School of Meanies Read Online Free Page B

breakfast?” Charlie called.
    “I want to arrive early,” I called back, “while there aren’t too many still-alives around.”
    When I wisped down the ornate staircase, my school tie wafting behind me, I found Tabitha, Charlie, Wither, Agatha, and Pamela floating by the front door.
    “We thought we’d come with you,” Agatha said. “If we put our haunted heads together—”
    Tabitha clapped her hands, and the front door creaked open.
    “I need to solve this problem for myself,” I said as the six of us floated out of the house.
    “How mean,” said Wither, and he pursed his lips.
    When I looked around, the grown-up ghosties had gone.

11
    Bumping Lessons
    As I floated across the empty playground, past the prickly bushes decorated with crisp packets and flowers, an idea struck.
    My idea was that I’d wisp into one of the classrooms, find a seat at the back, and float above it doing addition. By the time the lesson started, the still-alives would be used to my ghostly presence, and they wouldn’t be mean to me.
    That’s what it’s called when there’s a ghost inthe room. A ghostly presence.
    Wither told me that, and Wither is a poet.

    I found a classroom with an open window and floated in.
    When I opened my spooky satchel, five frightfully friendly ghosties wisped out.
    “We’re here to help you make friends,” Agatha said.
    “It was my idea,” Charlie said, and he held his hat to his chest.
    “Charlie, don’t boast,” Agatha said. “It’s hardly the polite thing to do.”
    “I did doff my trilby, Agatha.”
    “Anyway,” Pamela said, hiding her eyes, “it was my idea, not Charlie Vapor’s.”
    Wither folded his bony arms. “But I was the first ghosty to wisp into Humphrey’s satchel.”
    “I’m sure we all thought of it together,” Tabitha said.
    “Well,” I said, “I don’t care who thought of it. The idea stinks.”
    The school bell buzzed, and Pamela screamed.
    “What a frightful noise,” Agatha said, and she plugged her ears with her fingers.
    “It’s time for lessons to start,” I said, “and you grown-up ghosties have ruined everything.”
    “But we came to help,” Tabitha said.
    “I don’t need your help. I just want the still-alive children to like me. If they see you, they’ll hate me more than ever.”
    The classroom door opened, and a still-alive girl walked in. When she saw six frightfullyfriendly ghosties, she screamed and ran down the corridor.
    “Told you,” I said, and I blew a raspberry. Wither held a bony finger to his lips. “Shh! Listen!”
    We listened.
    “Fatty-Fatty Pigtails! Fatty-Fatty Pigtails!” a voice called.
    We turned to the window and could just make out three figures on the other side of the prickly hedge.
    “That’s Amelia,” I said. “Those two boys are bullies.”
    “You should bump them,” Charlie said with a wink.
    “Amelia will certainly want to be friends if you rescue her from bullies,” Tabitha said.
    “I’ve already tried that.”
    “Then bump them again,” said Wither. “Some bullies need bumping twice.”
    “Teach them a lesson!” Charlie yelled as I wisped out through the open window.
    As I floated over the prickly hedge, another idea struck. I knew I couldn’t protect Amelia forever. Perhaps I could teach her to protect herself.
    I wisped into Amelia’s left ear and whispered, “Bump them.”
    “Humphrey,” Amelia said, “is that you?”
    “Yes,” I whispered. “Amelia, you have a round tummy, like me. Put it to good use and bump the bullies into the hedge.”
    “I couldn’t, Humphrey. I’d get into trouble with the headmaster.”
    Another idea struck, the third I’d had that day. I wisped out of Amelia’s left ear, took a deep breath, and bumped poor Amelia, sending her bouncing into the two boys, who landed upside down in the prickly hedge.
    Inside the classroom, the five grown-up ghosties cheered.
    “Humphrey,” Amelia said, brushing gravel from her knees, “we bumped the