Free Swear to Howdy by Wendelin Van Draanen Page B

fixing up the ghost.
    Now, Joey hadn't exactly told me
how
we were gonna make the ghost. He just told me to meet him. So when I saw him blowing up a balloon I said, “Joey! Nobody's gonna fall for that!”
    “Just hold on, all right, smart-boy?” He pinched off the air. “You'll see.”
    He stuck the balloon inside a black pillowcase, and I couldn't help asking, “Black? Ain't ghosts supposed to be white? And where'd you get a black pillowcase, anyhow?”
    He rolled his eyes. “I tried white in my room. It looked fake. Black's
way
better. And don't ask me—it was in the closet.”
    Next he put his flashlight inside the pillowcase, turned it on, and pinched the case around the base of the light end. “See?” he whispered, holding it up.
    “Hey… that's good,” I said.
    “Told ya.”
    We tied a piece of string around the Lost Ghost's neck so the balloon and the top of the flashlight were both stuck inside the head. Then Joey stapled on some tattered jeans so they hung down from inside the pillowcase.
    “Jeans, Joey? You think the Lost Ghost wears jeans?”
    “He does now, Rusty.” He tied one end of the tree rope through the neck rope and said, “He's gotta be big enough to notice, don't he?”
    Joey switched on the light and hoisted him up the treebranch, and I had to admit—he was one fine-looking ghost. “Say,” I whispered. “That's scary!”
    “Told ya!”
    About three cars had gone whizzing by while we were fixing up the Lost Ghost. They hadn't seen us 'cause we were doing everything down the hill. But now we were ready, crouched low beside the bridge, Joey holding tight to the string. “Whatcha fixin' to do?” I asked him.
    “I'm gonna do like this,” he said, letting out the string. The Lost Ghost came down from the tree, slow and scary.
    “Cool!” I whispered.
    He gave me a loopy grin and hoisted it back up. “Told ya!”
    About two minutes later, a car came up Lee from the stoplight. And as it zoomed up the hill toward the bridge, Joey whispered, “We're gonna scare the bazooka out of him! We're gonna make him run home to mama! We're gonna…”
    “Hush up, Joey! Here he comes!”
    Joey let the Lost Ghost down real slow and scary-like. But the car just barreled by without slowing.
    “Dadgumit!” Joey said, hoisting the ghost back up. “I don't think he even saw it!”
    “Maybe you gotta let it down quicker?”
    “Yeah. Quicker and lower.” He pointed to headlights coming out of the darkness. “Get ready!”
    “Maybe it's the same guy. Maybe he flipped a U-ie. Maybe he's gonna—”
    “Hush up yourself, Rusty!”
    He dropped the ghost quicker and lower, and it
wasn't
the same car, but it did the same thing—just kept on driving.
    “Maybe I gotta drop it and yank it back up as they go by”
    We waited probably five minutes, but it felt like an hour. And when we spotted headlights coming out of the darkness down Lee, Joey cried, “Here's one now! Come on, car, I'll show ya… the Lost Ghost lives!”
    The minute the car hit the bridge, Joey let out his bundle of slack. The Lost Ghost fluttered down fast, then Joey yanked it up and away.
    “You practically hit the windshield, Joey!”
    Before the words were even out of my mouth, the car swerved and started fishtailing all over the place. It spun out of control toward the stoplight, smoke coming from the brakes, sparks coming from who knows where. And as I saw it heading straight for a phone pole, my heart froze in my chest.
    “Uh-oh,” Joey whispered as it crashed into the pole. “Uh-
oh
.”
    Then headlights from a car coming up the hill lit up the crashed car, and that's when Joey said what I was seeing but not believing. “That's Amanda Jane's car… !”
    “Can't be,” I whispered.
    “It is. Oh maaaaaaan! She's gonna tattle! And you watch—I'm gonna pay for that old clunker with myhide.” He shook his head. “Boy, that Amanda Jane's an awful driver!”
    The other car had stopped to help, and almost right away after,