Megan Stine_Jeffery & the Third-Grade Ghost 02 Read online

  Other Jeffrey and the Third-Grade Ghost Books

  #1 Mysterious Max

  #3 Christmas Visitors

  #4 Pet Day Surprise

  #5 Max Onstage

  #6 Max Saves the Day

  A Fawcett Columbine Book

  Published by Ballantine Books

  Copyright © 1988 by Cloverdale Press, Inc.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 88-91490

  eISBN: 978-0-307-78387-5

  Illustrations by Keith Birdsong

  v3.1

  To Cody, who helped with the Jeffrey books

  by being the very first reader and

  the very best listener

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Authors

  Chapter One

  “Have you decided yet, Jeffrey?” asked Melissa McKane.

  Jeffrey Becker shook his head. “I’m still thinking about it,” he said. He pulled his knit cap down over his straight dark hair.

  “It’s already October tenth,” said Kenny Thompsen.

  Benjamin Hyde looked at his calendar watch. It told the time in every part of the world. “In fact, it’s already October eleventh in New Caledonia,” he said.

  “I can’t help it,” said Jeffrey. “I’m still deciding.”

  Every day, Jeffrey Becker walked to school with three of his friends: Benjamin Hyde, Kenny Thompsen, and Melissa McKane. And every day they talked about different things.

  During September they had talked about baseball, football, and their new teacher. But the moment the calendar page was turned to October, there was only one topic of conversation: Halloween. And Halloween meant costumes.

  The problem was, Jeffrey couldn’t decide what to be for Halloween.

  Ben, on the other hand, had decided long ago. He was going to be a high-tech robot. Of course, what else would you expect from a kid who wanted to be a mad scientist when he grew up?

  Melissa still wasn’t sure. “I’m either going to be a quarterback, a ballerina, a brain surgeon, or a judge,” she said, tossing her long, red ponytail.

  “I know how you can decide,” Ben said to Melissa. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “A quarterback, a ballerina, a brain surgeon, and a judge,” said Melissa proudly.

  No one laughed because they knew Melissa wasn’t kidding. And they knew she could do it, too.

  “Well, I’m going to be a ghost,” Kenny said. “No sweat. Just cut eyeholes in a sheet.”

  “That’s not what ghosts look like,” Jeffrey said.

  “How do you know?” asked Kenny.

  “Oh, no, here we go again,” Ben said.

  Everyone glared at Jeffrey.

  “I told you guys, but you don’t believe me. I have a friend who’s a ghost. I found him in my desk at school,” Jeffrey said for the two-hundredth time.

  “And his name is Max,” said Ben.

  “And he’s from the 1950s,” added Kenny.

  “And only you can see him,” finished Melissa.

  “Right,” Jeffrey said. “Now, do you believe me this time?”

  His three friends all shook their heads.

  “Face it, Jeffrey,” said Melissa. “The story you made up about peanut butter replacing nuclear energy was better than this. At least it fooled us for a little while.”

  “Yeah. That was one of my all-time favorites,” said Kenny. Kenny usually didn’t say anything unless he could say something nice.

  “But we’re not going to fall for this one,” said Ben. “Ghosts are too illogical.”

  “Besides, if we wanted to see a ghost, we could just go in there,” Kenny said, pointing.

  Everyone stopped and looked in the direction of Kenny’s pointing finger. They were standing across the street from the McGyver house. It was a three-story Victorian house with peeling paint, torn window shades, and overgrown weeds. It was the gloomiest, ugliest, creepiest house in town. And those were the nicest things people said about it.

  Mr. and Mrs. McGyver had lived there for years. Then, according to Jeffrey, the McGyvers finally got tired of being mean to children. So, six months ago, they left town. They didn’t say goodbye to anyone.

  Since the McGyvers had moved out, a lot of people had heard strange noises in the house. A few people had even seen mysterious lights flickering in it late at night. Everyone said the McGyver house was haunted.

  “I’m glad the McGyvers moved,” Kenny said as they continued their walk to school. “Now we don’t have to go trick-or-treating there.”

  “We never went trick-or-treating there,” Jeffrey reminded him.

  “Yes, but now I don’t have to feel bad about it,” said Kenny.

  When they got to class, their teacher, Mrs. Merrin, was writing on the chalkboard. It was a fill-in-the-blank history quiz.

  “What are we going to do today, Mrs. Merrin?” asked Jeffrey. Jeffrey always liked to start off the day by asking a stupid question. Sometimes that irritated a teacher so much she wouldn’t call on Jeffrey for the rest of the day—which is exactly what he wanted.

  However, Mrs. Merrin wasn’t that kind of teacher. In fact, Jeffrey couldn’t figure out what kind of teacher she was. All he knew was that she was very pretty. And she was very unpredictable.

  “I’ll give you three guesses to tell me what we’re doing today, Jeffrey,” the teacher said, brushing the chalk dust off her hands.

  “I’ll save my guesses for the quiz,” answered Jeffrey.

  “I was afraid of that,” Mrs. Merrin said. “Well, class—”

  Suddenly, a window shade in the back of the classroom snapped up. Mrs. Merrin looked at the window and shrugged. “I wonder how that happened,” she said. She walked over and pulled the shade down again.

  But Jeffrey knew what had happened. He knew that window shades don’t just roll themselves up—unless they’re helped by a ghost!

  There, near the windowsill, two hands appeared in midair. And then two arms appeared and then the feet and the legs. Right before Jeffrey’s eyes, Max, the third-grade ghost, was checking in. He looked so real that Jeffrey still couldn’t believe that he was the only person who could see the ghost.

  Max dressed the way third-grade kids dressed in the 1950s—because that’s when he had lived. He always wore a long-sleeved flannel plaid shirt that was buttoned up to the collar. And he had baggy blue jeans rolled at the cuffs.

  “What’s shaking, Daddy-o,” Max said as he floated toward the front of the room. Max had a funny way of talking, but Jeffrey was used to it. Max picked up a piece of chalk and looked at the chalkboard. Then he started filling in the blanks in Mrs. Merrin’s quiz.

  Jeffrey shook his head and waved his arms to try to stop Max. But Max just smiled and said, “Stay cool, Daddy-o. Your teacher will love this. Trust me.” Then he went on writing on the board.

  “Okay, gang,” said Mrs. Merrin. “I’d like you to take out a piece of paper and a pencil and—” She stopped in mid-sentence. Her eyes were staring at her quiz on the chalkboard. Each question had been filled in with Jeffrey’s name!
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  Mrs. Merrin put her hands on her hips. Then she began to read some of the questions aloud.

  “The second president of the United States was Jeffrey Becker Jeffrey Becker made the famous horseback ride, shouting ‘The British are coming.’ The first flag of the United States was sewn by Jeffrey Becker.” Mrs. Merrin walked over to Jeffrey’s desk. “So far, you’ve got all of the answers wrong,” she said, “but maybe you can answer my next question.”

  Everyone in the class listened quietly.

  “Why did you do that, Jeffrey?” Mrs. Merrin asked.

  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!

  Chapter Two

  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.”