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echoing locker room had become a frightening place. Jeff dumped everything out of the bag. He laid the envelope on the bottom and put the rolled-up sweat suit on top of it. The running shoes went in last.
    He barely had a chance to pick up the bag before the swishing sound—more of a SWOOSH now—stopped him. He looked behind him. The envelope wasn’t on the floor. He reached into the bag, but it wasn’t there either.
    Jeff leaned against the wall. His knees were shaking so hard that he could barely stand.
    â€œCut it out!” he croaked. “Leave me alone!”
    Something brushed against his hip. Jeff pushed clenched fists into his pockets and gave a little yelp of terror. The envelope was in his right jeans pocket, neatly rolled.
    He snatched up the bag, threw open the locker-room door, and catapulted into the hall.
    â€œHey, watch where you’re going!” Tony Scaffidi jumped out of the way. “What’s the matter with you, Keppel? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
    Jeff took a deep breath. “That’s crazy,” he said, but he didn’t sound convincing, even to himself. He hadn’t actually seen a ghost, but he felt as if he had. As clearly as if he’d spoken, the ghost of Ernie P. Barber had told him it was all right to take the sweat suit and the running shoes to the principal’s office, but not the envelope. The envelope was supposed to stay with Jeff, whether he wanted it or not.
    â€œI’m okay,” he told Tony. “I’m fine.”
    â€œYeah? Then how come you’re that funny green color?” Tony shook his head. “You’re acting weird lately, Keppel. Really weird.”
    Jeff shrugged. There was no point in arguing. Weird was how he felt.

C HAPTER S IX
    The envelope rode around in Jeff’s pocket for the rest of the day. Twice he took it out and held it over a wastebasket, but he couldn’t make his fingers let go. What if it flew out of the basket and swooshed after him down the hall, with the whole school watching? So far, he was the only one who knew he was being haunted by the ghost of Ernie P. Jeff wanted to keep it that way.
    When he got home, his house had the same closed-up, unfriendly look that the Pattersons’ house had had on Saturday. This was his mother’s day to work as a volunteer in the hospital gift shop, and sometimes she stayed an extra hour to stock the shelves. Jeff had his own key, but he didn’t feel like going into the empty house. Instead he wandered around to the backyard and into the tent.
    It was funny about the tent. Ever since he was a little kid, he’d looked forward to camping out, even if it was only in the backyard. He liked the smell of the canvas and the way the sunlight danced over the slanted roof. He liked sleeping in a bedroll and reading mysteries by the glow of a lantern. His mother said it was probably because he and his dad had gone camping together.
    He threw himself down on the grass and pulled the manila envelope out of his pocket. Ernie Barber had never been in the tent, but Jeff felt as if he were there now. He could almost smell the peppermints Ernie liked to suck. He could almost hear Ernie saying, Come on, old buddy, you know what you have to do .
    Jeff stared at the envelope. Whatever was inside meant more trouble—no doubt about that—but sooner or later he had to look. He couldn’t help himself.
    He slit the top of the envelope and pulled out the contents. There were three clippings from the Los Angeles Express , each mounted neatly on a sheet of typing paper. Jeff stared at the first headline in astonishment:
    WITCHES ’ COVEN REVEALED
    Below the headline was a reporter’s story of how she’d gone underground to join a coven of witches. She described their secret meeting place, and a ritual in which the members wore black robes and chanted in strange, high-pitched voices.
    The second clipping told how the reporter