Chapter Four:

Ghost Stories

"Oh, Trixie, will you please give it a rest already?" Honey begged as she and her two best friends started for the makeshift cemetery. "First off, it was dark, which makes the pupils dilate. And secondly, my brother was wearing that awful rubber mask. Why, you could hardly see Jim's eyes peeking out from beneath it. I'm sure they were just as green as always."

The final tour of the night was over. The festivities at the pumpkin patch were scheduled to go on until 10:00 pm, but it was time for the Bob-Whites to clean up along the haunted highway. Miss Wheeler had invited the gang from school to Manor House for a wienie roast once the farm closed. The scurrying B.W.G.s needed to get things torn down before the party. Mr. Sanderson said it could wait until morning. But with rain predicted for Sunday, the teens decided the sooner they got it done, the better.

"But Honey, you weren't there," Trixie insisted as the girls passed through the now-open gate. "I kid you not. When Jim ran out of Mr. Sanderson's barn waving that butcher's knife, his eyes were nothing but black beads! He looked positively possessed. If you'd seen him, you would have screamed too."

Mr. Sanderson had taken down the detour sign pointing to the Haunted Forest. The girls could hear Dan ordering Ben to "knock it off and quit clowning around" somewhere deep within the spooky woods. As Ben replied, "But baby lub you," the girls giggled, thinking poor Dan. Jim, as Trixie's co-president of the Bob-Whites, had given the two boys the dubious honor of taking down the disgusting dolls dangling from the trees.

Continuing on, the young ladies resumed their interrupted conversion. "I think Trixie's got you there," Di told Honey, scuttling through the downed leaves. "I know I would have screamed with all of that fake blood spatter on Jim's overalls."

Honey emitted an "ugh" of disgust. "I likely would have fainted," she admitted as the girls entered the silent graveyard.

Laughing, Miss Belden began stuffing cobwebs into a large black garbage bag. At least Trixie hadn't passed out when she'd gotten a load of the satanic swine. "That's why the Bob-Whites elected you, Ticket-Taker," she told Honey. "How you ever expect to become a doctor's wife when you can't stand the sight of blood is beyond me, Hon."

Honey's rounded cheeks turned as red as candy apples. "I never said I wanted to be a doctor's wife?" she insisted.

Miss Belden and Miss Lynch looked at each other with impish grins.

"I think you'll have trouble convincing Brian to become an accountant or a banker like Daddy," Trixie teased, tossing the brimming trash bag at her friend. "He's got his heart set on going into medicine, Honey."

Honey immediately tossed the bag back. She may have approved of the B.W.G.'s motion to use the wispy webs, but she'd insisted they contained no spiders. Miss Wheeler was deathly afraid of arachnids, as Mart often referred to them.

"Well, at least I'm not wearing a demonic pigman's bracelet around my wrist," Miss Wheeler returned with a sniff. "Besides, I think whipping up all that fake blood has desensitized me," she said, collecting a severed arm.

As Honey gingerly carried the dripping item over to the wheelbarrow to place it with the rest of its grisly friends, it left a crimson trail, making Trixie shiver. "I think it's had the opposite effect on me," Trixie admitted. "I hope I never see corn syrup and red poster paint again."

"Don't forget, chocolate syrup," Di laughed. "That's what gave the sticky concoction its perfect bloody look."

"Oh, yes, perfectly perfect," Honey agreed with a giggle. "Your recipe made the show a 'screaming' success, Di. Wouldn't you agree, Trixie?" Witch Wheeler's eyes were twinkling playfully, and her Bob-White coven mate gave her a shove.

"Yes, Hon. It made it a 'screaming' success," Trixie conceded. "I still think something had its grips on Jim, though. Did I mention his eyes looked just like black beads?"

Honey and Diana groaned. "Only a million times," Miss Wheeler returned. "Please, Trixie. Won't you let it go?"

"If Mart's to be believed, you scared Jim just as much as he did you, Trixie," Di added. "Jim wasn't expecting you to yell your lungs out."

Trixie giggled as she added Ben's shovel to the single-wheeled transporter. Ben and Brian had considerately filled in the grave they'd dug. Miss Belden's oldest brother had also dumped the Styrofoam cooler of water the boys had used to create the cemetery's foggy atmosphere. By carefully adding dry ice to the water, Brian and Ben had speed up its sublimation, making the creepy ground-hugging cloud.

Jim, who was a whiz at chemistry, had explained to Trixie that dry ice neither evaporated nor melted when exposed to warm water. Instead, it went through a process known as sublimation, which meant it dissipated into the atmosphere as carbon dioxide gas.

Brian and Jim were now off somewhere, taking down the sound system. In the meantime, Mart was supposed to be collecting the cardboard townspeople and the Lynch's tiki torches. But the last time Trixie had seen her middle brother, he'd been headed back to the concession tables for a final popcorn ball.

"I don't think Jim was expecting me to grab Carl van Roekel's vial of holy water and give him a good drenching either," Miss Belden told her friends. "But it serves Jim right. Mart said the butcherous boar was in on the boys' prank to scare the bejeebers out of me. I know Ben swears Miss Varsity I wasn't in on it. But you can't tell me she wasn't."

Honey hesitated as she placed Brian's hacksaw on the growing pile. "I don't know, Trixie," she said. "All I can tell you is that I sold the young lady a ticket. She handed me an Eisenhower silver dollar, and I had to explain that it cost two dollars to ride the wagon. Your Miss Varsity looked terribly confused and upset. She said it only cost a dollar the last time she was here, and that was all she had. The poor thing said she needed to get to the pumpkin patch to meet a young man who worked there. I felt so sorry for her that I paid the rest of her admission."

Di sighed and moved to take down the tombstones. "I hate to say it, Honey, but I agree with Trixie. I think you were had by the young lady. I've never heard of an Eisenhower silver dollar. The dollar coins I've seen are golden and have Sacagawea on them."

"They didn't in nineteen seventy-eight," Honey returned. "Back then, the coins were copper-nickel clad and had the profile of President Eisenhower on the front, Di. On the flip side was an eagle touching down on the moon. I believe the design celebrated the Apollo 11 moon landing. You don't get them in change very often, and I thought Mart might like the coin for his collection. I swapped it out for a dollar bill. Would you like to see the coin?"

"I would," Trixie immediately piped up. "I may not be good at math, but that thing's got to be fifty years old?!"

"Almost," Honey giggled, digging the dollar out of the velvet Chatelaine bag attached to the waist of her dress with a broach. Her Victorian dress didn't have any pockets, and the small purses were all the rage back in England in the day.

Trixie whistled as her friend handed her the oversized coin. The darkness made the dollar's finer details hard to make out, but even by moonlight, it sparkled. "Gleeps, this looks like it could have been minted yesterday," she said. "If I were you, Hon, I'd save it for a good luck piece. Mart doesn't deserve any treats tonight. In fact, I have to wonder if the dollar came from his collection. He was in on the boys' dirty trick, you know? Mart's the one who started the ghost story about the girl in a varsity jacket."

As Trixie returned the coin to Honey, Di objected. "Oh, but he didn't," she insisted. "It's a very old story, Trixie, and supposedly true."

Trixie snorted skeptically. "Then how come I've never heard it?" she objected as she and Miss Wheeler joined the gravestone gathering.

"You probably have but don't realize it," Di went on. "There are many versions, Trixie. Some involve a drag strip. Others take place at a high school dance."

"How does this version of the story go?" Honey inquired. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with it either, Di?"

The B.W.G.s had taken multiple cars to the event, knowing they'd be loaded down with props coming home. Honey had ridden with her brother and Dan in the Bob-White station wagon while the Beldens had taken Brian's jalopy. As a result, Miss Wheeler hadn't gotten an earful of Mart's spine-tingling tale. But for that matter, neither had Di. Miss Lynch had ridden with Ben in his convertible. Mr. Riker had had some new tunes he'd wanted Diana to hear. The two shared the same taste in music.

"It's hard to say what Mart said," Di confessed with a giggle. "But to hear Daddy tell the story, it all started one Halloween night, back in the late nineteen seventies. A teenage girl by the name of Betty Hanson was talked into going on a hayride at this very pumpkin patch by her best friend, Molly. Molly knew that there was a young man who worked on the farm who had a crush on Betty. Only Betty was very shy around boys, and every time the young man would attempt to talk to her at school, she'd giggle and run away."

Trixie laughed. That sounded like Miss Varsity I, alright. "Go on, Di," urged.

"Well," the dark-haired girl continued, grasping at her witch's hat as a gust of wind threatened to blow it off. "That night, Betty drove. She was a senior and had borrowed her parent's car, you see. Anyway, at the pumpkin patch, after the hayride, crafty Molly picked out the biggest pumpkin she could find. It was much too heavy for the girls to carry, so Molly asked the strapping young man who liked her friend to help them. According to Daddy, he was a football linebacker."

Honey giggled. "That would explain the letter jacket," she said. "But how did it come into Betty's possession, Di?"

"I'm getting there," Miss Lynch said with a smile. "As the young man was putting the pumpkin into the trunk of Betty's car, Molly excused herself to use the portable restroom, knowing there was a long line.

The story goes that while Molly was gone, the smitten young man noticed Betty shivering. It's said the young lady had forgotten her sweater, so the boy let Betty wear his jacket. It wasn't until Betty had taken Molly home that she realized she still had it on.

So turning the car around, Betty headed back to the pumpkin patch. Only it was getting late. Her curfew was ten, and she was driving too fast. Daddy says Betty lost control of the car on that curve of road out by Rest View Cemetery. The car struck a tree, and Betty was killed instantly. People claim that on Halloween, you can see Betty's ghost at that very spot, trying to hitch a ride to the pumpkin patch. They say she can't rest until she returns the jacket."

Trixie scoffed and plucked a wooden cross from the ground. "Ah, that's nothing but a bunch of hooey," she said.

"Spider doesn't think so," Diana returned with a sniff. "Last Halloween, he saw Betty, Trixie. In fact, Spider stopped and picked her up with a warning not to hitchhike. He swears Betty looked as alive as you and me as she climbed into the back seat of his squad car. Betty told Spider she had to get to the pumpkin patch, but Spider insisted on taking her home. Only when he looked into the review mirror to ask the young lady her address, Betty had vanished into thin air." Officer Webster was one of Sleepyside's finest. He was a friend of the Bob-Whites and a trusted member of the community.

Honey shivered, wishing a valiant football player was nearby to loan her his jacket. "Brr, that story gives me goose-pimples," she said. "It makes me wonder if Miss Varsity I wasn't Betty's ghost? You did say she kept disappearing on you, didn't you, Trixie?"

Di violet eyes rounded as she looked to the startled blonde witch. "That's right! You did say that!" she cried.

Trixie gulped and nodded. Miss Belden didn't want to believe in ghosts. But after the unsettling evening, she'd had? It was hard not to.

The unnerved young lady was more than ready to lay the Haunted Hayride to rest. It was getting chillier by the minute, and that bonfire at the Wheeler's sounded awfully inviting. "We'd better hurry up and finish," she announced, changing the subject. "You won't be the ghostess with the mostest if you're late for your own party," Trixie told Honey.

Honey giggled and agreed. And so did Di. But neither girl volunteered to go after the last tombstone on the far edge of the graveyard. The young ladies had been avoiding it. There was something not quite right about the silhouetted arch. It appeared there was something on top of it. Miss Wheeler was sure it was a black cat that might scratch her eyes out and Di, an owl, that would do the same.

So, in the end, Trixie, whose curiosity had gotten the better of her, elected to go after the mysterious marker. The Wicked Witch of the East certainly wasn't afraid of a silly old cat or molting bird. Besides, the sooner one of the young ladies got the gravestone, the sooner they could call it a night. The wheelbarrow was packed, and the clearing was all but empty.

Only maybe Witchie-poo was a little nervous.

Cautiously creeping up to the troubling tombstone, Miss Belden wasn't really sure what she'd find. More severed body parts? Brian's blood-soaked lab coat? Anything was possible - especially knowing the boys.

But reaching the creepy cut-out, Miss Belden threw her hands to her hips and cursed the fun-loving fiends. "Come get a load of this!" she called.

Honey and Di ran to their friend's side as fast as their long skirts would allow.

"Oh, my," Miss Wheeler said, panting.

"Is that Celia's jacket?" Diana gasped.

Draped over the plywood marker was a familiar wool jacket with white leather sleeves. A large capital "S", which stood for "Sleepyside", had been stitched to the jacket's left front panel. The gravestone was inscribed R.I.P. with "Betty Hanson" underneath. All indications were that the girls' male flock-mates were again messing with the young ladies' minds.

Trixie picked up the jacket and began looking it over.

"That can't be Celia's jacket," Honey told Diana. "Hers was Tom's. She was wearing it when he took her, Miss Trask, and Mr. Maypenny home tonight. It must be Miss Varsity I's jacket."

Trixie nodded and replied, "Now, do you believe me when I say she was part of the boy's shenanigans? Di, refresh my memory. What was the football player's name in the ghost story you were telling us?"

Diana chewed on the tip of her shiny hair. "Why, I don't know, Trixie," she said. "Now that you bring it up, I don't think his name is ever mentioned. Not in any of the different versions?"

"Why do you ask?" Honey inquired, peering over her curly-haired friend's shoulder.

"The name embroidered on the jacket is 'Ignatius Mahoney'," Miss Belden returned with a snicker. "That name's got to be a fake. Who names their kid Ignatius? This letter jacket must be a costume reproduction."

"If it is, it's a very expensive one," Honey said dubiously. "Check the right sleeve and see if it has a graduation-year patch. It should be just below the shoulder, Trixie."

Miss Belden did as instructed, and sure enough, there was. "Nineteen seventy-eight," she read. Trixie thought Honey might faint.

"That's the same year as the coin Miss Varsity gave me," the weak-kneed witch breathed.

Diana emitted a squeak of alarm. "Is there anything on the back?" she ventured nervously.

Miss Belden held up the jacket, and Diana's purplish eyes popped. The screaming hawk emblem on the rear was startling. But not for the reason one might think. Sleepyside Jr./Senior High had retired the mascot more than twenty years ago!

As Honey and Di exchanged glazed glances, Trixie demanded to know what was wrong. "Come on, you two, snap out of it," the Wicked Witch of the East ordered. "Don't tell me you're falling for the boys' ridiculous prank?!"

"Trixie, I don't think we are being pranked," Honey returned. "I think you're holding the real letter jacket."

"The one Betty Hanson was wearing the night she struck the tree," Di agreed.