Frightfully Friendly Ghosties by Daren King Page A

picked up her breakfast tray and threw it at me.”
    â€œPerhaps she wasn’t hungry.”
    Wither frowned. “Why are the still-alives so mean?”
    â€œI told you they wouldn’t help,” said Charlie, putting his hat back on. “We’ll have to move the key ourselves. Tabitha, you can move objects.”
    â€œOh, not terribly well.”
    â€œDon’t be modest. You’re a poltergeist.”

    â€œI could try.” I closed my eyes, then opened them again.
    â€œNo. I simply cannot do it.”
    â€œTry again.”
    I tried, and the key jiggled.
    â€œYou must think I’m a frightful show-off.”
    â€œNot at all,” said Charlie and Wither together.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Wither said to Charlie, “I didn’t mean to talk over you.”
    â€œNo,” said Charlie, “it was I who spoke over you. Tabitha, do try again.”
    â€œFace the other way,” I said. “I can’t do it with you two watching.”
    Charlie and Wither turned to the wall.
    â€œNo peeking.” I gave the key a good jiggle. It jiggled and jingled and jangled, but stubbornly refused to move from the hook.
    â€œIt isn’t your fault,” said Wither.
    â€œDon’t blame yourself,” Charlie said, adjusting his tie. “The hook is an awkward shape.”

3
    Rusty Chains

    We floated about for a bit, and then Charlie had an idea. “There is only one ghosty who can free the key from that hook, and that ghosty is Rusty Chains.”
    Every ghosty has a ghostly ability. Rusty Chains has the ability to make things old and rusty. He also has the ability to bore a ghosty to tears. He drags these heavy chains around, so it takes him forever to do anything.
    â€œI’ll wisp away and find him,” said Wither.
    â€œCharlie should go,” I said. “He’s the only ghosty who can pass through.”
    â€œNot sure I can,” said Charlie, and he blushed bright white.
    â€œYou just passed through the lounge door.”
    â€œIt was a very thin door, Tabitha.”
    â€œCharlie Vapor,” I said, “this is no time for false modesty. Pamela is locked in the attic with a leggy spider, and we three are floating around doing nothing.”
    Charlie adjusted his tie. “Perhaps I shall pass through a teeny bit. Not enough to show off, just enough to find Rusty.”
    Wither was losing his patience. “Oh, get on with it!”
    Charlie removed his hat—it’s the polite thing to do—and poked his head through the tiled floor. “Rusty? Coo-ee! Has any ghosty seen Rusty Chains? Ah, Rusty. Would you mind floating up here to help us?”
    It took Rusty one hour to drag his chains up the cellar stairs and another hour to drag them along the hallway to the front door.
    â€œIs this it?” asked Rusty Chains, eyeing the hook.
    We nodded our ghostly heads.
    â€œI can’t do it now. I have to float back down to the cellar, then jangle my chains and moan a lot.”
    Wither folded his bony arms. “But it took you two hours to get here. How long does it take to dab a bit of rust on a hook?”
    â€œAnything for a quiet life,” moaned Rusty, rattling his chains noisily.
    â€œJust the hook,” said Charlie. “We don’t want to damage the key.”
    Rusty dabbed the hook with his rusty chains. The hook turned brown and crumbled to dust, and the key chinked onto the tiles.
    â€œHow did you keep the rust off the key?” asked Charlie.
    â€œI didn’t think about it. I just jangled my chains and moaned a lot.”
    â€œYou miserable old moaner!”
    â€œCharlie,” said Wither, “don’t be mean. Rusty, we are grateful for your help.”
    â€œThank you, Rusty,” I said. “Charlie, are you going to thank Rusty?”
    Charlie removed his hat—it’s the polite thing to do—replaced it on his head, and shook Rusty Chains by the