Free Bitterroot Crossing by Tess Oliver Page B

his feet. He looked close to puking. He crossed his arms tightly around his chest. Something he always did when he was nervous.
        I patted the helmet that was still on his head. “You did it, Baxter.” He smiled weakly.
        “Ain’t that sweet,” Crow said. He was balancing the skateboard’s nose on the end of his finger. Baxter lunged for it, but Crow lifted it higher in the air. The ghost opened his mouth wide as a hippo and roared. Baxter jumped behind me. A stench filled the air. I waved my hand in front of my face in a futile attempt to clear the air.
        “You know when I was younger, I thought you guys were cool. Now I realize you’re just balls of useless, dead vapor.” I waved my hand again. “And you stink like shit.” Baxter giggled behind me. I was done with ghostly encounters tonight. I glanced around and saw the abandoned park maintenance golf cart sitting to my right. It was my best chance.
        I turned to Baxter and buckled his helmet. “Dude, the helmet’s kind of useless if a breeze can knock it off your head,” I said loudly. Then I leaned closer to his ear. “Baxter, remember when you told me you could fly down that road to your house on your board?”
        He laughed and nodded. “Like a freakin’ race car driver,” he said loudly.
        “Shhh, we don’t want these guys to hear. I’m going to get your board. When I toss it to you, I want you to run to the road with it and jam home as fast as you can. Can you do that?”
        “Oh, yeah. Real fast, Nick.”
        “Now don’t forget, go as soon as I toss it to you.” We bumped fists. I jumped up, grabbed the big branch overhead, pulled it back, and flung it toward Crow. He shot away from the branch. The skateboard flew through the air. I snatched it from its fall and tossed it to Baxter. I worried he might forget my directions, but he tucked his board under his arm and ran toward the road.
        Before any of the jerks could follow, I raced to the golf cart. “Hey, this way you band of rotten swamp pigs.” I started up the cart and raced down the narrow cement path, they flew after me, nostrils flared in rage. That’s when I whipped a donut onto the grass, hopped back onto the cement trail, and floored the cart straight toward them. Unfortunately, Steamer appeared out of nowhere. That ghost was one massive cloud of dead guy. I raced past him as he reached out with a fist, slamming it into the cart and sending it onto its side. The cart and I slid across the wet grass several feet before coming to an abrupt halt. Wasn’t totally sure how I was going to get out of this one. Then as luck would have it, I found my weapon. I reached under the seat and grabbed the fire extinguisher that had been attached there for what I figured were those infamous park fires.
        All four of them hovered over me in the overturned cart. When their ugly faces got close enough that their collective breaths sickened me, I pulled the extinguisher pin and shot them with the frothy white contents. They disappeared, or dissipated, or whatever ghostly matter does when confronted with the wrath of an extinguisher. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they got their molecules back together, so I climbed out of the cart, jumped on my bike, and rode home as fast as I could. I didn’t see Baxter on the road anymore, so I assumed and hoped he’d made it home without any more trouble.
        The streets were deserted and nearly silent. There were hardly any lights on at my house when I turned up the driveway. Everyone had to be home. They had no place else to go. I stepped inside. “I’m home.”
        I walked through to the kitchen. My parents and Bobby were huddled around the table with worried looks on their faces.
        “What wrong?” I asked. “You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
        “You think this is funny?” My dad shot up from his chair, grabbed my shirt and slammed me into the fridge. Mom’s