The Prankster and the Ghost

by R. L. Stedman

  ‘You might want to stop her,’ said the man. ‘The children don’t like visitors.’

  ‘Whaaa …’ Jamie’s mouth opened and closed, Who was this man? He was transparent. How could anyone be transparent? Was Becky playing a joke?

  ‘I don’t mean to scare you,’ said the man.

  Jamie wiped his hands on his trousers. His palms felt sweaty, his heart pounded. ‘I'm not scared.’

  ‘Can you stop her?’ the stranger nodded at Becky. ‘The children don’t like strangers.’

  This wasn’t like any practical joke Jamie had ever heard of. It felt too real; too scary. ‘Becky?’ He sounded like a dying frog. ‘Becky!’

  ‘What?’ said Becky, from behind the wall.

  ‘I think you –’ Jamie’s mouth was dry. ‘I think you should stop.’

  ‘What’s wrong with your voice?’ Becky grumbled. ‘You’re sounding awfully croaky, Jamie. There are no nettles here. Are you sure you saw some?’

  The man smiled at Jamie. It was a kind smile, the type of smile that would normally have been reassuring. This time, though, it didn’t help. Because Jamie could see right through the man to the ruined wall behind.

  ‘That’s funny. The other caretaker could see us,’ the man frowned. ‘Don’t worry young man. There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re harmless. Well, most of us are.’

  Most of us? Does that mean there’s more of them? Wait. Does that mean some of them aren’t harmless?

  ‘It’s good you can see us, isn’t it?’

  I wish I couldn’t, thought Jamie. Go away. Shivering, Jamie shut his eyes, hoping the transparent man would disappear.

  ‘You shouldn’t be afraid,’ said the man. ‘It’s a perfectly natural phenomena. I’ve made a study of it. Some people can see us, others can’t.’

  Jamie squeezed his eyes open, just a crack, to see if the man was still see-through.

  ‘It’s like being left-handed, or being able to roll your tongue.’ The strange, transparent man stuck out his tongue, curved it into a long tube. Through the man’s stomach, Jamie could see branches waving. ‘Just like this.’

  Jamie squeezed his eyes shut. I am going mad. A see-through man is sticking his tongue out at me.

  Something grabbed his arm and he jumped. ‘Go away! I can’t roll it. See!’ He stuck out his tongue, keeping it flat. ‘Look! No rolling. And I can’t see you, either.’

  ‘Jamie McCready,’ said Becky, ‘are you okay?’

  ‘Oh.’ Feeling stupid, Jamie opened his eyes. ‘Sorry.’ He shivered and looked around wildly. The man had disappeared.

  But … he blinked. There was a shape beside the wall. It looked like a little girl, a girl with an angry expression. It hadn’t been there before, had it? Was that a brown-skinned boy, blending into the shadows?

  No. You’re imagining things, Jamie. Or perhaps he was going mad, after all.

  He grabbed at Becky’s arm. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  Becky, though, appeared obsessed with nettles. ‘I’ll just check the other side.’ She climbed over the broken wall, still carrying her sack and knife, leaving Jamie alone in the shadowed ruin of a school.

  ‘Hisst!’

  Jamie shut his eyes again.

  ‘I need help.’

  He opened an eye, just a crack. He closed it again, quickly. A skinny boy with a worried face stood in front of him, waving.

  ‘You can see me,’ the boy said, urgently. ‘I know you can. Quick. They’ve gone after the girl.’

  ‘They?’ Oh help! There are more of them! Then his brain processed what the boy was saying. ‘They’re after Becky?’

  ‘Is that her name? Yeah. They don’t like strangers. Hey, you’ve got to help me. Please? I need to get back to the hospital.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The hospital. It’s where my body is. I can’t stay here.’

  The boy looked so worried, so normal, that Jamie forgot to feel scared. It was hard to be scared of someone who looked upset. ‘What do you mean?’

  Behind the wall, Becky shouted. ‘HEY!’

  Becky!

  The strange boy caught at Jamie’s sleeve, but his pale hand passed right through it. ‘Please?’

  Jamie ignored him. ‘Becky!’ He jumped the broken wall as if he was at athletics. ‘Becky! Where are you?’ Branches swatted against his face like angry fingers. ‘Becky!’

  ‘He he!’ That high-pitched giggle again.

  Jamie tripped on a root, fell onto his face.

  Becky stood in the clearing, looking really angry. ‘I know you’re there. You don’t fool me.’

  She held the knife out in front of her, pointing it right at him. The jagged edge of the blade flashed in the sunlight. Jamie scrambled backwards, away from the shiny metal. He slipped on a rock and fell under a bush.

  Sudden laughter. ‘He he he,’ screamed a high-pitched voice, ‘can’t see me!’

  The little girl had long hair that swung about her like a horse’s mane. She pinched Becky’s bare legs.

  ‘Go away!’ yelled Becky, waving her knife.

  ‘I’ll get you!’ The girl pinched Becky again.

  ‘Ow!’ Becky rubbed her leg.

  ‘You like stinging nettles?’ The tiny ghost-girl’s hair wrapped around her, covering her face, and she flickered in and out, dancing like a candle in strong wind, one minute in front of Becky, the next behind.

  Becky brought her fists down, right through the girl’s shoulder and out through her belly. ‘Stop it.’

  ‘Stinky poo, I’ll sting you,’ sang the child, nipping Becky’s side, right where her T-shirt met her shorts.

  ‘Ow!’ said Becky.

  ‘You people, all smelly.’ The girl pulled Becky’s hair.

  Becky yelled, twirling on her heel, holding the knife out in front of her. The jagged edge passed right through the ghost girl as if she was nothing but air.

  ‘Ha ha! You can’t hurt me!’ The girl pushed Becky.

  The caretaker staggered backwards, stumbling on the rough ground. ‘Jamie! Help!’ she shrieked.

  Jamie’s heart was racing, and it was hard to breathe. What could he do? A real ghost, he thought hazily. Oh. No. I’m going to be sick!

  This was just like a horror movie. Except it was much, much worse. Because it wasn’t a movie, it was real life, and that was Becky there, and she was getting hurt. Struggling against branches, Jamie scrambled out of the bush.

  ‘Okay,’ said Becky, ‘that’s it!’ She stood up slowly, an angry look on her face.

  ‘Ha ha!’ the girl pushed at Becky’s legs.

  Arms windmilling in the air, Becky tried to keep her balance. The girl darted back, lifting into the air, then turned, twisting so she was aiming towards Becky, like a bullet spinning towards its target.

  Becky pulled the water bottle from her belt and held it out in front of her, as though it was a water pistol. She shot the girl in the open mouth, just as she came screaming through the air, arms outstretched.

  Becky could see the ghosts!

  ‘Aargh!’ screamed the little girl. ‘You’ve made me all wet!’ Collapsing like a pricked balloon, she fell to the ground. ‘Ah, ah, ah!’ Pushing back her hair, she stared up at Becky. ‘You wet me!’

  The man with the waistcoat appeared. ‘Now, Millicent. It’s just a bit of water.’

  The little girl sobbed. ‘She wet me! She wet me!’

  Listen to her. She screams like a kettle, not even stopping for breath. Well, she wouldn’t, would she? Ghosts don’t need to breathe.

  Jamie felt a mad laughter bubbling up inside him at the sight of the sobbing wee ghost.

  Her fingers shaking, Becky fumbled the water bottle back into its holster. She picked up her hat, put it on her head, adjusted the brim and took a deep breath. Her face was pale.

  ‘You wet me!’ screamed the girl. ‘I hate you!’ Snot and tears ran down her face.

  ‘Millicent,’ said the transparent man. ‘Stop that.’

  Jamie put his hands over
his mouth, trying to keep quiet so the evil girl didn’t notice him. Millicent? What sort of a name was that?

  ‘I ain’t Millicent.’ The girl pushed the man so hard he staggered backwards. ‘I’m Milly!’ She hiccupped. ‘I’m Milly,’ she whispered.

  A Chinese girl appeared, her hair in a long braid down her back. She put her arm around the sobbing little ghost. ‘Ssh,’ she said. ‘You okay now, Milly.’

  Milly turned her face into the older girl’s chest and started crying. Real crying. Like she was heartbroken; as though something terribly important had been taken from her.

  Looking confused, Becky squatted beside them. She was still pale, and her voice was shaky. ‘It’s just a bit of water.’

  ‘She really hates water.’ A boy about Jamie’s age appeared. ‘She was drowned. When she was five.’

  Jamie twisted, trying to look behind him. How many are there? A branch rustled. He held his breath. No. It was only the wind. Still, he kept a lookout. Becky was so brave! She didn’t even seem to care that all these people were transparent, or that they had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

  Jamie scrambled back under the bush. It was safer here; no one could creep up on him. Dead leaves crunched under his hand, sticks poked his knees. There was a dusty smell of dry earth, a green smell of leaves. He sniffed at a leaf and peered out at Becky and the strange, flickering children.

  Becky was still angry. Her cheeks were flushed. ‘She shouldn’t be so mean. I was really freaked out.’

  ‘She hate strangers,’ said the girl.

  The boy nodded. ‘Boys threw her in the river. That’s when she drowned. She was five.’

  ‘They not mean to,’ said the girl. ‘They very sorry, afterwards.’

  Milly took a deep breath, and stopped crying. ‘They were stinky,’ she said firmly. Her eyes were swollen. Wiping her nose with her sleeve, she sat up. As if offering Becky a huge favour, she added, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You won’t be nasty again, will you?’ said the waistcoat man.

  Milly made a face.

  He held his hand out to Becky. ‘Arnold Anderson. I’m the teacher here.’ Becky, looking as if her brain wasn’t quite processing things, shook his see-through hand. ‘And this is Millicent.’

  ‘Milly!’ said the girl.

  ‘You’ve met Kahu and Little Song.’

  ‘Mr Ferris told me about you,’ said Becky. ‘I thought he was mental.’

  ‘He was nasty,’ said Milly.

  ‘He said you didn’t like getting wet. He told me to carry water everywhere.’ She looked at her water bottle. ‘I thought he meant I might get thirsty. I didn’t realise he meant it was a weapon.’

  Peering through the leaves, Jamie wished he was somewhere else. Who were these children? Were they ghosts? What sort of a school was this? We never had ghosts in schools in Scotland. It shouldn’t be allowed. He wrapped his arms around his legs and huddled into a little ball. He wasn’t coming out, no way.

  Becky peeped under the leaves. ‘Are you okay?’

  Jamie shook his head. Becky crawled under the spiky branches and sat beside him. It was good to have her close.

  ‘I thought you couldn’t see them,’ said Jamie.

  ‘I was hoping I couldn’t,’ she replied. ‘I thought if I ignored them they might go away.’

  ‘They’re ghosts,’ Jamie whispered. ‘Ghosts are scary.’

  ‘Have you seen a ghost before?’

  Jamie told her about Edinburgh Castle and Becky sighed. ‘Yeah, me too.’

  ‘You’ve been to Edinburgh?’

  ‘No. I’ve seen a ghost, too. Only once. But it freaked me out.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Milly rubbed her face and sat up, looking around, as if looking for another target. The other girl gripped her shoulders, shook her, telling her No. The older girl looked nice, for a ghost; it must be hard, living (if that was the right word) with little monster Milly.

  ‘My dad went to move some sheep on his quad bike,’ Becky said. ‘He slipped down a muddy bank. So stupid! I mean, imagine killing yourself on a hill! Anyway, he didn’t come home.’ She stopped. ‘We’d started tea without him.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘He appeared at the dinner table. I could see right through him, Jamie. He smiled, waved at me.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I threw up. Mum thought I was ill.’

  ‘She couldn’t see him?’

  ‘No,’ Becky said sadly.

  Her shoulder was warm against his. Poor Becky. It would be horrible to lose your dad. Jamie could live without his sisters, but to not have his mum and dad would be awful.

  ‘There you are.’ Mr Anderson gazed at them through the leaves. ‘You can come out now. The children will be good. Won’t you children?’

  Jamie wasn’t sure; hiding in the bushes seemed much more sensible, especially as Milly was still scowling at him. Far away, he heard the sound of the school bell. It was three o’clock; he should be going home.

  ‘Please.’ The skinny boy appeared so suddenly that Jamie and Becky jumped, hitting their heads on a branch. ‘You’ve got to help me.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Mr Anderson. ‘Tayla. There you are.’

  * * *

  They were all mental, Tayla decided. All this running around and shouting, then a bit of water and Milly has a meltdown (not a real one, now that would have been interesting). The real ones – the alive ones – looked pretty freaked out, which was understandable. If he was them, he would probably have lost it. But he wasn’t like them, was he? Not a ghost, but not really alive. As the old man had said, he was caught between life and death.

  ‘Please,’ Tayla asked the boy, ‘can you help me?’

  The stringy older girl, Becky, crawled backwards out of the bush. ‘Mr Ferris said the place was crawling with ghosties.’

  She was young for a caretaker. Caretakers were usually old and grumpy and yelled at you for putting superglue on toilet seats.

  ‘There’s only three of us now,’ said Kahu. ‘And Mr Anderson, of course.’

  ‘Three? What about him?’ Becky nodded at Tayla.

  ‘That’s Tayla. But he says he’s not a ghost,’ said Kahu.

  Tayla sighed. ‘I told you – I have a body. I’m just not in it right now. I’m only visiting.’

  He needed to get back to Mum, and to his body. But there must be hundreds of hospitals – and he didn’t know which one Mum was in. He needed a computer, to search all the Intensive Cares and find her.

  The Scottish kid, Jamie, wriggled out of the bushes. He seemed calm, which was impressive, given he’d just seen a whole lot of ghosts.

  Jamie squinted at Tayla. ‘You look different to the others. I can’t see through you as much. How can you be visiting?’

  ‘Because I’m not really here. Do you have a computer? I need to find my body.’

  Jamie looked confused. ‘Your body’s in a computer?’

  ‘Of course not. It’s in a hospital. But I don’t know which one.’

  ‘So how will a computer help?’

  ‘I don’t know the name of the hospital.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jamie nodded. ‘You need to look it up.’

  Behind them, the caretaker, Becky, was still talking to the ghosts. Her voice was kind of strange, as if she was on the phone to someone she didn’t like and was trying to find a way to stop talking without being rude.

  ‘There used to be heaps of us,’ said Milly.

  ‘Heaps?’

  ‘Lots,’ said Milly, waving her arms. ‘Lots and lots.’

  ‘Where are they?’ Becky looked alarmed.

  ‘Gone,’ said Kahu.

  ‘They got bored,’ said Milly.

  ‘They not care,’ said Little Song. ‘No one remember them. They –’ she held out her hands, showing empty air, ‘disappear.’

  ‘People don’t forget me,’ said Milly. ‘I’m famous.’

  ‘You are not!’ said Kahu.

  ‘I am. There’s a
stone, with my name on it.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘By the river. Where I drownded. It says “Taken too young, Rest in Peace our Millicent.” Ain’t that nice?’

  Kahu pushed her. ‘Ha! Millicent! It is your name. You admitted it.’

  ‘’Tis not!’ the little girl shrieked. ‘It’s Milly.’

  ‘Children,’ said Mr Anderson, in a weary voice, ‘please.’

  * * *

  Jamie got to his feet slowly. His legs were wobbly and some part of his brain still felt that something was deeply wrong. But these arguing ghosts sounded just like his sisters. And although his sisters could be annoying and were quite often weird, they were never terrifying.

  He cleared his throat. To his surprise, his voice sounded almost normal. ‘There’s heaps of computers in the school. The connection’s right rubbish, though.’

  ‘You’re from Scotland,’ said Tayla.

  ‘Aye.’

  This was the first time anyone had picked up where he came from. Normally, it was: ‘What did you say?’ or ‘I like your accent’. It was all about them, how they felt. Not about him.

  Jamie smiled at Tayla. ‘Come on. School’s finished; people disappear fast around here. The classes will be empty.’

  Why was Tayla not a proper ghost? How come the others were ghosts? At least none of them had lost a head. Jamie didn’t think he could handle seeing someone holding their own head. It looked grand in the movies, but it might be freaky in real life.

  It was easier to climb up the grass than push through the bushes to the track. Shoes slipping, Jamie clambered up. Tayla followed behind. He seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, like the air over a hot road.

  ‘Where are they going?’ shrieked Milly.

  ‘Quick,’ hissed Tayla. ‘I hate to think what she’ll do if she sees the other school kids.’

  Jamie had a sudden brainwave. ‘She doesn’t like boys, does she?’

  ‘I don’t think she likes anyone.’

  ‘Still,’ panted Jamie. ‘Boys especially?’

  Tayla nodded. ‘I guess. Why?’

  ‘I can think of one boy –’ puffed Jamie, recalling Jayden Harris’ flat nose, ‘she really wouldn’t like.’

  ‘You new here?’

  Jamie nodded.