Mr. Binks shivered against my leg as I crouched behind the tombstone carved with the name Harry Hat. Somebody got screwed on that one. Mr. Binks is tiny and short-haired, so I made myself believe he was cold, at least for the moment. Then he began to growl.
I glanced right and left, to Holly and Susan, huddled behind neighboring tombstones. Could dead people have neighbors? Did they think of the person in the next grave as just living one house over? Or did it matter?
Of course it didn’t matter. I’m 12. I don’t believe in ghosts anymore. At least in the daylight. Nighttime… I’m not quite so sure.
Jonny said the ghosts rose at midnight, dancing around the grave of a witch. Sounded fishy to me. Some of those dead folks had to have more smarts than that. Pretty stupid to rise out the grave just to do-wop around another stone. I could think of much better things to do…. like scare the pants off Jonny Brown.
My eyes rolled of their own accord; my automatic response whenever the subject arose. On the other hand, they did have their uses. Sometimes.
I heard a sound. Not a happy kind of sound; more like the creaking of an old door opening….. Did graves have doors?
Holly cried something and I glanced over her way. The dog crept over and huddled beside her. She’d always been a scary-cat. Susan, on the other hand, was just as curious as me.
Faint music started, coming from a distance and growing louder. I glimpsed white forms gathering about twenty yards away. Pulling back, I looked over at Susan and made wavy arms motions. Ghosts didn’t look like bed sheets, not unless they are on Charlie Brown. We both nodded and looked round our headstones. The ghostly forms danced around a tombstone, bopping up and down like really bad dancers.
Susan and I locked eyes. I motioned for her to go round the other side of her stone, while I did the same with mine, good old Harry Hat watching my backside. Ducking stone to stone, we easily reached the far side of the dancers; they were so into their dance they didn’t bother to look around. Pulling on the sheets we’d hidden earlier, I mouthed, ‘One, two, three…’ We jumped up, whooing up a storm.
The ghosts stopped dead in their tracks then ran screaming, sheets streaming off to hang round tombstones like flags. Holly and I fell to the ground, laughing.
Boys… that’ll teach them.