Pleasing the Ghost (2 page)

“Well, Bo, we have a new ghost! Try to be brave.” I patted Bo's head until he closed his eyes.

There was no more wind. All was quiet except for the snoring of Uncle Arvie and Bo. The curtains hung straight against the window, and outside I could see the black sky and bright stars.

I found a star, and on it I wished: “Uncle Arvie is a great ghost, don't get me wrong. But still, I wish for—” I thought about what Uncle Arvie had called my father. “I wish for—for my pepperoni.”

Uncle Arvie was thrashing this way and that in his sleep. He was still wearing his boots, clothes, and red hat. I was surprised that ghosts slept with their clothes on. I had thought maybe they had special white robes to sleep in.

Maybe tomorrow I could figure out what Uncle Arvie meant by “three pleases.” Maybe I should tell my mother that his ghost was visiting. No. She would say that Uncle Arvie was in heaven. That there was no such thing as a ghost.

I
was so scared. I was running down a railroad track, faster and faster, and there was a terrible noise behind me. I turned, expecting to see a train barreling down on me, but it wasn't a train. It was a gigantic Tyrannosaurus rex wearing a wig made of spaghetti. Someone was shouting, “Dinosaur! Dinosaur!”

I sat straight up in bed. What a nightmare. What a relief to be safe—

“Dinosaur! Dinosaur!”

Floating up near the ceiling was Uncle Arvie, calling me. Bo quivered underneath the blanket.

“Dinosaur!”

“I'm awake,” I said.

“Good carpet!”

I looked down at the old, soiled carpet on my floor. It was not a good carpet at all.

Uncle Arvie stretched his arms wide and breathed deeply. “Good carpet, Dinosaur!”

“Good
morning
?” I guessed.

“Good carpet!”

Bo thumped his tail, and the blanket flopped up and down. There was a knock at my door. “Dennis? You awake?”

My heart wobbled. Would my mother be able to see Uncle Arvie? What would she say? Should I warn her?

“You're up early for a Saturday, aren't you?” she said. Bo bounded out of the bed and leaped up against her, wagging his tail and barking. “Easy, Bo, easy,” my mother said. “Looks like he's ready for a walk, Dennis. Guess you'll have to get up.”

Uncle Arvie was standing behind my mother, smiling at her. “Macaroni,” Uncle Arvie said. “Feather macaroni.”

“Did you hear that?” I asked her.

“Hear what?”

“Do you see anything over there?”

“Sure do.”

“You
do
? You actually, really and truly
do
?” I asked.

“Yes—I see books on the floor, socks in a heap. It's kind of a mess, isn't it?”

She didn't see Uncle Arvie. And yet, to me, Uncle Arvie was as clear as could be. The only difference between Uncle Arvie and my mother was that Uncle Arvie looked a little blurry around the edges.

The edges of Uncle Arvie's red cowboy hat wobbled, as if the hat were alive. His purple sweater was slightly shimmery, almost as if it were breathing. The same was true of his trousers and boots—they shimmered at the sides, growing brighter, then dimmer.

My mother sniffed the air. “What's that smell?”

Could she
smell
the ghost?

She picked up my socks. “These should go in the wash,” she said. “And there's some other smell—what is it?” She glanced around the room. “It reminds me of—of someone. I can't think who it is.”

Uncle Arvie was waving his arms all around. “Pin!” Uncle Arvie said. “Pin!”

My mother dropped the socks on my bed. “Bring these down with your other dirty clothes,” she said as she left.

“I don't understand it,” I said to Uncle Arvie. “She can't see you or hear you, and yet I can see and hear you as clear as anything.”

Uncle Arvie zoomed up to the ceiling, flipped twice, and landed on my bed. “Three pleases? Three pleases?”

I had forgotten about that, and now that I was reminded, I was a little worried. “Let's take Bo out, and you can explain as we walk,” I suggested, hurrying into my clothes.

“Pin mailer,” Uncle Arvie said, flapping his arms. “Pin mailer, mailer, mailer!” He flapped his arms, lifted into the air, and sailed smoothly through the closed window.

Bo barked and jumped against the window ledge. His long tail whacked my legs. “No, Bo,” I said, “you can't go through the window.”

Uncle Arvie floated across the road, circled a tree, and skimmed lightly to the ground. Good thing he was wearing his green boots, because he had landed in a puddle. He stood there grinning up at us.

Bo bounded down the stairs, out the door, and stopped at the curb, wagging his tail. I led him across the street, and he leaped toward Uncle Arvie, barking and wiggling his back end. He tumbled right through Uncle Arvie and collapsed on the ground. “Yip!” he squeaked.

“One please?” Uncle Arvie said.

“I'll try,” I said. “What is it?”

“Fraggle pin Heartfoot a wig pasta—”

“Wait a minute! I didn't exactly get that. Could you repeat it?”

Uncle Arvie put his hands to his eyes and formed two circles, as if he were looking through binoculars. “Fraggle pin Heartfoot—”

“Heartfoot—that's your wife, right? Aunt Julia? You want me to see her?”

“Yin!” He held his hands out, palms up, and pushed them at me.

“What? You want me to show her something?”

“Yin, yin, yin! Fraggle pin Heartfoot a wig pasta—”

For a minute there, I imagined a head covered in spaghetti, but then realized that
wig pasta
sounded familiar. Uncle Arvie had said it last night. When? What was he looking at? “My socks?” I guessed.

“Nod, nod.”

I thought again. “The book?”

“Wig pasta! Wig pasta! Yin!”

“You want me to show Aunt Julia my book?”

“Nod
Dinosaur
wig pasta.
Pin
wig pasta,” Uncle Arvie said.

“You want me to show her
your
book?”

“Yin! Pin wig pasta!”

“Well, okay. Is the book at your house?”

“Yin!”

That sounded easy enough. I'd take Uncle Arvie to see Aunt Julia, and we'd find the book and show it to her. I could not imagine why this was so important to Uncle Arvie. Was there something special about the book? Would Aunt Julia be able to see her husband?

O
n the way to Aunt Julia's, I asked Uncle Arvie why he didn't go to his house last night to see her. He spread out his arms and turned around and around and tripped and fell to the ground. “Pailandplop!”

“You couldn't steer? But how did you end up at
my
house?”

He tapped my nose with his finger. It felt as if a fly were flapping its wings at me. “Dinosaur foodle a doodle.” Then he tapped his chest. “Pin foodle a Dinosaur.”

I couldn't make any sense out of
that
. “Will Aunt Julia be able to see you?”

“Nod.” Uncle Arvie sniffed. “Nod fraggle.”

“Why not?”

“Creppit.”

“Too old, huh? You think only kids can see ghosts?”

“Yin! Foodle a doodle.”

“But not
all
kids, right? Why just
some
kids?”

“Foodle a doodle—”

I still couldn't figure out what that meant, so I said, “Couldn't
you
show her the wig pasta—the book?”

“Nod.” Uncle Arvie shook all over. “Heartfoot twiggle a twiggle!” He trembled and looked afraid. He opened his mouth and screamed.

Bo barked and hid behind me. “Oh, it would frighten her.”

“Yin, twiggle, twiggle,” Uncle Arvie agreed.

When we arrived at Aunt Julia's, Uncle Arvie leaped onto the porch. “Pin box,” he said. “Pin and Heartfoot box.”

“Dennis!” Aunt Julia said, opening the door. “Come on in—”

Uncle Arvie put his hands to his chest. “Oh, Heartfoot! Good carpet, Heartfoot!”

But she couldn't see him and she didn't hear him. She leaned down and kissed me and patted Bo. “I have company already,” she said. “We're just having coffee.”

Uncle Arvie smiled at everything he saw. He touched the walls and the furniture. He took a deep breath, as if he wanted to breathe in everything.

In the kitchen was a tall, skinny man with greasy black hair. When he smiled, I saw two silver teeth.

“Here,” Aunt Julia said. “This is Colin.”

“Nod!” Uncle Arvie said. “Nod a pin box! Nod beany booger—” Uncle Arvie did not like the looks of Colin. He apparently did not like another man being in his house.

“What are you looking at, Dennis? Is something wrong?” Aunt Julia said. “And what on earth is wrong with Bo?”

Bo was quivering beside me as Uncle Arvie shouted, “Nod beany booger a pin box!” I couldn't believe that Aunt Julia couldn't see or hear Uncle Arvie. He was flailing all around, shouting and waving his arms.

“Dennis? What
are
you staring at?” she repeated.

“Oh nothing—sorry,” I said.

Aunt Julia sniffed the air. “What's that smell . . . ? It reminds me of . . .” She stopped and shook her head. “No, it's silly of me.”

She offered me some cookies. Colin sat down and smiled his silvery smile at me and at Aunt Julia. I didn't like the look of him either.

She brought a vase of white flowers to the table. “Look what Colin brought me. Wasn't that sweet? Don't they smell lovely?”

“Nod!” Uncle Arvie shouted. “Nod!” Uncle Arvie pushed the vase off the table. It fell with a loud crash to the floor and broke into pieces. Bo barked.

“Oh!” Aunt Julia said. “How on earth—? What happened? My goodness!”

Colin stared at the broken vase.

“Dennis, why don't you and Colin go on into the living room while I clean up this mess? I can't imagine how this happened.”

In the living room, I went straight to the bookcase and looked at the titles. Which one did Uncle Arvie want me to show Aunt Julia?

Colin stood beside me. “Do you like books?” he asked.

“I guess.”

“I don't, not much,” Colin said. “Gives me a headache to read a book.”

“Beany,” Uncle Arvie said. “Beany bud booger—”

Uncle Arvie examined the shelf. He looked and looked, at row after row of books. At last he said, “Wig pasta!” and just as he reached for a book, Colin reached up and took that same book from the shelf. “Nod!” Uncle Arvie said. “Nod pin wig pasta—”

Colin leafed through the pages. “This book would definitely give me a headache,” Colin said. “The print is too small.”

“Let me see it?” I said.

“Sure, just a minute. Wait, what's this?” Colin had found something in the book. It looked like a letter.

Uncle Arvie was going crazy. “Pin wig pasta a deester! Pin deester!”

Colin took the letter from the book and put it in his jacket pocket. Bo growled at Colin.

Uncle Arvie clutched his chest. “Pin deester a Heartfoot!” He pulled at Colin's jacket, trying to get the letter.

“Hey,” Colin said, brushing at his jacket. “Is there something on me?”

Uncle Arvie pinched Colin's arm.

“Hey!” Colin said. “A wasp!” He took off his jacket and stomped on it.

Aunt Julia rushed in. “Why, Colin dear, whatever is the matter? A wasp? Are you okay?”

Bo dragged the jacket into the kitchen, and Uncle Arvie pinched Colin's other arm.

“Hey!” Colin wailed. “Another one?” He slapped at his arm.

“Oh goodness, goodness,” Aunt Julia said.

In the kitchen Bo was scratching at Colin's jacket. “Here, I'll get it,” I said. On the envelope was written, “Pin Heartfoot.” I stuffed the letter into my own pocket and took Colin's jacket back to him.