Dragonbreath: No Such Thing as Ghosts Read online

  DRAGONBREATH

  NO SUCH THING

  AS GHOSTS

  DRAGONBREATH

  NO SUCH THING AS GHOSTS

  BY

  URSULA VERNON

  DIAL BOOKS

  an imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  For Mom. I still think the javelina costume was cool.

  DIAL BOOKS

  An imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Published by The Penguin Group • Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014, U.S.A. • Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa • Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Copyright © 2011 by Ursula Vernon

  All rights reserved

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Designed by Jennifer Kelly

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Vernon, Ursula.

  No such thing as ghosts / by Ursula Vernon. p. cm. — (Dragonbreath ; 5)

  Summary: Not only must Danny and Wendell trick-or-treat with skeptical classmate Christiana, school bully Big Eddy dares them to enter a haunted house on Halloween night, where they may have to sacrifice their candy to a ghost.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-52937-9

  [1. Halloween—Fiction. 2. Haunted houses—Fiction. 3. Ghosts—Fiction. 4. Bullies—Fiction. 5. Dragons—Fiction. 6. Iguanas—Fiction. 7. Humorous stories.] I. Title.

  PZ7.V5985No 2011

  [Fic]—dc22 2011001164

  Table of Contents

  Pity Candy

  Tricking and Treating

  The Skeptic

  Panic Time

  The Haunted Bathroom

  Something’s Hungry

  Thuds and Footsteps

  Rat Leader

  Danny Gets Floaty

  Operation Mongoose!

  A Call for Mommy

  When Clowns Attack

  What’s Behind Door #1?

  The Great Sacrifice

  Little White Lies

  “Okay,” said Danny Dragonbreath, “I give up. What are you supposed to be?”

  His best friend, Wendell, sighed. The iguana had a pie plate taped to his chest and was carrying another one.

  “I’m a hydrogen atom,” said Wendell glumly. He waved the pie plate. “This is my electron.”

  Danny had only the vaguest idea what an atom or an electron was, but he knew one thing for sure. “You let your mom make your costume, didn’t you?”

  Wendell sighed again.

  Danny shook his head. Wendell’s mother believed in education the way other parents believed in sports or health food. She also couldn’t sew. Danny’s mother couldn’t sew either, but she understood the importance of Halloween in a young dragon’s life and was willing to take him shopping for batwing capes and fake vampire teeth.

  “Bummer.”

  Wendell shrugged.

  Danny nodded. Pity candy was just as good as any other candy, and there was usually a lot more of it.

  “And you’re a vampire,” said Wendell. “Not bad.”

  “I wanted to go as a giant false vampire bat, but Mom couldn’t find a costume.”

  Wendell shuddered. There had been an incident with a giant false vampire bat monster over the summer, and while the iguana was more sympathetic to bats in general as a result—was even occasionally glad to see them fly overhead—he wasn’t going to get over the giant slavering one any time soon. At least, not until Danny dragged him into something even more horrible, and giant bats started to seem friendly and non-threatening.

  That was the nice thing about being friends with Danny—your traumas never had time to settle in.

  Danny’s father came down the stairs. “Okay, guys, ready to go trick-or-treating? Got your pillowcases?”

  “Great! We’ll go up and down our street, then drive over to…”

  He stopped. He gazed at Wendell.

  “Wendell, are you a…pie salesman?”

  “Hydrogen atom,” said Wendell wearily.

  Danny’s father looked briefly at the ceiling and said something under his breath that might have been Wendell’s mother’s name. “Your mom came up with your costume, didn’t she?”

  Wendell nodded.

  “It’s okay,” said Wendell. “I’m hoping for the pity candy.”

  “Oh, well, that’s okay then,” said Mr. Dragonbreath. He picked up the car keys and called, “Going trick-or-treating, honey!” up the stairs.

  “Try not to lose them!” Mrs. Dragonbreath yelled back down.

  “Right. Onward! Candy awaits!” He held open the door, and the boys tromped out into the Halloween night.

  The Dragonbreaths lived on a quiet street,* and only about half the houses had their lights on, advertising the availability of Halloween candy. One or two had cardboard ghosts on the door or jack-o’-lanterns on the step, but generally Danny’s neighbors didn’t get into Halloween. The tradition for Danny and Wendell was to trick-or-treat down the block and pick up a few pieces of starter candy.

  Then Danny’s dad would drive them over to the neighborhood in the rich suburb, with the really good candy. Some of the people over there gave out whole candy bars, not the little “fun size” ones. It was not to be missed.

  Danny’s dad was a good sport about trick-or-treating too, staying well back from Danny and Wendell so that nobody could see that a dad was taking them around. And when he claimed the grown-up candy tax, he usually took things like Milk Duds that no one would want to eat anyway.

  The half-dozen houses on Danny’s block worked out well for Wendell, because nobody could figure out his costume.

  Then they’d drop an extra piece of candy in his bag. Danny, watching the third miniature candy bar land in Wendell’s pillowcase, started to regret how good his vampire costume looked.

  When they finished the street, they piled into the car, ready for the big haul.

  “Where are we stopping?” asked Danny.

  “I promised Christiana Vanderpool’s mom we’d come over and take her out trick-or-treating,” said Mr. Dragonbreath.

  “Daaaaaad!”

  “What?” Danny’s father glanced in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you like Christiana? I thought she brought a sheep brain to school last year.”

  “Well, yeah,” Danny admitted, “that was pretty cool. But…she’s weird.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but you’re kinda weird yourself, son,” said his dad.

  Wendell snickered.

  “Yeah, but…” Danny sighed.

  What he couldn’t say was that Christiana was a Junior Skeptic and didn’t even believe he was a dragon. She didn’t believe in anything, even stuff like Santa Claus that you weren’t really supposed to believe in anymore, but you sort of pretended to because everybody else did. When Ms. Brown had them read “’Twas the Night Before Christmas” in class, Christiana had said it was a Victorian romanticization of an outmoded pagan belief system, and c’mon, t
hat wasn’t normal. She sometimes used words even Wendell had to look up.

  On the other hand, the sheep brain in the jar had been awfully cool.

  Danny slouched down in the seat.

  “She’s probably really nice if you get to know her,” his dad said from the front seat.

  Which just went to show that grown-ups did not understand a lot of things, because A) Danny had been in school with Christiana for years, and knew her just fine, and B) whatever words you were going to use to describe her, “nice” was not among them.

  “Suki liked her,” offered Wendell.

  “Huh,” said Danny. That was unexpected. Suki the salamander had been awesome (even if she was a girl), and if Suki liked Christiana…well, anyway, it was only for one night of trick-or-treating. How bad could it be?

  Christiana Vanderpool got into the car wearing a large purple suit and a sarcastic expression. She was a stocky crested lizard shorter than Wendell, although the antenna on her suit made her look taller.

  She looked at Danny. “Vampire. Typical.” She looked at Wendell. “Mmm. Hydrogen atom?”

  Wendell nodded glumly.

  “Your electron and your proton aren’t in scale,” she said, settling herself into the seat.

  “I know,” said Wendell, who did.

  Danny would have said something in defense of his friend—although the pie plates were pretty hard to defend—but his dad got back in the driver’s seat, which cut down on the conversation.

  “I thought salmon were fish. With…like…fins and things,” said Danny.

  “She’s the germ that gives you food poisoning,” Wendell explained. He looked down his snout at her. “You’re not to scale either.”

  Unexpectedly, Christiana grinned. “Yeah, I know. Cool suit though, huh?” She wiggled her cilia at them.

  It was a short drive to the really good neighborhood, and bands of kids were already roaming the streets. Danny scrambled out of the car, followed by the others. The nearest house had a strobe light and a smoking cauldron. The sound of recorded hysterical laughter echoed down the sidewalk. It was perfect.

  The trio settled into a pattern. Christiana rang the doorbell. The door opened, and Danny pushed Wendell forward. Wendell held out his pillowcase and looked hopeful, whereupon the homeowner gazed at the iguana’s pie plates, was seized by pity, and dumped candy with a generous hand.

  By the time they’d walked up one side of the street and two cul-de-sacs, Wendell’s pillowcase was dragging on the ground. Christiana and Danny weren’t quite so fortunate, but they still had very respectable hauls. Danny was beginning to wish he’d brought a second pillowcase.

  They’d also encountered boiling cauldrons, shrieking hinges, animatronic skeletons, overstuffed scarecrows, and three more strobe lights. The flashing lights caused Wendell to mutter darkly about seizures and made Danny’s father do a horribly embarrassing dance that he said was called “The Robot.”

  Still, it had been a good night. At least until—

  Danny and Christiana followed Wendell’s gaze and made identical “ungh” noises.

  Big Eddy the Komodo dragon and his cronies were walking up the sidewalk toward them.

  “Hold on to your candy,” muttered Christiana.

  Danny looked over his shoulder, to where his dad was talking to some other parents, probably about doing The Robot. The presence of nearby adults would keep Big Eddy from beating them up and taking their candy…probably…but it was dark enough out that you didn’t want to take any chances.

  “C’mon,” said Wendell, pointing at another knot of kids coming up the sidewalk behind them. “Safety in numbers.”

  Danny was willing to give it a try. They slowed their footsteps up to the next house, and pretended to be very interested in a couple of jack-o’-lanterns lining the next porch. By the time they reached the street again, the other kids were only a few feet behind them.

  “Oh look,” said Big Eddy, “it’s dorkbreath and his sidekick.” He loomed over Danny, who backed up, not wanting to get shoved. “Got tired of pretending to be a dragon and decided to be a vampire, huh?”

  “I am a dragon,” said Danny, but he said it under his breath. He had a fond memory of a rat riding Big Eddy down a hallway, and preferred not to tarnish it with a memory of Big Eddy’s fist hitting him in the snout.

  Christiana gave him a skeptical look. Danny felt his scales get hot.

  “Nothing,” said Wendell wretchedly as Big Eddy yanked away his electron pie plate.

  The other kids had arrived. Danny recognized a few of them from school, although they were mostly in other grades. None of them seemed to want to press past Big Eddy, but the sidewalk was getting awfully crowded.

  Somebody pushed Danny in the back, not hard, but enough to move him forward a little. Big Eddy’s eyes snapped back to Danny. Danny winced.

  “I’m surprised you weren’t too scared to come out, dorkbreath. Aren’t you afraid a ghost’s gonna get you?”

  “I’m not scared of any stupid ghosts,” said Danny, stepping off the curb and circling around Big Eddy. Maybe if they started walking away, the bully would forget about them. Big Eddy didn’t have a very long attention span.

  No such luck. The big Komodo dragon turned around and started following him. The other kids followed at a cautious distance.

  “You’re totally scared,” said Big Eddy. “You’re a big chicken.”

  “So prove it,” said Big Eddy. “I bet you’re too scared to go up to the haunted house.”

  Danny rolled his eyes. “I’ve been to haunted houses. They’re not scary.* It’s just people in masks.”

  “Not that kind of haunted house, dorkbreath. A real one. That one.” Big Eddy spun around and pointed.

  “How do you know the house is haunted?” asked Christiana. “It just looks abandoned to me.”

  “Everybody knows it’s haunted,” said Big Eddy.

  “Then everybody ought to have proof,” said Christiana.

  Big Eddy looked confused, which was generally a prelude to Big Eddy getting mad. Danny jumped in. “Anyway, even if it is haunted, we can’t go in. It’s trespassing.”

  The Komodo dragon sneered at him. “You’re just chicken.”

  “I’m not chicken,” said Danny, “but my dad is back there”—he jerked a thumb in the direction of his father and the other grown-ups—“and I can’t just break into somebody’s house in front of him. He’d ground me for a month.”

  There was a murmur of agreement from the kids gathered around them. You couldn’t do that sort of thing in front of grown-ups. They really didn’t understand.

  “So go trick-or-treat it,” said Big Eddy, shoving Danny in the shoulder. “Prove you’re not chicken.”

  Danny gulped.

  It occurred to him that having all the other kids around might mean that there were more witnesses if Big Eddy decided to beat him up…but it also meant that there were more witnesses to Big Eddy calling him a chicken.

  He looked up at the house. The driveway was long and dark and overhung with trees. There were no lights on and the windows were boarded up.

  He looked back toward his dad, but apparently the grown-ups were having a really interesting conversation about life insurance or vegetables or something else of interest to grown-ups. They were definitely not paying attention except for an occasional glance to make sure the kids weren’t being hit by cars.

  “Bet you won’t,” said Big Eddy. “Bet you’re scared.”

  “I am NOT,” said Danny, which was mostly true. He wasn’t scared of ghosts, exactly—they couldn’t be that much worse than a giant squid—but he wasn’t sure how you dealt with them. Ghosts could go all invisible and stuff, and they probably weren’t bothered by having fire breathed on them.

  It occurred to Danny that he had possibly backed himself into a bit of a corner.

  “Um…”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Christiana firmly. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  The cr
owd of kids all took a step back. Saying you didn’t believe in ghosts on Halloween was kind of like standing in a thunderstorm and saying you didn’t believe in lightning.

  Danny was stuck. If Christiana was going, and Big Eddy was watching…well, there was nothing else to do. He slung his pillowcase of candy over his shoulder, cast a last longing look back at his dad—no help there—and started walking.

  Wendell found himself with a dilemma.

  He could go with Danny and Christiana, who were probably about to be mauled by ghosts, or he could stay here. With Big Eddy.

  You might believe in ghosts or not—but the school bully was definitely real. And Wendell had stuck by Danny in worse situations than just haunted houses…there had been the squid, and the sewers, and the giant bat, and the thing with the ninjas…

  The iguana sighed and scurried after Danny and Christiana, up the long driveway to the (possibly) haunted house.

  The house looked even worse close up. The porch was sagging, the windows were boarded, and there were real cobwebs, even thicker and denser than the fake Halloween kind. Danny’s parents had always said that you weren’t supposed to go to a house that didn’t have the lights on, and this place didn’t even have bulbs in the porch light.

  “It sure looks haunted,” said Danny.

  Wendell gulped.

  “Nobody’s ever proved that ghosts exist,” said Christiana, striding determinedly toward the door.

  “I have a hard time breathing fire under pressure,” said Danny. (Actually, under pressure seemed to be the only time he could breathe fire—if by “pressure” you meant “stark raving terror”—but this was a difficult distinction to explain to somebody like Christiana.)

  She smirked. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.”