The Ghost Group Book One

By Dawn Colclasure

There’s something different about Sarah Town. It’s brimming with ghosts—and some of those ghosts need help! That’s where the GHOST Group comes in—the Ghost Helpers of Sarah Town. The GHOST Group is made up of five 11-year-old team members: Jesse, Jenny, Ryan, Trent, and Cassie.

The Ghost of Sarah Travers is the story about Sarah, who Sarah Town was named after. Her ghost haunts what used to be her home, but can the kids help her find who she is looking for before the town skeptic brings an end to ghosthunting in Sarah Town for good?

The Ghost of the Crying Valentine has the Ghost Group solving the mystery of a sad ghostly girl haunting their school. Rumors about this girl ghost catch the attention of a TV show, and the kids lock horns with the show host as they try to help the crying ghost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jun 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781619501225

Dawn Colclasure

Dawn Colclasure is the author of five books, among them BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL: How We Survive as Writing Parents and 365 TIPS FOR WRITERS: Inspiration, Writing Prompts and Beat The Block Tips to Turbo Charge Your Creativity. Her articles, essays, poems, book reviews and short stories have been published in regional and national newspapers and magazines, as well as online. She lives and writes in Oregon with her husband and children.

Book preview

The GHOST Group Book One

The Ghost of Sarah Travers

and

The Ghost of the Crying Valentine

by

Dawn Colclasure

All rights reserved

Copyright © May 13, 2013, Dawn Colclasure

Cover Art Copyright © 2013, Manon Daniels

Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

Lockhart, TX

www.gypsyshadow.com

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN: 978-1-61950-122-5

Published in the United States of America

First eBook Edition: June 27, 2013

Dedication

For my daughter, Jennifer Wilson, with love.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Greg and Beth Bartlett for some story help in Book Two.

The Ghost of Sarah Travers

Chapter One

The Creepy Substitute

Anybody who looked up Sarah Town on the Internet would see the words historical town. Jesse Wolf knew what a historical town was. His parents had explained it to him a couple of years ago when he’d asked why the town looked like it was—well, old. It was an historical town, they said, and that meant it was being preserved to look like it did when it was established back in the 1800s.

So maybe that was why walking through Sarah Town was like taking a step back in time to the Old West. Of course, Sarah Town wasn’t even in the west; but it had that look and feel to it, like pictures he’d seen of what the Old West looked like.

He could see it all now, as he looked out the window of the car he was riding in. The buildings made out of wood, just like the buildings in the pictures. The large and fancy writing on these buildings and signs that was the same as in those pictures. There were even posts in front of the buildings for people to tie their horses to.

He looked straight ahead this time to see the road in front of his father’s car. There weren’t any horses on the road, of course. There were cars. Everybody drove cars or maybe rode a bicycle. Some drove trucks.

In fact, there was a gigantic truck right there in front of his father’s car right now, coming straight at them.

Jesse stopped smiling and his eyes grew wide.

Wait a minute, straight at them?

Look out, Dad! Jesse cried, flying to the edge of his seat and gripping the sides of the seat in front of him.

He gasped and clung onto that seat for dear life as Mr. Wolf shook awake and swung the steering wheel to the right side. Jesse’s teeth chattered and his heart pounded in his chest as horns honked all around him and his father’s car spun in a circle on the snow-covered street.

Mr. Wolf got the car straight again and parked it on the side of the road. He turned around to look at Jesse. Are you okay, son?

Clutching the seat in front of him, his eyes still wide, Jesse breathed in quick bursts of air. He finally managed to let go of the seat as he slid backward. He rested his hand on his chest, feeling it move up and down with each breath. I’m still breathing.

Mr. Wolf sighed, wiping his forehead. That was a close call.

Jesse nodded, trying to relax. That was too close!

I must have dozed off, his father said, sitting straight in the driver’s seat again and switching the gears of the car. He pulled away from the side of the road and drove down the street. I’ve been working so much, you know.

Yeah, I know, Jesse said as he let out a large breath of air. His dad’s working a lot wasn’t anything new. It seemed like he was working so much a lot of the time. Someone needed their door fixed or someone wanted to add another room to their house. His father was not the only carpenter in Sarah Town, but sometimes it seemed like he was, because people were always calling him to do one job or another.

This was good because it meant he had work. Some people in Sarah Town were not so lucky. Jesse frowned as he thought of his friend, Brian, whose father lost his job as an electrician two months before and hadn’t found another. They’d had to ask for help from neighbors and other people in Sarah Town to get food or go to the doctor. Not too long ago, he’d gone to Brian’s house with his mother and watched her hand Brian’s mother a big brown bag of food. Brian had looked a little uncomfortable about it. Jesse remembered how Brian didn’t like talking about getting food from people; he mostly wanted to play video games on the TV in the living room. Jesse started to think maybe it was a good thing that his dad worked, because he might feel the same way Brian did, if his family had to get food from their neighbors.

But what was bad about his dad working so much was that he was rarely at home. He was always working! And always working meant he didn’t get a lot of sleep, either.

Jesse looked down at his blue backpack on the seat next to him. He picked it up, then zipped it open. He had everything he needed for his first day back at school after Winter Break: his blue binder with all of its folders in it, pencils, erasers, pens, a ruler and a spiral notebook of paper. He was ready for his first day back.

Or was he?

A reminder flashed through his mind. A reminder of something else he was supposed to bring back to school with him. He gasped. Oh, no! he exclaimed, slapping his forehead.

Something wrong? his father asked.

I forgot to make a New Year’s resolution, he answered. Our teacher asked us to write a paper during Winter Break about what our New Year’s resolution is. We’re supposed to turn it in today!

You can always work on it later.

I know, but I just wish I had it done already. He’d always had his homework done before. How could he go back to school with an incomplete assignment now? What a way to start a new school year. He’d have to be sure he would stay on top of things and get his homework done. It wasn’t any fun working on incomplete homework during morning recess. That’s what anyone who forgot to finish their assignments on time had to do.

And now it would be his turn to miss morning recess so that he could complete an assignment.

He sighed as he looked out the window. Kids wearing backpacks were walking to school. They all probably had made a New Year’s resolution. He didn’t have a New Year’s resolution, so maybe it was a good idea to start thinking of one now. That way, he could start writing right away when it was time for recess and he’d get done faster.

What could his New Year’s resolution be? Learn something new? What did he want to learn? Maybe he could learn how to read a compass. Or maybe his mom could show him how to make those cheesy scrambled eggs he liked to eat for breakfast. His sister, Natalie, usually ate one of those toaster waffles. She thought eggs were gross, but his mother always told him eggs had protein in them, and they were a good way to start a busy day.

Or maybe instead of learning something new this year, he could try to accomplish something new. He’d already had his picture in the newspaper for accomplishing something: Seven-year-old boy solves Sarah Town’s 25-year-old murder mystery. He’d had an article in the Sarah Town Dispatch newspaper too; that was published last year, when he wrote an article about why replacing the old computers at his school with newer ones was a much more important thing to spend the town’s extra money on than adding a mega shopping center. He was proud of that article because, luckily, the city had listened to him and his school got new computers.

He’d also won trophies from a karate tournament, baseball, a spelling bee and one for his swim team.

So what else could he accomplish this year?

He’d already learned the Spanish alphabet. He’d already read all of the Harry Potter books. And he’d already learned how to play the guitar.

Hm, what else was there?

Well, instead of accomplishing something, maybe he could finish something instead. Something that he was already working on.

He smiled when the perfect project to finish came to mind. I’ve got it. My treehouse. He looked at his father again. Dad, I want my resolution to be that we’ll finish the treehouse.

His father sighed. You know, I’m really busy with work, Jesse. He looked at him real quick. I know you wanted it done over winter break. I’m sorry, I’ve just been working.

But I really need your help with it, Jesse said.

Mr. Wolf pulled the car into the school parking lot. Don’t worry, we’ll get it done soon, he said. Just give it time.

Jesse frowned, looking out the window. Okay.

When his father pulled up to the drop-off zone at his school, Jesse said goodbye and then climbed out of the car. He put on his backpack, zipped his jacket and then walked inside of the school. Just like before winter vacation, the hallway was crowded. Jesse tried to avoid noticing the girls with the pink ribbons in their hair talking about boys or clothes. Only two girls at this school weren’t gross: Jenny and Cassie. He looked around for his friend Trent, but the hallway was packed with other kids. He was lucky to have space to walk.

He finally reached his classroom, but stopped at the door, a frown on his face. A different teacher was sitting at Mrs. Reilly’s desk.

He walked to his desk and sat down. He looked at his friend Aaron, who sat right next to his desk. Who’s the substitute? he whispered.

Aaron moved his black bangs to the left side and looked at the teacher, then shrugged. First time I’ve seen him.

That’s Underhill, the Undertaker. Jesse turned his head to look at the kid talking to him; it was Stephen, who sat right across from him. Stephen’s brown curly hair was always rumpled together on his head, but today it looked like he’d actually combed it all down. It was a new year, but this was not really a new Stephen, Jesse noticed. The hair might have been combed, but his friend still wore the same blue hoodie he’d been wearing all winter. Mizzuz Reilly is out sick.

Jesse looked at the substitute teacher and shuddered. Mr. Underhill sure looked like an undertaker. His big, bushy moustache was even whiter than the hair on his head, and the oversize brown coat he wore looked like it was a hundred years old.

The first day back at school and they had a substitute. This was no fair. Every single substitute teacher he’d had before was always confused or unable to answer questions about current projects. They didn’t seem to be the right person to take the teacher’s place, and Jesse didn’t think Mr. Underhill was the right person, either. He looked like he belonged in a graveyard, not a classroom.

The teacher rose from the desk and smiled at Jesse. He was probably trying to be nice, but the smile made him look even creepier than his clothes did.

The morning bell rang, and Mr. Underhill turned to write on the chalkboard. Good morning, boys and girls! His voice was loud, practically shaking the windows in the frames. I am Mr. Underhill. He turned to the students and nodded. I know that substitute teachers are no fun, right? Usually so bo-ring. Tell you what! I’m going to be different!

He walked back to the desk and removed a large stack of papers from the top drawer. Just look at these quizzes Mrs. Reilly left for me to give to you.

Jesse’s mouth dropped. Not only did they have a substitute teacher on their first day back at school, but a stack of tests to take, too? No way! He hadn’t studied for any test. He would get an F!

He was about to protest, but noticed how Mr. Underhill didn’t start passing out any tests. Instead, he removed one of the very thick test packets from the top and placed the rest on his own desk. He started paging through it. History. Geography. Topography. He shook his head, picked it up then dropped it into the tin trashcan. Baloney.

Jesse relaxed in his seat as the students laughed. Phew! Close call.

I have a better idea! Mr. Underhill said, holding up a finger. He turned around, walked over to the chalkboard, and then reached up to grab a plastic ring on a string. He pulled the string down and down came a large map of Sarah Town.

Let’s talk about Sarah Town instead! A town named after a real little girl named Sarah Travers.

We know about Sarah Travers, a girl said.

She died of yellow fever, a boy added.

Right after she and her father moved here, another said. They were looking for someplace new to live, where they could practice their religion. She was only nine years old when she caught yellow fever and died from it.

And some say her ghost haunts the museum, which used to be her house, a third boy finished. She puts things into peoples’ pockets. But it’s only an urban legend, he added quickly.

Mr. Underhill nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh, sure. Everybody likes to talk about how Sarah Travers is a