Case of the School Ghost
Read Case of the School Ghost Online
Authors: Dori Hillestad Butler
The Case of the School Ghost
Pictures by Jeremy Tugeau
Albert Whitman & Company
Chicago, Illinois
For Michelle.
Thank you for all you’ve
done for Buddy ... and for me.
4. Why Is Everyone Acting So Weird?
Message from Agatha
Hello!
My name is Buddy. I’m a therapy dog. That means I go to school and help kids. Sometimes I help them with reading. Sometimes I help them solve problems. Sometimes I just put my head in their laps and let them pet me. Petting a dog helps humans feel better when they are upset. I LOVE being a therapy dog. It’s my favorite job!
I have another favorite job besides therapy dog. I’m also a detective. I’ve solved a bunch of cases already: the Case of the Lost Boy, the Case of the Mixed-up Mutts, the Case of the Missing Family, the Case of the Fire Alarm, and the Case of the Library Monster.
Here’s a case I haven’t solved yet: the Case of the School Ghost.
A lot of humans and animals think there’s a ghost at Four Lakes Elementary School. I don’t know if there’s a ghost there or not. I don’t even know if I believe in ghosts.
Here’s one thing I DO know:
Some strange things have happened at that school.
Here’s a list of some of the strange things I’ve seen, heard, and felt there:
Doors closing all by themselves.
Lights flickering and going out all by themselves.
Noises in the walls and the ceiling.
Cold air rippling through my fur. Like a GHOST is trying to pet me!
Maybe tonight I will solve the Case of the School Ghost once and for all, because guess what? I GET TO GO TO A SLEEPOVER WITH CONNOR AT SCHOOL TONIGHT! We’re going to stay all night and sleep in sleeping bags in the library. It’s going to be so fun!
The sleepover is for fourth graders who have read five hundred pages so far this school year. I’m not a fourth grader. And I haven’t read five hundred pages. But Mom is the alpha human at school. If she says I can go to the sleepover, then I can go to the sleepover.
Right now I am lying on the floor by Connor’s bed, watching him pack.
“Shirt, pants, underwear, socks, pajamas,” Connor says. “Is that everything, Buddy?”
“What about food?” I ask. “And your bowls? And some toys?” That’s what we bring for me when I go someplace and stay overnight. Food, my bowls, and some toys. I don’t need any of that other stuff that Connor is packing.
Connor slaps the side of his head. “I almost forgot my toothbrush.” He dashes out of the room.
I wouldn’t mind if Mom and Connor forgot my toothbrush. I HATE having my teeth brushed.
Hey, maybe I should see what Mom packed for me. If she packed my toothbrush, there’s still time to hide it under the refrigerator. Or in the garbage can.
I trot down the hall and down the stairs. There’s a paper bag on the floor in the kitchen. Sniff … sniff … I smell my FOOD! I stick my nose inside the bag. The bag topples over and everything inside spills out. A bag of food, a bag of liver treats, my bowls, my leash, my ball, and my squeaky duck. I LOVE my squeaky duck. It’s my favorite toy!
“Buddy!” Mom cries.
My heart jumps inside my chest. “Oh, hi, Mom,” I say with my tail. “I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”
Mom stuffs everything, including the duck, back inside the bag. She makes mad eyes at me and blows a bunch of air out through her mouth.
“What?” I say. “What did I do?”
Mom doesn’t tell me.
I think I’ll go outside for a little bit. Maybe when I get back Mom will be in a better mood.
I charge through my doggy door, across the back porch, and down into the yard. Sniff … sniff … the air smells heavy and wet. The sky is growing dark. It feels like it might storm soon.
I circle the yard, searching for the perfect spot to do my business. Someplace where I haven’t gone in a while, but not too far from where I normally go. Ah, here’s a good spot. I lift my leg and … all of a sudden I have the feeling I’m being watched.
I glance over my shoulder, but I don’t see anyone. I finish my business, then turn all around. I see our big tree, some flowers, the tall fence. I don’t see any intruders.
Then I look up. Above the fence. Cat with No Name has draped himself across a tree branch that’s hanging partway into our yard.
“Why do you always have to sneak up on me?” I ask.
“I didn’t sneak,” Cat says. “I’ve been here all afternoon.”
“Why?” I ask. Doesn’t he have anything better to do than watch my backyard? It’s my job to watch my backyard, not his.
Cat licks his front paw. “I was waiting for you to come outside,” he says. “I have a message for you.”
A message? For me?
“From who?” I ask, padding over to the fence.
“Agatha,” Cat says.
Agatha is the name of the ghost at school. If there really is a ghost at school.