“We must put an end to all this,” said Hannah. “Immediately.”
“Oh, yes,” echoed Sophie. “We surely must. Right after supper.”
Zack’s three great-aunts stood huddled around the cold barbecue grill on the deck. Zack’s dad was working at his office in New York City. Judy had gone to the mall to pick up some last-minute costume accessories for Zack and his friends.
Only Zipper remained at home with the three sisters, and he was hunkered down inside his doghouse, keeping one eye on the three elderly women, the other on the three cats circling their ankles.
Zipper didn’t like this.
It was bad. Very, very, very bad.
Three cats in the yard. His yard.
A dog’s backyard was his castle.
But now three cats were out on the deck, purring and stretching and sticking their fannies up in the air like they owned the place. Soon they’d be prancing down the steps to poop in the shrubs and pee under the trees. They would make Zipper’s castle smell cat nasty.
This was a cat-tastrophe.
One of the cats, Mister Cookiepants, a tabby who was sort of tubby, had already stolen several pieces of kibble from Zipper’s food bowl.
Another, Pyewacket, swung around and swatted him on the snout when she didn’t like the way Zipper sniffed her heinie.
The third one, Mystic, the black cat, had hissed at Zipper when he tried to steal her floppy fish toy. Mystic was bad luck and bad news.
Zipper usually liked cats. But usually, they lived somewhere else and peed and pooped in a box or some other dog’s backyard.
He wondered if Pyewacket, Mister Cookiepants, and Mystic were moving in.
Would there be crystal dinner bowls filled with globs of fishy gunk?
Would he start coughing up hair balls?
Would they make him join in the chorus when they started howling at the moon?
Zipper sighed and sulked and sank his head between his paws.
He needed a plan.
Well, first he needed a nap.
He yawned and stretched and drifted off into the most wonderful dream.
It was marvelous. Better than a bacon cheeseburger wrapped in ham and served on a meat loaf bun.
Zipper was chasing hundreds of cats up trees and telephone poles.
And not a single one of them ever came back down!
Ginny could telclass="underline" Her big sister Hannah was, once again, ready to tell her and Sophie what they needed to do.
“There is only one sure way to protect Zachary,” Hannah decreed. “We must take him to the Hedge Pig Emporium. He must drink the milk shake.”
“Oh, Hannah,” said Ginny. “Honestly. That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? What if Zack does not wish to give up his gift?”
“He is a boy, Virginia. He does not know what is best for him.”
“And we do?” asked Ginny, arching an eyebrow.
“Of course we do. We’re adults.”
“Wisdom and age, dear sister, are not automatically linked.”
The three cats meowed. They always did that when they heard something they agreed with.
“Could we go with Zack and order milk shakes, too?” asked Sophie, who was working open the crinkly wrapper on one of the fun-sized candy bars she had snagged from the bags Judy kept stored in the pantry.
Hannah glared at her.
“I was just curious,” Sophie mumbled. “Actually, I prefer ice cream sodas. And Milky Ways.” She popped one into her mouth.
“Might I remind you, sisters,” said Ginny, “that the milk shake will only prove effective should Zack truly desire to free himself from these uninvited visitors?”
“It worked on his father,” countered Hannah.
“Indeed it did,” said Ginny. “But only after he was ready to let his gift go.”
“Sisters,” said Sophie, licking her chocolate-smudged fingertips, “today is Halloween. Dead souls will be popping up all over the place, searching for anybody who has the gift, anyone who can do their bidding. Oh, my—they’ll be looking for Zack! They’ll be looking for us!”
“We should immediately counsel Zack to make the choice,” said Hannah. “To willingly drink the drink. We should do it before sundown!”
“But, dear sister,” said Ginny, “what if, by taking away his gift just when he needs it most, we render Zack even more vulnerable to the demons who seek to do him harm?”
“Who?” asked Sophie, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. “Who wants to hurt Zack?”
“Many,” said Ginny. “Never forget, we three made quite a few immortal enemies when we were young and in our prime.”
“Very well,” sighed Hannah wearily. “What would you suggest, Virginia?”
“Yes,” said Sophie, unwrapping a second candy bar. “Tell us.”
“It’s very simple,” Ginny answered calmly. “Georgie will be taking Zack and his friends trick-or-treating on Main Street tonight. He will be surrounded by a crowd of living souls to shield him from the wandering dead.”
“Being in a happy crowd often saddens deceased souls,” said Hannah, “especially those who did not seize the day and enjoy life while they were living it.”
“Exactly. Now then, I will go along on the excursion to offer protection in the unlikely event it should prove necessary. Afterward, Zack and I will discuss his desires. If he truly wishes to be free of his gift, then, sisters, rest assured—I shall take him to the Hedge Pig Emporium at the first opportunity and order him their thickest, richest milk shake.”
Hannah nodded solemnly. “So let it be.”
Ginny reached out and clasped Hannah’s hand on her left, Sophie’s on her right. Sophie completed the circle by joining hands with Hannah. The three cats stretched into a tails-up, heads-down bow.
“We three agree?” said Hannah.
“We three agree,” chanted Sophie and Virginia in reply.
And the matter was closed to further discussion.
Around four-thirty on Halloween, Malik’s and Azalea’s parents dropped them off at Zack’s house.
They both had a little trouble climbing out of the cars because they were already in costume: giant bright-yellow poster-board “Bs” splattered with ketchup and salsa (for chunkier blood). Zack, brandishing a bloodied rubber machete, met them on the front porch in his own big yellow “B.”
“Buenos nachos, senor and senorita,” said Zack in a cheesy Spanish accent, because he and Malik had read up on killer bees and learned that a bunch of them swarm north from Central and South America every year, which was also why they’d added sombreros to their costumes. Azalea had kept the gypsy turban from Aunt Ginny’s trunk. She was going as the queen killer bee.
The night before, when his two friends had learned that Zack still didn’t have a costume, Azalea suggested they all borrow Malik’s “awesome idea” and become a hive of killer bees. Judy went to the party store at the mall and picked up three pairs of deely-boppers—those springy glitter balls on a headband—so they’d all look like they had goofy antennae bobbing around on their heads. She actually found a fourth pair at the pet store. It was for Zipper.
Zack’s dad came out to the porch to join Zack, Azalea, and Malik. Aunt Ginny, dressed in a fleecy purple tracksuit and toting a small purple backpack, followed him.
“Wow, you guys look fantastic,” said Zack’s dad, who had caught the early train home from New York City so he could take Zack and his friends trick-or-treating. “What great costumes.”
“It was Malik’s idea,” said Zack.
“Well, Malik, I give your killer bees an ‘A.’ ”
Zack and Azalea groaned. Malik, on the other hand, beamed with pride.