Invisible Inkling

PuuuuuUuuuumpkins

“Nadia?” I say. “I don’t think that ghost is Max.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Oh no!” wails Daley. “Don’t say it’s the elevator of pure evil!”

I want to say, It’s just my invisible bandapat, pretending. It’s just my invisible bandapat, trying to get my sister back for booing me. Overexcited on his first Halloween.

But I can’t. So instead I say, “Max would never be so mean. I think it’s a real ghost!”

“No way,” says Chin.

“A friendly ghost,” I add.

“Real ghosts don’t exist,” argues Chin. “I read it in a book.”

“Oh, please,” I say. “Don’t you know there are a million things left out of books? And off maps? Things left out of encyclopedias. Things not in books or papers of any kind!”

“Well, maybe,” says Chin. “But not ghosts.”

“Well, maybe not ghosts,” I say. “But things. All kinds of things that we don’t really understand.”

“If you say so.”

“And that means, maybe ghosts. That’s what I’m saying. Not ghosts for sure. Just maybe.”

“Okay,” says Chin. “Maybe.”

“And so,” I say, “maybe we should ask this one what it wants. Even if it’s not real, it probably wants something.”

“You’re not making me feel better with this, Hank,” mutters Daley.

I reach over in the dark and pat her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Edie,” I tell her. “I know how to talk to ghosts.”

“No, you don’t,” says Nadia.

“Yes, I do. Just watch me.”

I have the start of an idea. An idea that might solve more than one problem.

“Whatever.” Nadia sighs.

“Ghost!” I yell. “Can you hear me?”

“BoooooooOooooooooo!”

“My name is Wolowitz.”

“BoooooooOooooooooo!”

“Can you say anything but boo?” I ask. “Or are you even stupider than I think you are?”

Inkling hates to have his intelligence questioned. “Of course I can say things,” he says, trying to make his voice sound ghostly.

I can hear a sharp intake of breath from Chin. And a whimper from Daley.

“Did you turn the lights out?” I ask the ghost.

“Yes!” Inkling cackles.

“And did you understand everything we’ve talked about since you turned them out?”

“Of course.”

“Then can you tell the joke is over? My sister is crying and Edie is frightened.”

“Which one is Edie?” Inkling asks.

“Dead Sleeping Beauty,” comes Daley’s voice, very small.

“So, it’s not funny anymore, ghost!” I say. “It was probably never funny. Will you please start the elevator again and leave us alone?”

“Maybe,” says the ghost. “If you give me what I want.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Oh, you knoooooOoooow what I want.”

“Our jewels?” asks Chin.

“Our candy?” asks Locke.

“Our blood?” asks Linderman.

“Our firstborn children?” asks Daley.

“No, no,” I tell them all. “I am pretty sure he wants…our pumpkins.”

This is my idea, and it looks like Inkling has got the hint. If we give him pumpkins, he’ll get fed, I’ll make up with Chin, and I’ll avoid disappointing my parents at the same time. Don’t understand yet. Just watch.

“PuuuuuUuuuumpkins!” wails the ghost.

“What?” The girls are surprised. “No way.” “Why would he care?” “I’ve never heard of a ghost who wanted pumpkins.”

“PuuuuuUuuuumpkins!” wails the ghost again.

“See?” I say. “He wants them. Are you willing to give up your jack-o’-lanterns?”

“Whatever, sure, but I live all the way in Red Hook,” says Linderman.

“You can only get pumpkins that are in this building!” I tell the ghost. “Anything else is unreasonable. We can’t be running all over Brooklyn.”

“He can have mine,” says Chin.

“How many do you have?” I ask.

“Just one. My mom carved it.”

“Okay!” I say to the ghost. “You can have Chin’s pumpkin.”

“How biiiiIiiiiig is it?” asks the ghost.

“Pretty small,” Chin admits. “It’s just a little cutie one.”

“No way,” says the ghost. “I need mooooooOoooore pumpkins.”

“You can have everything in my top secret squash project!” I say, as if I’ve only just now thought of the idea. “I’ll give up my project if only you’ll leave us alone.”

This way, I figure, I’ll never have to explain my project to Chin, or my dad, or anyone. They’ll think the ghost took everything.

But: Inkling knows I don’t really have a top secret squash project.

“Not enough,” he wails. “I need the jumbo pumpkins of the tall one in the corner.”

Nadia.

He wants Nadia’s dragon and her witch.

This was not part of my idea. He can’t have Nadia’s pumpkins. Not after all her hard work. Not after she’s just had the worst Halloween ever.

“No way!” I tell him. “You can’t have those. Those are works of art.”

“I neeeeeEeeeeed them. The little cutie one, the pumpkins of the top secret squash project, and the jumbo pumpkins of the tall one,” Inkling repeats. “If I don’t get them all, we will remain in this elevator foreeeeEeeeever!”

“Oh, stop it!” I say. “You’re being unreasonable! Nadia’s pumpkins are not for you, you stupid ghost!”

I can hear Inkling sigh heavily. “Fine, then. Wolowitz,” says Inkling, “leave the door to your apartment open, and I’ll get the supposed squash project out of your room. Chin, .”

He’s such a show-off.

Really.

Chin answers in Mandarin, which she learns at Saturday school.

“Double swear?” says the ghost.

“Double swear,” says Chin. “This is one weird ghost,” she then mutters. “And why does he call me Chin when everyone but Hank calls me Sasha?”