“You mean the yucky family?” said Azalea, scrunching up her nose. “I hate beets!”
“Me too,” said Judy. “They smell like dirt.”
“Exactly!” said Azalea.
Zack, who was riding up front in the passenger seat, smiled. It was so cool to have a carful of friends, not to mention one totally awesome stepmother. It sort of made up for the first nine years of his life, when he had no friends and a mother who never smiled.
“I heard this legend about a guy named Stingy Jack,” said Zack, turning around in his seat.
“Aw, you’re not that stingy, Zack,” said Azalea, winking at Malik, who chuckled.
“Jack, not Zack!”
“Whatever.”
“When Stingy Jack died, the devil couldn’t take his soul, on account of some trick Jack played on the devil when he was still alive. And God wouldn’t let Stingy Jack into heaven, either, because Jack had hung out with the devil while he was living. So after he died, they both tossed Jack out and he became this doomed soul, wandering around with nothing but a glowing coal to light his way. Jack put the coal into a carved-out turnip and he’s been roaming around ever since. The Irish people called his ghost Jack of the Lantern, which, you know, became jack-o’-lantern.”
“This Jack ghost,” said Azalea, “you ever meet him, Zack?”
“Nope.”
“How about you, Mrs. Jennings?”
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” said Judy, turning to park where a guy flapping a flag directed her.
“They say people carve pumpkins and turn them into lanterns to scare off Jack and all the other spirits roaming around on Halloween night,” said Zack.
“How about that dude?” said Azalea, gesturing at the flag waver, who was costumed in a bedsheet and skeleton mask. “Is he a ghost?”
“No,” said Malik. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to see him.”
“But Zack and Mrs. Jennings could, right?” said Azalea. She’d missed a lot of what had happened when Zack and Malik were dealing with the roaming spirits underneath their middle school, because, well, Azalea’s body (and brain) had been taken over by an evil ancestor.
Fortunately, Azalea’s possession had lasted less than a day. When the evil spirit left her, her memories of the event said buh-bye, too, which was weird because Azalea usually had a photographic memory. She didn’t have to cram for exams; she had all the textbook pages burned into her brain cells.
So of course Azalea remembered the time when Zack told her that he could see ghosts.
His stepmom, Judy, had the gift, too. His dad used to have it but lost it when he turned thirteen. The gift had returned, however, when he really, really needed it: when Zack was being chased through a maze of tunnels by a brains-gobbling zombie.
Of course, his dad might have relost his ghost-seeing ability just as quickly as he had refound it; it could have been a one-time-only, emergency-situation type of deal. The jury was still out on that one, his dad said (probably because he was a lawyer).
Malik? He hadn’t been able to see any of the ghosts he and Zack had bumped into under the school. Zack figured it was because Malik was too smart: His rational brain overrode any irrational woo-woo junk trying to creep in.
Azalea? She’d been out to lunch mentally when all the ghosts started popping up. The jury was still out on her, too.
And Zipper? Zip saw everything Zack saw, maybe more. Every once in a while, the dog would sit in the middle of a room, staring at a blank wall, and Zack knew his dog had spotted some sort of spirit lurking behind the plasterboard.
“Come on, you guys,” said Judy when the car was parked. “Let’s go pick some pumpkins. Ones with good shapes for scary faces!”
Zipper barked in agreement.
It was his “hurry up and let me out” bark. It’d been a long car ride, so he wanted to find a pumpkin, too.
One shaped like a fire hydrant.
“So, have you heard from your dad?” Judy asked Azalea as they picked their way through the patch looking for their perfect pumpkin.
“Yeah,” said Azalea, whose father was in the army. “His deployment is almost up. He’ll be stateside in time for Christmas.”
“That’s great,” said Zack, who was pulling a little red wagon loaded with the two tumbling pumpkins he and Malik had already chosen because they were exactly what they were looking for: tall and oblong, perfect for carving a Frankenstein face or, in Malik’s case, the silhouette of a headless horseman galloping on his thundering steed while holding his head high above his shoulders.
Malik liked to carve.
Zipper was also riding in the wagon, his front paws perched on top of one of the pumpkins so he could stand up and ride his chariot like he was a pharaoh hound.
“Mrs. Jennings?” said Malik.
“Yes?”
“Zack and I have already selected our jack-o’-lanterns.”
“Oh. Do you guys want to go grab some cider or something?”
“No, thank you,” said Malik. “I’m more interested in attacking that corn maze.”
“Really?” said Zack. “Didn’t you get enough maze running a couple weeks ago?”
“You know me,” said Malik. “I love a puzzle and a fresh challenge.”
True. When Zack first met Malik, he was working two Sudokus at once.
“Would you like to join us in the maze, Azalea?” Malik asked.
“Nah. I still need to find my pumpkin or one of those mangel-wurzels.”
“Hang on,” said Judy. “We should probably all do the maze if that’s where Zack’s going.”
“You don’t have to,” said Zack, who loved his stepmom but didn’t want her babysitting him all the time. “You and Azalea should go find your pumpkins.”
“You sure, Zack? Your father and I are a little worried.”
“About what?”
“Well, it’s almost Halloween.”
“So?”
“You see ghosts,” Malik whispered. “Remember?”
“I know, but …”
“What?” said Azalea. “Do the spirits of the dead really swarm out of their graves for Halloween?”
“I think so,” said Judy.
“Today’s not Halloween,” said Zack.
“Well,” said Judy, “take Zip. Just in case you run into an early riser.”
“Fine,” said Zack.
Zipper hopped out of the wagon, his tail wagging.
“Azalea and I will meet you guys over there at the cider stand. And, Zack, if you see anything … or anybody …”
“All we’re gonna see is a bunch of dead cornstalks. Come on, Malik.”
“Remember,” said Malik, “if we take nothing but right turns, we’ll easily find our way to the exit.”
“Okay,” said Zack. They’d been wandering around inside the dusty labyrinth for about twenty minutes. “Um, maybe we should check out the map they gave you back at the start.”
“I didn’t take one,” Malik said proudly as they trudged up a muddy tractor path. “There’s really no need for a map if you already know how to solve the puzzle. Right turn!”
“Right.”
Zack was wondering if maybe they should try taking a couple of left turns. He sensed they were somewhere in the middle of the maze. He glanced up at the bright blue sky, hoping the sun might give him a hint as to what direction they were heading, but it was noon, so the sun was directly overhead. Against its blazingly bright light, Zack saw a black crow circling the cornfield. He figured that was why the maze needed so many scarecrow decorations.
“You know,” said Zack, “I haven’t seen any other people for like five minutes.”
“Because they all got lost,” said Malik. “Right turn.”
“Right.”
Zack followed Malik around another bend and up to a T intersection.
They were facing a solid wall of withered corn.