“We may need to do some shopping,” pronounced Aunt Hannah. “After all, tomorrow is Halloween.”
“We already have candy to hand out,” said Judy. “Miniature Butterfingers and Baby Ruths.”
“And where do you store those?” asked Aunt Sophie, fluttering her eyelids again.
“Sophia?” scolded Hannah.
“Sorry.”
“We need to purchase certain items at the Hedge Pig Emporium to aid Zachary with his paranormal proclivities.”
Zack figured “paranormal proclivities” meant he could see ghosts.
“I trust the Hedge Pig is still open, George?”
“Yes, Aunt Hannah,” said Zack’s dad. “I think so. I haven’t thought about that old place in ages.”
“Good. That is how it should be.”
“Oh, yes,” echoed Sophie. “Indeed. As it should be.”
“We went to the Hedge Pig Emporium on your birthday once. Remember, Georgie?” said Aunt Ginny.
“Really?”
“The ladies in the back made you a milk shake. Chocolate, if I recall.”
“Oh, right. When I turned thirteen.”
Aunt Ginny winked at Zack again.
His dad’s thirteenth birthday was when he had stopped seeing ghosts. Zack wondered if it was just a coincidence or if the Hedge Pig people used Ghostbusters ice cream in their milk shakes.
Malik and Azalea came over to Zack’s house around six.
It was already dark out.
They joined Zack and Aunt Ginny downstairs in the rumpus room, where Zack was teaching the seventy-seven-year-old how to play Madden NFL Football on his PlayStation 3. Judy and Zack’s dad were at the mall with Aunts Hannah and Sophie, hoping to find “more suitable pillows.”
And a hot water bottle.
Aunt Sophie wanted one of those, even though Zack had no idea why anybody would want to drink their water hot.
Zipper was down in the basement, too—basically lying low. When a cat slapped you five, it hurt. Especially if they slapped you a face five.
“I need help putting together my Halloween costume,” said Azalea, slumping down into a beat-up old recliner, while, on the couch, Aunt Ginny thumbed her controller and power-smacked Zack’s quarterback into fumbling the ball.
“I’m all set,” said Malik, who was sitting on the floor, Zipper’s head in his lap. “I’m going as a killer bee.”
“Huh?” said Zack, watching Aunt Ginny’s lineman on the TV screen as he scooped up the fumbled football and scored a touchdown.
“I cut a big letter ‘B’ out of yellow poster board and splattered it with red paint. I will, of course, also carry a bloody rubber knife.”
“Clever,” said Azalea. “A killer ‘B.’ Wish I’d thought of that.”
Aunt Ginny put down her game controller. “So, Azalea. What would you like to … be?”
Azalea chuckled. “I dunno. I was thinking about maybe a gypsy or the bride of Dracula.”
“Both very good choices, dear. I have an idea: Why don’t you three run upstairs and rummage through my trunk? I brought along all sorts of scarves and skirts, bangles and baubles.”
“May I ask why?” inquired Malik.
“Well, dear, I never unpack my footlocker. Just keep stuffing new items into it as I continue my journey through life’s grand adventure. Why, I haven’t emptied that trunk since the 1970s! It’s filled with things I have long since forgotten.”
“So why do you keep them, then?” asked Azalea.
“Because, dear, you just never know when a new friend might need a quick Halloween costume.”
It looked like an underwear bomb had gone off in Zack’s bedroom.
A gigantic bra was draped over his desk chair. A pair of flowery underpants, the size of a bathroom rug, lay on the floor. Some other lacy stuff, embroidered with flowers and butterflies, spilled out of his dresser drawers.
Azalea found a crystal spray bottle on top of Zack’s bedside table and spritzed it.
Then she started coughing and choking.
“Old-person perfume alert,” she gasped. “Total gag juice.”
“Look at all this neat junk!” said Malik, who was merrily rummaging through the summer-camp-sized footlocker, the sides of which were stickered with decals from exotic locations. “Scarves, hats, costume jewelry, a turban of some sort, leather-bound books, a pouch full of sparkling powder, a whole box of white candles or flares or something …”
Zack and Azalea knelt down on the carpet beside Malik and started going through the stuff with him. Zipper hadn’t joined them on the trek upstairs. He was on cat-attack alert down in the rumpus room with Aunt Ginny, who had announced that she might take a quick “snoozle on the couch,” which, she explained, was the same thing as a nap.
Pyewacket, Aunt Ginny’s cat, who had been sleeping in a lump under the bed’s comforter, came padding over to the trunk and hopped inside the box to help the three friends paw through the layers of fascinating junk.
“Don’t tell Zipper,” said Azalea, “but I think cats are awesome.”
“Me too,” said Malik, stroking the pink-nosed cat on her head.
“This is so cool,” said Azalea, pulling out a turban and trying it on. “I could be like a gypsy mind reader.”
“Yeah,” said Zack. “Look—here’s a deck of tarot cards to go with it.”
“And this star necklace would work, too,” said Malik. “It’s a pentagram, because it has five points, the same way a pentagon has five sides.”
Azalea draped the pendant around her neck. “So, Zack?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you going to go as for Halloween?”
“Oh. I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t know.”
“Huh?”
“I may not get to go trick-or-treating this year.”
“What?”
“You know—the ghost thing. Halloween being their busiest night and all. That’s why my aunts are here.”
“To go trick-or-treating for you?” said Malik.
“No. My dad said Aunt Ginny helped him a bunch, back when he was a kid and could see ghosts. Thinks maybe she can help me.”
“Hey, you guys,” said Azalea. “I have an idea—what if we just do that Nightmare on Main Street deal? I don’t think any ghosts could hurt you there, not with that many people around.”
“Yeah,” said Zack. “My dad suggested that, too. You guys wouldn’t think it’s too lame?”
“Uh, no,” said Azalea. “Not if there’s free candy. Stores always give out the best junk, anyway. Oh, this is so cool!” She pulled a large crystal shaped like a cat out of the trunk. “This could be my gypsy mind reader’s familiar.”
“What’s a familiar?” asked Malik.
“It’s an animal that helps a witch or a magician.”
“Fascinating,” said Malik. “I did not know that.”
“I read a lot of Wiccan crap like that during my Goth phase.”
Pyewacket meowed at Malik.
“Wow!” he said.
“What?” said Zack and Azalea.
“Check out this nifty puzzle!” Malik held up what looked like a polished black stone heart. “It was buried near the bottom. The cat found it.”
“What exactly is it?” asked Azalea. “I mean, besides black?”
“An interlocking puzzle. You can see the seams between pieces. Also, if you look at the center, you’ll see the smoky outer shell is somewhat translucent and there is another tiny black heart in the middle of the big black heart.”
“So the object is to remove the small heart?” asked Azalea.
“Precisely.”
Malik rubbed his fingers together and then clasped the rounded top on the right side of the heart. Pyewacket, who was perched on the lid of the trunk, purred.
“There!” he said as the first piece slid out. “That has released this next piece.” Out came the V-shaped bottom. “Which unlocks this piece.”