by Katie Tsang
We only had one pickle, but all I needed was the juice. And some tinfoil.
I splashed some of the pickle juice on my face. No wonder this was a ghost repellent. It smelled awful. Then I poured the rest of the pickle juice all over my bed.
Now it was time for my suit. This was where the tinfoil came in. First I wrapped my legs. Then my stomach. Then my arms. I even made a mask. I used the whole roll. The cardboard tube in the middle was an added bonus. It would make an excellent weapon.
Then I lay down. I was extremely uncomfortable. My sheets were wet and smelled bad, and the tinfoil was jagged and kept poking me in the back.
Also, I was starting to worry that maybe Bernard was wrong and ghosts didn’t hate pickles but LOVED them. What if ghosts loved pickles? I’d basically turned myself into pickle casserole, ready to go into the oven. A perfect dinner for a ghost.
“Okay,” I said to myself, “stay calm. Stay calm. What would Spaceman Jack say?” I looked up at my Space Blasters poster. These are the times that separate the brave from the scaredy-cats, I imagined him saying to me. Don’t be afraid, Spaceman Sam. You’re gonna be just fine.
And I was NOT afraid.9
9 I was very afraid. And I smelled very bad.
I woke up soggy and pickled. I had survived the night, but just barely. I was SURE I heard the ghost at least forty-nine times throughout the night. But my pickle juice repellent must have worked.
“Sam! You stink! And what is all over your sheets? Did you have a nightmare and wet the bed again?”my mom asked at breakfast. “Is this about the ghost?”
“I did NOT wet the bed,” I said. “I just . . . spilled.” Butterbutt came up and licked my leg. Then he licked it again. I think he was tasting me. Pickle juice might repel ghosts, but cats seem to like it.
“Spilled what?” my mom asked, wrinkling her nose.
“None of your business,” I said. I picked up a newspaper and pretended to read it. That’s what my dad always does when my mom asks him a question he doesn’t want to answer.
I didn’t even get to the end of the first headline when my mom ripped the newspaper out of my hands.
“WU GABO! It most certainly is my business,” she said. “Tell me what you did. I know that guilty face.”
Uh-oh. She was using my Chinese name. Not only was it her business, but she meant business.
“I spilled . . . pickle juice,” I said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to spill all over your bed.
My mom sighed and closed her eyes. “And why did you have a jar of pickles in your room in the middle of the night?”
“It’s my fault,” said Lucy.
“What?” my mom and I said at the same time.
Lucy nodded and opened her eyes really wide. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she said. “I was trying to open the pickle jar and I couldn’t, so I asked Sam to open it for me.”
“You don’t even like pickles,” my mom said, looking back and forth between us. I didn’t know what Lucy’s plan was, but I trusted her. We are always on the same team.
“But Butterbutt loves pickles,” said Lucy. “He wanted a midnight snack.” Sometimes Lucy thinks she can read Butterbutt’s mind. “So I asked Sam to open the jar. And when he was opening it, Butterbutt jumped on him and the pickle juice spilled everywhere.”
A classic Lucy move. Blame Butterbutt. Butterbutt is easily blamed. Plus, most things really are Butterbutt’s fault.
My mom frowned. “That’s . . . strange,” she said. “Anyway, whatever happened, Sam stinks. Go hop in the shower right now. And be quick or you’ll be late for school.”
Sometimes, Lucy can be a pretty good little sister.
During recess, Zoe, Bernard, and I met at our spot by the fence.
“You survived!” said Zoe. She gave me a high five.
“I guess this means we don’t get your cards,” said Bernard.
“If you guys help me find Fang and get the ghost, I’ll think about giving each of you one of my special edition cards,” I said.
“Really?” asked Zoe.
“Really,” I said. “Because I’m going to need your help. This is serious business.”
“That’s okay,” said Zoe. “You don’t need to give us your cards. We’ll help you anyway. Right, Bernard?”
Bernard looked at his shoes. “Umm . . .”
“Right, Bernard?” said Zoe again.
“Right,” he said. “Friendship first. You can’t bribe a good man.” He grinned at me. “I heard Spaceman Jack say that on the show last night.”
“I don’t want to scare you,” I said, “but you should probably know what we’re up against.” I lowered my voice. “I heard the ghost ALL NIGHT.”
“What did it sound like?” asked Zoe.
“You know how the washing machine sounds? All rattly?”
They nodded.
“Like that. But louder! And I heard whistles! Like a train! Is there a train anywhere nearby?”
“I don’t know,” said Zoe. “Is there?”
I spread my arms out wide. “Do you see any trains?”
“Good point,” said Bernard. “I’m impressed by your logical deduction.”
Just then, a soccer ball soared through the air and hit Bernard on the back of the head.
Ralph came running over. Wearing his bow tie, like always. I once heard him say he thought it made him look “sophisticated.”
“What are you losers talking about?’ he asked with a sneer.
Zoe took the ball and kicked it over the fence. “Whoops!” she said. Zoe is great to have around in moments like these.
“We’re NOT losers,” said Bernard, brushing grass off the back of his head. “As a matter of fact,” he took a deep breath, “we’re ghost hunters.”
“Yeah,” I said, standing next to him. “We’re ghost hunters. AND snake wranglers.”
Ralph took a small step back. “G-ghosts?” he said. “What ghosts?”
“There’s one in Sam’s house!” said Zoe. “And we’re going to get it.”
“We’re NOT scared of ghosts,” I said.
“Really?” Regina had walked up behind Ralph. “Because Ralph and I think there is a ghost haunting OUR house!”
“It’s NOT a ghost, Regina,” said Ralph. “It’s a zombie werewolf!”
Regina turned to me. “We don’t know what it is. But there is definitely SOMETHING in our basement. Ralph won’t even go down there any more.”
Ralph scowled at his sister. “Be quiet, Regina!”
Regina ignored him. This made me happy. “Are you really a ghost hunter?” she asked me.
I nodded and puffed out my chest. “We’re probably the best ghost hunters in town.”
“I don’t believe you.” said Ralph.
“If we catch our own ghost, then we’ll come to your house and help you catch your ghost.” I made my voice sound extra-brave.
“Ralph’s right, though,” said Regina. “It might be something worse than a ghost. Something scarier.”
“Yeah, and we know what happens to Scaredy-Cat Sam when he gets scared,” said Ralph with a signature snort.
“Whatever is in your basement, I won’t be scared of it!” I declared. This was my chance to prove that I wasn’t Scaredy-Cat Sam. My chance to prove I was even braver than Ralph.
“You haven’t even caught your own ghost yet,” said Ralph. “Or your imaginary snake.”
“Fang is NOT imaginary!” I said. “We’ll find Fang and we’ll catch our ghost, and then . . .”
I pointed to the sky in the stance, “we’ll be ready for anything!”
Zoe and Bernard did the same move.
“For the universe!”
they declared. For seeing just one episode of , they sure had caught on fast.
Zoe and Bernard came over on Saturday to help me catch the ghost and find Fang.
“I did some more research on ghosts last night,” said Bernard, putting on his thinking glasses.
Zoe and I looked
at him expectantly.
“There are five different types of ghost.
Hungry ghost,
angry ghost,
pesky ghost,
haunting ghost, and
lost ghost.”
None of those sounded very nice. “What about a friendly ghost?” I asked. “Maybe there are six types of ghosts.”
Bernard shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Only the five. But the good news is, I think our ghost is a pesky ghost. And that’s the best and least scary one to have.”
“I still think a friendly ghost would be better,” I muttered.
“How do you know it is a pesky ghost?” asked Zoe.
Bernard blinked. He doesn’t like it when anyone questions him. “It’s simple,” he said. “It let the snake out as a prank. Only a pesky ghost would do that.”
“Didn’t you say it did that to be scary?” I asked.
“It can be pesky and scary at the same time,” said Bernard.
I nodded. That did make sense. I was glad to have Bernard on our ghost-hunting team.
“So how do we get rid of a pesky ghost?” asked Zoe.
“Ah,” said Bernard. “That’s the tricky part. We’re going to have to think like a pesky ghost.”
That is how we ended up sitting around wearing sheets on our heads with eye holes cut out of them.
“I don’t feel like a pesky ghost,” said Zoe. “I just feel stupid.”
“Then you aren’t trying hard enough,” said Bernard.
“We haven’t seen our ghost,” Zoe went on. “How do we know they even look like this?”
“Eureka!” I shouted, standing up so fast my sheet fell off. Eureka is what Spaceman Jack says when he has a really brilliant idea. “We have to SEE the ghost to get rid of it!”
“How are we going to do that?” asked Bernard.
“I’ve got a plan,” I said, smiling at my friends reassuringly. “Follow me.”
Luckily, my parents were at Lucy’s karate competition and Na-Na was napping, so we had the house to ourselves. I led my friends into the kitchen.
“Why are we in the kitchen? I’ve already established that our ghost isn’t a hungry ghost,” said Bernard.
“Our biggest problem is that the ghost is invisible,” I said, pulling over a chair to stand on.
“No, our biggest problem is that there is a ghost and a snake on the loose in your house,” said Zoe.
“Hold my chair steady,” I said. I bravely climbed on to it so I could reach the top shelf where my mom kept all the baking things.
“If we can SEE the ghost, we’ll be able to chase it away!” I said.
“But we can’t see the ghost,” said Zoe, sounding annoyed. “And even if we could see it, wouldn’t we still be scared of it?”
“Zoe, you’re the fastest girl in our grade—”
“Fastest person,” she interrupted me.
“Exactly! You’ll be great at chasing the ghost.”
“Or running away from it,” said Bernard.
“Either way, you’ll be fine,” I said. “Here, take this.” I passed down a bag of flour.
“But what about us?” asked Bernard. “If Zoe is running away from it . . .”
“Chasing it,” I corrected, as I grabbed a bottle of honey.
“Then what are we doing?”
I hopped down from the chair. “Let me tell you my master plan.”
Once I explained my whole master plan to Zoe and Bernard, they were much more impressed. We just had to put it in action.
MASTERPLAN
Step 1: Open all the windows (to let the ghost out)
Step 2: Set flour traps on top of the kitchen door (to coat the ghost so we could see it)
Step 3: Pour honey on the floor to attract the ghost. (Everything likes honey, even ghosts. I know this because that was how the once caught the Ghost King on TUBS.)
Step 4: Bring fan into the kitchen
Step 5: When the ghost triggers the flour trap, chase ghost with fan to blow it away
After we’d completed steps 1–4, Bernard scratched his head. “One question, Sam. Once we blow the ghost out of the house, how will we find Fang?”
“We’ll go into that wormhole when we get to it,” I said. This is another one of Spaceman Jack’s sayings. “Let’s all get under the kitchen table so we can take the ghost by surprise.”
After half an hour, the ghost still hadn’t come. We hadn’t even heard it all morning.
“Are you sure this is a pesky ghost?” Zoe asked with a yawn. “I think it’s a BORING ghost.”
“Shh! Don’t insult it,” said Bernard. “That will just make it an angry ghost!”
“Wait,” I said. “Maybe Zoe is on to something! Maybe we can lure it by mocking it.” I took a deep breath.
“You’re a silly ghost! A scaredy-cat ghost! I’m NOT afraid of you at all!”
I shouted as loud as I could.
We paused.
. . .
. . .
. . .
And then we heard it. A creaking, a groaning. Something coming closer . . .
“It’s working!” Zoe said. “Keep going!”
“You’re a . . . smelly ghost! A not very scary ghost!”
The creaking was getting louder . . .
“What if the fan doesn’t work? What do we do?” asked Bernard.
“We definitely need to protect ourselves,” said Zoe. “Here, grab these pans just in case.” Zoe handed a wok to Bernard and a large pot to me.
I immediately put the pot on my head.
“You’re the worst ghost ever! Come and get us!” I yelled.
There was a long pause. Suddenly, a gust of wind tore through the room and the kitchen door started to creak open.
“It’s HERE! The ghost is here!” yelled Bernard. “Turn on the fan!”
“The fan won’t turn on! We forgot to plug it in!” said Zoe.
Spaceman Jack always takes charge in times like these.
“Both of you stay back! Let me take care of this!” I yelled.
Without a real plan, I jumped up from under the table and ran at the opening door, waving my arms like a windmill.
“AHHHHH! GO AWAY,
YOU PESKY GHOST!
I’M COMING FOR YOU!”
I yelled. But as I ran, the pot fell over my eyes. It was too late to stop, so I kept on toward the door with my arms still swinging like blades. As fast as I could. Straight at the ghost.
“Sam! Wait!” I heard Zoe shout from behind me.
I smashed straight into the ghost. It was surprisingly solid for something that was invisible. We toppled over into the honey on the floor.
“OW!” I heard. The voice was familiar. I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“SAM! What is going on?” asked the ghost. Except it wasn’t the ghost . . .
I took the pot off my head. I was lying on top of Na-Na . . . who was covered in flour. And honey. She did NOT look very happy.
She actually looked even scarier than a real ghost. Even the Ghost King.
“Sam! Who is that? That’s NOT the ghost!” said Bernard.
“Nope,” I said, as I stood up and held out a hand to help Na-Na up. “This is my grandma, Na-Na. Na-Na, these are my friends, Bernard and Zoe.”
“And you are all in very big trouble,” said Na-Na.
Our first ghost hunt had been a complete disaster. Not only did we NOT catch the ghost, we had to spend the whole afternoon cleaning the kitchen. And after that Na-Na made us weed the garden for HOURS. And she said that ghosts definitely were real, but this was NOT the way to catch them. Then she went back to her nap.
“I can’t tell if your grandma is really brave or really sleepy,” said Zoe.
“Or just really cranky,” added Bernard.
“All three,” I said.
The ghost was still on the loose. And Fang was still lost. And getting hungrier by the minute.
The day got a little better when my parents came
home. They brought us pizza for dinner. And Na-Na didn’t even tattle on us. She just made a mark in her diary, and I knew that I owed her forever. I am going to be weeding the garden for the rest of my life.
After dinner, we went into my room.
“We have to come up with a new plan,” I said.
Zoe yawned. “Can we watch another episode of the instead? I’m getting bored of chasing the ghost.”
“Easy for you to say,” I said. “You don’t have to sleep here every night, wrapped up like a pickle casserole, wondering if the ghost is coming for you!”
“Or the snake,” said Bernard. He’d put his thinking glasses back on.
“Fine, fine,” said Zoe. “We’ll help you catch the ghost. But I’m never helping you weed the garden ever again!”
The door started moving, and we all froze. Maybe it was the ghost!
It was Lucy. She was still in her karate uniform.
“I want to help catch the ghost,” she said.
“Go away, Lucy! We’re having a very important meeting,” I said. “You’re too little to help catch the ghost.”
“Wait!” said Bernard. He narrowed his eyes at Lucy. “How do you know about the ghost? We never told you about it. Are you working with the ghost?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “I thought you were Sam’s smart friend,” she said. She pointed at the vent in the corner of my room. “That connects to my room,” she said. “I can hear everything. You guys are pretty loud. Especially Bernard.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter how you know,” I said. “You can’t help us. I’m sorry. We have to protect you from the ghost.”
