Golden Box Book Publishing Three Ghosts in a Black Pumpkin | Page 20

As they walked back to the house, taking turns carrying the
heavy pumpkin, Jack glanced at Nikki. He grinned and thought:
I fooled you this time. You don’t know that I have a box of stick
matches in my pocket, and I’m going to play with fire whenever
I want to.
When they got back to Grandma Sweet’s house, they walked
around to the front porch and sat down on the steps leading up
to the front door. While Jack turned the black pumpkin over
and over in his hands, studying it, Nikki removed the book of
matches from her pocket and put it on the step beside her.
“We need a knife to carve that pumpkin,” Nikki said. “I’ll get
one from the kitchen.”
Jack pulled his phone from the right front pocket of his jeans.
“Can I take just one picture so I can show it to my friends?” he
asked.
“I guess so, Jack,” said Nikki. “A black pumpkin is pretty
weird.”
“I wouldn’t do either of those two things, if I were you, kids,”
said a strange, chiming voice out of nowhere.
Nikki and Jack were stunned. They turned and looked around.
“Who said that?” Nikki demanded.
“I did,” the voice replied.
The two cousins could now pinpoint where the voice was
coming from and looked up at Mister Bonejingles, the silver
wind chime.
They jumped to their feet at the same time.
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