Ghosts Don't Trick or Treat Page 2

ground. This had to be a ghost, no doubt about it. He clenched his fists at his sides and scrunched up his courage.

  “Who… who’s there?”

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, candy corn started falling from the sky. It pelted his head, knocking his fake wig off and sending his goggles hanging down around his neck.

  He turned, and Tank was laughing, opening her mouth like a kid on the first snowfall, catching candy corn in her mouth and chewing greedily. “Trick or treat!” she said, shoving him with her free hand as she caught spare candy corns with the other.

  From behind a back wall, Mr. Weir appeared, punching a button on a remote control as the candy corn shower suddenly stopped. Jake looked up to find a cardboard box just above their heads shutting itself off with a hydraulic hiss.

  Jake should have known; it was another of his Dad’s gadgets!

  From behind a curtain, Mrs. Weir waved a laser and, magically, a white flash of “ghost” flitted across the room. It stopped next to him, a white silken sheet hanging from a length of fishing wire!

  With a clap, she brought both hands together and the lights magically flickered back on. Jake spotted the fake candles from halfway across the room.

  “Happy Halloween, Jakey!” she cried, hugging him close enough to feel his pounding heart. “We couldn’t let our favorite holiday go by without a good scare.”

  He pushed her away good-naturedly. “Yeah, well, I think Tank was even more scared.”

  But there Tank was, giving Mr. Weir a huge high-five. “Wait, you… you were in on it?!” he asked, truly shocked. He didn’t think Tank, the world’s biggest loudmouth, had it in her to keep a secret longer than two minutes. But judging by his folks’ elaborate setup, they’d had to have been working on this stunt for weeks.

  “Come on,” said Tank, slapping his shoulder. “What are friends for?”

  Jake shook his head, grabbing a random candy corn from his shoulder and sticking it in his mouth. It was pretty good, too. “Well, all I know is, next Halloween you guys are--”

  Just then, a loud clap sounded and the lights went back out.

  “Very funny, guys,” said Jake. He clapped, loudly, but nothing happened. Then his mom clapped, and his Dad, frantically, even Tank joined in; nothing.

  They stood there, a strange and uncertain circle, lit only by the giant jack o’ lantern and shivering on Halloween night.

  “I think we better--” Jake’s Dad started to say when the pumpkin, massive and round, rose from the table.

  They stood, the four of them, watching it move around the room. It came closer and closer, until Jake finally saw Frank’s face flickering in the orange light coming from the jack o’ lantern’s eye triangles.

  “Aaaa!” screamed Mrs. Weir, running for the door, but she forgot that she’d bolted it shut with her remote control wand.

  She tugged and tugged, but the wand had fallen to the ground and she couldn’t get it open. Mr. Weir shivered, safe under the wing of Tank’s Big Bird costume.

  “Look out, Jake!” screamed Tank as Frank held the pumpkin high above his head, shaking it to and fro. Smiling, Jake could only imagine what it must have looked like to those who couldn’t see ghosts.

  Jake smirked at his parents, tugging on the door like kids at a house party when the cops show up. “Let them out,” he hissed to Frank so they wouldn’t hear. He needn’t be concerned; no one could hear much of anything over their screams and whimpers. “You know they don’t know about us.”

  Frank rolled his eyes. “Can I still scare Tank?” he asked. Jake looked over at his giant friend, nibbling on her big yellow feathers. “Sure, why not!”

  Frank winked and, with a snap, the door opened. “Let’s go, kids!” said the Weirs, stumbling out the door and down the steps, tripping over normal size jack o’lanterns as they went.

  “Yeah, Jake,” said Tank, yanking his collar. “Let’s scram!”

  Jake winked at Frank and, just before Tank could exit, the friendly ghost slammed the door with a creak!

  “Hey,” she pouted, tugging desperately on the door handle. “What gives?”

  Tank turned, eyes wide and searching Jake’s face desperately.

  He smiled. “Okay, Frank, give it up. I think my ‘friend’ here has had enough ‘tricks’ for the night.”

  “Dang,” said Frank, putting the pumpkin down on the foyer table with a groan. “And I was just starting to have some fun. Oh well, I was getting tired of holding that giant thing up, anyway.”

  The old ghost straightened his giant black fedora with one hand and swiped fake cobwebs off his shiny white suit with the other. “How’d I do, kid?”

  “Just fine,” said Jake, winking at his ghostly friend.

  As Mr. and Mrs. Weir banged on the locked door, desperate to get back in or, at least, get Jake and Tank out, Tank turned to Jake.

  “You mean?” said Tank. “Your ghost was here all along?”

  “I guess so,” said Jake as Frank fiddled with the fake ghost hanging in mid-air next to him. They both watched it until Jake said, “Hey Frank, I’ve got an idea. Put that sheet on and let Tank see you, once and for all.”

  Tank stood a little straighter, eager for the chance to see what, until now, only Jake had seen.

  Frank rolled his eyes. “You know, it’s highly offensive for mortals to ask ghosts to wear sheets. That went out with the dark ages, I believe.”

  “Just once, for me?” Jake asked, pleading with his old friend.

  With a sigh, Frank yanked the sheet off the mechanical ghost, which proved to be nothing more than a wire hanger dangling from a string, and slipped it on.

  He held up his hands and said, “Boo!” Jake laughed, but Tank crowded around quietly, gently touching the sheet with trembling fingers.

  “So he really IS there?” said Tank, looking up at Frank’s face, covered by the ghostly sheet.

  Jake watched her face, feeling slightly guilty that he’d “tricked” his only friend. But, in a way, he was glad, too. After all they’d been through together, after all she’d done for Frank, and all Frank had done for her, this was her first chance to see that he was real, after all.

  Frank was about to pull off the sheet when a book flew off the shelf behind him and smacked Jake in the head.

  “Ouch!” he growled, looking around as the dusty sheet followed his movements. It was so strange to see Frank look so… ghostly. Every other time Jake had seen him, he looked like what he was: the ghost of an old gangster, as real as anyone else in the room. Now he just looked like a cheap Halloween prop.

  “Who did that?”

  Frank’s voice, spectral and haunting, boomed through the old, silent house. In reply, the giant pumpkin rose from the table. Jake watched, but saw nobody; nobody ghostly, no strings or wires. And yet, the pumpkin rose, and rose and rose.

  Jake turned to Tank, thinking perhaps she’d picked his mother’s remote control back up, but she waved her hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

  She looked just as scared as he was; as they both were.

  The pumpkin suddenly fell out of the air and crashed onto the table, splitting in two as a storm of orange slimy guts gushed onto the floor, extinguishing the candle that had been flickering inside.

  Suddenly the door opened, a gust of wind blew in and Frank’s sheet rustled in the breeze. A planter flew at his head, the foyer table crumbled to the floor in a heap of sticks and pumpkin guts washed over all their feet.

  Jake looked at his parents, clinging to each other in the doorway, staring at a ghost -- a real, LIVE ghost -- being pelted by some other unseen force. They were, for the first time ever, speechless!!!

  “Scram, kid!” said Frank, sounding frightened himself. “Get everyone out of here!”

  Before Jake could get them out, his parents turned to Frank, standing in his sheet, covered in pumpkin guts and potting soil. Dutifully, both ghost hunters yanked
out their cell phones, lit them up and started filming.

  Jake groaned and turned toward Frank. “I don’t get it,” he hissed amid all the groaning and tossing of books. “If you’ve been haunting us… then who’s haunting you?”

  As more books flew from the shelves and Frank yanked off his dusty ghost sheet, he said to Jake, “Jake, I have NO idea who, or WHAT, that is. Let’s get out of here!!!”

  As dusty books followed them out the door, knocking off Mr. Weir’s Paranormal Properties hat, Jake smiled to himself. This was just how he’d always pictured Halloween: good family, good friends, good ghosts and everyone -- even the ghosts -- getting a good scare!

  “Trick or treat!” he yelled as they dove out of sight. And for the first time, Jake Weir meant it!!!

 

  About the Author:

  Tracy Lane

 

  Tracy Lane always wanted to be a writer, but life seemed to get in her way. Either that, or she just didn't realize how to manage life with writing! Today Tracy is finally realizing her life’s dream and couldn’t be happier, or prouder, of her success.

  Tracy’s debut Young Adult grade novel, Paranormal Properties, is due out in March 2013 from Pants on Fire Press. Learn more about Tracy and Paranormal Properties at her blog, https://tossysbooks.blogspot.com/.

  www.facebook.com/paranormalproperties