Sauerkraut

by Kelly Jones

  “And this is a proper experiment, not you trying to scare me?” Eli asked.

  I got a little mad then, although I tried to keep it down. Grandpop says even when you have a right to be mad, you have to decide if you want to lead with that, because it doesn’t always help people listen to you better. “I’m not a mean person, Eli. I don’t scare my friends for no reason.”

  “I don’t have good judgment on that,” Eli said.

  I sighed. This was because up until third grade, Eli thought he was friends with a kid, but then that kid turned out to be the kind of person who tells all your secrets to the whole school and then laughs at you. “Have I ever told your secrets to anyone? Come on, Eli. I need your judgment for this experiment.”

  Eli smiled suddenly. “Yeah, this is an area where you don’t have good judgment! Okay. But no screaming for no reason. And I have to be home when my mom gets off work.”

  “Deal,” I said. “We go, we write down our answers, and we discuss things calmly, like scientists. No matter what happens.”

  Eli nodded. “See you there at four.”

  “Thanks,” I told him. “And if I’m right about the ghost, you owe me an apology.”

  Eli nodded. “I hope there’s a ghost.”

  So do I, I thought. I think.

  * * *

  I needed to do some research, so I rode my bike to the library. I didn’t have much time, so I didn’t walk through the makerspace, where people can make Lego robots, crystal radios, and a whole lot of stuff out of duct tape. Nope, I went straight to the reference desk.

  Harry was there today, wearing his bow tie that looks like an old-school library card. I like Harry. Before he came to work there, I kind of thought you had to be a white lady to be a librarian. I guess because all our other librarians were white ladies. But Harry’s a Black guy, like me, and he likes learning all kinds of stuff too. (All the librarians do. It’s their thing.)

  “Hey, HD,” Harry said, giving me the nod. “I hear the new Spider-Man comic will be here any day now.”

  I gave him the nod back. Talking to Harry feels comfortable, like when we go visit Mom’s family in Oakland, where everybody knows what it means when you meet their eyes and nod your head, real slow. You’re saying: I see you there. I respect you. Nobody looks at you weird there if you wear a cool hat, or asks you how your hair got like that, or if your dad is really your dad. People here don’t always know that stuff, so I have to explain a lot. But when we go down there, it’s Dad who sticks out, not me and Mom and Asad.

  “Let me know how it is,” I told Harry. “I need to read up on ghosts first.”

  “Like, Ghostbusters? Or Ghost Rider?” Harry asked.

  “Not exactly,” I told him. “They don’t have to be comics. I’m looking for stories about how people wander around after they die trying to get stuff done, and what people can do to help them out. You know, ghost stories.”

  Harry smiled. “Do I have some ghost stories for you.”

  I told Harry I didn’t need the ones where it was just someone fooling people, or anything about werewolves or vampires or whatever. But he still found me a pretty good stack.

  “Thanks,” I told him.

  “If you need more, you can always come back and ask,” Harry said. “Though I hope you’ll keep reading some comics too, or who am I going to talk to about what Ms. Marvel and Miles are up to now?”

  “Yeah, you got it,” I said. “As soon as I’m done with this project.”

  Harry nodded. “See you around, then.”

  “See you,” I told him.

  I pedaled fast, and made it to Uncle Gregor’s house before four. I unlocked the door and opened it, very carefully. “Hello?” I said.

  Nobody answered. I set my backpack down right inside the door, ran into the kitchen, and picked up the phone.

  “Schenk Brothers Auto Body, do you need a tow truck?” It was Gloria, one of the other mechanics, not Dad. There was some kind of tantrum going on in the background.

  “Nope, it’s HD, calling to check in,” I said.

  “Well, your dad’s trying to explain to a customer why he doesn’t know how much it’s going to cost until we know what’s wrong with their car, Asad’s having a meltdown about not getting any ice cream, and I’ve got someone on the other line,” Gloria said. “You want him to call you back?”

  “Nah, just tell him I called, I’m fine, and Eli and I are going to be at Uncle Gregor’s for a while. I’ll be home before he is. Thanks, Gloria.”

  “Okay, got it,” Gloria said. “Have a good one.”

  I hung up the phone and hurried back outside.

  It didn’t take too long before I saw Eli riding down the street.

  Eli parked his bike in Uncle Gregor’s driveway. “So, what do you need me to do?”

  I handed him a form and a pencil. “Come down to the basement with me, and fill this out.”

  Eli read the form carefully. “Okay.”

  I opened the basement door and looked around, but I couldn’t see any thick air. Maybe the ghost hadn’t heard us come in? I cleared my throat, and said, “Hallo, Great-Great-Grandma. Wie geht es Ihnen? It’s HD, come to visit again. This is my friend Eli.” My voice shook a little.

  She floated her thick air out of the crock, but she didn’t rush at me this time. She stayed near it, down at the bottom of the basement stairs. “Guten Tag, Hans Dieter. How nice of you to come to see me again. Do you make sauerkraut?”

  “Nice to see you too,” I said. Being polite is important, no matter who you’re talking to. That’s, like, a key rule of superhero stuff. It’s weird to talk to someone you can see through, and not to be able to see their face or anything. But I know not to assume someone is the bad guy just because they turn green and enormous and their shirt gets too small to wear. I mean, so what if someone doesn’t look exactly like you? Maybe whatever makes them look weird will help them save the world.

  “I’ve never made sauerkraut, but I make other things,” I told her. I started to relax a little, now that we were talking about making stuff, with no screaming or running or anything.

  Eli had his pencil out, taking slow, careful notes. Eli always takes observations seriously.

  “Uh, Great-Great-Grandma, we’re here to do some research,” I said. You aren’t supposed to do research on people without them knowing about it. It’s an important rule of modern science.

  The ghost pretty much ignored me, though. “I was famous for my sauerkraut,” she said, nodding the thick air where her head would be.

  “I bet it was great,” I said. “Was this your crock? Is that why you’re still here?”

  “Yes, this is my crock,” she said. She floated in a slow, sad little circle around her crock.

  She didn’t seem that happy to be there. And if I was dead, I knew I wouldn’t want to hang around a pickling crock in Uncle Gregor’s basement forever. I would want someone to sort stuff out so I could get moving. But what was my great-great-grandma waiting for?

  “So, um, I want to figure out if my friend Eli can see you or hear you or not,” I told her. “He thought I was playing a trick on him yesterday. I would really appreciate it if you would show yourself to him.”

  “Does he make sauerkraut?” the ghost asked.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Hey, Eli, do you make sauerkraut?”

  “What’s sauerkraut?” Eli asked.

  That sure set the ghost off. She went on and on about how great it was, and how to make it.

  “You know, that stuff my dad puts on his hot dogs,” I whispered to Eli.

  “Why would a ghost care what your dad puts on his hot dogs?” Eli asked.

  I shrugged, and started working on my own research form.

  “I do not think your friend can hear me,” the ghost said after a while, in a quieter voi
ce. “Even my dear Hans Gerhard could not hear me. Once in a while, though, he would tell his mother he could smell my violet soap.”

  Violet soap. Well, at least that was something. “Did anyone else ever smell you?” I asked.

  “No, no one at all.” She sounded pretty sad. “Perhaps I should have faded away then.”

  I took a big sniff. I thought I might smell something—something kind of sweet. I made a note on my form. “I’m not sure if I can smell you or not, but I can definitely hear you.”

  “But why would I leave Hans Gerhard?” she went on. “So I practiced speaking. Every time he came into the attic, I would tell him all the steps for making sauerkraut. But he never heard me.”

  “Are you sure he couldn’t hear you?” I asked. “I mean, maybe he just didn’t feel like talking about your project right then.”

  She whooshed around the room, making the string hanging from the lightbulb swish. “If I told you all the steps for making sauerkraut, over and over again, all through your visit, and if, as you left, I told you how much I loved you, how much I missed you, would you pretend I did not exist?”

  Well, I could see how a situation like that might have been awkward for Hans Gerhard, no question there. But still. “No, I don’t think so. That would have been really rude.”

  She stayed in one place, and her thick air looked a little thicker. Maybe she felt a little better, then? “Yes,” she said. “Hans Gerhard was not a rude boy. So he could not hear me, no matter how much I practiced. And, after a while, he stopped visiting.”

  Maybe Eli wouldn’t ever be able to hear her, then. I sighed. “Don’t worry, Great-Great-Grandma. We’ll figure this out.”

  “Done,” Eli said, and handed me his research sheet.

  I wrote out the rest of my answers, and handed it to him.

  Even the ghost was quiet while we read.

  EXPERIMENT: CHECK TO SEE IF GREGOR SCHENK’S BASEMENT IS HAUNTED

  Researcher: HD Schenk

  Do you hear anything? Yes

  If so, what? My great-great-grandma’s ghost asking me when we’re going to make sauerkraut, and telling me how great it is

  Do you see anything? Yes

  If so, what? My great-great-grandma (who looks like thick, moving air) swooping and swishing around the basement

  Do you smell anything? Yes

  If so, what? Something sweet. It could be her violet soap, because she told me that her grandson used to smell that sometimes. But I don’t really know what violet soap smells like.

  Does the basement feel hot/cold/normal? Normal, for a basement. It’s usually cold down here.

  Conclusion: Yes, the basement is haunted.

  EXPERIMENT: CHECK TO SEE IF GREGOR SCHENK’S BASEMENT IS HAUNTED

  Researcher: Eli Callahan

  Do you hear anything? Yes

  If so, what? My friend HD arguing about something sour with nobody

  Do you see anything? Yes

  If so, what? My friend HD and a whole lot of boxes and some other junk

  Do you smell anything? Yes

  If so, what? Maybe mildew? Or maybe something sweet and mildew?

  Does the basement feel hot/cold/normal? Cold

  Conclusion: No, the basement is not haunted. It might be mildewy, though.

  After I finished reading Eli’s research, my stomach felt funny, so I sat down on the bottom step.

  “What is wrong?” the ghost asked.

  I sighed. “Nothing is exactly wrong, Great-Great-Grandma—it’s just that my friend Eli can’t see you, or hear you.”

  “Right,” Eli said. “Okay, what’s the rest of the experiment?”

  I blinked. “What do you mean?”

  Eli turned his sheet over and examined the blank side. “Your hypothesis is that this basement is haunted, right?”

  I nodded.

  “But all we’ve done is record a few observations. We need to test things out.”

  “Uh…,” I said.

  “Mrs.— Is it Schenk, or Davis, or something else?” Eli asked.

  Great-Great-Grandma floated around until she was in front of Eli. She looked at him curiously. “I am Mrs. Marietta Schenk, young man.” She hesitated. “Hans Dieter—you can call me Oma, if you like. It means ‘grandmother.’ ”

  I nodded. “Did you hear her that time?” I asked Eli.

  “No,” he said.

  I sighed. “Mrs. Marietta Schenk,” I told him.

  “Is it okay if I call you Mrs. S.?” Eli asked. “Because I already call HD’s mom Mrs. Schenk, and that could get confusing.”

  The ghost nodded, so I told Eli that would be fine. “I’m going to call her Oma, though, since she’s my great-great-grandma.”

  “Okay, Mrs. S.: Could you please yell as loud as you can? This is for research.”

  Oma did her best. She wasn’t that loud, but her voice had a sad, cold sound that made the back of my neck shiver.

  Eli watched me, and when I relaxed, he made a note. “One more time, please, Mrs. S.?”

  This time I covered my ears.

  “I guess that’s enough, Mrs. S.,” Eli said after a while.

  I took my hands off my ears, and crossed my arms over my stomach.

  “Do you want the garbage can in case you’re going to puke?” Eli asked me.

  I shook my head.

  “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.” Eli finished his note. “Mrs. S., is there anything you can do to try to make me see you?”

  Oma tried, she really did. She got bigger and wispier, smaller and denser, and she waved her air around wildly. She even did a loop-de-loop.

  “She’s over by the chain saw,” I told Eli, who was staring at the hockey stick.

  “Oh,” he said, and stared at the chain saw for a while. “Okay, thanks, Mrs. S. Now, time for smells. Uh, Mrs. S., I would never ask you this if it was not for research, but could you please fart?”

  I’m not sure which of us was more horrified: the ghost, or me.

  “Certainly not,” she said.

  “Uh, Eli, I don’t think she eats, so how could she do that?” I asked. “Besides, she says no.”

  Eli thought for a moment. “I think there was a ghost in a John Bellairs book that smelled like moldy graves once….Can you do that?”

  “Eli, she’s not that kind of ghost. She smells like violets,” I told him. “Oma, can we sniff you? For research?”

  She wafted over a little, and I took a few steps forward.

  Eli did too.

  “I smell something kind of sweet,” I said.

  Eli sniffed hard.

  “Can you smell it?” I asked.

  He sniffed harder. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, can you smell anything you didn’t smell before?”

  “Maybe,” he said, still sniffing. “But maybe I just want to smell it.” He made a note.

  “Oma, can you go up to the top of the stairs?” I asked.

  Up she floated, and that sweet smell went with her.

  I sniffed again. Now I only smelled basement air, with a little bit of sharp-lemony old furniture. “I guess that was it.”

  Eli sniffed too. He nodded, and made a note. “Mrs. S., are you the kind of ghost that can walk through people?”

  “She doesn’t exactly walk,” I said. “Also, what if she messes up your insides? Like, freezes them or something?”

  Eli looked interested. “Mrs. S., can you freeze things?”

  “I do not freeze things, and I do not pass through people,” she said.

  “Could you maybe try, though, for research?” I asked. “Uh, maybe let’s see if you can freeze things first, and then you can go through Eli?”

  Oma sighed.

  “Wait h
ere for a second,” I said. I went up to Uncle Gregor’s kitchen, got a glass of water, and brought it down to the basement. “Okay, can you freeze this?”

  The ghost floated over to the glass of water and stuck a little of her thick air into it for a minute, kind of like she was sticking her finger in the water.

  I thought the water moved a little, but maybe it was just still moving from when I put it down.

  “I cannot,” she said at last.

  I walked over and felt the water. “Nope,” I said.

  Eli came and felt it too. We made notes.

  “Maybe we should stop there,” I said.

  “No, this is for science. We need to do all the tests we can think of,” Eli said. “Mrs. S., will you please float through me?”

  “If you insist,” she said, and started floating slowly toward him.

  “She’s coming your way, Eli. Are you ready?” I asked.

  He bit his lip, clenched his fists, and nodded.

  I held my breath as the ghost floated right through him. Eli didn’t flinch.

  “She’s through,” I said.

  “Make a note that I do not like to do that,” Oma said.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “It is not the kind of thing a person does.”

  I made the note, and explained it to Eli.

  “Well, of course a person doesn’t do that—that’s a ghost thing,” he said. “But don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.”

  “Did you feel anything?” I asked.

  “Nope,” he said.

  Which should have made me feel better, because it would be awful if she’d accidentally frozen his insides. But I still didn’t feel good. “I guess you really can’t sense her,” I said, looking at my shoes. “Or, maybe my head isn’t working right, and she isn’t actually here at all. Maybe I need help. Maybe we should tell my parents.”

  “I thought I smelled something, though,” Eli said.

  I nodded. “But that isn’t much proof, is it?”

  “Hans Dieter, you are not crazy,” the ghost told me. “I am right here.”

  “Thanks, Oma,” I told her. “But I bet my brain would make you say that even if you weren’t actually real.” I bit my lip.