The Dusty Trail of Oak Creek Elementary

Pip was no larger than a teacup, and he was quite certain he was the only ghost residing at Oak Creek Elementary. During the day, while noisy sneakers squeaked against polished floors and bells chimed every forty minutes, Pip slept curled up inside an unread encyclopedia on the highest shelf of the library. But when the final bell rang and the janitor’s heavy keys jingled away into the twilight, the school belonged to him.

Pip loved the quiet hours. He enjoyed drifting through closed locker doors just to see what kind of stickers students hid inside, and he liked floating above the shiny gym floor like an escaped balloon. Tonight, however, the silence felt different. As Pip drifted down the third-grade hallway toward the cafeteria, a strange pattern caught his attention.

Stamped neatly across the gleaming gray tiles was a trail of white, powdery footprints.

Pip hovered closer, his translucent form glowing with a soft, pale blue light. The school was supposed to be completely empty. Mr. Henderson, the night custodian, wore heavy work boots with wide treads, but these prints were round, soft, and remarkably small—scarcely bigger than a silver dollar. Each footprint was dusted with what smelled faintly like vanilla baking powder from the science wing.