the chalk.
Before she could touch it the chalk swooped into the air.
It flew over to the wall and began to write. Very slowly, in large, uneven, childlike letters, it spelled out:
SAVE ME
30
SAVE ME.
The childlike letters glowed for a moment and then faded away.
âLook!â said Katie.
I suddenly realized something had changed in the room. The little toy chest and the rocking chair were gone.
Bobbyâs old bedroom had vanished and we were back in the dusty old attic.
The newspaper clippings were gone, too, but the old photograph remained in Katieâs hand.
âHow can we save a ghost?â asked Katie. âA ghost is already dead.â
âLetâs get out of here,â I said. âWeâll talk about it later.â
I didnât want to stay in that creepy attic a second longer.
Downstairs in the hallway Katie studied the photo again. âSuch a sweet little boy,â she said regretfully. âWe must figure out a way to help him.â
âRight now all I want to figure out is how to get a nightâs sleep.â
I went into the bedroom and shoved the bureau up against the door.
Try to get in now, I thought. Just try.
The next morning I came downstairs to find Katie pacing in the kitchen.
Sally had already eaten her breakfast and I was ready for pancakes or whatever, but Katie waved her hand and said, âHow can you think about food at a time like this?â
âEasy,â I said. âI close my eyes and I see a huge plate of flapjacks.â
âHelp yourself to a bowl of cereal,â she suggested. âWhen youâre finished, Iâll tell you about my plan.â
âForget the cereal,â I said. âWhat plan?â
Katie stared at me with bright eyes. âThe tree,â she said. âWeâll chop down the tree!â
I slumped into a chair. What was she talking about? Had last nightâs adventures unhinged her mind?
âThatâs where he died, right?â she said. âRemember the newspaper clipping? It said Bobby died falling from the cherry tree.â
âYeah,â I said. âSo?â
âSo if we chop it down, maybe that will free his spirit. The house wonât be haunted anymore.â
I stared at her. There was something about this plan that bothered me but I couldnât put my finger on it.
âCome on,â said Katie, urging me on. âLetâs do it now.â
Reluctantly I agreed to help her. âWeâll need a chainsaw,â I suggested.
âNo way,â Katie said. âToo dangerous. Didnât I see a Boy Scout hatchet in your room?â
âYou canât chop down a tree with a hatchet,â I protested. âItâll take forever.â
âWe can make a start,â Katie insisted. âShow Bobby weâre trying.â
There was no arguing with her.
I got the hatchet. It felt surprisingly heavy in my hand and got even heavier as I approached the backyard.
Katie was waiting under the cherry tree, holding Sally by the hand. The branches spread high overhead, the leaves green and healthy.
âYou wait over there,â she said to Sally, leading her away from the tree.
Sally stood there looking at us, solemn and silent, her bunny Winky dangling from her hand.
âI donât know if this is such a good idea,â I said, hefting the hatchet. âBobby seems to like this tree. Itâs the only outside place that he goes.â
âHeâs drawn to it, of course,â said Katie impatiently. âItâs only natural since his spirit is trapped here. Perhaps even a small cut will be enough to set him free.â
She stepped back briskly and nodded at me. âGo ahead.â
With a sigh I raised my arm, aimed at a spot in the old bark and started to swing.
I felt a sharp tug.
âHey!â
The hatchet jerked out of my hand.
It whirled up in the air like a boomerang, flashing end over end.
And then it came back at