at him again, but Sam was too focused on who might be watching him to smile back. He nodded at Cody mechanically. Cody kept talking. Sam nodded again, still scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary.

  “Cool,” Cody announced, taking a swig of pop. “So let us know where to meet you.”

  Huh? Sam’s attention snapped back to Cody and Javon. What’s he saying? What have I agreed to? “Uh … meet me?”

  “Don’t be messin’ with us, man,” Javon said. “You either wanna come along or you don’t. Make up your mind.”

  AJ’s expression was wrinkled into a question. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her in any way.

  “Sure. Course I wanna go.” The words shot out of his mouth before he had time to ponder what he was getting himself into. “I was just multi-tasking, man. Tell me about it again. I didn’t catch that last part.”

  “It’s gonna be a hot stunt,” Javon said. “Real outta hand.”

  Sam didn’t like the mischief in Javon’s eyes. “Stunt? What kind of stunt exactly?”

  Javon and Cody grinned at each other.

  “You’ll see, man,” Cody said. “Just tell us where you live and we’ll meet you Saturday after midnight.”

  Sam gazed at the ceiling and took a deep breath. After midnight? What have I gotten myself into?

  Windows lined the upper hallway and looked into the cafeteria. Sam was suddenly drawn to the farthest window. Walter was standing there, staring right down at him. Sam shivered.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next two days were a blur. It was as if Walter had dropped off the face of the planet. He wasn’t on the bus either morning, and Sam didn’t catch him lurking or spying around any corners. Something was definitely off with the guy. Sam was more than happy that he had disappeared for the time being.

  He hung around with Cody, Javon, and AJ during lunch each day, but no one would divulge any more details about the late-night adventure they were planning.

  “It’ll be the rush of your life, Maestro” was all Cody said. “Meet us on the Tenth Line. On the side of the road under the old willow.”

  Part of Sam was happy he’d made a few friends — one female one in particular — but the other part was thinking it was going to be short-lived. He kept worrying they’d drop him instantly if he backed out of the stunt, so he played along, acting as if he couldn’t wait. All the while, though, he found himself getting more and more frantic. What if they want me to jump off the roof of the school, or something dumb like that? How am I going to get myself out of it? He desperately hoped the stunt would just be something stupid but harmless.

  At home Miranda was being far too nice, which made Sam wonder what she was up to. Whenever his sister was this sweet, it meant she wanted something. Still, he did his best not to push her buttons. The last thing he needed was to attract any unnecessary attention from his parents.

  “How are things going, Sam?” his mother asked when he arrived home from school on Friday. She was sitting in the living room across from the kitchen, watching the news channel.

  He shrugged. “All right, I guess.” He grabbed a pear from the kitchen counter and threw himself onto the couch opposite her.

  “How’s your school work coming along? What are you working on?”

  Sam had tons of homework for the weekend, including three pages of math, a science test to study for, the rest of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” to read, and a one-page summary of the story to write. “Bunch of stuff. Nothing too interesting.” He bit into the pear.

  Elizabeth reached for the remote and turned off the TV. She frowned at her son. “Are you okay, Sam? Have you made any friends yet?”

  Sam flushed. What an insult! Of cou
rse, he’d made friends. It was as if his mother still thought of him as that awkward little kid nobody liked. He had to set her straight.

  “Sure. A few.” He took another bite of pear. “One guy, Javon Willis. A girl, AJ. And another guy, Cody Barns. They’re really cool.”

  Sam’s father popped up in the doorway. “Barns? Did you say Barns?”

  He was wearing a toque, gloves, and a heavy sweatshirt. His eyes were dark and sunken. The skin on his face was pale and drawn. Sam was alarmed by his appearance.

  “Are you, uh, okay, Dad? No offence, but you look horrible.”

  “Never mind how I look. Just answer the question.”

  Sam froze. He swallowed a chewed-up piece of pear. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had barked at him like that. Just because he’s sick doesn’t give him the right to go off on me like that. Sam wanted to yell something back, swear, or do something worse, but instead he willed himself to be calm. Suddenly, he was really looking forward to Saturday night.

  “Yeah, uh, Barns. He’s my new friend, Cody.”

  His father paced and muttered to himself. “Barns, Barns … can’t be. It’s a common name.”

  Sam and his mother exchanged curious glances.

  Robert stopped pacing and fixed his glassy eyes on Sam. “Where does this Cody live? What street?”

  “I dunno.” When his father seemed to get more agitated, he added, “He gets on the bus at the corner of Elm Street and Arlen Avenue.”

  As soon as those words were out of Sam’s mouth, it was as if he’d taken a swing at his father or something. The man stomped around the room, ranting and raving about how no son of his was going to be friends with no Barns kid. And if Sam didn’t obey, he’d be grounded for life.

  Obey? Sam clamped his teeth. He’s treating me like I’m some kind of animal.

  Sam’s mother tried to diffuse the situation. “It’s all right, honey. Sam’s got a good head on his shoulders. I trust him. If he thinks this boy is okay —”

  Robert waved one hand furiously. “He’s too young to know what’s okay and what’s not okay. Don’t you get it? Looks are deceiving. First you think people are nice, next thing you know, they’re forcing you to do things you really don’t want to do. Crazy things. Stupid things. Things with horrible consequences. Things that will haunt you for the rest of your life!”