Pleasing the Ghost Read Free Page B

booger!”
    â€œExactly,” I said.
    We were nearly home when Uncle Arvie said, “Two please?”
    I had nearly forgotten about the three pleases. I had done the first one, by finding the book with its letter and giving it to Aunt Julia. Now what would the next please be?

5
S ECOND P LEASE

    A s we were crossing the park on our way home from Aunt Julia’s house, a boy on a bike stopped us. The bike was spectacular, but the boy was not. It was Billy Baker, the one who had called me a liar when I had told him about my ghosts.
    Billy Baker said, “Hey, Dennis. Is that your stinking dog?”
    Bo growled a long, low, menacing growl.
    â€œIt’s my dog,” I said, “but he’s not stinking.”
    â€œOh yeah?” Billy said. “I bet he is.”
    â€œBeany booger?” Uncle Arvie said.
    â€œYes,” I agreed. “A beany booger.”
    â€œWhat?” Billy demanded. “Who are you calling a beany booger?”
    â€œNobody.”
    â€œYou’d better not be calling me that—”
    Bo snapped Billy’s jeans in his teeth and pulled at them.
    â€œHey, get your stinking dog off me!”
    â€œYou shouldn’t have called him stinking,” I said.
    Bo pulled at Billy’s jeans, making him lose his balance.
    â€œGet this dog off me!”
    â€œCome on, Bo. Let him go.”
    Reluctantly, Bo let Billy loose. Billy hissed in my ear: “You’ll be sorry for this! I’ll catch you sometime when you don’t have your stinking dog or your father to protect you.”
    What? I spun around. My father ? Was he here? And then I realized that Billy must have thought Uncle Arvie was my father. What? Had Billy Baker actually seen Uncle Arvie? I spun back around to ask, but he was gone.
    â€œBeany booger,” Uncle Arvie said again.
    â€œExactly,” I agreed. “He likes to cause trouble.”
    Back in my room Uncle Arvie mentioned the second “please” when I opened my desk. He whisked his hand in the drawer and fluttered through it.
    â€œWhat are you looking for?” I asked.
    â€œHammertoe.” Uncle Arvie’s fingers flickered through pencils and pens, paper and a ruler. “Nod hammertoe?”
    â€œI don’t know. What exactly is a hammertoe?”
    â€œHammertoe!” Uncle Arvie moved his hand in the air. “Hammer a needle. With hammertoe and needlinks.”
    I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
    Suddenly, he shouted, “Ha! Hammertoe!”
    â€œA paintbrush ?”
    â€œHammertoe! Yin!” Uncle Arvie said. He rummaged some more, flipping out a twisted tube of blue oil paint. “Needlinks! Hammer a needle with needlinks!”
    â€œYou want me to paint a picture with the brush and paint?”
    â€œPin needle. Dinosaur flannelate,” Uncle Arvie explained.
    â€œ Your picture? You want me to—to—what?”
    â€œFlannelate!” Uncle Arvie was frustrated. He didn’t know how to explain.
    â€œCan’t you show me?” I asked. “With the paintbrush and the paint?”
    Uncle Arvie thought a minute. He took a piece of paper and placed it on the desk. Next he opened the paint tube and squeezed a drop onto the paper. He dipped the brush in the paint and started to draw, but an odd thing happened. There was paint on the brush, and the brush was moving across the paper, but the brush was leaving no marks.
    â€œHey!” I said. “Invisible paint?”
    Uncle Arvie slammed his fist on the desk. “Nod fraggle.” He dropped the brush and covered his face with his hands.
    â€œLet me try.” I dipped the brush in the paint and stroked it across the paper. “Look, it works for me.” I painted a thin blue line across the paper, added a few strokes, and drew a house.
    Uncle Arvie tapped at the picture. “Dinosaur needle.” He jumped up, took the paintbrush, and pretended to paint a picture in the air.