The Ghost In Room 113

By Rowena Zahnrei

Published in Ranger Rick, March 2009

Reprinted in Ranger Rick's Storybook: Favorite Nature Tales from Ranger Rick Magazine, March 2019

Author’s Note: This is a writing sample copy of my story’s original, unedited draft. The initial magazine version and the reprinted hardcover version each feature name changes and light edits that don’t affect the plot. This story was published before I adopted my pen name: Rowena Zahnrei. :)

My name is Suzie Rigg. I go to Potowomut Elementary School in the state of Rhode Island. Yesterday, my class had a visit from a ghost.

Yesterday was Friday the 13th.  It was nasty, dark, and humid.  Our teacher, Mr. Johnson, opened the door to the playground so we could get more air, but it didn’t help much.

“That’s Friday the 13th weather for you,” Jake said.  “Cold, sticky, and damp.”

“Yeah, it even smells unlucky.”  Aaron wrinkled his nose.  “Like low tide and mushrooms.”

Mr. Johnson told them not to be silly.  He said it’s just a superstition that Friday the 13th is unlucky.  Bad things only happen if you let it scare you.

That’s what he said.  But bad things happened anyway.

The sounds began just after our math lesson. They came from the coat cupboard, creepy and creaking and hoarse, like some kid making noises low in his throat.  Keisha thought it was Louie being a jerk and threw a wad of paper at his head.  But, when Louie turned to wing it back, the noise came again.  This time, even Mr. Johnson heard it.

“What’s going on over there?”  He frowned at Louie.

“Keisha’s throwing paper at me, and I didn’t even do nothing!”

“Didn’t do anything, Louie,” Mr. Johnson corrected, and went to the cupboard.  The creepy noise came again, then again.  By this time, the whole class was getting nervous.

“Bet it’s a ghost!” said Robby.  Emily looked terrified.

“I don’t want there to be a ghost!” she cried.  “I want to go home!  Friday the 13th is a cursed day!”

“Oh, shut up,” I said.  “It’s no good getting scared.  What we’ve got to do is investigate!  That’s the only way to find out what’s really going on.”

“But how do you find a ghost?” Aaron asked.

“You don’t,” Mr. Johnson said, closing the cupboard doors, “because there are no ghosts.  And there’s nothing in the cupboard either.”

“Then what were those noises, Mr. Johnson?” Aaron asked.

Mr. Johnson sighed and sat on his desk.  “I want you all to listen up,” he said.  “You’re upset because you think Friday the 13th is unlucky, right?”

We nodded.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said.  “Friday the 13th is never unlucky in Rhode Island.  Any bad luck that comes here cancels right out.  Can anyone guess why?”

We couldn’t.

“Think about it,” he said.  “Delaware is the first state, right?  And Rhode Island is—”

“The thirteenth state!” we all called out.

“But doesn’t that double the bad luck?” I asked.

Mr. Johnson smiled.  “Nope,” he said.  “Because that’s a good thirteen.  The good thirteen and the bad thirteen cancel each other out so, in Rhode Island, Friday the 13th is just a normal day.  You can all relax!”

We almost believed him.  I could see that Emily did.  But then, Keisha screamed.

“THE GHOST!!!” she shrieked, leaping up from her desk.  “THE GHOST TOUCHED MY FOOT!”

Mr. Johnson squeezed his nose.  “Keisha, please—“

“No, it did, I swear it did!” she cried.  “I felt it, all cold and clammy and horrible!”

Jake frowned.  “But there can’t be a ghost!  Not if Mr. Johnson’s right about the thirteens canceling out!”

We looked at each other nervously, and all around the classroom too.  That’s when Louie noticed the number on our classroom door.

“I got it!” he cried.  “Our room number is 113!  Wouldn’t that cancel out the canceling out?”

“Hey, yeah!” said Jake.  “That means, in this room, Friday the 13th is still on!”

Mr. Johnson groaned.  Emily began to sniffle.

The ghostly sounds began again, filling the room with horrible croaks.

“It’s coming from over there,” I said, running to the bookcase.

“It’s not fair!” Emily sobbed, completely terrified.  “I don’t want to see a ghost!”

“Then you don’t want to look here,” I said, staring at the books in disbelief.  “Oh, whoa…”

The thin paperbacks were moving forward a few at a time all by themselves, as if invisible fingers were tugging at their spines.  My heart felt like it was going to thump out of my chest.

“Something’s back there,” Mr. Johnson said, and for the first time I could tell he was scared too.  Emily let out a wail.  That sealed it.  It was time to find this ghost once and for all.

With a wild yell, I grabbed a stack of books and yanked them to the floor.  Mr. Johnson jumped—I don’t think he expected me to do that—but I stood up with a grin on my face and our ghost clutched triumphantly in my hands.

“What is it?” Robby asked as the whole class got up from their desks to cluster around me and Mr. Johnson.  “Is it a monster?”

“That depends,” I grinned.  “Are you scared of frogs?”

“A frog?” Robby sounded disappointed.  “You mean, it wasn’t a ghost doing all that stuff?”

“Nope,” I said.  “Just a lost frog.  He must have hopped in through the open door.”

“Suzie, I think you’re right,” Mr. Johnson nodded.  “This is just the weather for frogs.  You see, everybody?  There’s nothing scary about Friday the 13th.  Only what your imaginations make of it.”

Yeah right, I thought.  But I didn’t say that.  Instead, I asked, “Can we keep the frog, Mr. Johnson?”

But Mr. Johnson had had quite enough of frogs, thank you very much.  He told me to let it go in the playground.  I did better than that, though.  I took it to the pond down the street.  He’s still there, I bet, swimming around with his froggy feet, catching flies.  But I’ll tell you one thing.  I don’t think he’ll hop into our classroom again!