The Lost Boys of Lampson E-Book

P.N. Holland

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Serie: The Vancouver Island Mystery series
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 190

Beschreibung

The Lost Boys of Lampson

Leseprobe

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

THE LOST BOYS OF LAMPSON

First edition. March 5, 2020.

Copyright © 2020 P.N. Holland.

ISBN: 978-1393894773

Written by P.N. Holland.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Also by P.N. Holland

Vancouver Island Mysteries

The Saxe Point Park Mystery

The Lost Boys of Lampson

The E&N Escape

Watch for more at P.N. Holland’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By P.N. Holland

Dedication

Back Cover

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Appendix

About the Author

Sign up for P.N. Holland's Mailing List

Further Reading: The E&N Escape

Also By P.N. Holland

About the Author

About the Publisher

 

This story is dedicated to the patience support and interest

shown by my late wife, Kris,

and to our grandchildren,who will continue to enjoy my writing.

Back Cover

Tween Paranormal Fantasy by Peter Neil Holland

Billy’s grade 7 year is not at all what he expected. Lampson School is not the same. It is cold and unwelcoming. Worse than that, there is something weird going on—a dark figure in a window, crows attacking him and his best friend Ricky, a strange girl, Amy, who looks like she belongs in the past and his nemesis, Andrew is picking a fight with him. It doesn’t seem to matter what he does, the school is out to get him, but why?

It’s not until the dark figure tries to kill him that he realizes he has to solve the mystery of the missing boys to understand why he is a target. With Amy’s help, he might be able to figure it out and stop the evil entity, but with Ricky not wanting to include her and his own self-doubts keeping him from acting, the evil may have already won.

The Lost Boys of Lampson © 2014 by Peter Neil Holland

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

This story is dedicated to the patience support and interest

shown by my late wife, Kris,

and to our grandchildren,

who will continue to enjoy my writing.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Bev Cooke, my former editor, mentor, and friend for her support, help, and belief in my craft.

The Lost Boys of Lampson

Peter Neil Holland

Chapter One

Dark Start

Billy walked onto the grounds of Lampson Street School, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled.

Lampson was warm, inviting, and comfortable, but not this morning. The quiet was unnatural. Hesitating, he turned, but the school ground was empty. Shivers ran down his spine as he gazed up at the bell tower. Nope, no ghoul gawking down at me. He snickered, dropped his backpack on the steps, and studied the red brick building. As always, the tall red walls, shiny steel roof, and grey stone steps met his gaze, but he shuddered at its cold, somewhat sphinx-like indifference. The red doors sat like a mouth ready to swallow the kids returning from summer holidays.

The cawing of crows collecting on the eaves distracted him. More and more of them landed on the silver metal, clicking and clacking along its surface in a weird dance. Even though the sun shone, a chill ran through him as he stared at the top windows. The drawn blinds looked like closed eyelids below the bald sun’s glare on the roof.

A shadowy form appeared at the one uncovered window, a stick in its hand or maybe a cane, the end glowing white. Frozen, Billy couldn’t take his eyes off the bright orb as the dark figure of a man pointed it at him. The tip glowed like a torch exposing the white hair of the person behind it. Billy’s head spun, his heart pounded, vision blurred, and his knees buckled; he saw a dark place, a cold place. Only the crows’ squawking kept him from passing out.

A voice penetrated. “What’s with you?”

Billy staggered, shook his head, and turned around.

Ricky, his friend, grabbed his arm. “Are you okay, man?”

Billy sat down on the steps, his heart thumping. “I...think so.”

Ricky leaned down. “You sure? I called you three times.”

“Yeah, do you...see anything...in that open window?” Billy pointed.

“Nope. What did you see?”

Billy paused to catch his breath. “I saw a man in the window. He was holding a strange, glowing stick or something. I went dizzy and—”

“Really?” He patted Billy on the back. “I think the sun is getting to you, mate.”

Billy’s anger flared. “I know what I saw, okay?”

“Maybe it’s the Ghost of Lampson. Oooo.” Ricky smiled and flapped his arms.

Billy’s face flushed, his fists clenched. “I’m not kidding. I saw something.”

“Take it easy, man.” Ricky tapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe it’s Max Maynard? They say he haunts the bell tower.”

Billy frowned.

“What about that guy who fell through the skylight years ago or that teacher who disappeared in the fifties? Remember? The librarian told us about them last year.”

Billy took several deep breaths. “Those are just stories. This was real.”

His friend nodded. “Okay, okay, I believe you. But it could’ve been something else like—”

“He was there. The cane and that glowing thing were there, too.”

“What glowing thing?” Billy’s sister Sarah asked as she and her friend, Mia, came up the stairs.

“Ah, nothing, Sarah.”He struggled to sound casual, tried to get himself under control. “I just saw someone up in that window.” He pointed.

“Like a ghost?” Sarah asked.

“Maybe,” Ricky said.

“You saw a ghost?” Mia asked, her eyes wide.

“I don’t know. Anyway, shouldn’t you be lining up now? It’s bell time.” Billy changed the subject, not wanting everyone to think he was loony. He rubbed his arms and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the anger. He knew what he saw.

“Okay,” Sarah said, “but we came to ask you about the grade three teachers.”

Billy smiled.”Let me see. It’ll be Mrs. Morris or Ms. Longbottom. They’re both nasty old bags.” He winked at Ricky.

“Good one,” Ricky said. He laughed and looked up toward the bell tower. The murder of crows cawed back.

“Billy MacLean, you’re awful!” Sarah scolded. “Sally Sims says Ms. Longbottom is very nice.” She grabbed Mia’s arm. “Come on, Mia. Boys are impossible.” They marched back down the stairs.

A bunch of other kids reached the bottom of the stairs.”Maybe we should talk about this later,” Ricky whispered. Billy nodded and grabbed his backpack.

Ms. Fenton, the principal, opened the big red doors and stepped out of the school.”Ah, Billy, Ricky, two grade sevens, what luck. Would you boys be the first to hold the doors this year?” she asked.

“I guess so,” Billy answered. Ricky shrugged. They trudged over to the doors as the principal asked a grade one student to ring the bell. The little girl grinned and bounced up the stairs as if she’d just won the lottery. Billy gazed over the cement rail at the huge oak trees on the front lawn. Their gnarled trunks reminded him of old men, crusty branches swaying like wrinkled hands scratching the sky. Many were as old as Lampson, some even older. Their long, eerie shadows danced against the side of the school. A shiver ran down his spine.

The school buzzer rang, breaking his thoughts. The door slipped from his hand slamming against the door frame. The noise startled the little girl, and she dropped the brass bell. It clanged, the girl scampering after it as it rolled down the stairs. At the bottom, an older girl stopped it and handed it to her. Billy rolled his eyes at Ricky and they both giggled.

“It’s okay,” said Ms. Fenton. The little girl smiled as she swung the bell. It rang and the students charged up the stairs from both sides.

“Slow down, slow down!” Ms. Fenton yelled, but the kids ignored her. Billy leaned against the door, watching them stream by as a cold wind burst out of the school, almost knocking him over. Shivering, his hair in his face, his clothes flapping, he grabbed the door with both hands and glanced at Ricky who leaned against the door, his arms crossed, staring back.

“Can’t you feel that?” Billy yelled. Ricky grimaced but continued to stare. “Hey, can’t you hear me?” He slipped, but grabbed the door as his hat blew off his head. “Your hat!” Billy hollered, but his friend only glanced at where it landed against the cement wall as the kids marched past. “Am I invisible or something?” Billy shouted into the wind. Nobody answered. “Ahhh!” he screamed, just as the wind stopped, leaving him slumped against the door.

Ricky jumped up. “You okay, man?”

Ms. Fenton raised her eyebrows, the kids stopped and stared as Billy blushed, snickered, and grabbed his finger. “Uh, I pinched my finger,” he said. It was the only thing he could think of.

When everyone had filed in, the boys closed the doors. “You must have felt that wind!” Billy said.

“Gotta get my hat,” Ricky said as he hopped across the cement to grab it.

“Come on, man. I know you did.” Billy wasn’t letting it go.

“So? It was just the wind.”

“Yeah, but it came from inside.”

“Maybe a window was open. Let’s get inside before it blows again.” He grabbed his pack, opened the door, and dashed inside the school.

“I know you felt it, too,” Billy said. He ran up the stairs where Ms. Overon met them. She glowered and pointed her finger toward the bottom. “Boys, you can just march back down those stairs and walk up this time. You’re seniors now. You need to set an example.”

“Yes, Ms. Overon,” they chorused, used to her harping. You can’t get away with anything these days. She’s the school rule cop, always nattering about manners and “proper decorum”.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, a girl skipped out of the office. The boys nearly knocked her over.

“Sorry,” they blurted.

She raised her head, smiled, and blinked her deep, green eyes.

Funny, none of the other girls dress like that, in a skirt, blouse, and a vest.

“You’re new aren’t you?” Ricky said.

“Yes, well, sort of,” she said as she stepped onto the stairs.

“What do you mean, sort of?” Billy asked, but before she could answer, Mr. Moore, the vice principal, told them to hurry to the gym.

“Here, let me show you the way,” Ricky said and jumped ahead of her. She brushed past Billy, the wool of her vest rubbing against his hand, fuzzy and old fashioned, unlike his sister’s clothes, which were smooth and bright. Maybe her parents shop at a vintage Value Village.

“Welcome back, everybody, and a special Lampson welcome to the new students. I trust we all had a great summer and we’re ready to continue our learning...” Ms. Fenton was saying as they entered the gym.

“Yeah, welcome to another boring year of bullshit.” A whispered comment from behind made them turn around. Andrew Edgeware smirked as he sat with a bunch of boys.

“...and don’t forget, boys and girls, today is only a half day, so go straight home at lunch time,” the principal continued.

“What are you losers looking at?” Andrew asked. The boys around him laughed.

Before they could answer, all of the open windows slammed shut. Billy jumped and looked around. Everyone stopped talking for a second as the room held its breath.

When the chattering resumed, it sounded like the nattering of the crows on the roof. In the babble, a little girl asked her mother, “Mom, can I go to another school? This one doesn’t like us.”

I don’t think Lampson likes me either.

Chapter Two

The Fight

In the classroom, Billy slumped down in his seat and gazed out the window at the trees. Who was that face in the window? Why did the wind only affect Ricky and me? What’s going on?

Mr. Moore called attendance, “Christie Adams, Shane Berkholder...”

“More like butt holder,” Andrew whispered. The boys laughed.

“Denise Cuthbert, Damen Darling, Andrew Edgeware, Frederick Feinstein...”

“You mean Farting Freddie,” Andrew said. This time Billy and Ricky laughed, too. Andrew is pretty funny sometimes. The names droned on as he gazed back out the window. Maybe it was a ghost I saw. What was with that glowing cane though, and why did he point it at me?

“Excuse me, sir.” Billy’s head snapped around. It was the new girl—blond hair, green eyes, and a skirt.

“Come in, my dear. What’s your name?” Mr. Moore asked.

“Amy Sutherland, sir.”

“Welcome, Amy, there’s a seat for you right beside Joanna Jenkins. Joanna, help her with her things, would you?”Joanna jumped up and took Amy’s books.”Use one of the spare hooks at the back, Amy.”

She hung up her things and sat down beside Joanna, smiling across at Billy as she did. He smiled back and looked her over with her strange clothes and her hair in a bun. She is different. Where did this kid come from? A hundred years ago? She is cute, though.

“Who’s the weird kid?” Andrew whispered.

“I don’t know, man, but she sure wears goofy clothes,” Damen, one of his buddies, whispered back.

“Yeah, she looks like Little Orphan Annie,” Andrew said. All the boys giggled.

Billy gave him a dirty look. What a smart ass.

“Keep your opinions to yourself,” Ricky said.

“Yeah, leave her alone,” Billy added.

Andrew laughed. “Oooo, the loser twins have a crush on her.”

“Go figure,” Damen said. A bunch of the kids laughed, and Mr. Moore scolded Andrew for his comment. Ricky scowled at them and Billy shook his head.

At recess, Billy stopped a fast kick from Jesse Tompkins and booted the soccer ball to Ricky, who slammed it back to him. He noticed a crowd forming over by the rocks. Someone in the middle was crying.

“Leave me alone,” a girl wailed.

Billy frowned.

Voices rang out from the crowd. “You’re weird. Where’d you come from? You don’t belong here.”

Whoever it is, she’s in trouble. Distracted, Billy started when a ball smacked him in the head. He ignored it and jogged over to the commotion.

“Where’re you going?” Ricky asked, running after him.

“Those kids are picking on someone,” Billy said, pointing to the crowd. “I think I know who it is.”

“Go back home to Mama. What a cry baby.” The kids swayed back and forth, most of them laughing.

“What’s going on?” Billy asked, pushing his way into the circle.

“Nothing, Billy. Little Miss Weirdo doesn’t belong, that’s all,” Andrew said. “She’s just a big crybaby.”Billy gasped. He did know the voice; it was Amy’s and she whimpered as the kids teased her.

“Crybaby, crybaby.”

“Yeah, go home you big baby,” Andrew said, picking up a stick.

“What are you doing, Andrew?” Billy stared.

“What do you care?” Andrew whacked the stick against his leg, making it snap like a whip. Amy jumped back, but the crowd blocked her escape.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Damen asked. The kids laughed.

“Crybaby and the loser twins,” Andrew said. He swung the stick over his head. “Go figure.” The kids roared.

“Come on, Amy,” Billy offered her his hand.

“Yeah, come on, Amy,” Andrew mimicked. His arm flashed out, and the stick thudded into the side of her head. She fell to the mud. The crowd went silent and backed up.

“Stop it, Andrew!” Billy yelled. He held his hand up and leaned over Amy.

Andrew swung the stick over Billy’s head. “Whoa, what are you doing, man?” Damen asked. The crowd muttered and an icy chill struck Billy’s face. Andrew’s eyes shone yellow and piercing like a wolf’s.

“She asked for it. Whining like that. She’s just a wuss.”Andrew’s voice sounded low, cold, and forceful, more like a man’s voice. Andrew bent over and ripped her blouse. Amy cried and pulled her torn clothes together. Andrew laughed, grabbed Billy’s shirt and threw him on top of Amy. “Bend down and give her a kiss, lover boy,” he said. Billy slammed into her knees, losing his breath, his head bouncing off her chest. Amy cried out in agony.

“Andrew, stop it,” Ricky shouted and stepped forward.

“Back off, loser.” Andrew shoved him and raised the stick again.

“Andrew, drop the stick,” Damen yelled, rushing forward. Billy, arms up, stared at Andrew, Ricky, and Damen, all poised to fight.

Damen reached for the stick. “Andrew!” he shouted again, but Andrew swung it over his head and in front of their faces. Billy rolled away to avoid being hit.

“Try me, you coward,” screamed Ricky, his fists clenched.

“Back off. Back off, all of you,” Andrew yelled as he jabbed the stick at Ricky. His lips quivered and he taunted the crowd, jumping and waving the stick around like a crazed ninja. Everyone scurried out of Andrew’s way. Keeping his eyes fixed on Andrew, Billy rose to his feet.

“I’m going to get a supervisor,” someone from the crowd said.

Voices from the crowd boiled over, attacking Andrew. “You’re out of your tree. Crazy. You’ve lost it, man.”

Billy reached to help Amy, but before he could pull her up, Andrew’s foot lashed out and caught him in the groin. He groaned and doubled over in pain. Andrew caught him in a headlock and jammed the stick into his gut. Despite the sharp pain and a sudden numbing cold around him, Billy swept his leg to knock Andrew down. As he fell, Andrew growled, smacking Billy in the head with the stick and kneeing him in the stomach. Vomit seared Billy’s throat and his gut cramped. Choking it back down, he slammed his fist into Andrew’s jaw. The crowd shouted as he struggled to keep Andrew from ripping him apart.

An arm pulled on Billy’s leg, freeing him from Andrew’s grip. Damen grappled with Andrew’s arm and Ricky tried to hold his legs. Billy snatched at an arm, but it was like trying to grab an octopus. The stick flew from Andrew’s grip, parting his hair as it whizzed by. He wrestled with the arm, but Andrew’s limbs flailed, tripping him. Falling, his elbow slammed into Andrew’s nose and blood sprayed everywhere. Andrew howled, shook them off, and drove his knee into Billy’s middle again while clawing at his eyes like a mad crow. Hot bile scorched his throat and he puked on his attacker. Ricky and Damen jumped back. Kids groaned and laughed, shuffling out of the way, some gagging and others cheering.

Billy wiped his mouth with his hand and choked more bile down, his face flushed and his head throbbing. Andrew shoved him away and sprang to his feet, tore his smelly jacket off, and wiped his bloody face with his sleeve.”Thanks a lot, puke boy,” he said. His hands shook as he leaned over Billy, wiping the vomit from his pants.

“Totally awesome, man!” someone yelled.

“What is going on?” a supervisor’s voice yelled from across the field.

Blood pounded in Billy’s head. He coughed and choked, his stomach churning. He rolled on the grass spitting vomit from his mouth. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath and lay exhausted on the grass. His senses cleared, he rose to his knees and looked around. Ricky and Damen faced Andrew, ready for round two. Billy took in the torn shirts, mud-covered pants, vomit, blood and grass stains, and prayed it was over.

Andrew, nose still dripping blood, wiped his sleeve over his face and staggered. He shook his head. “What are you staring at?” he snarled at Ricky as the supervisors approached.

“A bloody mess,” Ricky said, shoving Andrew away.

Here we go again.

Andrew pounced on Ricky, who jumped to his right and stuck his leg out. Andrew caught Ricky’s coat on the way down, and they tumbled together onto the grass.

“Boys. Boys. Break it up, you two. The rest of you come on, the show’s over, back to your games.” Two playground supervisors pulled Andrew and Ricky apart. Andrew’s nose poured blood again, soaking his shirt and Ms. Thompson’s hands. She mopped up the gore with several tissues she pulled from her pocket. Billy stared at the smelly mess and smiled in spite of his aching head and sore stomach. Serves him right.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Cleghorne demanded, her hands on her hips. Billy held his gut and groaned while Ms. Thompson pinched Andrew’s nose and tilted his head back. Ricky and Damen cleaned the mud from their clothes, but none of them said anything.

Mrs. Cleghorne faced the remaining crowd. “There’s nothing more to see,” she said. They muttered and scattered across the field.

“What’s going to happen to them?” one of Andrew’s friends asked.

“That’s not your concern. Run along now,” said Ms. Thompson, letting go of Andrew’s nose.

“What happened here?” Mrs. Cleghorne asked.

Becky Ronson, who was helping Amy clean up, piped in. “They were fighting because Andrew bullied Amy.”

“Amy, what were they doing?”

“W-well, ma’am,” Amy said. “A-Andrew and D-Damen called me names and A-Andrew hit me with a stick.”

Becky, her usual busybody self, added, “Then Ricky and Billy came to help her and Andrew started fighting and—”

“Thank you, Becky. Boys, head to the office right now,” Mrs. Cleghorne ordered. Billy tucked his grass-stained shirt into his pants, ran his sleeve across his mouth, and brushed the mud off his clothes. The boys shuffled behind Mrs. Thompson. Billy took in the bruised and muddy faces, scratched arms, and torn clothing. We look like a beaten up army troop. He wrinkled his nose, realizing he smelled like a walking bowl of barf. Glancing back, he met Andrew’s eyes for a second. They glowed and blinked again. Billy shivered as a dark presence touched him. Andrew’s eyes cleared and a look of terror flitted across his face. What was that? Andrew looked lost and confused and then shook himself and sneered at Billy.

“Smooth move, ex-lax,” Andrew said at the door.