Slappy- Tossing Food

“I … uh … How’s the spaghetti?” I said to Courtney.
“Not bad,” she said. And then the spaghetti bowl raised up. It lifted off the table. It floated up by itself—and flew onto my head.
Oh, wow. The bowl smashed over my hair, and I was blinded for a few seconds as the spaghetti oozed down over my face.
The spaghetti rolled onto my shirt. Piles of it clung to my shoulders.
Maryjane and her friends were all gasping in shock. “Courtney—did you throw your spaghetti on him?” Maryjane demanded.
“No. No way!” Courtney cried. “I didn’t touch it!”
I spit out some noodles. “I guess it just slipped off the table onto my head,” I said sarcastically.
That made the girls start to laugh.
“It isn’t funny!” I cried. “I—I—”
That’s when the plate in front of Dawn shot up into the air. It flew at me, too fast to duck. And the custard pie smacked my face. The plate clattered to the floor. The pie covered my eyes, my nose. I struggled to breathe.
“I didn’t do it!” Dawn screamed. “I swear!”
I wiped pie off my face with both hands. I knew who was doing this.
Slappy. Slappy was using me for his own private food fight.

- The Ghost of Slappy, chapter 22