My Friends Are Dead People (4 page)

Oz managed a hesitant nod. “Katie, you’re
too young.”

“
Yeah. But it’s okay. The
younger, the better.”

“
What?”

“
I mean, when you’re
younger, then . . . you know how grown-ups hear all that negative
stuff. I haven’t yet. I’ll keep Alfredo safe from all that, and I
won’t let mí foster mamá within a mile of him. Jesse’s going to
help. He’s going to make a wooden fort outside for us to stay in,
like a three-story house or something. With some windows and a
toilet.”

“
He can’t make a–”
Something clicked in Oz’s mind. I could tell she had figured it
out.

“
All I want is to go out
on Halloween. Think of Alfredo.”

“
Katie, are you lying to
me? Let me see your stomach.”

Katie took out the pillow. Great! We were
never going to go trick-or-treating. I was about to stand up, but
then Katie shook her head at me.

“
Oz, why don’t you let
Jesse go out on Halloween? You might as well not celebrate
Christmas or Thanksgiving.”

“
I’m sorry, Katie, but I
don’t want him going outside on Halloween.”

“
But him missing Halloween
is like me missing Cinco De Mayo.”

“
But you’re not Mexican.
You’re Bolivian.”

“
I know, but it’s fun. Did
you know asking for candy is like asking for soul
cakes?”

“
No. Katie, is this all
they teach you in school?”

“
No. I learned it from a
book mí papá gave me. You know Halloween dates all the way back to
a man named ‘sow-en’. It’s spelled s-a-m-h-a-i-n. I hate words like
that. Makes me wanna re-write the dictionary.”

Oz actually seemed to be taking an interest
in Katie's rambling.

“
Samhain was a Celt who
believed the living could live with the dead.”

“
You lost me,” said
Oz.

She had lost me, too.

“
The Celts lived thousands
of years ago in Ireland and the UK and Northern France and
Asia.”

Oz, misty-eyed and wistful, stared past
Katie. “My ex-husband loved Halloween. Every year he waited eagerly
for it. He didn’t like to go out, but he loved to decorate and
celebrate it inside. I never knew anyone who loved this day as much
as he did.”

“
Is he the reason you
don’t celebrate Halloween?”

“
Yes and no.”

“
You know it’s been seven
years since Jesse was mugged. You’re going to have to let him go
outside sometime. He’s thirteen.”

“
I know.” She took a
moment to think. “You want to hear a story?”

“
Yeah.”

Both of them sat down at the table. I got up
and kneeled on the couch.

“
I was about your age.
Well, maybe a couple of years younger. Not as beautiful as you, but
a decent looking girl.”

“
You really think I’m
beautiful?” asked Katie.

“
You know Jesse likes you?
I read it in his journal.”

I leaned so far in the sofa that it nearly
fell backwards. I couldn’t believe she said that. I couldn’t
believe she read my journal. And I never said I liked Katie. I said
she was a good looking girl. I hated Oz! Thank God, she continued
with her story.

“
I was a witch for the
first time that Halloween.”

“
I told you.”

“
I guess a witch does fit
me. Well, my father would tell me a story every Halloween about a
goblin he saw when he was little going into his barn cellar and
taking a few boxes of Mouthful Sweets – they were very popular
candy back then.”

“
Wow,” said Katie in
awe.

“
That’s exactly what I
said. I didn’t miss a single Halloween after that. I made my father
take me to the farm every Halloween.”

“
You ever see
it?”

“
I wish I could say yes,
but after two years, traveling got tiresome. We went
trick-or-treating at home from then on. Anyway, one Halloween, a
couple minutes before twelve, my father called me inside for a late
supper. But I waited a little longer, and then–”

“
You saw the
goblin?”

“
No,” smiled Oz. “But I
did see something. As I stood up to go inside, I glanced at the
full moon and saw–”

“
What?” Katie exclaimed.
“What did you see?”

“
A witch. I swear there
was a witch on her broom flying across the moon.”

“
Wow.”

“
You know what? My father
had been standing right behind me the whole time. I can remember
his exact words: ‘Father’s gettin’ old, but I know what I saw. I
don’t wanna see ya’ wearin’ that witch robe every day now, ya’
hear?’
And that’s why I’ve always gone as
a witch for Halloween.”

“
That’s an awesome
story.”

“
What are you going to be
for Halloween?”

“
A witch.”

I didn't care if Katie didn't want me to
come into the kitchen. I wanted to know about Oz's life, too.

“
Ready?” Katie said to me
when I came in.

“
Ready for what?” I asked,
spotting a bag of dirt in her hand. “What’s the dirt
for?”

“
You said you wanna be
dead. That means you gotta be dirty.”

“
No, it
doesn’t.”

“
Yes, it does.”

“
Really?”

“
Yup. No dirt, no dead
boy. But I have to get the glue at home. You don’t have any. So,
Oz, wanna come? It’ll be two witches and . . . him.”

Oz almost laughed.

“
Yeah, that’s a funny
one,” I said, not impressed. It was just a matter of time before Oz
told Katie to go trick-or-treating alone. What was Katie thinking?
Oz never said yes.

“
So?” said Katie. “Can we
go out on Halloween?”

“
Okay,” she answered. “But
only for a little bit.”

“
I’ll be back!” yipped
Katie, already opening the door. We could hear her singing down the
outside entryway. “
Shake your head, it’s
halloween - crust that head, paint that face, dress those hips and
funny feet. Now you’re ready to dance
. .
.
”

“
Katie’s not a bad
singer,” said Oz. “Maybe you two should start a band.”

I pulled a freakishly ugly face.

“
So . . .” Oz looked like
she wasn’t sure what to say.

I couldn’t believe that she had changed her
mind. She always thought Halloween was a dangerous holiday. I
believed her a little. There was a possibility that candy could be
stuffed with bugs.

“
Oz, I don’t have to
go.”

“
I think we all need a
little fun."

What was going on? Now she was calling
Halloween fun? “Will you let me eat the candy?” I asked.

“
Not until I check
it.”

“
For bugs?”

“
What do you mean for
bugs?”

“
Never mind.”

“
So, you going as a ghost,
then?”

“
Uhmm . . . I
guess.”

Oz was pensive for a long time, then stood
up and said, “Come with me. I want to show you what I've been
hiding from you.” She headed toward the cabinet with the safety box
that had the orange envelope inside.

CHAPTER FOUR

OZ
’
S SECRET

Oz walked right past the cabinet and into
the hallway where she pushed aside a rug. She then pulled out a
chair from the corner and slid the legs into four holes in the
floor.

“
Step back,” she said,
stepping up on the chair so she stood on top of it.

I took a step back.

“
More.”

I was almost back in the kitchen. Thinking
she was going to pull down an attic door, I looked up, but nothing
was there.

Oz kneeled down a little, then jumped up and
stomped down on the chair so the legs sank halfway into the floor,
causing a large jolt of the entire house. I quickly grabbed onto
the cabinet while Oz casually stepped off of the chair.

“
Just one more
thing.”

She walked further down the hall and removed
a painting of an Australian spider off the wall. Behind it was
another hole. She pulled out a broom from the hall cupboard and
stuck the handle into the hole and pushed it in as far as it could
go.

“
Okay,” she sighed.
“That’s it. Follow me.”

I followed her into her freezing cold
bedroom, filled with a thick layer of fog.

“
Come on,” said Oz
cheerfully, standing next to a part of the wall that had been
pushed out. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

What was she talking about? There was fog in
her bedroom.

I inched my way around the protrusion,
seeing a flight of muddy stairs spiraling down under the
floorboards.

“
W-we’re g-going
down
there
?” I
stuttered in the cold. “It’s dark.”

“
It’s not that dark. . . .
It gets quite damp down there,” she added as she handed me a box of
matches. “Go on. There’s a lantern on the wall. It’s very old so be
careful with it.”

“
You’re g-going,
right?”

“
It’s better if you
experience it by yourself. And don’t daydream down there or you’ll
fall off.”

“
What do you mean fall
off? I don’t want to go if there’s a chance – Oz, aren’t you
worried that I might fall?”

“
Jess, you’ll be fine.
Just take one step at a time.”

Great. I took a step forward and landed in a
pile of mud. I took a few more, and reached the flat ground. It was
pitch black the rest of the way. I couldn’t do this. I turned back,
but there was now a wall blocking the opening. I quickly snatched
the lantern off its hook and without hesitation pulled out a match
and lit it.

“
Oz?” I yelled, lifting up
a rusty iron lantern with green glass panels. There was a slight
echo. “I don't want to do this!"

Running footsteps above me
thumped across the floorboards. What was she doing now? Well, it
really didn’t matter. I had had just about enough of her scares. I
held the lantern out and started my descent, taking one step at a
time, which was hard in itself because I could only see the step I
was on. Luckily, there weren’t that many and the next passage was a
long corridor lit with tiny lamps. The walls were lined top to
bottom with black bricks and dirty roots, leaving space in the
middle for ragged plywood and locked cupboards labeled with names
like
Lingering Tom
and
Boo Goth
Lawrence
. One label said:
James Skool
, a
babel gargoyle
who died
in
Wandering Lost
from a
malicauht’s nevetru
curse
in
H.D.
2439
.

A little ways down, there was a stone
werewolf sculpted into the plywood. Most of its body was hidden
inside the wall, and its head was at the top corner, easily eight
feet high. I lifted the lantern above my head to get a better look
at the scary face. It looked a little like Charles. The label for
it was blank. That was kind of creepy.

I lowered my head as I hurried by the
sculpture.

Hello
.

The voice was deep and eerie. I peeked back
and saw a dark shape move smoothly into the glow of my lantern and
over to the sculpture.

"Hello," it said again to the sculpture.

I couldn’t tell what it was. One thing for
sure, it did not move like a person. The ghostly silhouette eyed
the sculpture for a moment, then planted a small pumpkin at the
werewolf's stone feet. The black ghost turned its featureless face
back to me, then disappeared.

Scared, I ran out of the passage and
stumbled out onto a flight of stairs, made of branches and sheets
of distorted plywood. There wasn’t any railing or wall this time,
or was there a ceiling. All I could see beyond the steps were huge
tree branches stretched high above me. Inside the crevice of one,
there was a crooked sign.

Y o u a r e two-h u n d r e d f e e t b e l
o w

Oh, my God, what was this place? Why did I
just find out about this underground today?

I took a deep breath and continued. The
stairway went on and on, taking me deeper underground and further
away from the lit corridor. Every so often there would be another
marker telling me how far below the house I was. I stopped reading
them after a while, turning my attention to staying on the path
while dodging countless bugs crawling all over the steps.

All of a sudden, I ran smack into a bundle
of prickly branches.

“
Ow!” I yelped, whacking
the branches away and scrambling forward.

Just ahead of me was a massive tree trunk
with an enormous owl hole. I knew exactly what kind of tree it was.
It was a sequoia, said to be the tallest tree in the world, and I
was somewhere high up in it, slowly descending it by its
branches.

To the sides of the hole were two wooden
werewolf statues, each with terrified expressions and clutching a
rotten pumpkin to its chest. I bowed my head once again and hurried
past the statues and into the hole. The inside was as big as my
bedroom. There were empty shelves built into the walls, an angled
roof and a deep alcove with a single door at the back. I shakily
put the lantern as far out in front of me as possible. Living in
the door itself was a snoring jack-o’-lantern with flaring
triangular nostrils, breathing hot air. Its eyes were shut, but
every time it snorted, the eyelids fluttered, illuminating a red
light from inside. How was this possible? How was all this
possible? I was inside a sequoia, hundreds of feet below my
house.