Megan Stine_Jeffery & the Third-Grade Ghost 03

by Christmas Visitors

  “That’s okay, Max,” Jeffrey said. “I know you were just trying to make sure Arvin had a happy Christmas—and Mrs. Merrin, too. But I’ve been having a terrible Christmas without you.”

  “Like, owww,” Max said. “My wrist is hurtsville from making that snow angel. We’d better make the emergency-room scene.”

  “Max!” Jeffrey grinned. “You know about Jonathan? Don’t tell me you were there at the Monster Smash!”

  “Hey, Daddy-o, just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not eyeballing you,” Max said with a laugh. “Besides, I do the Monster Smash all the time. Since I’m already in ghosts ville, what do I have to worry about?”

  “Did you see me? I made it down the hill! I was going to plow right into a tree, but I didn’t,” Jeffrey said proudly.

  “I’m hip, Daddy-o,” Max said. “That’s because I pushed you out of the way.”

  Jeffrey couldn’t believe what Max was saying. “You pushed the toboggan away from the tree?”

  “It was easier than pushing the tree out of the way.”

  “You saved my life, Max,” Jeffrey said, smiling at his friend.

  “No sweat. Like, I don’t know what to lay on you for a Christmas present, anyway,” Max said.

  The two friends went inside and then straight to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate.

  “Jeffrey,” his mother said. “You forgot to take your boots off.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” Jeffrey said.

  His mother was looking at the kitchen floor with a puzzled look. “Jeffrey, why are there two different boot tracks on the floor?”

  “Uh, I was in such a hurry to get some hot chocolate, I was marching double time, Mom,” Jeffrey said.

  Mrs. Becker laughed and tears formed in her eyes.

  “It wasn’t that funny, Mom,” Jeffrey said.

  “Like, you can say that a few more times,” whispered the invisible Max.

  “I know, Jeffrey,” said his mother. “But I haven’t seen you look so happy in days. It just made me a little teary.” She sniffled a couple of times.

  “Mom, don’t sniff up. Blow your nose,” Jeffrey said, imitating his cousin, Wendy. Then he and Max left with their hot chocolate.

  For the rest of the day, Jeffrey and Max played tricks on Jeffrey’s cousins.

  When Jonathan wanted to get off the couch—which wasn’t very often—he couldn’t.

  “It feels like someone’s sitting on my chest,” Jonathan explained. “Honest, Aunt Betsy.”

  “Hmm,” Mrs. Becker said, sounding less than convinced. “Maybe you’re a couch potato who has taken root.”

  Of course she couldn’t see what Jeffrey could see—that Max was sitting on Jonathan’s chest and keeping him pinned to the couch.

  At lunchtime, Max stood behind Wendy and made fun of her Miss Perfect Manners act. Jeffrey couldn’t help laughing.

  “Don’t laugh with your mouth full,” Wendy said to Jeffrey.

  Then she took a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich.

  Suddenly, Miss Perfect Manners spit out the bite of sandwich. It went flying across the table and landed right in Jonathan’s soup.

  “Great shot, Wendy,” Jeffrey said, laughing. “But wouldn’t it be more polite to play this game after lunch?”

  Wendy turned red with embarrassment. “It felt like someone slapped me on the back and made me spit,” she said.

  “Oh, sure,” Jeffrey said, winking in Max’s direction. “Probably the same person who was sitting on Jonathan’s chest.”

  Late that night, Jeffrey was splashing around in the bathtub. Max was squirting mounds of white shaving cream from a can into his hand. He spread it on his face. Then, using a comb, he pretended to shave.

  “I’ve got a totally dynamite plan,” Jeffrey said to Max. “Don’t you want to hear it?”

  “Like the corn plant said to the crow, I’m all ears, Daddy-o,” Max said.

  “Christmas morning, real early, we sneak downstairs,” Jeffrey began. “Then we steal all the presents that are for Wendy and Jonathan. And then we wrap up our presents for them and put them under the tree instead. You know, things like old rotten food—”

  “Boxes of dirt,” said Max.

  “A slimy plastic snake in doll clothes,” said Jeffrey.

  “A rubber hula hoop,” Max said.

  “What’s a hula hoop?” asked Jeffrey.

  “Like, forget it,” Max said. He shook his head and flipped shaving cream at Jeffrey. “This trick is strictly from meansville.”

  Jeffrey’s face grew serious. And he listened while his conscience talked to him. “You’re right, Max,” he said quietly. “It’s a mean and cruel and rotten thing to do, especially on Christmas.” Jeffrey dived under water again and then came up. “In other words, it’s just what Wendy and Jonathan deserve!”

  Chapter Eight

  Jeffrey closed the door to his bedroom quickly and locked it. “Let’s get to work,” he said to Max.

  “Like, where is everybody?” Max asked.

  “Wendy and Jonathan are in the den with the door closed,” Jeffrey said. He sat down on his bed. It was piled with junk. “And my mom and dad are Christmas shopping for each other. They always wait until the day before Christmas.”

  “Well, tutti-frutti, all rootie! Like, the coast is clear,” said the ghost. “I’m splitting for the kitchen.”

  “The kitchen?” Jeffrey said. “Hey, aren’t you going to help me? We have to wrap Wendy’s and Jonathan’s presents.”

  “I’d rather wrap my mouth around a banana and bologna sandwich,” said Max.

  “How would you like to do me a favor?” Jeffrey said. “Sneak into the den. All day Wendy and Jonathan have been acting like they’ve got a secret. I want you to find out what it is.”

  “Like, maybe, Daddy-o,” Max said.

  That’s the way it was with Max. Everything got a definite maybe.

  “Close the door when you go,” Jeffrey reminded his friend.

  “No sweat,” Max said. He floated through the door to Jeffrey’s bedroom without opening it.

  Jeffrey got to work immediately. He was going to make this Christmas unforgettable for his cousins. First, he filled a medium-sized box with stones and twigs from his backyard. It rattles too much, Jeffrey decided. So he poured in some glue. Then he wrapped the package in shiny red Santa Claus paper. And he put Wendy’s name on it.

  Next, he took another empty box and carefully poured a five-pound bag of flour into it. Just for a dash of color, he added a smelly, moldy stalk of celery. It had been left in the bottom of the refrigerator much too long. Jeffrey wrapped that package quickly. He put it as far away from his nose as possible.

  “ ’Tis the season to be jolly,” he sang as he worked.

  Gift number three was his favorite. It was going to be an exciting combination of creamed corn and potato chips on an old, torn T-shirt. But before Jeffrey got the can of creamed corn open, Max came back. He was munching a sandwich and laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Daddy-o, like, you’d be ho-ho-ing too if you dug what I just dug.”

  “What was it?”

  “Like, while you’re up here doing the package-wrapping scene, Wendy and Jonathan are doing the same thing. They’re in the den wrapping a present, too,” Max said.

  “So what?” Jeffrey said. “They probably got some cheap perfume for my mom. Is that the secret?”

  Max shook his head. “Daddy-o, that package is a special delivery to you.”

  Jeffrey stopped and looked at Max. He thought about the kind of present his cousins would get for him. “They probably bought me exploding cupcakes,” Jeffrey guessed. “Well, no thanks. Don’t even tell me what it is, Max.”

  “My lips are Fort Knox, Daddy-o,” Max said. He ate his sandwich without another word.

  But the secret was driving Jeffrey crazy. “Okay, tell me what it is. Wendy’s going to give me a book on table manners, right?”

  Max sh
rugged.

  “Come on, Max. Tell me. Is it animal, mineral, or combustible?” Jeffrey asked.

  Max shook his head and started whistling.

  “Tell me, Max! I can’t take it anymore. What are they giving me?”

  “Boy, will you do a red-faced scene,” Max said to Jeffrey. “Because they are preparing to lay on you a totally cool gift. It’s a brand-new, in-the-box, remote-control racing car.”

  Jeffrey was speechless. He remembered telling Jonathan how he had lost his car.

  “For real?” Jeffrey asked Max finally. Max nodded.

  “Believe it or not, those two cats downstairs feel sadsville about you losing your car. And they didn’t even see how cool I was when I gave it to Arvin Pubbler,” Max said. “They’re saying that if this year’s Christmas is a real dragsville, it wasn’t your fault. It was theirs. They even said the big sorry word about giving your life the once-over with sandpaper.”

  Jeffrey looked at Max. And then he looked at the packages of garbage he had just wrapped.

  “I feel like a total geek. A weasel. A dweeb. A jerk,” Jeffrey said.

  “Speak English, Jeffrey,” Max said. “What’s a geek?”

  “Never mind,” Jeffrey said, laughing. “I’ll get you a 1980s slang book for your birthday.” Then Jeffrey’s face got serious again. “I guess Wendy and Jonathan aren’t having such a terrific Christmas, are they?”

  “Like, who wouldn’t want to go visit a cousin you hated?” Max teased.

  “Yeah, I see what you mean,” Jeffrey said.

  He unwrapped the boxes of junk and threw them into the trash. “I guess I got so mad I got carried away. Well, I wasn’t really going to give these things to them,” Jeffrey said. He looked up at the ghost. “What am I going to do, Max? There isn’t time for me to buy them anything now. The stores are almost closed.”

  Jeffrey heard a car pull into the driveway. A few moments later, he heard his parents walk into the kitchen.

  “Come on, Max, think!” Jeffrey said. “What am I going to do?”

  “Maybe you could lay some bread on them,” Max said.

  “Bread?”

  “Yeah, you know. Money. Cash. Moola,” Max explained.

  “No. It has to be something good. Something with the Christmas spirit,” Jeffrey said. Jeffrey thought for a minute. “I know!” he said. Then he ran downstairs.

  In the kitchen, his parents were unpacking groceries.

  “Mom and Dad, we’ve got to talk,” Jeffrey said. “I was thinking. We have roast beef for Christmas dinner every year. Year after year. Don’t you think we’re in a rut?”

  “I thought it was called a family tradition,” said his father, kicking off his boots.

  “Yeah, but traditions are made to be broken, aren’t they?” Jeffrey said. “Now I know this is going to sound crazy. But just give your minds a minute to take in this idea. Turkey for Christmas dinner.”

  Mrs. Becker turned to her son. “Jeffrey, remember two nights ago at the dinner table? Wendy said again that her family always had turkey for Christmas. And you said to me, ‘Mom, if you roast a turkey for Christmas, I’ll jump out of my bedroom window.’ ”

  Jeffrey laughed. “Come on, Mom. You know I can’t open my bedroom windows. Not since the last time Dad painted them.”

  Just then Jonathan and Wendy came into the kitchen.

  “Yo, cousins,” Jeffrey said. “You’re just in time! We’re going to pop some corn!”

  “What for?” Jonathan asked.

  “Popcorn balls for the Christmas tree, of course,” said Jeffrey.

  “I thought you said we couldn’t do that,” Wendy said. “You said popcorn balls would make the tree look like it had warts.”

  “Not warts—smarts. I said it takes smarts to think of putting popcorn balls on a tree,” said Jeffrey. “Let’s get busy. Isn’t it officially Christmas Eve?”

  Jeffrey’s cousins looked at each other for a moment. Then they smiled.

  “Thanks, Jeffrey,” Wendy said. “That’s really nice of you.”

  Then they all made caramel corn. While it was still hot, they molded it into fat balls. And then Wendy played Christmas carols on the piano, which was not really out of tune. Mr. Becker built a fire. And everyone sang as they tied the popcorn balls onto the tree, which was already filled with ornaments, small white lights, and ribbon bows.

  When the tree was decorated, everyone left the room to bring their presents to put under the tree. Jeffrey came back first, carrying a package for his parents and another small special package.

  “Daddy-o, Daddy-o, Daddy-o,” Max said excitedly, appearing out of nowhere. “Like, I’m trying to be cool, but this little package does say ‘To Max, From Jeffrey,’ doesn’t it?”

  “It does,” Jeffrey answered.

  “Absolutely presentsville,” said the ghost. “Too much.”

  Max tore open the package quickly and pulled out a bright red sweatband and two wristbands. He looked puzzled at first, but then he smiled. “Like, I’m hip that the small ones go on my knees, but isn’t this big one smallsville for a belt?”

  Jeffrey laughed. “Where have you been for thirty years, Max?” he teased his friend. Then he slid the wristbands onto Max’s wrists and put the sweat-band on Max’s forehead.

  “Cooler than cool, Daddy-o,” Max said, looking in the mirror. “I mean, totally fresh, for sure, dude.”

  “Merry Christmas, Max.”

  “Like, the merriest to you, too, Jeffrey,” said the ghost.

  Then Max disappeared just as Wendy and Jonathan and Jeffrey’s parents came back with their presents.

  “I didn’t really get you guys anything,” Jeffrey told Wendy and Jonathan.

  “Sure you did,” Jonathan said. “You got us a turkey dinner, didn’t you?”

  “Ho ho ho,” said Max. He was sitting on the back of the couch. Of course, no one but Jeffrey could see him. But for a change, somebody heard him!

  “Who said that?” said Mr. Becker.

  “Who said what?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Who said ‘ho ho ho’?”

  “You just said it, Dad,” Jeffrey said.

  “I meant, before me,” argued Mr. Becker.

  “I think the Jolly Green Giant said it first, Dad.”

  “Hey, Aunt Betsy, maybe your house is haunted,” Jonathan said with a laugh.

  “It is haunted,” Wendy agreed. “I can feel it. I think there’s a ghost in here right now.”

  Jeffrey tried not to look in Max’s direction.

  “Everyone thinks I’m bananas, but I believe in ghosts,” Wendy said.

  “I don’t think you’re bananas, Wendy,” Jeffrey said. “And you know what? I think if you keep believing in ghosts, I’ll bet you’ll see one one day. Maybe next time you come for a visit. How about New Year’s? We’re having a baked ham.”

  “You mean you don’t have macaroni and cheese on New Year’s Day?” asked Jonathan.

  Jeffrey’s stomach did a quick flip-flop. Macaroni on New Year’s? “Uh, well, it’s a possibility,” Jeffrey said. “Anything can happen around here—even macaroni and ghosts!”

  Here’s a peek at Jeffrey’s next adventure with Max, the third-grade ghost!

  PET DAY SURPRISE

  That afternoon, after lunch, it was Ben’s turn to give his science report. He picked up his shoe box and note cards and walked up to the front of the class. Then he wrote the word SNAKE on the chalkboard in wavy snakelike letters.

  “People don’t understand a lot of things about snakes,” Ben began. “But now its time to come face to face with the truth.” With that, Ben dramatically ripped off the top of the shoe box and pulled out Miranda—his long, dark, garden snake. Miranda was a foot and a half long and thin. She curled around Ben’s arm, her tongue darting in and out.

  “Pass her around,” said Melissa.

  “Don’t do it!” shouted Arvin Pubbler. “Put it back in the box!”

  Ben started to show the snake around. But Arvin Pubbler ke
pt yelling.

  “It’s on me! I can feel it!” Arvin shouted.

  Everyone looked over at Arvin.

  “It’s crawling on my neck!” Arvin said, afraid to move.

  No one could see a snake on Arvin. And no one could understand why he was so upset. Only Jeffrey knew.

  Standing next to Arvin was Max, the third-grade ghost. He was running his finger up and down Arvin Pubbler’s back, giving him the chills. He made himself visible only to Jeffrey for just a second. Then he disappeared again.

  “Arvin,” said Mrs. Merrin, trying to comfort her frightened student, “it’s just your imagination.”

  No it’s not, Jeffrey thought. But he kept the truth to himself.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Bill and Megan Stine have written numerous books for young readers, including titles in these series: The Cranberry Cousins; Wizards, Warriors, and You; The Three Investigators; Indiana Jones; G.I. Joe; and Jem. They live on New York City’s Upper West Side with their seven-year-old son, Cody, who believes in ghosts.