The Ghost in Room 11

by Betty Ren Wright

  Just before he reached the door to Room 11, Matt stopped once more. He couldn’t make himself look through the glass panes in the door. He couldn’t bear it if Miss Whipple were waiting again on the other side of the glass. Besides, what good would it do if he were the only one who saw her? She had to come out in the hall.

  For what seemed a very long time, Matt stood there, close to the door, still as a statue. His chest ached. He felt sweaty and cold at the same time.

  “Matthew!”

  Matt gave a squeal of terror before he realized it was only Merry Monahan who was calling him.

  “Come on back, Matthew. Nothing’s going to happen.”

  As soon as she said it, Matt knew she was right. Miss Whipple was angry. She wouldn’t help him by letting herself be seen for even one second. He turned and walked back to where the other ghost hunters were waiting.

  “Don’t look like that, Matthew,” Miss Monahan said. “It isn’t the end of the world. We all know you thought you saw a ghost. And we’ve had an adventure, haven’t we?”

  For once, Charlie didn’t tease. “I don’t think there is a ghost,” he said. “But I wouldn’t have walked down there by myself, that’s for sure.”

  “Let’s go home,” Stephanie said.

  Charlie pushed open the heavy door and they filed out into the moonlight. Matt didn’t know what to say. He wished he’d taken his parents’ advice and written a story about what it was like to be the new kid in school.

  Angrily, he pushed a swing as he went by, and then almost fell as his jacket sleeve caught on a chain. When he straightened up he was facing the school.

  Miss Whipple stood at the front door in a pool of silvery light.

  “Look!” Matt shouted. “Hey, look! There she is!”

  The other ghost hunters whirled around and stared. The doorway was dark.

  “Oh, Matt, stop acting silly!” Stephanie exclaimed. She sounded as if she was tired of him and his ghost.

  “She was right there,” Matt insisted. He stared at the empty doorway. Good old Miss Whipple! She’d come back just long enough to help him lose the only friend he had in Healy Elementary!

  13

  Bad Days Ahead

  “Attention! Attention, students!”

  Mr. Beasley stood in front of the office loudspeaker with Merry Monahan and Matt behind him.

  “Miss Monahan is here to report on last night’s so-called ghost hunt here in our school.” Mr. Beasley sounded happier, now that the ghost hunt had failed.

  Miss Monahan moved up to the microphone and smiled kindly at Matt.

  “Matthew and Stephanie and Charlie and I had an adventure,” she said. “We didn’t see the ghost, but we all thought Matt was very brave when he went looking for her. We shivered and shook because his story had made her seem real. I want to congratulate him again on his terrific imagination. I’ll see all of you next week, when I come back to sign books at your Book Fair. Bye!”

  Matt’s face burned. Now all the students thought they knew the truth. Matt Barber made up stories and pretended they were true.

  “You may go now, Matthew,” Mr. Beasley said. “I trust we won’t hear any more about your ghost.”

  “No, sir.” Matt said good-bye to Merry Monahan and walked slowly back to his room. Of course he wouldn’t talk about the ghost again. How could he? But he knew his classmates would have plenty to say.

  The next few days were as bad as he’d expected. Jason dropped a picture on his desk of a boy with his hair standing up straight as a tall, skinny ghost sneaked up behind him. Kids snickered and shouted “Boo!” at him on the playground. Stephanie said “Hi,” every morning but didn’t look at him when she said it.

  Only Charlie was a surprise. He didn’t talk to Matt, but he didn’t make fun of him, either. Matt remembered that Charlie had said he wouldn’t have walked down the hall to Room 11 by himself. Maybe that was why he was keeping quiet now.

  “Matthew, quit moping,” Mrs. Sanders said one morning in a soft voice. “Forget about your ghost story and work hard. That’s what you’re in school for.” She must have called his parents again, because that night he got advice from them, too.

  “I’m sorry you’re having a bad time at school, Matthew,” his mother said. “But you really did bring it on yourself, didn’t you? From now on, don’t forget what’s real and what isn’t.”

  “Just laugh it off, Matt,” his father said. “A month from now, nobody will remember.”

  A month! A month was forever! He told himself there must be a way to prove the ghost was real. If he knew why she haunted him, maybe he could figure out a way to make her show up when other people were around.

  He had to talk to her. He thought about that in bed and pulled the covers up over his head. He thought about it at school and got all the words wrong on that day’s spelling test.

  I’ll have to hide in the basement again and wait for everyone to go home. Just the thought of it gave him goose bumps. But it was the only way.

  14

  “I’ll Haunt You Forever!”

  This time there were no gerbils. Matt sat on a box and tried to tell himself he wasn’t as frightened as he’d been the first time he hid in the closet. It was no use. The first time he hadn’t really believed there was a ghost in Healy Elementary. Now he knew there was.

  He opened the door a crack and squinted at his watch in the faint light from the stairwell. Only half an hour had passed since he’d slipped out of line and sneaked down the steps. He made his way back to the box.

  He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what he’d be doing if he were back in Milwaukee. Playing ball at the park, probably. He’d told Charlie that he went swimming in the school pool every afternoon, but there was no pool. Matt groaned. He’d told so many stories since he started at Healy Elementary that he couldn’t remember them all. It wasn’t so surprising that now, when he really needed someone to believe him, no one would.

  After another long wait, he opened the door again. His watch said five o’clock. He tiptoed to the foot of the stairs and listened. There wasn’t a sound.

  He started up the stairs on tiptoe. At the top, he looked quickly up and down the hall. Room 11 seemed very far away.

  Get going! he ordered himself. He started down the center of the hall. In his favorite western movie, the hero walked alone like this, down the middle of a street, to meet the killer. But Matt didn’t feel like a hero. He was terrified.

  When he reached the door to Room 11 he took a deep breath and peeked through the glass. Miss Whipple wasn’t there! Matt was relieved and sorry at the same time. If she wasn’t in Room 11, he didn’t know where else to look.

  Trembling, he turned the doorknob. From inside the room came a low, angry muttering. He gave the door a little push and looked inside. Miss Whipple was at the teacher’s desk at the back of the room.

  “There you are, Matthew Barber.” Her grating whisper was all around him. “You are a bad boy!”

  Matt wanted to run but didn’t. Miss Whipple was talking, and he had to listen.

  “You brought people to look at me, as if I were peculiar! That writer and her silly ghost hunt! I have almost decided not to save you.”

  “Save me!” Matt’s voice was a startled squeak.

  “Of course, save you,” the ghost repeated. “I’ve never known anyone who needed saving more.”

  Matt tried to guess what she meant. “Do you mean because I don’t have any friends?”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean,” she snapped. “Stop lying and losing your temper, you silly child. And you have another problem, too. Good heavens, boy, you can’t spell!”

  With the last three words, the whisper turned into a windy roar. Matt nearly jumped out of his sneakers.

  “It’s people like you who won’t let me rest in peace!” Miss Whipple bellowed. “People who won’t try! Did you know the governor of this state can thank me for learning how to multiply and divide? And your teacher—she was too shy to speak above
a whisper. And your librarian didn’t like to read! As for Mr. Beasley, he was a dreadful speller—as bad as you!” She glared at Matt. “None of them wants to remember me now, of course. They’d like to think they did it all by themselves!”

  “How—did you save them?” Matt stammered. He knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

  Miss Whipple stood up. She unfolded and stretched until her head touched the ceiling. Her fierce eyes held Matt so he couldn’t move.

  “I scared them!” she roared. “I warned them that if they didn’t change, I’d haunt them forever! And that’s what I’m telling you, Matthew Barber! Try hard, and then try harder!”

  The words ended in a shriek, as the ghost strode across the room. Matt stumbled, and when he scrambled to his feet, Miss Whipple was almost on top of him, her long arms reaching.

  “Go away!” Matt shouted. He tore down the hall with the ghost right behind him. A bone-chilling wind pushed him along, and he could feel Miss Whipple’s fingers plucking at his shoulders.

  “Matthew Barber,” she shrieked, “I’m going to haunt you forever and ever!”

  Matt hit the push bar of the front door and hurtled out on the playground. Gasping for breath, he risked one quick look over his shoulder.

  The big glass door was closed and dark.

  15

  Two Miracles

  “I’m sure you have a fever,” Matt’s mother said. “You’re sweating, and you look strange.” She turned to Matt’s father. “Don’t you think he looks strange?”

  “No more than usual,” his dad teased. “Since when is doing homework a sign that he’s sick?”

  Matt hardly heard them. He had just finished writing today’s misspelled words ten times. Now he was getting ready for tomorrow’s test, and he was writing each word twenty times. His stubby pencil flew down the page.

  “Well, I think you’re overdoing it,” his mother said. “You’d better go to bed early tonight.”

  “Soon as I finish this,” Matt mumbled.

  He felt safer with his parents close by, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the ghost. She’d be waiting for him tomorrow, and the day after. There would be one spelling test, then another, and if he didn’t get all the words right.…

  “You see, you’re shivering,” his mother said. “Finish what you’re doing and go to bed.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Matt dropped his pencil and stretched his fingers.

  “Good,” his mom said. “Now how about a nice snack to make up for the dinner you didn’t eat?”

  Matt looked out into the dark kitchen. Through the window he could see the deeper dark outside.

  “Somebody’s there,” he quavered. “Looking in at us.”

  His dad went out into the kitchen.

  “Looking in where?” he demanded.

  Matt pointed at the window above the sink.

  “That’s crazy, boy.” His dad peered out the window. “A person would have to be ten feet tall to look in.” He closed the curtains and came back to the dining room.

  Ten feet tall! Matt thought. No problem. He glanced nervously at the dining-room windows.

  “Matthew, go to bed this minute,” his mother said. Matt could tell she was worried about him.

  He was worried, too.

  The first thing he did in his bedroom was to pull down the shades. Then he undressed fast, put on his pajamas, and jumped into bed, pulling the covers up to his nose. He was sure he wouldn’t sleep, but luckily he had a new book about the Little League. He decided to read all night.

  An hour later he heard his mother coming down the hall to check on him. Quickly, he shoved the book under the covers and closed his eyes. She felt his forehead and turned out the light. The minute she left the bedroom, he turned the lamp back on.

  Maybe, he thought, he didn’t have to worry about Miss Whipple at home. He wasn’t sure he’d seen her at the kitchen window. Maybe she stayed in Healy Elementary. But that was bad enough.

  At least now he knew why she was haunting him. She thought he was a mess! Since when was spelling the most important thing in the world? And she’d said he could make friends if he’d stop lying and losing his temper. What did she know? How could she think it was his fault no one was friendly in this hick school?

  Stop calling it a hick school.

  Matt knew the voice was inside his head, but it sounded very much like Miss Whipple’s eerie whisper. He pulled a pillow over his face.

  The next day Matt was the last person to go through the school door when the bell rang.

  “Where were you, Matthew?” Mrs. Sanders asked when he slid into his seat.

  “Out looking for a ghost,” Charlie said, before Matt could reply. Everyone laughed, and Matt grimaced. Then he thought about what Miss Whipple had said. He swallowed hard, and laughed, too.

  “Ghosts show up better after dark,” he told Charlie.

  To his surprise, Mrs. Sanders smiled approvingly. Later that morning, when he scored one hundred on the spelling test, she clapped her hands.

  “Well done, Matthew!” she said. “I’m proud of you.”

  Matt sighed. One hundred was a miracle. So was Charlie’s invitation to shoot hoops after school. But two miracles in one day didn’t stop him from being scared. He stayed close to the other students during the lunch hour, and he was the first one on the playground after school. Miss Whipple was around somewhere, he knew, just waiting for him to make a mistake.

  16

  A Celebration

  “Who wants to go out to eat?” Matt’s mother asked gaily, as she put down the telephone. “That was Mrs. Sanders. She called to tell us how well Matthew is doing. Five perfect spelling tests in a row!”

  Matt’s father fell back in his chair. “It’s too much!” he groaned. “I can’t stand the shock!”

  Matt grinned but didn’t look up from his paper. He’d written escape fifteen times and had five more to go.

  “You’ll have to stop studying long enough to eat,” his mother said. “Where should we go?”

  “Mega-Burger,” Matt said at once. It was the only fast-food restaurant in Healy, and the hamburgers were great. He pushed his paper aside. He’d finish tomorrow’s list when they came home.

  “Whom do we thank for all these perfect scores?” Matt’s father asked as they drove across town. “Besides you, of course, Matt. Sounds to me as if Mrs. Sanders should get a medal.”

  Matt shrugged.

  “Matthew just needed time to settle down,” his mother said. “He has a good brain when he doesn’t clutter it up with silliness. I just hope that next week.…”

  She didn’t finish the sentence, but Matt knew what she was thinking. On Friday of next week Merry Monahan was coming back to sign books at the Book Fair.

  “Is Miss Monahan going to stay at our house again?” he asked.

  “No, she’ll be in town for only a few hours,” his mother replied. “I’m going to take the afternoon off and meet her for lunch before she visits the school.”

  As they turned in at the Mega-Burger parking lot, Matt saw Charlie and Jason at the bike rack. They looked at the Barbers’ car, turned away, then looked again and waved. Matt waved back.

  “Pals of yours?” his dad asked. “Should we ask them to join us?”

  Matt shook his head. The boys had been friendly enough when they shot hoops, but they hadn’t invited him to play again. It was as if they were still trying to make up their minds how they felt about him.

  Who cares? he thought angrily, and then cringed as the answer sounded inside his head in an eerie whisper.

  You do!

  Three spelling tests later, Matt still hadn’t made a mistake. He worked hard every night, and when he went to sleep he dreamed of Miss Whipple. Sometimes she was in his closet; once he dreamed she came bursting out of his locker. He hoped she knew about his spelling tests.

  On the Tuesday before the Book Fair there were no gym classes. Tables and shelves were set up along the gym walls, and there were boxe
s of books piled in the middle of the room. Posters lined the walls.

  “Look in the art room,” Stephanie told him, pointing across the hall. “Mr. Beasley is helping, too. He’s painting a sign.”

  Matt looked and then hurried into his classroom. He didn’t want to linger in the hallway for even a minute.

  That afternoon Miss Bucher came in, waving a sheet of green paper. “This is the invitation to the Book Fair,” she said. “You’ll each receive one to take home to your parents. But first I need help getting them ready.”

  Stephanie and her best friend Kristin raised their hands.

  Miss Bucher looked pleased. “Now some boys,” she said. “How about you, Matthew? Don’t you want to help us get ready for your friend Miss Monahan’s visit?”

  “Okay,” Matt said. But he didn’t think Miss Monahan was much of a friend. She had practically called him a liar when she told the school about the ghost hunt. It was mostly because of her that he couldn’t talk about Miss Whipple to anyone.

  Charlie put up his hand, and Jason did, too. “We can help during math class tomorrow,” Charlie said, looking sideways at Mrs. Sanders.

  Miss Bucher laughed. “Nice try, Charles,” she said. “But we’re going to work on the invitations this evening. Be here at six, and tell your parents I’ll see that you all get home safely.”

  Charlie and Jason looked disappointed, but Matt stared at the librarian in horror. This evening! He would never have said okay if he’d known it would mean coming back to school in the evening. Goose bumps popped out on his arms.

  17

  “You Could Be Killed!”

  Stephanie, Kristin, Charlie, and Jason were waiting at the school door when Matt crossed the playground at six o’clock. By the time he reached them, Miss Bucher’s red sedan had pulled into the parking lot.

  “Is everybody here?” She unlocked the glass door. “Come inside, then. If we work hard, this won’t take long.”

  She switched on a light, and Matt looked around quickly. The hall was empty.