The Ghost in Room 11 Read Online Free PDF Page A

right back.”
    Matt’s hands grew clammy. He wrote faster. Seven columns of words were finished. Eight. Nine. His fingers ached from clenching his pencil, but he didn’t dare slow down. What if Mrs. Sanders decided to go home and made him stay, by himself, until he’d finished?
    What if she’d already left?
    Why was the room so quiet?
    He turned around. There, just behind his left shoulder, stood Miss Whipple. She was close enough for him to see the shiny black buttons on her dress and to feel her icy breath as she bent over his desk.
    A long white finger tapped his paper. “Shocking!” she said in a harsh whisper. “Can’t you do anything right?”
    Matt tried to yell, but he couldn’t. He tried to slide out the other side of his seat, but he couldn’t. For what seemed an endless time, Miss Whipple glared down at him. Then footsteps broke the silence. Miss Whipple vanished as Mrs. Sanders came through the door.
    â€œDaydreaming again, Matthew?” she asked. “Have you finished all the words?”
    Matt carried his paper up to her desk, looking over his shoulder all the way. He was ready to dive right through a window if Miss Whipple appeared again.
    â€œOh, Matthew, it’s ‘phantom’ not ‘panthom,’” Mrs. Sanders said crossly. She pointed at the same word the ghost had pointed at. “Do you know what a phantom is?”
    Matt cleared his throat. “It’s a g-g-ghost.”
    Mrs. Sanders looked up from his paper. “Goodness gracious!” she said. “You’re absolutely green! You look as if you’ve seen a phantom yourself. But that’s not likely, is it?” She waited, but Matt didn’t say anything. “You’d better go home and get a good night’s sleep.”
    Her words stayed in Matt’s head like a bad joke, as he raced out of the school. He’d probably never get a good night’s sleep again—not when he knew Miss Whipple might be waiting in his dreams to whisper “Shocking!” in his ear.

10
    â€œThe Ghost in Room Eleven”
    â€œMatthew, you surprise me!”
    Matt was stuffing his jacket into his locker when Mrs. Sanders stopped beside him. She stared at him for a moment, and then walked on, shaking her head.
    â€œShe was carrying our stories!” Stephanie said excitedly. “Maybe you won! I hope we both won!”
    â€œIt’s not such a big deal,” Matt muttered. But his heart was thumping. He wondered if Mrs. Sanders was surprised because his story was so terrific!
    The pile of papers stayed on Mrs. Sanders’s desk all day, under her green frog paperweight. By three o’clock Matt thought he must have looked at the frog about a thousand times.
    At ten minutes after three, Mrs. Sanders finally moved the frog and picked up the stories.
    â€œMiss Bucher and her helpers have chosen two winners of the story contest,” she said.
    Matt held his breath.
    â€œOur winner is—” She looked up and down the rows of desks, teasingly. “One winner is ‘The Ghost in Room Eleven,’ written by our very own Matthew Barber.”
    Nobody made a sound until Mrs. Sanders started to clap. Then the class clapped, too.
    â€œIs it true or made-up?” Charlie demanded.
    â€œYou can decide that yourself at the assembly tomorrow,” Mrs. Sanders replied. “I think you’ll agree that he’s done a fine piece of work. Except for the spelling, Matthew. We’ll talk about the spelling later.”
    Matt’s smile faded, but only for a second. He’d won!
    After school, Charlie and Jason followed him across the playground.
    â€œYou should have put my name on that story instead of yours,” Charlie said. “I gave you the idea.”
    Matt kept on walking.
    â€œWell, I did, didn’t I?” Charlie insisted. “I told you there was a ghost, and you made up a story. Right?”
    â€œWait until