The Girl Who Blew Up Her Brother and Other Naughty Stories for Good Boys and Girls Read Free

what did this ghost look like?’
    â€˜You’re not going to believe this,’ said John, ‘but it was really hard to tell – you see, he only had half a face.’
    â€˜You’re right, I don’t believe you!’ shouted Mr Lampard.‘You’re just up to your old tricks again and for that you can stay back again after school. At least you won’t be alone – you can speak to your friend. Half a face meets half a brain!’
    Mr Lampard was not a happy man.
    The next morning, however, something very strange happened. Mr Lampard opened up the classroom and there, drawn on the blackboard, was a man with half a face. How could it be? Mr Lampard had locked up last night after John went home and opened up again this morning.
    Mr Lampard questioned John.
    â€˜Did you do this?’
    â€˜No, sir,’ said John. ‘How could I?’
    By now the other kids in the class were getting scared. Really scared. One boy started to cry.
    There was a sudden noise.
    Bang! What was that?
    Bang, again!
    Mr Lampard turned around and there, in front of his own eyes, was the blackboard shaking and rattling as if… as if there was a ghost inside!
    Kids didn’t wait to see any more. They screamed, jumped up from their seats and ran out the door. John included.
    Even Mr Lampard looked shaken. ‘There must be an explanation,’ he said to himself. He looked closely at the blackboard. Everything seemed normal.
    By now, the principal, Mrs Allen, was in the room. ‘What’s all this rubbish I hear about ghosts?’ asked Mrs Allen.
    Then she stopped dead. ‘Now that’s amazing,’ said Mrs Allen, looking at the drawing on the blackboard. ‘You would swear that was a picture of old Mr Swain, the cleaner. One side of his face was badly hurt during the war. He lost an eye, his ear – half his face really. He died in this room of a heart attack.’
    Mr Lampard didn’t know what to think.
    When Mr Lampard told Mrs Allen about the blackboard moving, she became worried herself. But Mr Lampard wasn’t so sure. He knew John Tait too well. If it was a choice between a ghost and John Tait playing tricks, he’d go for John Tait every time.
    Mrs Allen replied that that may be so, but there was no way children could be expected to study until the whole thing was cleared up. Until she said otherwise, the school would be closed.
    â€˜Yes!’ screamed all the kids.
    That afternoon, however, Mr Lampard went straight to Mrs Allen and said the whole thing was his fault. He had drawn the picture, he said, and he had made the blackboard move by lifting it up and putting a couple of pegs underneath. The pegs were secretly tied to some fishing line that no-one could see, so all he had to do was pull and then thump!
    Mrs Allen was shocked. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
    And, said Mr Lampard, he had found a photo of old Mr Swain in a book on the history of the school. It had been a terrible thing to do, he realised, but he was so sick and tired of John Tait’s jokes that he had decided to teach him a lesson.
    Mrs Allen was still very surprised at Mr Lampard’s foolishness but as he had been such an excellent teacher over the years, she supposed she could forgive him just this once. School would begin again the next day.
    The next morning, Mr Lampard apologised to the whole class and said he didn’t know what had come over him. It would never happen again.
    Straight after school, Mr Lampard asked John if he could speak to him. Alone.
    â€˜Now,’ said Mr Lampard, ‘you and I both know it wasn’t me who drew Mr Swain or moved the blackboard. It was you, young John. I found the school history book in your desk and the fishing line and pegs in the bin. And the window you’d left unlocked to get in. Very clever.’
    â€˜How come I’m not in trouble, then?’ asked John.
    â€˜Because ghosts are very dangerous