I had an urge to raise my hand and say I didn’t love it. But how uncool would that be? I glanced at

Summer Magee sitting right in front of the teacher in the first row. I never wanted to look uncool in front of Summer.

"So I have a special Halloween research assignment for you,” Miss Flake continued. “I'm going to

divide the class into four groups. Each group is going to study a different topic.”

She pulled up some papers from her desk. She lowered her voice: “These topics are verrrrry

sssscaaaary,” she hissed like a movie vampire. “I hope you don't get nightmares.”

Hopei don't, I thought. What kind of research paper could be so scary?

“Here are the four topics we are going to explore,” Miss Flake said. She read from her paper: “One.

Vampires—Fact or Fiction?"

Some kids giggled. "I want that one!” Buzzy called out.

Miss Flake shook her head. “No, you don’t get to pick. I’ve already divided you up into groups.” A few

kids groaned.

She raised the paper. “Now let me finish. This is going to be fun. The other three topics are: The

History of Graveyards, Magic Spells and Legends About Witches, and Are Haunted Houses Real?'

Everyone started talking at once. Kids were shouting out which topics they wanted. Rubin Rubino

cupped his hands around his mouth and began making spooky ghost sounds. "Owooooo owooooo. "

I stayed silent. I was thinking hard, wondering which group Miss Flake had put me in. I hoped it

wasn’t the haunted house group. I have a thing about haunted houses.

Once, Buzzy forced me to watch that Ghost Hunters show on TV. I watched those guys go into an old

house and capture eerie sounds and shadows that couldn’t be explained. I mean, the only explanation was

that ghosts are real And I sure didn’t want to believe that.

There’s an abandoned house in our town everyone calls the Marple House. And everyone in town

believes it’s haunted. I don’t believe in ghosts. But when I pass the Marple House, I always ride my bike on

the other side of the street. I mean, why take chances?

Miss Flake had a big stack of papers in her hand. She walked down the aisles between our seats,

passing them out. “These are your group assignments,” she said. “I tried to give you each a topic you will

be interested in.”

Please, no haunted house, I thought. I crossed my fingers on both hands. Please, no haunted house.

Miss Flake handed me my assignment paper. I raised it to my face, read the words at the top, and

gasped. My assignment: Are Haunted Houses Real? Those four words were about to ruin my life.

3

"It’s awesome that we’re in the same study group,” Buzzy said.

I didn’t reply.

It was a few hours later, and Buzzy and I were walking home after school. It was a gray October day.

A cold breeze chilled my face, and dark clouds rolled low over the sky. Perfect weather for the dark mood I was in.

“Yeah, I guess it’s good,” I mumbled finally. "But I don’t want to be in this group. I don’t want to

study haunted houses. No way.”

Buzzy chuckled. “Same old Sammy.”

I shivered, not from fear but from the cold wind. “It’s not like I’m afraid,” I said.

“Of course not. You? Afraid?” Buzzy said. I knew he was making fun of me.

"I'm just not interested in ghosts,” I said. “I think they’re totally boring.”

Buzzy chuckled again. His chuckling was starting to annoy me.

We crossed the street and followed the path into Washington Irving Park. A gust of wind made all

the trees creak and bend. Dead leaves came raining down all around us. Our houses were on Fairmont

Street, on the other side of the park.

"So you wouldn’t be frightened to spend Halloween night in a haunted house, searching for ghosts?” Buzzy asked.

I shivered again. From the cold. "I’d just be bored,” I said.

Okay, okay. I’m a liar. Sue me.

I pulled off a crackly brown leaf that clung to my wool cap. I kicked a white pebble off the dirt path.

Just because I felt like kicking something.

"Studying a haunted house isn’t the worst part,” I told Buzzy.

He stopped walking and turned to me. His gray hoodie was pulled up tight around his face. His

cheeks were red from the cold. “What’s the worst part?”

“Rubin Rubino,” I said. "Why does he have to be in our group?”

Buzzy shrugged. "Miss Flake probably doesn’t know Rubin uses you as a punching bag.”

I shook my head. "When he looks at me, he sees a big black-and-white target painted on my face.”

Buzzy clapped me on the shoulder. “Know what? I’ll bet you could take Rubin in a fight.”

I pulled away from him. “Are you kidding me? He’s twice my size. His arms are fatter than my legs!

Rubin couldn’t play on the softball team because they couldn’t find a glove big enough to fit his hand!”

"Maybe there’s some place you could go and take fight lessons," Buzzy said. “You know. Like karate or

something. You could learn how to kill people with your bare hands ...”

I stared at him. “You’re serious?”

He shook his head. “Just saying.”

Buzzy is a good friend. But sometimes he has weird ideas.

“I don’t want to be in the same study group with Rubin,” I repeated.

“But we could have fun,” Buzzy said. “I have this cool idea. We collect a lot of ghost-hunting gear and

we go to Marple House on Halloween night. Everyone knows the house is haunted, right? We spend

Halloween night inside it and test the place for ghosts. It could be awesome.”

“Not awesome,” I said. "Definitely not awesome.” I tugged my red wool ski cap down over my ears.

“Stay up all night on Halloween in a haunted house? I won’t come. I’ll say I’m sick or something. I won’t go