Megan Stine_Jeffery & the Third-Grade Ghost 02 (2 page)

Max sat on the edge of the teacher’s desk and winked at Jeffrey. “This is getting good, man,” Max said. “She thinks it’s a regular riot.”

Jeffrey didn’t know what to do. He
did
know it wouldn’t do any good to tell the truth. He imagined himself saying, “There’s an invisible ghost sitting on your desk and he’s the one who wrote on the board. Not me.” But Jeffrey knew he couldn’t say that. So instead Jeffrey said, “Well, I’ve always wanted a place in history. I was just trying out a few of them.”

“Jeffrey,” said Mrs. Merrin, brushing a strand of his hair out of his eyes, “I’m afraid your true place in history is with me—after school.”

“You mean I have a detention?” Jeffrey asked.

“Hey, that’s great, man,” Max said to Jeffrey. “You know what this means, don’t you? She digs you so much she wants you to spend more time with her. Just like all
my
teachers used to do.”

Jeffrey sat with his elbows on his desk and his chin on his palms. “Great,” he said glumly.

Later that day, when detention was over, Jeffrey found Max waiting outside the school.

“Hey, Jeffrey, I’ve got a really cool idea,” Max said in a friendly voice.

“Max, I just stayed an hour after school because of your
first
cool idea,” Jeffrey said.

“Aw, you’re not bent out of shape about that,” Max said. “Like, I can tell you’re groovin’ to see me.”

Jeffrey smiled. He couldn’t help it. Max was right. Jeffrey was glad to see his friend. They started walking home together.

“What’s your ‘really cool’ idea?” asked Jeffrey.

“How about you and me going to a soda shop? We’ll buy a couple of skyrockets and play some platters on the jukebox.”

Jeffrey shook his head. “I’ve got bad news for you, Max. There are no soda shops. And they don’t make anything called a skyrocket anymore, either. Besides, I don’t have any dollars for the jukebox.”

“Dollars?” Max gasped. “What happened to nickels?”

“Collector’s items,” Jeffrey said. “I’m working on my dad to get him to raise my allowance, but nothing so far.”

By that time, they had walked as far as the McGyver house. Jeffrey had to pass it on his way home, unless he wanted to go ten blocks out of his way.

“Cool-looking house,” Max said.

“People say it’s haunted,” Jeffrey told him.

“Oh, yeah?” Max asked excitedly. “Maybe it’s someone I know. Come on, Jeffrey. Let’s make the scene.”

What? Go into the McGyver house for a ghost reunion? That was about the last thing Jeffrey wanted to do—especially so close to Halloween.

“Maybe you should go in first, Max, and check the place out,” Jeffrey said with a weak smile. “If there are ghosts in there, you know, they may not want too many guests just dropping by.”

“Okay, I’m gonesville,” Max said, flying off. “But, like, I’ll be right back.”

But Max wasn’t right back. He was gone for a long while, so long that Jeffrey finally walked home by himself. But all the way home Jeffrey wondered what Max had found in the McGyver house—and why he hadn’t come out!

Jeffrey sat in his room after dinner that night. His homework was on the desk in front of him. Jeffrey wasn’t doing his homework. He was reading a
Tales from the Cave
comic book. But his homework
was
on the desk. In fact, he used it to prop up his comic book.

There was a knock on the door and then Jeffrey’s father came in.

“Got time for a quick talk?” asked Mr. Becker. He sat down across from Jeffrey on the bed.

“Sure, Dad,” Jeffrey said, hiding his comic book. “I was just looking over my homework. But I can tear myself away for a few minutes. Did you get my notes about my allowance?”

“Yes,” said his father. “Yes, I got all seventeen of them. I found them in my pants pockets, in my shirt pockets, in my wallet, and in my sandwich. I especially enjoyed the one signed by the president of the United States.”

“Yeah, you’d be surprised how much the president
is interested in people’s personal finances,” Jeffrey said. He tried to be convincing and keep a straight face. “The minute I explained the situation to him, he said, ‘Go for it, Jeffrey.’ ”

“I’m sure of it,” said Mr. Becker, clearing his throat. “But exactly how did you come up with that amount? I mean, seven dollars and thirty-five cents a week is an odd figure.”

“It’s an average, Dad,” said Jeffrey.

“An average allowance for an eight-year-old?”

“No,” Jeffrey said. “On the average, an eight-year-old has to ask his parents seven hundred and thirty-five times to raise his allowance.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Becker. He rubbed the left side of his chin with his right index finger. “In other words, I don’t have to take action until you’ve asked me another five hundred times. That’s good to know.” Mr. Becker stood up to leave.

“But, Dad—” Jeffrey started to say.

“And, Jeffrey, if you leave any more notes in my sandwich, please don’t write them on yellow paper. I took two bites of it before I realized it wasn’t a slice of dry American cheese.”

“You mean I don’t get a raise? You’re going to ignore a note from the president of the United States?” Jeffrey asked with a fake look of shock on his face.

“Maybe I’ll call him up tomorrow and we’ll discuss it,” Mr. Becker said on his way out the door.

“Bad scene, man,” said a familiar voice behind Jeffrey.

Jeffrey turned around and there was Max, sitting on his windowsill. “It sounds like you blew it,” said the ghost, shaking his head.

“Well, I’m still working on it,” Jeffrey said. “My dad’s the kind of dad who needs a lot of convincing.” Then Jeffrey got to the important question. “What took you so long in the McGyver house today, Max? What did you see in there?”

“Nothing much,” Max said. He didn’t like to give out information after just one question.

“Did you see any ghosts?” Jeffrey asked.

“Ghosts?” Max answered slowly. “Well … I did see one ghost.”

“Wow! What did it look like?”

“Like, it looked just like me—in fact, it
was
me!” Max said, bursting into laughter.

“In other words,” Jeffrey said, “the McGyver house isn’t haunted and you didn’t see anything.”

“Nope, no ghosts. And I thought it would be cool to run into one, too. I’d say, ‘What’s shaking, cat?’ ” Max said. For a moment, he was quiet and his face was sad.

“Are you lonely, Max?” Jeffrey asked.

“Lonely?” Max said with loud laugh. “Yours truly doesn’t even know the meaning of that word.”

“Sure, Max, sure,” Jeffrey said. But he knew that sometimes Max
did
get lonely being a ghost. “Hey, Max. If there was nothing in the McGyver house, what took you so long in there?”

Max started walking through the air on his hands. “Oh, I don’t know. I was checking it out, that’s all. And I’m telling you, the McGyver house was dullsville except for one thing.”

“What?”

“A knife.”

“A knife?” Jeffrey cried. He leaned way back on his chair, balancing on its two back legs.

“Did I say knife?” said Max with a sly smile. “I meant a
dagger.”

“A dagger!” Jeffrey echoed. That was too much for Jeffrey. His chair toppled over with a crash. But he got off the floor quickly. “What kind of dagger was it?”

“Like, it’s about this big,” Max said, showing Jeffrey with his hands. But Max kept moving his hands. Sometimes it looked like the dagger was six inches long and sometimes it looked three feet long.

“Well, where was it?” Jeffrey asked.

“In one of the upstairs bedrooms,” said Max. “And I think it had some writing on it.”

“Writing? What did it say?”

Max yawned. “Time for me to make like the wind and blow,” he said. His figure was beginning to fade out. “Plant you now and dig you later, Jeffrey.”

“Wait, Max!” Jeffrey said. “What did the writing say? Are you going to help me with my Halloween costume?”

But, as usual, Max came and went on his own timetable. A moment later, Jeffrey was alone in his room, talking to himself. And Max was gonesville.

During lunch the next day at school, Jeffrey sat with Melissa, Kenny, and Ben.

Ben, however, was not eating. He was in a very grouchy mood. His special lunch box, the one he had designed himself, was sitting in front of him. Kids at tables everywhere in the cafeteria were waiting for Ben to open his lunch box. But Ben was just staring at Jeffrey. He wanted to know what Jeffrey was going to be for Halloween.

“It’s some kind of trick, isn’t it?” Ben asked. “It’s some kind of plot to drive me crazy, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Jeffrey. “I just can’t decide what to be. There’s nothing mysterious about it.”

Jeffrey took a bite from his ham sandwich and felt something smooth and crinkly. When he lifted the top slice of bread, he found a note.

“White House telephones still busy. I’ll keep trying,” it said. And it was signed “Dad.”

Melissa looked from the note to Jeffrey. “Your dad is calling the White House?”

“That’s it! You’re going to dress up like the president for Halloween!” Ben said.

“Yuck. Not even close,” Jeffrey said. “Come on. Give up guessing, Ben. Even I don’t know what I’m going to be. I told you a million times: I can’t decide.”

Ben shook his head in disbelief.

Then Ben opened his lunch-box lid. There was a small explosion and his sandwich shot five feet into the air. It came floating down to Ben on a small parachute.

“I will tell you one thing, though,” Jeffrey said, leaning in close to his friends. “There’s a dagger stuck in the floor in the McGyver house. And I think it has writing on it.”

Melissa took a large bite out of her apple. She looked at Jeffrey sideways. “For real?” she asked.

“This is the absolute honest truth,” Jeffrey said. “It’s a knife this long.” Jeffrey held his hands about two feet apart.

Ben opened his lunch box again and this time a box of fruit juice popped out. Ricky Reyes caught it as its parachute snagged on his chair.

“What’s this about a knife, Becker?” Ricky asked, handing the juice to Ben.

Ricky Reyes was one tough third-grader. His father was an ex-fighter pilot. His older brother was a black belt in karate. Ricky was taking karate lessons, too. Everything about Ricky was cool, especially his enormous collection of toy robots. Jeffrey thought he and Ricky could be good friends, but he hadn’t mentioned it to Ricky yet.

“Did I say knife?” Jeffrey said. He was teasing Ricky just the way Max had teased him. “I meant a dagger. There’s a dagger stuck in the floor of the McGyver house.”

Jeffrey stood up and the two boys faced each other.

“You had the guts to go into the McGyver house?” Ricky asked.

“Well, I haven’t actually seen the dagger with my own eyes,” Jeffrey admitted.

“Then how do you know it’s there?” asked Ricky.

“It’s a good question and I’m going to give you a good answer. But I bet you won’t believe it,” Jeffrey said. “I have this friend who’s a ghost. His name is Max. Yesterday Max flew into the McGyver house and saw the dagger. He told me about it.”

Ricky’s dark eyes darted from Jeffrey to Ben and back to Jeffrey. There was a slight smile on his face. “So you have a friend, named Max,” Ricky said.