Rules for Ghosting by A. J. Paquette Read Free Book Online

and growing more confident as he read on further. “Quite fine. It’s settled then. There is quite a spacious guest bedroom on the far side of the ground floor, past the mudroom. There’s even a private back-door entrance. If you’ll move your things in there, you can stay for the duration of the job. Marsha won’t mind, I’m sure. And now, Mr. Wiley, I must get back to my lunch while it remains passably edible. Shall we resume this conversation in a few hours?”
    â€œVery certainly, Arthur,” Wiley beamed. “An absolute pleasure doing business with you.”
    Dad was up the stairs almost before Wiley had finished his sentence, leaving the door cracked open behind him.
    Oliver watched from his upper vantage point as, left alone outside, Wiley strode along the narrow path surrounding the mansion. The man’s head twisted in all directions like a curious owl. What was he doing now? Oliver leaned out over the railing to get a better look. Wiley reached inside his jacket and pulled out a long skinny instrument—like a TV remote, butthree or four times as long. It was made of a metal so black that it seemed to suck in the light from anything near it. With a quick scurry, Wiley disappeared around the corner of the manor.
    Oliver looked down at the shiny red pickup truck. A slick company logo was stuck onto the outside door panel. It showed a wavy, amorphous-looking blob behind prison bars, as if the logo were saying, “Hire me and all your blobs will go away!” Maybe the blob was supposed to stand for all the many problems Wiley’s company would fix for his customers? Underneath the logo were the words “Terminators, Inc.” There was something odd about the placement of the words, but Oliver couldn’t quite figure what.
    â€œOliver! Your lunch is oozing!”
    Soggy cheddar-and-Nutella sandwiches were one of the few things that consistently gave Oliver nightmares, so he needed no further persuasion—especially now that all the action was over outside and the last of his chocolate battle digested.
    Closing and locking the balcony door, Oliver headed downstairs, still thinking of the oddball visitor with the weird logo and that device he was so eager to start using. Oliver
had
to find out more about Rank T. Wiley’s plans.

Chapter 7
    â€œThere’s something sneaky about that new fix-it man,” Dahlia observed, glancing back over her shoulder at the pickup truck as she ghosted through the side wall.
    â€œHe certainly talks a blue streak,” agreed Mrs. Tibbs. “But let us not be diverted. If we are going to begin the search for your Anchor, there are a few techniques you will need to master first.”
    â€œOh, yes!” Dahlia said. “I’ve been watching you very carefully, you know. I can already tell that I’m a terrible ghost. Just think—for years and years I’ve been dead, and now I find I’ve been going about it all wrong. What can I do, Mrs. Tibbs? Will you show me the real rules of ghosting?”
    â€œAh, my gifted gollywhopper!” She shook her head. “The Ghouncil has built a whole empire around their rules. Yes, there are certainly plenty of those to go around. Of course,” she said hastily, “that’s not to say that they aren’t important,in their own way. And you will certainly learn them all in due time. However, I see no indication that you have been wasting your time here, nor going about things poorly. I dare say that you have built up a most satisfactory existence.”
    The words kindled a warm glow in Dahlia’s middle, but before she could reply, Mrs. Tibbs clapped her hands together. “Now, all code-correct Ghosting procedures will be taught to you when you complete your Crossover. What we must focus on at this precise moment is finding your Anchor. And to do that?” She jutted her right arm straight up into the air, finger out-thrust. “You must