CHAPTER 14

It has been difficult for Lumberresearchers to determine exactly when and where ghosts started saying “Boo.”

Ghosts themselves are fairly mum on the subject, which is to say, ghosts have better things to do than to explain their word choices.

French ghosts, when they talk, don’t say, “Boo.” They say, “Hou,” as in “Hou wants to know?” Except it’s French, so that’s actually not what they’re saying. If they were, it would be “Qui vent savoir?”

There are some studiers of language who think that “Boo” was first used in Scotland as a word to scare children. No Scottish ghosts have confirmed this.

Probably a better question would be, why is the word “Boo,” which is such a small word, so very scary when said by someone you think is a ghost?

Many scouts, including the members of Roanoke cabin, would guess it has more to do with the ghost part than the word part.

As Annabella Panache would say, “It’s all in the delivery.”

Outside the cabin, the night sounds of crickets and toads chirping were abruptly replaced by the crack of five harmonious Roanoke shrieks.

A A H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H

Inside the cabin, as though she’d been shocked by a massive phantasmal charge, Mal shot up in the air. “GHOSTS!”

April stumbled backward. “ANGRY GHOSTS!”

Ripley grabbed on to Jo, who bolted out the door behind April, who was already on the tail of Mal and Molly, who was, once again, wrapped in Bubbles.

They soared over the bridge, not unlike a flock of flying fish or frisky unicorns.

They sped through Wiggly Woods, dodging trees like nimble kangaroos.

A H H H H H H H H H H H H H H

Only when they saw the glow of the mess hall tent did April, Mal, Molly, Jo, and Ripley skid to a halt.

“Okay, so,” Mal gasped, leaning on Molly. “The cabin. Was full. Of very upset ghosts.”

“Ghosts are kind of scary when they creep up on you,” Ripley wheezed. “AND THEN YELL ‘BOO!’”

“What the Leslie Jones, you guys?!” April huffed.

“Many ghosts,” Molly added, also out of breath. “So many ghosts. So many faces of dead people.”

Jo walked to their cabin, still winded. “Which was to be expected, since that’s what we were doing there. You know, waiting for ghosts. Still. Legitimately very scary.”

April shoved her hands in her pockets. “Didn’t think we would scream and sprint away like that. Given that we have seen many things that were scary.”

Mal panted for breath. “Took us off guard. That’s what happened. Took us. Off guard.”

“Because it was still SURPRISE ghosts.” Ripley nodded, because Ripley had heard a lot of ghost stories, but not so many where ghosts were right there. “Also, they said, ‘BOO!’”

“Perhaps we should have planned for what happened when the ghosts said ‘Boo’?” April wondered, making a mental note for her big notebook of scout things.

It is not an easy thing when a mission does not go as planned, a reality that slowly sank in as Roanoke got closer to their cabin.

April sighed. “We should have asked them something!”

“Like what’s it like to be a GHOST!” Ripley said. “And can ghosts fly?”

“Also, why Mal’s socks,” Jo added, bringing them back to their original mission. “Which I believe is why we went there in the first place.”

“At least I got some of my socks back,” Mal said, pulling a pair out of her pocket.

Molly was quiet. She climbed into her bunk and twisted down under her covers.

It is possible for a person to be terribly frightened and then terribly sleepy. And that’s what Roanoke suddenly was. Jen didn’t even need to tell them to go to bed when she got to the cabin and turned off the light a few minutes later.

By midnight, everyone was sound asleep. Except for . . . Mal and Molly.

“Hey,” Mal whispered. “Are you okay? You’re all quiet again.”

“Again?” Molly sat up in her bunk. “I’m okay, I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

Molly pulled the snoring Bubbles up onto her lap. “I was just thinking. Like. Why would a ghost go to so much trouble to get us to come to its cabin and then scare us away? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe the mystery’s not solved yet,” Mal said.

“Maybe.” Molly yawned, sinking into her sleeping bag. “Maybe we can solve it tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Mal said. “Molly?”

Either Molly or Bubbles or both were snoring. A soft buzz like a bumblebee out for a midnight stroll.

Mal lay on her back.

She had a feeling, like a flutter in her stomach.

A flutter that followed her into her dream, a dream about a lake.

It was the lake near her grandma’s cottage. The lake with the white boat and the mysterious ripples on the surface. In her dream, she and Molly were standing on her grandma’s dock, playing drums.

Which is weird, because Molly didn’t play drums.

But it was a dream.

Mal looked down at her drum and noticed it was soft and plushy, like moss, instead of hard and easy to hit, like a real drum.

Just then, Mal looked up and saw that Molly was gone.

“Molly?” Dream Mal called out. “MOLLY?”

“MOLLY!”

In the dream, it was like Mal was being squeezed so hard, she couldn’t breathe.

“MAL!” Awake-world Molly grabbed Mal by the shoulder. “Wake up!”

Mal rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Morning,” Molly said. “Look.”

It was the mirror next to Mal and Molly’s bunk. In the light sprinkling of dust on the glass, someone had written in careful print:

Sorry. Please come back. ~D