Ghost Vision Glasses by Patrick Carman

Author:Patrick Carman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Dinner was going about as expected for Kyle, with the Vincents being super loud and annoying while they talked about their mail-order business and the gigantic cabin they owned on the other side of the lake and a bunch of other humongously boring stuff that made Kyle’s dad look longingly at the sun setting behind the trees. Scotty kicked Kyle under the table hard enough that Kyle snorted Pepsi down the wrong pipe and had to walk off into the trees in order to spit, cough, and blow his nose. When he came back, Scotty Vincent was gone.

“Where’d Scotty go?” asked Kyle, staring off toward the rowboat with its ring of Christmas lights around the edge. He had to admit the boat looked pretty boss with the lights and all. But Scotty wasn’t there.

“He went inside to get more ketchup,” said Mr. Vincent. “The boy does love ketchup!” he howled, laughing noisily for no particular reason.

“Ketchup?” was all Kyle could say, his voice soft under the bellowing voice of Mrs. Vincent repeating her husband like a parrot and every bit as loudly, “The boy does love ketchup!”

Kyle sat down at the table nervously, waiting for Scotty to appear at the door of the blue cabin, wondering what was taking so long. But then Scotty popped out of the sliding door with a fresh bottle of ketchup in his hand, holding it up like a trophy, all smiles.

“Found it!” he yelled, and his parents laughed and pointed. They were odd that way, always laughing annoyingly at unfunny things.

The rest of the dinner party crawled by as Kyle thought about the ghost and the glasses and wished a thousand times that the Vincents would get in their boat and row away and never come back. All Kyle really wanted to do was return to the attic, put on the Ghost Vision Glasses, and talk about weird stuff.

Finally Mr. Vincent lifted his giant butt off the picnic bench and stretched out his arms, which, apparently, was some sort of signal.

When I get up and stretch, everyone start getting ready to go. Got it?

It must have been true because Mrs. Vincent got up and started thanking my mom profusely and asking her to come over with the whole family the next night, while Scotty Vincent headed for the boat without saying a word to anyone. He was not, generally speaking, a thankful kid. And his parents didn’t seem to care because they didn’t tell him to come back and thank my parents for the dinner, while Mr. Vincent slapped my dad on the back and said, “A little overcooked on those burgers, but the ketchup helped!” and laughed and laughed with Mrs. Vincent.

Kyle watched them get into the boat, a process that required a fair amount of time-consuming coordination between the three of them, and then he turned to go inside the blue cabin.

“See ya later,” said Scotty Vincent, sensing Kyle’s imminent departure before his own. “And hey—I like the beanbag. That thing is pretty comfortable.

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