Slappy- Bus Driver

Hanson reached for the dummy.
But he stopped when the bus door slammed shut. I heard a loud roar.
Hanson’s eyes bulged as the bus jerked forward. Hard.
The teacher stumbled and fell onto the front row. Sprawled over two kids.
Another roar. The bus lurched away from the curb.
Kids started to scream. Hanson struggled to stand up.
The bus rocketed down the middle of the street, picking up speed.
We were zigzagging crazily from side to side. The tires squealing.
Engine thundering.
We were roaring away—and the dummy was driving!
...

Hanson struggled to his feet. His eyes still bulged and his face was as red as a tomato. He gripped the pole behind the driver’s seat as the bus swung hard from left to right.
More screams as our bus scraped a parked car on the side of the street. The squeal of metal on metal rang in my ears.
Hanson came up behind the driver’s seat. He reached out both hands to grab the dummy.
“Nooooooo.”
A horrified moan escaped my throat as the dummy tossed back its head. I could see it clearly. I wasn’t imagining it. The dummy had both hands on the wheel. And it tossed back its head and laughed—a shrill, evil laugh. The laugh sent chill after chill down my body, and I could feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
The white-haired driver staggered past, bumping the seats as she hurtled to the front. She squeezed past Hanson, bent forward, and grabbed the dummy around the waist with both hands.
The dummy continued its ugly laugh as the woman swept it up and heaved it at Hanson. Then she dived into the driver’s seat and slowed the bus to a stop.

- The Ghost of Slappy, chapters 5 and 6