Who Stole Halloween? by Martha Freeman Read Free Book Online Page A

spices and herbs in little plastic bags, books, and a cold case with yogurt and juices. The cash register was behind a counter near the door. On thecounter was a basket of white things that reminded me of Luau’s catnip sachet. I was about to inspect one when Mr. Blanco said, “That will be forty-two dollars and ninety-seven cents, Dan.”
    I said, “For pumpkins and marshmallows?”
    â€œ
And
eyesight pills,” Mr. Blanco said.
    Dad handed over his credit card. “For that price, they’d better work,” he said.
    Mr. Blanco smiled. “As I explained, this is just enough for a few days, Dan. I’ll call when I get a fresh batch.”
    Yasmeen said how nice the store was, and Mr. Blanco thanked her. Then I asked about the ghost. Did he know the house was supposed to be haunted?
    Before Mr. Blanco could answer, I heard a throaty howl that seemed to come from every direction at once. I gave Yasmeen a What-the-heck? look, and the next thing a flash of light turned her face all eerie blue, sick, and scared. The gust of wind, the howl, the flash—and suddenly a
crack
like thunder splitting a tree trunk an inch from my ear . . . then a sizzle of electricity, and everything went black.

Chapter Fourteen

    I held tight to my pumpkin, like it might turn out to be some kind of protection from supernatural forces. My dad put his hand on my shoulder. “Alex? Yazzie?” Even with him there, I could feel my heart pounding and hear Yasmeen breathing fast, like she was scared.
    The next sound in the dark was Mr. Blanco. He was
laughing
and at the same time rustling around behind the counter. “
There
,” he said, and a lantern came on. “Sorry about that, Dan . . . , kids,” he said. “It happens now and again. I think it’s that same ghost you were asking about, Alex.”
    â€œYou’re kidding,” said Dad. “Aren’t you?”
    Mr. Blanco bent down and fooled with some switches behind him on the wall. After a few seconds the overhead lights blazed back on. He turned toward us again and shrugged. “Tell you the truth, I don’t know if I’m kidding. All I know is this is the fourth time it’s happened just that way—wind, howl, flash, thunder, and out go the lights. It’s a bother, but it doesn’t seem to be dangerous. The only trouble is it scares the customers—some customers.”
    â€œI’m not scared,” Dad said, but I noticed his face looked whiter than usual.
    â€œI am!” I said.
    â€œYou don’t really believe in ghosts, do you?” Yasmeen asked Mr. Blanco.
    â€œSeems like it’s more that the ghost believes in
me
,” said Mr. Blanco. “Besides, have you got a better explanation?”
    Yasmeen usually has all the answers. Now she opened her mouth like she was going to fill us in, but then she closed it again. “No,” she said. “I don’t.”

    At home there was a message on the answering machine. It was from Billy Jensen telling us that Marjie Lee had had a baby girl at six that morning. It might seem weird that a first-grader would be making that kind of phone call, but in our neighborhood it made total sense. Billy Jensen loves to spread news.
    I told Dad about the baby, then I phoned Mr. Stone to ask if he would tell us the famous ghost story.
    â€œOh, you kids aren’t interested in an old chestnut like that,” he said.
    Mr. Stone can be what my dad calls “difficult” and my mom calls “ornery.”
    â€œWe really
do
want to hear it, Mr. Stone,” I persisted. “Oh—and I forgot to mention, Dad bought you a bag of fancy marshmallows, too. They came from Mr. Blanco’s new store downtown.”
    â€œA present for
me
?” Mr. Stone said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Tomorrow after school then. Three-thirty? I’ll make hot chocolate.”
    Dad called me for dinner as