She nodded. “Yes, Norman. Everybody will be waiting.”
“Oh. Is it a party?”
Her smile broadened. “Yes. A Halloween party hosted by the Icklebys.”
A new group of kids rushed up to the counter.
“Trick or treat!”
“I’ll wait outside,” said the girl, moving toward the door as Norman robotically dished out the candy bars.
“Wait a second,” he called out. “I don’t know your name.”
“Jenny.”
“Cool. Oh, by the way, Jenny, I love your costume! It’s very … bewitching.”
She smiled and Norman could already telclass="underline" This was going to be the most amazing night of his life!
“Trick or treat, Norman!”
It was young Malik Sherman with two friends. And a dog. The kids were dressed up like the letter “B.” The dog kept wagging its tail and scooted under the counter to sniff Norman’s shoes.
He probably should’ve put on clean socks that morning.
“Don’t worry,” said one of Malik’s friends, a kid wearing glasses. “Zipper is very friendly.”
The dog gave the toe of his right shoe a double snort, whimpered a little, and trotted back to stand beside his owner.
“Neat costumes,” Norman said to Malik. “Are you guys characters from Sesame Street or something?”
“No,” said Malik. “We be the killer bees!”
“Sí, senor!” said the skinny “B” wearing glasses.
“Give us candy or we’ll sting you!” said the girl.
The dog growled.
“Here you go, guys.” Norman held up the plastic pumpkin bowl filled with candy bars. “Take as many as you want.”
“I think two will do,” said Malik, reaching into the bowl. “We want to make sure you have enough for those who come after us.”
The other two kids, the girl and the skinny one, did the same thing: They carefully selected two each. The dog just stood there, wagging his tail.
“Oh, Norman,” said Malik. “I brought this for you. Thought you might find it challenging.” He reached into his candy sack and pulled out a shiny black stone sculpted into the shape of a heart. “It’s a 3-D interlocking puzzle.”
“Interesting,” said Norman, even though he was much more interested in the mysterious Jenny waiting for him out on the sidewalk.
Malik handed him the black stone heart.
“Once you pry it apart, you’ll find a tiny black heart in the center of the black stone.”
“We think it’s onyx,” said the girl. “That’s a gemstone.”
“Great,” said Norman distractedly. “Can I keep it for a while? I’m kind of busy tonight.”
“Um, I guess so,” said the “B” with the glasses.
“This is my friend Zack,” said Malik. “Zack Jennings. The black heart stone belongs to his aunt.”
“Tell her thanks,” said Norman as he slid the hefty heart into a side pocket of his cargo pants.
He’d play with it later.
After the Halloween party with Jenny and the Icklebys, whoever the heck they were.
Zack sensed that Malik’s friend Norman was nervous about something.
He had beads of sweat all over his shiny forehead.
“Hey, Norman?” A man with a shaved head and a tiny triangle beard on his chin stomped up to the counter. “Your father just called, said I could take the night off, seeing how it’s Halloween and I have a party to go to and you don’t because you’re such a loser so who’d invite you to their Halloween party except a bunch of even bigger losers?”
When the big guy stopped to snort some wet snot up his snout, Zack thought he looked and sounded like a college-aged version of Kurt and Kyle Snertz, the two bullies at his middle school (one of whom was now actually a friend of Zack’s).
“W-well, um,” stammered Norman Ickes, kind of cowering behind the cash register. “Okay, Steve. Have fun.”
“Don’t worry. I will.” He leaned down and yanked an extension cord out of its wall socket. “Your blinking jack-o’-lanterns are blinking stupid. I told your old man they’re a waste of electricity. He agreed. Happy Halloween, loser!”
Laughing, the big jerk strode out the front door as some new trick-or-treaters came pouring in. They were all wearing very cool costumes but Zack’s eyes were riveted on the man who came in right behind them.
He had an old-school mullet haircut and was wearing a dark-blue peacoat with the collar turned up, like tough guys used to do in movies.
He also walked straight through a gum ball machine.
Because ghosts can do that sort of thing.
“Hello, Jennings,” the guy sneered. “Pleased to meet ya, you little cheese weasel.”
Zipper growled.
“Who are you?” asked Zack.
“Uh-oh,” said Malik.
“Um, Zack? Who are you talking to?” asked Azalea.
He pointed toward the gum ball machine.
“Do we have a live one?” whispered Azalea.
“Actually,” Zack whispered back, “it’s a dead one. Judging by his hair and clothes, I’m guessing he died sometime in the seventies.”
“What’s he want?” said Malik.
Zack shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“Well, ask him,” suggested Azalea.
“What do you want?”
“You, kid. Your family and mine? We got a score to settle.”
The ghost strolled closer, jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.
“Course, I couldn’t come at you earlier, not with all them jack-o’-lanterns glowing in the window. Those things ward off ghosts, man. But now, guess what? They’re all dark and you’re all mine!”
The ghost dude with the bad hairdo struck a kung fu pose.
“Your family has dishonored mine, Jennings!”
Zack rolled his eyes. In his experience, ghosts, no matter how much they threatened you, couldn’t really do anything to hurt you; they could only scare you into doing something stupid to hurt yourself.
But then again, tonight was Halloween. The regular rules might be suspended for the ghost world’s big night on the town.
“Hi-YA!” The guy jumped into a sideways flying kick.
To be safe, Zack shoved Azalea and Malik out of harm’s way. “Watch out!”
Good thing he did. Karate man knocked over a whole display of saw blades, hammers, and screwdrivers. Hardware clattered across the floor. Zipper yelped and skittered sideways to avoid getting stabbed.
Oh, yeah. The rules were definitely different on Halloween.
“Hey!” shouted Norman Ickes from behind the cash register. “What’s going on?”
“Uh, sorry,” said Malik. “I bumped into this display.…”
“I’m gonna cream your two little friends, Jennings!” boasted the ghost. “And the dog? He’s dead meat!” He leapt into another flying kick.
“You guys!” Zack shouted. “On your left! Paint!”
Azalea and Malik jumped out of the way just as the ghost hit a rack stacked with paint cans.
Six shelves loaded with gallon buckets came tumbling down. A couple of lids popped open. Paint splashed across the floorboards.
“Hey! Why are you guys trashing my dad’s store?” shouted Norman Ickes. “I gave you candy bars!”
“It’s not us,” said Malik. “Honest. It’s …”
“An earthquake!” shouted Azalea. “Everybody out! Earthquake!”
Kids screamed. Norman screamed. Then, in a panic, everybody except Malik, Azalea, and Zack streamed, screaming, out onto the sidewalk.
“Go, you guys!” Zack said.
“You sure?” asked Azalea.
“Go to the van! Zip? Get help!”
Azalea, Malik, and a snarling Zipper bolted out the door.
“Far out,” said the ghost. “Just you and me, kid. Ickleby versus Jennings. Can you dig it?”