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right in front of Bean’s house. Her dad called it a cul-de-sac. Bean called it cool. If Bean started riding her bicycle at the end of the block and pedaled really, really hard, she could whiz around the circle, tilting low over the sidewalk like a motorcycle racer.

    Slam!
Bean looked up. She saw Ivy come out onto her front porch and plop down on the top step. Bean squinted at her. Ivy looked strange. She wasn’t wearing a dress today. She was wearing a black bathrobe with lots of little pieces of paper stuck to it. Weird, thought Bean. She squinted some more. Instead of a big book, Ivy was carrying a stick, painted gold. Bean made a face. What a goony costume, she thought. What a dork.

    Ivy sat. She didn’t do anything. She just sat there all by herself. That was another strange thing about Ivy. She didn’t mind being alone. She never played with anyone.
    Bean played with
everyone
. Big kids, little kids, all the kids in the neighborhood played with Bean. Even crummy Matt—who was so crummy he threw other kids’ toys into the road—wanted to play with Bean.
    She took care of the little kids. When they fell down and got blood all over their knees, Bean would take them home to get Band-Aids. The big kids let her play with them because she had good ideas, like seeing how many backyards they could cross without touching the ground. Bean loved big groups of kids playing big games, like pirates or hide-and-seek.
    Sometimes Bean wished she were an orphan so she could live in an orphanage with a hundred other kids. Of course, she didn’t tell her mother and father that.
    Bean watched Ivy, alone on her front porch. Wasn’t she lonely? Now Ivy was muttering something that Bean couldn’t hear. And then she began to wave the stick in the air. Bean couldn’t stand it anymore.
    “What the heck are you doing?” yelled Bean from inside her bush.
    Ivy looked all around. Bean forgot that Ivy couldn’t see her. “What’s with the stick?” she yelled.
    Ivy’s eyes got big. “Who’s there?” she said. “Are you a ghost?”
    A ghost! What a great idea! Bean made her voice scratchy and spooky. “Yessss,” she howled. “I am the ghost of Mr. Killop.I lived in your house before. And I died there, too.”
    Mr. Killop had actually moved to Ohio, but Bean thought it was more interesting to say he had died. “I’ve come to haunt you! Tonight when you’re sleeping, I’ll wrap my icy fingers around your neck!”
    “Bean! What are you yelling about?”
    Oops. It was Nancy.

BEAN MEETS IVY
    Bean peeked out between leaves. Nancy hadn’t seen the $20 bill. She was standing on it. Hmm, thought Bean. Her plan was a bust, but if she kept on being a ghost, maybe she could scare Nancy a little. “I’m going to wrap my fingers around your neck, too,” she howled in her spooky voice. “And I’m going to spit in your ear!”
    “No, you’re not,” said Nancy. She didn’t sound scared. She reached into the bush and yanked Bean out. “Stop yelling.” That’s when she saw the $20 bill. “Hey!” she said. “Where did you get the money? You don’t have twenty dollars.” Then she saw the string. “I see what you’re doing, burp face! I bet this is my money, too!” Then she picked up the bill and looked at it. “You stole my money! I’m telling Mom!” She began to pull Bean toward the front door.

    Uh-oh, thought Bean. None of her ideas were working out today. Nowshe had two choices. She could go inside with Nancy and face Mom. Or she could run.
    So Bean fell over on the ground and started to wail. “My ankle!
Ow-wow-wow!
My ankle’s killing me! It’s sprained!” She held her ankle.
    Nancy frowned. “You didn’t sprain your ankle, you faker!” she said, but she bent down to take a look.
    That was all Bean needed. She stood up and ran. She ran out of her yard and around Pancake Court until she found herself in front of Ivy’s house.

    “
Oooooh!
You’re in trouble now, Bernice Blue!” yelled Nancy. “I’m