The Warning

(Six Creepy Stories)

SHARON JENNINGS

HIP Mainstreet
Copyright © 2014 by Sharon Jennings

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, optical, digital or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system without prior written consent of the publisher. In the case of photocopying or other reprographic reproduction, a licence from CANCOPY may be obtained.

LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION

Jennings, Sharon, author
The warning : six creepy stories / Sharon Jennings.

(HIP mainstreet)
ISBN 978-1-926847-40-5 (pbk.)

1. Children’s stories, Canadian (English). 2. Ghost stories, Canadian (English). I. Title.

PS8569.E563W37 2014       jC813’.54       C2013-908664-1

General editor: Paul Kropp
Text design: Laura Brady
Illustrations drawn by: Greg Ruhl
Cover design: Robert Corrigan

High Interest Publishing acknowledges the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund for our
publishing activities.

Six stories of death, life and life-after-death. These stories are scary and strange – creepy, to say the least. They’ll raise the hairs on the back of your neck. Just don’t read them in the dark . . . alone.

Contents

I. The Warning

II. Grave Danger

III. The Double

IV. Telling Ghost Stories

V. The Railway Bridge

VI. Payback

I. The Warning

David’s grandmother has something to tell him. Something that may save David’s life. There’s only one problem with giving him the message . . .

DAVID HATED THE hospital. He did not want to be here, in this awful place. But his grandmother was dying. He had no choice.

David’s grandmother was 85, and she looked like a skeleton. Her breathing was rough. It sounded like the worst sore throat ever.

David took her hand – that horrible bird-claw hand – and she squeezed his fingers. Her dark eyes flashed open, and she looked right at him. She tried to mumble something. David leaned forward, but he couldn’t figure out what Grandma was saying.

Then the edge of her fingernail scratched him. A drop of blood oozed from his hand. David watched it drip onto the white bedsheet.

David couldn’t stop staring at that one drop of blood. His blood. It made him want to puke.

Here he was in a hospital with people sick and dying. The halls were filled with the smell of death and decay. They tried to cover-up the smell with bleach, and that stunk, too. David hated the smell. He hated the ugly balloon thingies that were supposed to cheer you up. He hated the flowers that looked like they should be at a funeral.

But nothing made him feel sick until he saw that one drop of his own blood.

“Grandma, what?” he asked her. Why had she cut his hand? What was she trying to say?

But she was asleep. There was no answer.

David and his parents left the hospital and went home. After dinner, his mom said, “We’re going back to the hospital. Do you want to come?”

David shook his head. “No,” he said. “I can’t go back there. I can’t see her again.”

“David . . .” his mom said. Her voice should have made him feel guilty.

“I said good-bye to her. I can’t . . .” He knew he was about to cry like a baby, but he told himself to man up. “I just can’t. Okay?”

David felt like a jerk. He was fifteen years old. His grandma was almost dead. And he was too chicken to visit her one more time. But his mom put her arm around him and said, “Of course it’s okay. Grandma’s on so many drugs. She doesn’t even know we’re there.”

That wasn’t true, and David knew it. He knew Grandma had tried to tell him something.

But his mom just gave him an easy out, and he grabbed it. “Yeah,” he said. “Those drugs make her a zombie. She didn’t know it was me talking to her.”

Liar, he told himself. Chicken.

David watched his parents’ car back out of the driveway. The snow was coming down thick. In a minute he could see only the car’s tail lights. It must be the end, the deathwatch. No way they’d go out on a night like this if there was any hope.

David pulled the blinds and settled down in front of the TV. He was playing a new video game. An hour later – he almost had it! Once more – there! Done! Highest score yet!

As David punched the air he heard a noise. It was so quiet, like a bird pecking at seeds. He listened and it came again. Knock, knock, peck, peck.

Ignore it, David told himself. He shouldn’t answer the door when he was alone in the house. Mom’s rules. It was probably nothing. Nothing at all.

But the knocking didn’t stop. It was a bit louder now.

David got up and pulled back the blind. He tried to see who was on the porch. It was so dark, and the snow was swirling.

And then he saw her. Grandma.

David dropped the blind and ran to the door. He yanked it open, and snow swooshed in with a gust of wind.

Grandma was in a hospital gown. She was barefoot and shivering. Snow stuck in clumps to her stringy hair.

David reached out his hands and pulled her inside. She was so tiny and frail she felt like a feather.

“What are you doing?” he cried. “Where are Mom and Dad? Did they let you out of the car by yourself?” He peered into the dark night.

Grandma shook her head. “Close the door,” she whispered. “I’m so glad you let me in. Those are the rules. You had to let me in . . . or else. Come and sit with me. We haven’t much time.”

Rules? Or else? Or else what? David asked himself.

She stumbled to the sofa. “Your parents are still at the hospital. But I had to talk to you, dear boy.”

“I don’t understand,” David answered. “Did you run away? Did you walk all the way from the hospital?” He knew he was being stupid. How could this old woman walk from the hospital by herself?

“Please listen to me, David,” Grandma insisted. “I had to warn you. You are in very grave danger. You must believe me.”

David felt an icy finger run down his spine. He shivered. “Do you want tea? I’ll get some. I’ll make us both some tea right now. Then I’ll call Mom. I’ll tell her you’re here. I’ll . . .”

David went into the kitchen, but Grandma was somehow there before him. She was getting mugs out of the cupboard. The box of teabags was already on the counter. The water was already boiling.

Grandma smiled at him. “I remember the first time I saw you. Such a tiny baby. No one expected you to live. But I knew you would. Something . . . something told me.”

David took a sip of his tea. He smiled across the rim of the mug at his grandmother. She had always been on his side. She told him that he was special, at least to her.

David had been small for his age and not very strong. A couple of times he did stupid stunts just to prove he wasn’t a chicken. His parents got angry, but grandma always stuck up for him. She always thought the best of him.

That’s why he hated to see her in the hospital. He needed her still, but thought he’d never see her again.

But here she was. Alive. Drinking tea in the kitchen.

“I was so grateful when you turned two years old. Up until then, I wasn’t sure I’d heard the voices right. I had to watch over you day and night.”

David’s hand was shaking. He put his mug down. “What ‘voices,’ Grandma? What are you talking about?”

“Well, David, that’s why I moved in with you and your parents. I told your mom and dad I felt dizzy. But that was a lie, you see. I hate to tell lies, but sometimes they are needed. I had to guard you so carefully. I didn’t know where the danger would come from.”

David shook his head. Somehow his grandma got out of the hospital. And the walk through the snow made her crazy.

“Two hours ago, I knew for sure,” Grandma went on. “The voices told me. The danger will be your own fault. Something about an accident. Something about skipping school and a railway bridge.”

“What voices?” David asked.

Grandma ignored him. “That’s all I could hear, David. I came to warn you. You must be prepared. Do not put yourself in danger. The voices know I can’t help you anymore. They may take you soon.”

“They may take me?” David asked. “Who? The voices?”

His grandma looked at him as if he were a small child. “No, no. The voices are friendly. They try to warn people. I think the voices are other people who have died the wrong way. At the wrong time. They just try to help,” Grandma explained.

“But . . .” David felt stupid for asking more questions. Grandma was ill. She wasn’t in her right mind. But he couldn’t stop. “So . . . who are they, Grandma?”

The old woman shrugged her bony shoulders. “I don’t know. But they told me to warn you.”

David heard a loud crack. He cried out as the mug shattered in Grandma’s hands. Hot tea spilled over her fingers, but she didn’t notice.

David looked at her hands, her fingers. The blue veins shone through the white skin.

“What are you saying? Grandma, this is crazy! You got out of the hospital and walked all the way here in this storm. You must be . . .” He started to say “nuts” but shut up in time. “You have to lie down. I’ll phone my mom and . . .”

“Don’t bother. They’ll be here any minute. And they won’t believe you. Please listen to me, David.” She peered into his eyes – just like she did at the hospital. “Whatever it is you are planning with your friends, don’t do it. You will die. I . . . know . . . this.”

The icy touch zipped down David’s spine again. How could she know? How could she know about the dare? Nino and the older kids had laughed and called him chicken. They dared him to climb the railway bridge. And he said ‘yes’. Just to shut them up. But no one knew. He hadn’t told anyone.

Grandma fluttered her hands about and then reached out to hold onto David’s face. Tears trickled down her wrinkled cheeks.

“Promise,” his grandma whispered. “Please promise me.”

“Okay. Okay, Grandma. I promise. I’ll be careful. Just . . . please, come and sit. I’ll get you another cup of tea, and you can tell me more. More about these voices you hear.”

Grandma turned her head to the front door. “It’s your parents. David, please. For my sake. It’s all I can tell you, now. They’re calling me back. I’ve stayed too long. Please . . . ” She clawed at him, at his chest, with no more strength than a dying sparrow.

David put his arm around her. “Shhhh. Shhhh, now. It’s all right. I said I promised.” He grabbed the blanket from the sofa and wrapped it about her shoulders. “You haven’t stayed too long. And you’re not going back by yourself. Mom and Dad will drive you back to the hospital.”

“I’m not going back to the hospital, David. That isn’t what I meant. I have to go . . . I’ve stayed too long. I’ve broken the rules.”

David felt that icy finger on his spine again. But still he hugged his grandma. Then, letting go of her, he walked to the door and opened it.

There was no one there. Wait. There it was! His parents’ car turned onto the street and pulled into the drive. How had Grandma heard it?

His parents got out and walked up the steps. His mom saw him framed in the light. She looked up at him in the saddest way.

“Oh, David,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved her.”

“What? What are you talking about?” David swallowed hard.

“It’s Grandma,” his dad answered. “She’s gone, David. She passed away two hours ago.” He patted David on the back. It was as if he wanted to give David a hug.

But David turned and ran into the living room, then into the kitchen. A broken mug lay on the floor. The blanket was in a heap on the sofa. But Grandma wasn’t there.

David walked back to the door, now blown open with the wind. He looked outside.

Nothing. It wasn’t snowing, and David could see the whole street. But he saw . . . nothing.

A dream. He’d fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing.

He went back inside. The phone was ringing, and he grabbed it. Maybe people calling about Grandma.

“Yo, Dave?” It was Nino, his buddy. “You up for tomorrow?”

David’s mouth went dry. He didn’t answer.

“What? You chickening out?” Nino teased. “You afraid of walking the railway bridge?”

David swallowed. “No. I’ll do it. But my grandma just died. I have a funeral to go to.”

“Yeah right. If you don’t show up, it’s your own funeral, Davey. You’ll never live it down.”

David looked at the couch and the blanket. It must have been a dream. Grandma was dead. She did not come here.

“Hey!” shouted Nino. “You still there or what?”

“Yeah. I’m here,” whispered David. “And I’ll be there. I’m not a chicken, Nino.”

The phone went dead. The front door banged open again, and a gust of wind blew snow into the house.

II. Grave Danger

Drew won’t chicken out. He’s not afraid of spending a night in the graveyard. Nothing really happens in there on Halloween . . .

“IT’S NOT TOO late, Rory,” I said. “You can still come with me.”

Rory laughed. “No way, Drew. I’m not nuts.”

Rory stared hard at me. He was my best friend, so maybe he could sense something. Maybe that’s why he said, “So . . . what? You chickening out? You don’t want to go in there alone?”

I stared right back. “’Course not. Just thought you’d like to brag about staying overnight in a graveyard. I don’t want you jealous of me. Not when I’m a hero and all the babes line up for me.”

Rory snorted. “Yeah, right! Look, I’d go with you, but I’d never get out of the house. I’d be grounded for a year if my parents knew.”

“Well, my parents are away,” I said, “and they trust me. They trust me not to do anything too stupid. “So no problemo.”

Rory hopped on his bike. “Gotta go. Promised my folks I’d be back in time to take Connie out trick-or-treating.” Rory went down the driveway and stopped. He looked back at me in a funny way.

It was the last time he’d ever look at me, but he didn’t know that. Neither did I.

“Drew,” he shouted. “You don’t have to go through with it. Hardly anyone takes the dare. You wouldn’t be the first guy to back out.”

But I wasn’t going to back out. I wasn’t a chicken, no matter what the others said. “See you at school tomorrow,” I answered him. Of course I would. And I’d be a hero.

Staying in a cemetery on Halloween is a big deal in our town. A couple of kids pulled it off a few years ago. They got into piles of trouble, but still . . . Now they’re away at college, but around here, they’re still heroes! Lots of dweebs like me try to spend the night. It gets the morons off our backs. But Rory was right – not too many kids stayed in the graveyard all night. Something always spooked them.

Well, not me.

I shoved a blanket and flashlight into my backpack. Then I dumped in a bowl of Halloween treats. I waited until 7:30, when the little kids stopped coming to the door for candy. Then I left the house – but only after a phone call to my parents. I had to tell them for the tenth time that I was okay.

“I’m sixteen, Mom!” I exclaimed. “Stop worrying, okay?” I lied and told her I was going to watch a vampire flick on TV.

It wasn’t a long walk to the cemetery. Somehow, tonight, I felt like I was walking to the other side of town. My feet just didn’t move quickly. Part of me didn’t want to do this. But I had to. I couldn’t chicken out.

The guys were waiting for me at the gates to the cemetery. All five of the goon squad were there. They wanted to make sure I showed up. But hey! At least they had some great advice for me.

“Don’t wet your diaper, Drew.”

“Don’t run home to mommy, Drew.”

Bunch of morons. Why was I trying to impress these low lifes?

Nino was the leader, and he laid down the rules. “We’re taking turns watching the gates to the cemetery. We’ll know if you chicken out. And if you do . . .” Nino didn’t finish his sentence.

“What?” I asked. “What happens if I chicken out?” I tried to sound like I didn’t care.

Nino drew his finger across his throat. “You’ll never live it down.”

I shrugged and pushed by them. I walked into the cemetery like it was something I did all the time. Nino stuck his foot out and I did a face-plant on the gravel. My hands were scratched, and I could see a bit of blood. Great start.

I had biked through the cemetery lots of times – in daylight – and I knew how big it was. When you get into the middle, you can’t hear any traffic. Now, in the dark, I found out there aren’t any lights inside. None of the streetlights shine this far in. And I guess dead people don’t need reading lamps.

That was a joke. I laughed out loud. “Ha ha ha!” Just in case the guys were following me. It might make them think I was a bit nuts. “Ha ha ha!”

My eyes got used to the dark. There was a half moon and a clear sky overhead. I checked my watch – 8:30. I had eleven hours to get through before I could walk out of here a hero. At 7:30 a.m. I could go home, wash up and get to school. I’d act like it was no big thing. A piece of cake for a guy like me.

When I first said I could do this, I planned to stay near an entrance, just . . . well, just to be careful. Okay? But now I wanted to go deep into the grounds to be alone. Why? Well, If I was going to stay here overnight, I wanted to do it right. I really wanted to know what it was like to be near dead people. I wanted to have a great story to tell. And also . . . also, I wanted to find out if the dead did rise up out of their graves. It was stupid, but . . . if anything weird happens in a graveyard, I wanted to find out. It was Halloween, after all.

Some of the paths led down toward a ravine. I took a path that was thick with underbrush and hard to walk through. If any of those morons planned to scare me, well, I wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

I stopped and listened. Nothing. Just night sounds. I was sure I wasn’t being followed. Nino and his gang couldn’t keep their mouths shut that long.

Then I saw something. A shape . . . no a person. A guy was sitting on the ground up ahead. The guy leaned back on a tombstone, watching me. He looked like he lived on the streets – maybe homeless. The guy was dirty, and his clothes were really worn out.

I backed away slowly. I didn’t want any trouble.

“I won’t hurt you,” he mumbled. “But you have to leave. Now.”

“Don’t worry,” I told him. My voice was a little shaky. “I’ll leave you alone. I’ll go somewhere else.”

“I’m not worried about me,” he said. “I’m worried about you. You shouldn’t be in here, you know. Not safe. Funny things happen.”

He got to his feet and looked around, peering into the dark.

“I have to stay in the cemetery overnight,” I explained. “It’s a dare. But I won’t bother you. Look. I’m leaving. See?” I took a few steps away from him. Some of these homeless guys are a little bit . . . off. Why risk a problem?

The guy shook his head. “Not good enough. Get out. I’m warning you. Look what happened to me. I’ve been here eighty years now. Can’t leave.”

“You live here?” I asked. Weird, but if he was homeless . . . ?

Suddenly he spun around like an athlete. “They’re here!” He lunged at me. “Run!” he shouted. “Run and don’t stop!” He lurched toward me, and I could smell his rotten breath.

For a moment, I was frozen.

He picked up a stick and swung it at my head. I ducked and slipped and rolled on the ground.

He came toward me again, whacking the stick at the air beside me. “Get up and run!” he screamed. “I’ll try to keep them off you! Maybe you’ve got a chance. Run!”

I turned, expecting to see Nino and the others. But there was no one. No one I could see.

Somehow I got to my feet and started running. It felt like I was moving in slow motion – like you do in a nightmare.

The homeless guy was still shouting. “Hurry! Get out! Get out!”

I ran, terrified. Up the hill! Down another! Go! Go! I clutched at bushes to steady myself. But then I tripped and fell flat, my shoulders flinching. I was sure the crazy old guy was coming in for the kill.

But nobody touched me.

I was sprawled on a large flat stone with something carved on it. Cold seeped into my bones, freezing me like it was the dead of winter. But something felt like it was flowing out of me. It was like I was bleeding to death. Sucked dry.

I couldn’t move. It felt like ages passed before I could get to my knees.

I was in a part of the graveyard I had never seen before. The gravestones were crumbly. Some had fallen on the ground. Then the truth hit me. I had fallen on someone’s gravestone. It was covered in slime and moss, and so was I.

I stared down at the gravestone at my feet. I could just make out the carved words in the moonlight. I stooped for a better look.

ANDREW McFEE
BELOVED SON
1998-2014
REST IN PEACE

Andrew McFee. No one called me Andrew, but that was my real name. Not Drew. Andrew.

Shivers ran down my spine. I felt something icy clamp around my heart. Dead? When did I die?!

The sky was getting lighter. I saw that the full moon was about to go down.

But . . .

It wasn’t a full moon tonight. I shook my head. Maybe I knocked myself out when I fell.

A crow landed on a marker to my left. Something made me go and read what was written.

MARIAN MCFEE 1970-2016 /
GEORGE MCFEE 1968-2017
HEARTS BROKEN 2014

My parents. Dead.

But it isn’t 2016 or 2017 yet. It is 2014 and I’m NOT dead!

The crow flew from the gravestone, squawking. I smelled the stench of death from its wings.

This is a lousy dream. A nightmare. I’m going to wake up any minute and be back in the cemetery or in my bed. It’s going to be okay, I told myself. None of this can be true. None of it.

I started moving. If I went straight, I would come to a street. I didn’t care where I came out of the cemetery, I just had to get out.

At least no one could call me a chicken. Because none of this was real. I wasn’t dead. My parents weren’t dead. Right now they were at some hotel, at some kind of party. They were alive. So was I.

But my legs got stiffer and stiffer. It got harder and harder to move. I stumbled a couple of times and felt a low ache in my back. I couldn’t catch my breath. I heard wheezing and realized it was me.

Finally, I saw a street and relief flooded my body. The sun was rising. I had done it! I had survived the night! I wanted an adventure and I got one – one really terrible nightmare. So hurray for me.

I punched my fist in the air and . . .

My fingers seemed twisted, and the skin hung in loose folds like an old man’s. I looked down at my body. My clothes were torn and filthy. My own smell made me gag.

I hobbled toward the street. Then I noticed . . . what were those things?

They looked like cars, but where were the wheels? And how could they go so fast? They zipped by like, like something in a sci-fi movie.

I got to the cemetery entrance. But when I tried to step through the gate, something pushed me back. I moved forward again, but this time something pulled me. I put my hands out – those old, old hands – and strained against whatever was holding me.

Frozen, trapped, I looked through the gate. I saw a funny box off to one side. It looked like a newspaper box but without any papers. Like on a computer, news scrolled across the box.

I didn’t care about the news. I cared about the date in the corner.

November 1st, 2084.

Seventy years. My night in the graveyard.

Seventy years ago.

“Come on, Andrew,” said the old guy. Suddenly the guy was by my side. “You don’t belong out there anymore.”

“No,” I said. “NO!” I pushed and hit and shoved, but the thing – the force – holding me back didn’t let up. I was trapped.

“Come on, Drew,” the old man said. “Come along with me. I’ll explain. Come with me now, son.”

I stumbled against him. The old man put his arm around me to hold me up. This time, I didn’t flinch. Together we walked back into the depths of the graveyard.

III. The Double

There’s nothing like a best friend. A guy you can hang with, a guy who’s always on your side, a guy you can trust. Until he starts to take over your body . . .

JASON DIDN’T HAVE any friends. Not here, not in this new town. So Jason was surprised when another new kid, Kurt, sat beside him in the lunchroom. Kurt seemed pretty cool. Why would he pick a loser like Jason to hang out with?

Strange. But Jason was glad to sit with him. At least Jason wasn’t eating his lunch alone. At least he wasn’t getting stares from the other kids.

Every day, Kurt waited for him at the corner of his street and they walked to school together. They talked and laughed a lot. In homeroom, Kurt asked someone to switch seats so he could sit behind Jason. Kurt was good at sports. In May, their teacher made him captain of the house-league baseball team. Right off Kurt picked Jason. It didn’t make sense – Jason was no athlete. At his old school, Jason was always the last pick.

“You’ll be sorry,” Jason said. “I’m lousy at baseball. I’m lousy at all sports.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Kurt told him. “I’ll help you out.” After school Jason and Kurt went to the park and ran some drills. Jason stunk, but Kurt didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Don’t worry,” Kurt said. “You’ll get better.”

When they finished the first time, they went back to Jason’s house. His mom asked Kurt to stay for supper. “It won’t be special,” his mom said.

“I’m certain it will be terrific, Mrs. Hawking,” Kurt replied with that big smile of his.

Within a couple of weeks, Kurt was eating supper there every night. He always offered to help. He put out knives and forks, carried bowls to the table and cleaned up after. Jason just rolled his eyes.

“Why are you sucking up?” he asked one night.

Kurt shrugged. “I don’t mind. Makes me feel like I belong here.” Then he jumped up and took the laundry hamper from Mrs. Hawking. “Here. Let me carry that.”

“Thank you, Kurt,” said Jason’s mom. “You are such a polite young man.”

Jason made gagging sounds.

At school, Kurt always had cash. “Ditch your lunch. I’ll buy us some fries.” Jason couldn’t turn him down. He tossed his soggy tuna sandwiches into the trash. Then they went to Hutch’s for lunch, just like all the other cool kids.

One day those kids surrounded Jason and Kurt. “What’s with you guys?” one of them complained. His name was Pete, a stuck-up kid whose parents drove him to school in a Jaguar. “You’re okay, Kurt. But Jason? He’s such a loser.” Pete turned to Kurt. “Ditch him and you can hang with us.”

“Yeah,” said one of the others. “Get lost, Jason. Nobody needs you.”

Kurt laughed. Then he smiled, like he was going to say yes.

Jason felt like his whole world was going to fall apart.

But Kurt surprised them all. Quickly he whirled around and punched Pete right in the face. “Anyone else?” Kurt had his fists up, and he was still smiling.

Jason thought there was something kind of scary about Kurt’s smile. Even he felt a bit afraid. Then he got it. Kurt’s eyes weren’t smiling. There was something really hard and cold about Kurt’s eyes. They looked . . . empty.

Jason shrugged. Why should he care? The jerks backed off and left them alone.

One Saturday night, Jason and Kurt sat up late watching movies.

“It’s so late. You should stay for a sleepover,” Mrs. Hawking suggested.

Kurt called home. He said his parents were okay with him sleeping over. The next morning
he borrowed some of Jason’s clothes. “Perfect fit!”
he said.

Jason thought that was weird. Kurt was shorter and skinnier than he was. But the clothes seemed to fit him pretty well.

On Friday, Mrs. Hawking sent Jason for a haircut. “I’ll come too,” Kurt said. Jason got his usual buzz cut. “I’m too old for this,” he told the barber. “I’m fifteen.”

“Sorry, kid,” the barber replied. “As long as your mom pays, those are my orders.”

Kurt fingered his hair. It was long, thick and kind of curly. The girls really liked it – even made jokes about how sexy it was. So Jason was shocked when Kurt got into the chair.

“A buzz cut for me, too,” Kurt said.

“You sure?” the barber asked.

“Yeah. I like Jason’s style. Kinda old school FBI.”

Jason was amazed but then kind of glad. No one ever said he had style before. He liked it.

When the haircuts were done, Kurt put his arm around Jason. “We look like cousins,” he told him.

Jason glanced into the mirror and stared. When did Kurt put on weight? And was Kurt standing on something? He was as tall as Jason now.

The barber pulled out a camera and took a photo. “If you don’t mind, I’ll stick it in my window. Might be good for business.”

Snap.

A week later a neighbor saw Jason and asked about his cousin.

“Who?”

“I saw your photo at the barbershop. Must be a cousin. Sure looks like you.” The neighbor laughed. “Unless you got a brother chained up in the basement?” Yuk yuk yuk.

Jason rolled his eyes. Old people were stupid.

Jason rode by the shop later and stared. Forget cousin – Kurt could be his brother. They looked so much alike.

Jason biked home to talk to his mom. Maybe Kurt was related. Jason didn’t know much about his relatives. Not after his dad split and he and his mom moved away.

He rode up the driveway and there was Kurt – cutting the grass.

For some reason, Jason got mad. “What are you doing?” he yelled. “You don’t live here. This isn’t your house.”

Kurt looked surprised. But then Jason’s mom was outside, hands on her hips. “Jason! Don’t be rude! Kurt’s helping, that’s all. It wouldn’t kill you to do a few chores around here.” Then she glared at him.

What the . . . ? Jason thought. He forgot to ask his mom about cousins.

One day the math teacher called on Jason to answer a question. She didn’t notice when Kurt stood up. Then Kurt pulled the stunt a few times. When the class laughed, the teacher had to pay attention. She looked at both boys and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know what you two are up to, but knock it off.”

Jason didn’t say a word. The other kids thought he was cool for messing with a teacher.

On the weekend, Jason had an idea. “Let’s hang at your house today. You’re always at my place.”

Kurt sighed. “Love to, buddy, but . . .”

“But what?”

“My old man’s a drunk. My mom takes off a lot. I don’t have much of a family.”

Jason felt terrible. “Hey . . . Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know, man.”

Kurt shrugged. “It’s been great, your mom being so nice. Makes me feel like I have a real home.”

“Forget it. Stay for supper. My mom really likes you.”

And somehow . . .  Jason wasn’t clear how it happened . . . Kurt moved in. Mrs. Hawking heard about his drunk dad and got angry. “You come here whenever you want. Okay?”

Kurt smiled and said thanks. The next week, he was living in the spare room.

A couple of weeks went by, and Jason stopped wondering why Kurt never went home. He forgot to wonder why Kurt’s parents never called. He never asked why Kurt was always wearing his clothes. That’s just how it was.

One day, Jason biked by the barbershop again. He glanced up at the photo taped in the window. But something was wrong. Kurt was in sharp focus, but Jason – Jason seemed faded, blurred. How did that happen? Sunlight damage?

Jason pedalled fast, heading – where? He passed by the entrance to the cemetery. For no reason, he braked hard and turned in. He used to bike through here a lot, but not since last Halloween. Not since that kid disappeared. No one knew what happened to him. They hadn’t found a body. Well, you had to be an idiot to spend a night in a cemetery, Jason thought. He shivered and made a U-turn. It felt better to be on city streets.

Jason rode and rode. At last he was so tired he had to go home. Yup, sure enough, there was good ol’ Kurt working on the lawn. A pile of grass was raked and ready to bag.

Jason dumped his bike and grabbed a rake. “I’ll take over. Why don’t you take a break?”

Kurt smiled. “Too late, buddy. I’m pretty much done with the job.”

Jason looked up. There was something about the way Kurt said job, as if he didn’t mean gardening. And there was that cold look in his eyes again. Jason threw the rake on the ground and went inside. “Need any help with supper, Mom?” he called.

His mom was in the kitchen. The table was set and a pot of something bubbled on the stove. “Oh, it’s you.” His mom sounded disappointed, Jason thought. “Kurt and I were just about to eat.”

Jason looked closer – the table was set for two. “What the . . . ?”

Angry, he grabbed a plate and fork and slammed them down. His mom didn’t seem to notice. And she didn’t notice when Jason jumped up after dinner to do the dishes. She didn’t notice because she and Kurt left to watch TV. They liked those stupid reality shows. Jason hated them. He wouldn’t be caught dead watching a show like that.

Jason went upstairs and showered. He felt filthy from his bike ride. Then he wiped steam from the mirror and . . .

He wiped and wiped, but . . .

Jason couldn’t see his face in the mirror.

Kurt knocked and came in. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.

In the mirror, Jason could see Kurt, and Kurt was smiling. Jason saw that Kurt looked exactly like him. Except for his eyes. Kurt’s eyes were still cold and hard.

It was hot in the bathroom, but Jason felt cold. A shiver went down his spine. The chill spread across his butt and slid into his calf muscles. His toes felt like they were made of ice.

“Who are you?” Jason whispered.

“I’m you,” Kurt told him.

a

IV. Telling Ghost Stories

Rory and his friends get a strange visitor at their cabin. They tell a couple of ghost stories, but the scariest story of all is right in front of them . . .

THIS IS THE PART I hated about the cabin. Shove the key in the lock, turn and pray. Pray that nothing died in the cabin over the winter.

“Hurry up, Rory!” Gramps yelled at me.

I got the door open, and Gramps pushed me out of the way. He flipped the switch. The overhead light went on, and there was the usual junk. Mouse poop. Cobwebs. Dead bugs. A dried-up bat. The corpse of a red squirrel.

Gramps shouted orders. “Nothing happens until this place is clean! Got it?” He handed us brooms and cleaners and rags. “Get busy or no supper. I’ll get the outhouse open.”

My buddy Ben looked like he was going to puke. “Outhouse! Are you kidding me? No flush toilets?”

I shrugged. “I warned you,” I told them.

Maybe it was dumb to invite Ben and Pete out here. Life at the cabin was really roughing it. These guys were used to resorts with maids and hot tubs. But not up here. Still, the guys had asked to come along. So here we were.

Last time Gramps and I opened the cabin, my friend Drew came with me. But Drew . . . I shivered, thinking about Drew. We all wondered what happened to him. What if I’d gone with him into the cemetery that night? Could I have saved him? Or would I be a missing kid as well?

Snap out of it, I told myself. Thinking about Drew wouldn’t bring him back. Whether I liked it or not, Ben and Pete were with me this trip. They’d just have to man up. So we had an outhouse and a dead squirrel. But there was a great lake for swimming and a campfire each night.

We all worked for an hour or so. When the clean-up was done, we unpacked our bags and claimed our bunks.

“Now can we go swimming, Gramps?”

“Sure. Supper’s in an hour.”

“What are we having?” Pete asked. “I can’t have any milk or dairy.”

“Don’t care,” barked Gramps. “You’ll eat what you get or starve.”

Gramps was like that. Kind of rough, just like the cabin.

The three of us ran down to the dock and waded in. The water was so clear you could see the bottom. I dragged the wooden raft into the lake and dropped the anchor. Then we swam out.

“Is Gramps always so grumpy?” Pete asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, but he’s okay. He likes acting all tough guy, but he’s a softie.”

Supper was beans and hot dogs mixed with hot sauce. There was hot, crusty bread with loads of butter. Then my grandma’s huge, homemade cookies.

“Sure hope the cookies don’t upset your stomachs,” Gramps laughed.

The three of us were hungry enough to eat double helpings. “So what do we do now?” Ben asked. “Where’s the TV?”

Gramps slammed his hands on the table. “TV? This here’s a cabin in the woods, boy. No TV here! And as for what you’ll do – you’ll do the dishes.”

The look on Ben’s face made me laugh. “Come on. We have to get water from the lake and boil it.”

Ben and Pete stared at me as if I was nuts. But that was the truth – there was no running water.

It was dark when we finished cleaning the kitchen, and I could smell wood smoke. “Gramps has a fire going.” I led Ben and Pete to the fire pit down on the shore. “This is the best place for a fire. We never have to worry about forest fires. And we don’t have to lug water to put the fire out.”

“So why didn’t we do the dishes down here and not lug water uphill?” Pete asked.

“Because,” I said. “Just because.” I was starting to sound like Gramps.

We sat on log stools around the fire, and Gramps handed us long skinny sticks and a bag of marshmallows. Then he went over to the dock. “I’m taking the boat to visit some friends. Can I trust you not to burn the place down?”

I think he was only half joking.

When we finished the marshmallows, we lay on our backs and stared into the sky. The stars – billions of them – blazed and pulsed in the dark. I jumped up. “Who wants a night swim?” I asked. But I didn’t wait for an answer. I ran into the water and swam out to the raft.

I had just reached the raft when something grabbed onto my foot. Then I was underwater, fighting for air. I struggled to break free of whoever – whatever – had a death grip on me.

I thrashed back to the surface and saw her. A girl swam to the raft right beside me.

“What the . . . ?” I swore at her. “What are you doing?!”

It was Marly, a girl from the nearby town. We hung out every summer. I even got my first kiss from her. Nothing more. But hey! Maybe this summer?

Now Ben and Pete were busting a gut over on the shore. This girl had pulled me under and made me look like a fool.

“You looked like a sea monster was dragging you down,” Pete laughed. His voice carried over the water.

“So who’s the girl?” Ben shouted. “How about an introduction?” Ben thought he was pretty smooth with the girls.

“This is Marly,” I told them. “We used to be friends.” I glared at her.

Marly winked at Ben and Pete. “Oh come on. We were so much more than friends, Rory.” She grabbed my hand and pulled – it was like she had some kind of super strength. She pulled me close to her and – just like that – she kissed me. Hard. On the mouth.

Weird. Of course I liked it. Loved it. Ben and Pete were staring at me like I was some kind of super stud.

But something wasn’t right. First, Marly felt really cold. Kissing her was like kissing a fish. And two, Marly looked funny. Her skin was pale and wrinkly, like she’d swam all the way from town.

When we got out of the water, Marly was shivering like she had a really bad flu. I got her a blanket, and she sat real close to the fire.

“Who wants to tell ghost stories?” she whispered.

Ben and Pete both wanted to show off for Marly. Ben went first.

“This is a true story,” Ben said. “My dad said it happened to this guy he knows. So there’s this dude driving down a dark road, and he has to take a leak. The guy pulls over onto the shoulder and goes into the woods. Then he gets back in his car and keeps driving. Later he pulls into a gas station to fill up. So he goes in to pay and then heads back to his car. Suddenly the clerk in the station yells at him. ‘I charged you too much! Come back!’ So the guy goes back inside, and the clerk slams the door shut. He locks the door and pulls the driver over to the window. ‘Look!’ he says.”

Ben looked around. We were all listening.

“Both guys watch as this man jumps out of the car and runs down the road. And he has this huge knife in his hands. ‘I saw him when you went back to your car,’ the clerk says. ‘He was going to kill you!’ Then they called the cops but . . . ”

Ben stopped talking and looked at us. Then he whispered, “But the next day, they found another car on the side of the road. The driver was still inside, but his head was cut off. The killer had found another victim!”

Pete laughed. “That’s not a real story, you moron,” he said. “That’s one of those urban legends. We’ve all heard it before.”

“Yeah? Can you do any better?” Ben didn’t like Pete making fun of him in front of Marly.

“I have one,” I said to Marly. “Except I don’t know how it happened. And I don’t know how it ends.”

Marly looked interested, so I went on. “Last year, on Halloween, my buddy Drew went missing. He went into the cemetery, and he never came out. That’s all. They never found him.” I shrugged.

Ben went really still. “Yeah. I was there. I saw Drew go in. But we left him alone. I swear. We had nothing to do with him disappearing.”

We were all pretty quiet, remembering. Thinking.

Then Ben jumped up. “Hey, come on. We’re supposed to be having fun!”

Ben and Pete swam out to the raft. They did handstands. They did cannonballs into the water. “Look, Marly! Look at me, Marly!” they shouted.

Showing off for a girl – my girl. Pretty lame.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Marly called. “I wouldn’t swim in this lake if I were you.”

“Why not?” I asked. I’d been coming to this lake for sixteen years.

“Now I’ll tell all of you my ghost story,” Marly said. Her voice carried over the water. “A monster lives in this lake. It comes from a crack way down at the bottom. Some people think it got out of hell. It’s cold and evil. In the winter it’s frozen in the lake ice. But in the summer . . .” Marly paused.

“In the summer?” I prodded.

“In the summer, it thaws. And the evil spirit goes in search of a victim. Only one victim. And it eats that victim’s flesh all summer long. Slowly. Bit by bit.”

I shivered.

Ben and Pete laughed. “That’s a cool story,” Pete said. Then the two of them made “booga-booga” noises.

“I’m so scared!” Ben said, and he jumped back in the lake.

Pete swam over to him and shoved him under. “Watch out! I’m the lake monster!”

Just then I saw Gramps’s boat chugging through the narrows. And I heard a splash, like a fish jumping.

“Gramps is back,” I said. “He’ll be happy to see you, Mar . . . ” I turned to Marly, but she was gone.

Far out from shore, I saw ripples in the water. Was she swimming back to town? That was crazy. Boats go up and down the channel and wouldn’t see her in the dark. She could get herself killed.

Gramps pulled alongside the dock. He looked really upset about something.

“Do you remember that girl Marly? The one from town you had the hots for last summer?”

“Of course I know who Marly is,” I said. “She was just here.”

Gramps glared at me. “Not funny, Rory.” He wiped at his eyes.

Gramps? Crying?

“No really, Gramps,” I said. “Marly was here. She swam over. And she took off when she heard your boat.”

“Knock it off, Rory!” Gramps slammed his fists down on the sides of his chair. “Marly fell through the melting ice this spring. They never found her body.”

V. The Railway Bridge

Nino’s day starts with a nightmare. Then a nightmare within a nightmare. And then it all gets worse . . .

A GUY SAT BESIDE Nino on the railway bridge. It
was somebody named Cole. But Cole’s face was bruised and cut. And his head hung in a weird way to one side.

“Don’t do it, Nino,” Cole whispered. Blood trickled from his mouth.

“Do what?” Nino shouted.

And then suddenly Nino was falling. Falling down, down, down until he hit the water. Hard. Nino felt his skull hitting the packed sand at the bottom.

Then Nino thrashed up through the murk and gloom of the river, swallowing water, kicking his legs and swinging his arms. He broke through the surface and gasped for air.

Except Nino was lying on his bed. And it was 7:30 in the morning. October 31. It was Nino’s sixteenth birthday.

What a way to start the day. With a nightmare.

Nino rolled over, pushing the tangled sheets out of his way.

He was fully dressed, in his best pants. And he was wearing the hockey jersey he wanted for his birthday.

What the . . . ? Was he still dreaming? Did he really hit his head and miss his whole birthday? Or did his parents sneak in last night and dress him up like this? Not funny. He was sixteen now. No way he wanted his parents in his bedroom at night.

Nino stomped downstairs, angry.

But no one was in the kitchen. The pumpkin was on the counter, half carved. A burnt cake sat on the stove. Toast had popped up and Nino grabbed a slice. It was cold and hard.

Where was everyone? “Okay,” Nino shouted. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

No answer. Was this some sort of lame birthday surprise?

Nino got a bowl of cereal and didn’t care when he slopped milk. He couldn’t see his lunch so he scooped a handful of coins out of the jar. “No lunch on my birthday. What’s going on, guys?” Nino shouted to an empty house.

It was raining, but hey! No mom to bug him about a raincoat. Nino slammed the front door and jumped down the three steps.

Nino walked to school alone. Not one of his friends showed up in the usual places. The rain had stopped, and the street was wrapped in mist. The neighbors he waved to didn’t wave back. Maybe they couldn’t see him because the fog was so thick. But . . . he could see them. So what gives?

In the crosswalk, Nino jumped away from a speeding car. The jerk didn’t even brake!

Nino was late for class, but there was some other teacher covering the class. She didn’t notice him come in. Funny, not one of his friends was in class. Had they all skipped?

At lunch, there were no friends to go grab a slice at Hutch’s. So Nino went home. The mailbox was full, and Nino smiled at the big pile of cards.

“Hello? Anybody home?” he shouted. “It’s me. Nino. Your kid. Remember?”

No answer.

Nino made a sandwich and then opened up the first card. With deepest sympathy for your loss. The second card: With sorrow. What the . . . ? Nino flipped through the envelopes – all addressed to his parents, not him. He tore them open, not caring if they ripped.

Not one birthday card.

Someone they knew was dead. Why didn’t his parents tell him? And where were they? Nino felt hot anger knife up inside his gut.

This was more than stupid! Nino wasn’t a little kid. So who could have died – his grandfather? Gramps wasn’t that old. Maybe his uncle?

Nino shook himself the way a dog does. Why was he spending his birthday playing “guess who died”? This was stupid.

Nino ran outside, sliding along the rain-slick pavement. Pumpkins lay smashed on the road. Strange. That’s what kids did the day after Halloween. But that would be tomorrow. Today was Nino’s birthday.

The funeral home appeared suddenly out of the fog. What the heck? Nino didn’t remember a funeral home this close to his house.

He stopped running. Maybe his dead relative was inside. Nino went up the steps and pushed open the double doors. It was his first time ever in a funeral parlor.

A young woman in a black suit smiled at him. “And who are you visiting?” she whispered.

Visiting?!

“I’m . . . uh . . . not . . .” Nino couldn’t find any words.

“Well, this is a funeral parlor. Not someone’s living room, in case you didn’t notice.” Nino heard the sarcasm in her voice.

“Listen, I’m just looking . . . ” and again his words fell off.

The woman didn’t leave. She was probably used to all kinds of people acting a little strange.

“Name?” she said.

Why does she need to know my name?
Nino wondered. But he answered her. “Nino
Rizzo.”

She handed him a card.

Nino Ricardo Rizzo

Resting in Parlor Three

Nino’s vision blurred, and his knees went wobbly. Somehow he stumbled to a bench.

“Are you all right?” the woman asked. “He was so young. Was he a friend of yours?”

Nino heard himself laugh like someone nuts. “He is me, you moron!” he shouted. Or thought he shouted. Nino felt vomit rise in his throat, and he swallowed hard.

Somehow he got up and walked down the hallway. No matter how many steps he took, the room, “parlor three”, was still so far away. But finally he got there. Somehow he got there.

The room was filled with his friends and his teachers and his family. His parents stood by a coffin. They wept without stopping.

And nobody noticed him.

He heard whispers. He heard the voices all at once, as if they were just sounds in the air.

Why did he do it?

They say another kid put him up to it.

I’ve asked Council to close off that bridge. An accident waiting to happen, if you ask me.

Nice kid – feel terrible for his folks. Only child.

Didn’t someone else die there? Maybe last year? Cole Wilson wasn’t it?

Well, you know kids – someone must have dared Nino to walk the tracks.

So, not an accident?

Course not! Just kids being stupid!

On and on the whispering went.

Nino walked to the coffin. He took a deep breath and peered in. He saw his body, laid out in a shirt and tie and the new hockey jersey.

He wanted to cry out, “Hey, I’m not dead. I’m here, you morons.” But no words came out.

Then his old buddy Cole came beside him, resting his hands on the coffin. Nino couldn’t look away from Cole’s hands – all smashed and twisted.

“Don’t do it, Nino,” Cole whispered. Cole’s face was bruised and cut. His head hung in a weird way to one side. Blood trickled from his mouth.

Nino screamed. No one heard. No one even looked at him.

“I’m warning you, Nino,” Cole whispered again. “I’ve got this one chance to protect you. Don’t do it. Don’t go up on the bridge.”

Nino screamed a second time. This time his mom heard him. She ran toward him, seeing him, shaking him.

Shaking him awake.

“Nino! Wake up! Wake up!” She had him by the shoulders and pulled him up.

Nino was in his bed, tangled in his sheets. And he was wearing pajamas.

A nightmare. He’d had a nightmare inside another nightmare.

“Happy birthday, sweetie!” his mom said. “What was that all about? A Halloween nightmare for a Halloween birthday?”

“Yeah,” Nino mumbled. He was drenched in sweat.

“Get dressed and come downstairs. I’m making breakfast.”

Nino spent a long time in a hot shower. Still, he couldn’t shake the nightmare. And why did he dream about Cole? He knew Cole fell from the railway bridge and broke his neck. That was last year. Ancient history. The guy was a wimp and some kids dared him to walk the bridge. He got scared and wobbled and fell. Moron.

In the kitchen, his mom scrambled eggs and his dad carved the pumpkin. A pan was on the counter. Nino saw the recipe for his favorite cake.

His mom said, “Bring some friends home after school. You can have cake before trick-or-treating.”

Nino shrugged. “Not going out this year, Mom. That’s kids’ stuff.”

His mom rolled her eyes. “Here. Have some eggs.”

Nino grabbed a piece of toast. “No thanks. I’m already late. I said I’d meet some guys.”

“Who? Where?”

“Mom. I’m sixteen. Knock it off.”

“Excuse me?” His mom put down her coffee cup with a bang. Her voice was icy.

Nino knew he’d gone too far. And he didn’t want her asking any more nosy questions. “Sorry. Just – you know – a couple of friends. Kick the ball around before school. That’s all.”

“It’s raining.”

“Mom!”

She threw her hands in the air, pretending to give up.

He met Jason at the corner of his street. A couple of other guys joined them at the next corner.

“We still skipping?” asked one guy. “The rain’s stopped.”

“Totally,” Nino answered. “No way I’m going to class on my birthday.” Halloween was a good day to skip school. The teachers would be dressed up and playing stupid tricks on their students. Even if they did notice kids missing, they wouldn’t care.

They group veered off the main road and went down to the river. They stared up at the railway bridge. Nino felt his hands get sweaty. “Is this where that kid Cole died?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Jason. “You gonna chicken out?”

Nino looked at Jason. There was something really creepy about this guy. He used to be such a loser. Now . . . now he picked fights with everybody. He didn’t care if he broke your nose or knocked out a tooth. No one ever complained. No one dared to. There was something about Jason’s eyes – cold and mean. Empty. He had a look that could cut you in two.

“You’re not going to back down, are you?” Jason asked. “Not like that guy last year.”

Nino spat on the ground by Jason’s foot. No way he’d chicken out like that wimp David. No way.

Nino began the long climb to the top. The guys watched, cheering him on. It was his birthday. This would make him a man, for sure.

“Atta boy, Nino! You can do this!”

Could he? Nino stopped near the top and looked down. His friends were huddled together, smiling and waving. Jason stood off to the side. He was looking up, but not at Nino. He was staring at a spot in mid-air.

Nino glanced that way. Nothing. He kept climbing.

The bridge wasn’t used by trains anymore. The ties were old and rotten. Moss grew here and there. Dead leaves lay in clumps against the supports, slippery with rain.

Last year, the kid had panicked. He’d lost his nerve, and the guys never let him forget it. But Nino was better than that. No way, Nino thought. Ain’t gonna happen to me. No way.

Nino stood up and stepped out. Below him, the river raged with last night’s rain.

A few more steps and he’d be there. Why did the other side look so far away?

Don’t do it, Nino!

The voice was so real that Nino spun around. He was sure that someone was really there.

But there was nothing.

Nino’s foot slipped on the slimy wood. He lurched forward and crashed through the rotten tie. He felt one leg wrenching one way as the other leg found the gap.

I warned you, said the voice.

Nino fell, down and down and down, until he hit the water. Hard.

And his last thought was of smashed pumpkins, lying on the pavement in the rain.

VI. Payback

Even in the world of the undead, there is payback. What you give is what you get. Or so Kurt finds out . . .

WHAT WAS LEFT OF me floated out the bathroom window and into the dark. I don’t mean my body. I left my body behind. But the real me just floated away.

I used to be Jason Hawking. But my ex-friend Kurt took over my body. He’s living in my house, and my mom thinks he’s me. My teachers didn’t notice the change. Nobody is missing me, the real me.

That other kid who disappeared last year – Drew McFee? The cops are still looking. There are missing person photos of him all over. But me? Nada.

So what was I? A ghost? A spirit?

I could still think. And I did a lot of thinking at first. Maybe I was a mind without a body.

Then I started watching.

For a while I watched Kurt. I saw him sleeping in my bedroom. Using my stuff. Riding my bike. Wearing my clothes. Sometimes Kurt would spin around really fast, looking behind him. It was like he thought someone was there. He even punched at the air with his fist, almost as if he could see me.

But I got bored with that. I got tired of watching my old home. There was nothing there for me. And I hated watching my mom. It made me sick to see her taking care of Kurt and thinking he was me.

So I wandered around the neighborhood, looking in windows. Watching. It was fun to spy on people. People who think they’re so great and better than you? They pick their noses and scratch their bums when no one is looking. I watched a kid steal money from his mom’s purse. I saw another kid grab a couple of smokes from his dad’s pocket. I watched some of the “smart” kids cheat on tests. Good kids, or so everyone thought. Man! If I were still “alive” I could really blackmail them!

That would be payback, for sure.

One day – it was Halloween – I saw Kurt and Nino going to school. So I followed along. I wanted to know what they were saying. It figured that Nino and Kurt were friends. Nino was a class-A jerk. Kurt was a body-stealer. I wondered if I could do something to Kurt – trip him or give him a shove. If I’m a ghost, shouldn’t I have some powers?

At the corner, Kurt and Nino turned away from the school. A couple of other kids joined them. Then, when they crossed the next street, they all started running. They kept looking behind them, so I knew they were up to something.

I tagged along. Hey! It was Halloween. Maybe I could play a little trick? A little payback, maybe?

I watched Nino climb up the old railway bridge. I could see he was nervous, but he took a few steps. He was that kind of guy. Kind of stupid.

Then I heard the voice.

“Don’t do it, Nino!”

I looked into the air. At first – nothing. But then the light seemed to shimmer. And then I saw Cole, floating beside me. Cole, the kid who died a couple of years ago.

“Don’t do it, Nino!” Cole said again.

Nino must have heard the voice. He spun around, fast. Then something went wrong with his feet. He slipped. And I saw the look on his face, the panic.

I watched Nino fall, and I watched him hit his head on the bottom of the river.

Then I watched Kurt. He looked . . . happy. He was smiling. Not his eyes, though. His eyes never smiled.

“Cole?” I whispered.

“Right here,” he said.

Cole died trying to cross the railway bridge. So I knew I was looking at a ghost. But I wasn’t scared. I mean, I was a ghost, too, I guess.

For the first time in months, I had someone to talk to. A ghost like me. And Cole used to be my friend. That was before Kurt came into my life and took over my body.

Maybe Cole could tell me things.

“Yeah, I can tell you things,” Cole said.

And he could read my mind.

“Some of us die before we’re supposed to,” Cole said. “Like there’s a master plan but somehow, some of us get screwed. So, maybe to even things out, we get to hang around and watch people. If we want to, we can become one of the voices. We can be a voice loud enough for living people to hear.”

“So that’s what I heard,” I said.

“Yeah,” Cole told me. “I tried to warn Nino a couple of times. But he’s a moron.”

“Is he like us now?” I looked around. Like I might see Nino floating beside us.

“Not a chance,” Cole said. “To be a voice, you have to want to help people. Warn them about things. Nino doesn’t seem the type.”

“Guess not.”

“And there’s another thing. I think Nino was supposed to die today. Part of the master plan. Me? I got bullied into dying. But Nino was a bully. I think his time was up. That’s why I couldn’t help him. And I did try. I really did.”

Okay. So if Cole is right, I’m part of the master plan gone wrong. Real wrong. Great.

“So now what?” I asked him. “Do we just . . . float around? Or do we go somewhere?” I asked. I really did not want to go back to my old house. I was sick of watching Kurt.

“Some of us rest at the cemetery,” Cole answered. I felt a tugging, not on my body, but on my thoughts. “Follow me.”

We floated together back to the main road. I saw police cars and heard sirens. An ambulance drove to the railway bridge. But Nino didn’t need an ambulance. He was on his way to a funeral parlor, not a hospital.

Cole showed me how to move just by thinking. Sort of like a go-cart ride except you use your mind. At first, I banged into things, but I didn’t feel anything. Then I did it just for fun. When I laughed, people looked up, like they heard me.

Cole and I drifted over the gates to the cemetery and followed a path down to a ravine. I had never gone this far into the cemetery, and it was really creepy. An old man was sitting by a gravestone.

“Hi, Cole,” he mumbled, not looking up. I guess there was nothing to see. “Bring in a new one?”

“Hi, Drew,” Cole answered. “It’s Jason. Was Jason, I should say. A double got him.”

The old man looked up sharply. “Jason Hawking?” he said. “I’m Drew. Drew McFee.”

I stared at him. “You’re not Drew. You’re old. Drew’s my age.”

“Oh it’s me, Jason. The ghouls got me and sucked the life right out of me. I’m pretty dried up now. Not human anymore.” Then he told me a couple of things we used to do, back before he disappeared.

Okay. So I believed him. This old dude was somehow Drew.

“I can’t leave here,” Drew said. “But you’re lucky. You can come and go as you wish.”

Yeah. Right. Lucky me.

Drew added, “So this is my job now. I try to warn kids to stay out of the cemetery. But kids are stupid. They think staying in a cemetery overnight makes them cool.” He laughed, a weird, dry laugh. “It just makes them a target for the ghouls. That’s what happened to me. The old guy before me tried to warn me. But I didn’t escape in time.”

Drew pointed to a gravestone. His name was carved on it. The year he died was 2014.

“I’m dead,” Drew said. “Or, at least, my body is dead.”

I shook my head. “But it’s 2015, and your parents are still out looking for you. They put up missing posters.”

Drew smiled, a sad smile. “They’ll find my body soon. Tests will show I died on Halloween night in 2014. But my parents will never know how I died.”

Okay. So I was totally confused.

Cole read my mind. “Jason, time doesn’t work the same way in a cemetery.”

No kidding.

So I sat down with them, and we wondered how this could happen to us. I mean, Cole, me, Drew – we all knew each other. We’re from the same neighborhood. But it didn’t make sense. It was like we were in some sort of zombie zone.

Somehow I knew time was passing. I felt sleet, then snow. I saw leaves grow back on trees. I guess I could spend forever here, but I wanted out. Dead or half-dead or whatever I was, I was too young for this.

“Go on,” said Cole. He had read my mind. “Try your luck on the outside. Try to be a warning voice. Do some good, Jason.”

So I floated away from them, back into the city. And it was still Halloween 2015. I saw the police going to the railway bridge.

I went to my old school. Just to see what was going on. The first kid I saw was Josh. He was a small kid, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Some of the older kids were picking on him. Shoving him around. I could see the look of fear in his face. I could feel his powerless anger.

So I wondered if I could reach out to him. Maybe help him out with the bullies. Do good.

“Just walk away!” I shouted.

It was like trying to talk through a cave wall. I thought I was screaming, but Josh couldn’t hear me. And I really wanted to help him. I had this real need to help him. I couldn’t explain it. It was like a force driving me. So I kept yelling.

One day, Josh looked right at me.

“Who are you?” he whispered. He put out his hand like a blind person trying to feel his way.

He sensed me! I couldn’t believe it! Maybe I wasn’t really dead after all?

“Jason!” I shouted. “My name is Jason!”

Josh backed away. “Leave me alone!” he yelled and ran away.

So I waited and tried again a few days later. This time, I came to his rescue when some jerk tripped him. I shoved the jerk back, and the dude fell on his butt.

The other kids thought it was Josh pushing back. They thought he was standing up for himself at last.

But Josh knew. He stared into the space where I was. He couldn’t see me, but he knew.

I helped him out a few more times. And then a funny thing began to happen. I began to take on a shape. I could see my hands and arms. Then I saw the rest of my body. If I helped someone, did I begin to be human again? Maybe that was part of the master plan?

I found some clothes in a Goodwill bin. Then I walked up to Josh and waited.

He put out his hand and touched me. “Are you real? Who are you?”

I decided to lie. I told him I was a new kid in the neighborhood. I said I needed some decent friends. Said I hated the jerks at my old school.

“Yeah. I know how that feels,” Josh said.

It was tricky at first. Pretty soon I realized only Josh could see me. So I had to be careful. I only showed up when he was alone. I didn’t want anyone thinking he was nuts – talking out loud to himself. And I sure didn’t want him to know the truth about me.

But one day – one really special day for me – Josh’s mom asked me to stay for supper! She could see me, too!

I liked being flesh and blood. I was tired of floating around.

And so . . .

You can probably see where this is going?

I cut my hair like Josh’s. I helped his mom and dad around the house. I played with his dog and rode his bike. I borrowed his clothes.

I made up a story about my parents being deadbeats. (Dead beats! Funny, huh?)

Soon, I moved into Josh’s house. His parents felt sorry for me and invited me to stay.

In a couple of months, Josh looked a little pale and a little thin. Like he was fading away. Me? I looked in the mirror and saw a very healthy young man!

One day I ran into Kurt. “Congrats,” he sneered. “You figured it out pretty fast.” He tried to high five me, but I ignored him. Kurt still gives me the creeps.

I was feeling good about everything until one night I heard a voice. Josh and I shared a room and I heard a voice whispering, “Josh. Be careful. Josh. Don’t go tomorrow. Don’t go.”

Josh tossed in his sleep like he was having a bad dream.

“Cole?” I hissed.

No answer.

Poor old Josh didn’t listen. The next day we went hiking. Josh looked really sick, but his mom thought the fresh air would be good for him.

Josh – the real Josh – never made it back from the hike. I took over his body. Then I took a deep breath and blew on him. He came apart like when you blow on a dandelion. The ghost part of him is floating around somewhere. Probably watching me right now.

What did you expect? I was taken over by a double. That makes me one of them. And if I’m a double, I have to do the same to someone else.

Or stay forever half-dead, half-alive.

But I’m not a creep like Kurt. I don’t have those empty eyes. I won’t hurt anyone like he does. Maybe I can do some good, now.

Josh’s parents didn’t notice the change. Neither did the teachers. Nobody called the cops. No missing person posters.

Because Josh isn’t missing. I’m Josh now.

So life is pretty good. Cole’s been bugging me, hissing at me. He thinks I let him down. He thought I was one of the good guys. Well, we’ll see. I haven’t had a chance yet.

Oh! One more thing. Josh is a double now. So he’ll be floating around, looking for someone’s body to take over.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The Warning

About the Author

SHARON JENNINGS is the distinguished author of many books for young people, including the award-winning novel Home Free. For High Interest Publishing, she’s written Lost!, Pump, Dancing on the Edge and the six Bat mystery novels. Visit her website at www.sharonjennings.com

For more information on HIP novels:

High Interest Publishing – Publishers of H•I•P Books

www.hip-books.com