A Good Night for Ghosts (2 page)

J
ack was asleep. He was dreaming that he was sleeping on a boat. It was rocking back and forth, back and forth…

“Jack.”

Jack opened his eyes. It was just getting light outside. Rain was tapping against the window-pane.
Tappity-tap-tap
. Jack closed his eyes again.

“Jack, get up.”

Jack opened one eye and looked up. Annie stood next to his bed. She was already dressed.
She was even wearing her raincoat. “They’re here,” she whispered.

“No, they’re not,” Jack said. He closed his eye.

“Yes, they are,” said Annie. “They’re waiting for us.”

“How do you know?” Jack asked.

“I dreamed it,” said Annie.

“Oh, you dreamed it.” Jack turned over and pulled the covers over his head. “Go back to bed. It’s really early, and it’s raining.”

“Come on, Jack,” said Annie. “I saw them. They were wearing their cloaks and looking out the tree house window.”

“Great,” said Jack. “I just dreamed I was sleeping on a boat.”

“But
my
dream was real, Jack,” said Annie.

Jack pretended to snore.

“Okay,” said Annie. “I guess you want me to go there all by myself. You want me to have a great adventure while you just lie here, dreaming about sleeping. If that’s really what you want, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Good,” said Jack. “Have fun.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” said Annie, and she left Jack’s room.

Jack lay still for a moment, listening to the rain fall outside.
Darn
, he thought,
what if she’s right?

Jack heaved a sigh. Then he climbed out of bed. He pulled on his clothes and grabbed his backpack. He slipped down the stairs, put on his rain boots and raincoat, then headed out the front door.

Annie was standing on the porch, waiting for him. “Ready?” she said.

Jack just grunted. But as he and Annie took off into the cool, rainy dawn, he woke up completely. As they charged up the sidewalk, Jack’s heart pounded with excitement. By the time they headed into the Frog Creek woods, Jack felt like he’d dreamed Annie’s dream, too.

Raindrops tapped on tree branches. Jack and Annie scrunched over fallen red and gold leaves until they came to the tallest oak. Jack looked up.

“Ta-da!” said Annie.

The tree house
was
back. And Teddy and
Kathleen were dressed in their dark cloaks, looking out the window.

A Good Night for Ghosts

“Good morning!” called Kathleen.

“We dreamed about you!” said Jack. “At least Annie did.”

Teddy and Kathleen smiled, as if this news didn’t surprise them at all.

Annie and Jack started up the rope ladder. When they climbed inside the tree house, they hugged the two young enchanters. “Welcome,” said Kathleen. Her beautiful sea-blue eyes sparkled.

“Do you have a new mission for us?” said Jack.

“Indeed,” said Teddy, smiling. “Just like last time, Merlin wants you to help a creative person bring his gifts to the world.”

“And
this
will help you,” said Kathleen. She pulled a book from her cloak.

“Great!” said Jack. He took the book from Kathleen. The cover showed a street parade with musicians playing trumpets and trombones. The title was
A History of New Orleans Music
.

“New Orleans?” said Annie.

“Yes, New Orleans, Louisiana,” said Kathleen.

“You will love this city,” said Teddy.

“Cool,” said Annie.

“And here is your magic flute.” Kathleen picked up a gleaming silver flute from the corner of the tree house. It was the magic flute Jack had played on their adventure in Vienna, Austria. “Only this time…” Kathleen tossed the flute into the air. It hovered for a moment, then began to twirl around and around. There was a flash of blue light—and the flute was gone! Floating in its place was a shining brass instrument.

Kathleen plucked the instrument from the air. “This time you will play a magic trumpet,” she said.

“Oh, man,” breathed Jack. “That’s incredible.”

“Yeah,” said Annie. “I’ve always wanted to play the trumpet.”

Kathleen laughed. “Well, this is your chance,” she said. “The trumpet’s magic will make you a brilliant performer.”

“But the magic can only happen once,” Teddy reminded Jack and Annie, “just as on your last journey with the magic flute. Play the trumpet only when you face your greatest danger.”

“And while one of us plays, the other has to make up a song, right?” said Annie. “And whatever we sing will come true.”

“Precisely,” said Teddy.

“Um… what danger will we face in New Orleans?” asked Jack.

“Perhaps none,” said Teddy. “But keep the magic trumpet with you just in case. And remember, after you have played it, the magic will be gone and it will become an ordinary trumpet.”

“Got it,” said Jack. He took a deep breath.

“Okay,” said Annie. “Ready?”

“Wait,” said Jack. “Can you tell us what kind of creative genius we’re looking for?”

“We can do more than that,” said Kathleen with a smile. “We can tell you his name. It is Louis Armstrong.”

“Louis Armstrong,” repeated Jack. He knew that name.

“He is the King of Jazz,” said Teddy.

“The King of Jazz?” said Annie. “Cool!”

“Yes,” said Kathleen. “But Louis Armstrong won’t know that when you meet him. It is your job to put him on the right path.”

“To give his gifts to the world,” said Annie. “Got it.”

“Good,” said Teddy. “And now you should go.”

“Right,” said Jack. He pointed at the cover of the book. “I wish we could go there,” he said. “To New Orleans!”

“To meet the King of Jazz!” said Annie.

“Good luck!” said Teddy as he and Kathleen waved good-bye.

The wind started to blow.

The tree house started to spin.

It spun faster and faster.

Then everything was still.

Absolutely still.

T
he hot, muggy air was filled with noise. Jack and Annie heard the
clippity-clop
of horses’ hooves. They heard voices calling out “Crawfish pies!” “Buttermilk!” “Gumbo for sale here!”

Jack looked down at his and Annie’s clothes. They were both wearing white shirts and dark trousers with suspenders. Jack’s backpack had turned into a cloth bag. Neither Jack nor Annie was wearing shoes.

“Wow, we’re barefoot. That’s cool,” said Annie. “And at least I can run in these pants. I like them a
lot better than the dress I wore on our last mission.”

“Yeah.” Jack smiled, remembering Annie’s long, frilly dress in Vienna and his velvet coat and white wig. “I like being barefoot, too,” he said. “But what year did we come to? I can’t tell from our outfits.”

Jack and Annie looked out the window. The tree house had landed in a grove of palm trees. Not far away, steamboats churned down a river. Below them was a bustling city scene. Rows of stores lined both sides of a wide street. Vendors were selling food from carts. Women shoppers wore long skirts, and men wore white suits and hats.

Mule carts and horse-drawn buggies bumped alongside a few antique-looking cars. Moving down the middle of the street were red and green train cars. Each one was attached to an electric line overhead.

“This is definitely a long time ago,” said Jack. “But when exactly?”

“I can’t tell,” said Annie.

“Maybe our research book can help us,” said Jack. “I’ll look up Louis Armstrong.” Jack looked in the index of
A History of New Orleans Music
and found a chapter on Louis Armstrong. He read:

A photo showed an African American man playing a trumpet. His cheeks were puffed out and his eyes were closed. Stage lights were shining on him. Thousands of people were in the audience. The caption under the photo read
Louis Armstrong, King of Jazz
.

“So what is
jazz
exactly?” asked Annie.

“It’s a kind of music,” said Jack.

“Well, yeah, but what kind?” said Annie.

Jack looked up
jazz
in the glossary of their book. He read:

“Got it,” said Annie. “Read more about Louis.”

Jack flipped back to the pages about Louis Armstrong and read:

“Stop. That’s all we need,” Annie broke in.

“It is?” asked Jack.

“Yep, we’ll just ask someone what the date is,” said Annie. “Then we can figure out how old Louis Armstrong is, and we’ll know where to look for him: the streets, a dance hall, or on the Mississippi River.”

Annie picked up the magic trumpet. She tucked
it under her arm and started down the rope ladder.

“I
guess
that’s a plan,” murmured Jack. “Sort of.” He put the New Orleans book in his bag and followed her.

In their bare feet, Jack and Annie hurried a short distance to the wide, busy street. A sign read CANAL STREET.

The sidewalks on both sides of Canal Street were crowded with vendors pushing carts and shouting in rich, loud voices.

“Buttermilk! Buttermilk! Fresh from the buttermilk man! Bring out your bucket! Bring out your can!” shouted a man.

“Blackberries! Mighty fine! Three sacks for a dime!” called an old woman.

“Read all the news! Chase away the blues!” sang a boy with newspapers.

“Let’s buy a paper,” said Jack. “It’ll tell us the date.”

Jack and Annie ran over to the boy selling newspapers.

“A paper, please,” said Annie.

“A penny, please,” said the boy.

Jack and Annie dug into their pockets.