Pleasing the Ghost by Sharon Creech

Author:Sharon Creech
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: HarperCollins

8

NOD MAILER

On Monday after school I dashed home, where Bo leaped on me, plastering my clothes with sloppy drools. My mother was still at work. “Come on, Bo,” I said. “Let’s get Uncle Arvie.”

I was relieved to find Uncle Arvie awake. He was sitting on my desk holding a picture of his wife. “Pin sweel Heartfoot,” Uncle Arvie sighed.

Through the window I saw Billy Baker riding his bike across the park, toward the spot where we had agreed to meet. “Uncle Arvie, I have a favor to ask,” I said.

“A please?”

“Yes. I want you to show Billy Baker that you know how to fly.”

“Pin mailer!” Uncle Arvie shouted, flapping his arms.

“Not yet.” I led Uncle Arvie downstairs and across the street to where Billy Baker sat on his bike, his arms crossed over his chest. “So let’s see him fly,” he said. “I don’t have all day, you know.”

“Pin mailer?” Uncle Arvie said.

“What’s he talking about?” Billy asked. “What’s a pin mailer?”

“You’ll see,” I said. “Uncle Arvie, go ahead. Show him. Fly!”

Uncle Arvie straightened his cowboy hat and stretched his arms. He flapped them once, twice, three times. “Foomf!” he said. Again he flapped his arms, this time faster. Once, twice, three times. “Foomf!”

Billy said, “Oh man, oh man. I could fly better than that!”

“Wait,” I said. “Sometimes it takes a while for him to warm up.”

Billy looked at his watch. “Like I said, I don’t have all day. He’d better hurry.”

Uncle Arvie tried again. He wiggled and wobbled his arms. He flapped them up and down and waved them all around. He turned in circles. “Foomf! Foomf!” he grunted.

Nothing happened.

“Stupid geezer,” Billy said. “Stupid dog. Stupid kid.” He was trying to sound mad, but I had the feeling he was disappointed—as if he really wanted to see Uncle Arvie fly, as if he really wanted Uncle Arvie to be a ghost. He circled us on his bike. “Man, are you gonna be sorry,” he said, and he rode off.

Uncle Arvie frowned. “Nod mailer.” He looked pitiful.

Across the street my mother was getting off the bus. “Hi!” she called. “How was your day?”

“Terrible, just terrible.”

“That bad? Well, come on in and tell me about it.”

From the kitchen we heard a crash and a thud upstairs. In my bedroom we discovered the shattered window and, on the floor, a rock. Pieces of glass covered the carpet.

“Oh!” my mother said, looking out the window. “Who would do such a nasty thing?”

“Beany bud booger,” Uncle Arvie said.

I wanted to tell her who had done it, but if I did, she might call Billy’s parents. Then he’d never go away. “Maybe it was an accident,” I said.

“Let’s hope so,” she said, but she didn’t seem convinced.

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