A Gust of Ghosts Read Online Free Page B

help.”
    â€œI hate meditating,” Franny said. “My mind always goes blank. I never have a single thought in my head.”
    Will’s and Poppy’s eyes met.
    Poppy gave him a warning look. He winked in response.
    â€œToo easy,” he whispered.
    â€œJust send out warm and loving feelings to the Universe,” said Mrs. Malone. “That’s enough to make a ghost feel welcome.”
    Sighing, Poppy closed her eyes and tried to summon up warm and loving feelings. It turned out to be quite difficult. She kept getting sidetracked by little annoyances, like a bead of sweat rolling down her face or the whine of a mosquito next to her ear.
    She shifted to a more comfortable position and tried to concentrate. She had recently read a fascinating article about studies that had been done with Tibetan Buddhist monks who had spent decades learning the inner mysteries of meditation. Many were so skilled at focusing on their inner world that they could completely block out the discomforts of the outer world.
    Just pay attention to the sounds around you, she told herself. Forget about the heat, the bugs, and that sharp pebble under your left leg....
    She breathed slowly and listened.
    She heard her parents humming nasally, like contented, out-of-tune bees.
    She heard the squeak of a bat as it flew overhead.
    She heard a mysterious rustling in the grass behind her and tried not to imagine what it might be.
    And she heard the owl hoot again, a sound that seemed even more eerie with her eyes closed.
    Her thoughts wandered to what her mother had said. Some cultures believe that owls are guardians of the afterlife … they help souls transition from this plane of existence to the next....
    Poppy shivered slightly. She knew, of course, that the owl was simply letting other owls know that they shouldn’t think of hunting in his territory. But now, sitting in a dark graveyard, it was easy to imagine that it was calling out to the spirits it was charged with helping, guiding them on their path home.
    The owl hooted again.
    There’s nothing to be afraid of, she reminded herself. There’s nothing here. Nothing at all.
    The tree branches above Poppy’s head shook violently.
    She looked up, afraid that she would see a wild animal staring down at her, but the tree was empty.
    â€œDid anyone else hear something moving in these branches?” Poppy asked, edging her way from under the tree.
    â€œIt was probably just a squirrel,” said Mr. Malone, his eyes closed. “You have to expect wildlife when you go out into the wild.”
    â€œOr it could have been an evil wraith bent on driving us all insane,” suggested Will, who had once more stretched out on the ground in front of the granite headstone.
    â€œWill, please, not in front of—” Mrs. Malone tilted her head toward Rolly.
    â€œWhat?” Will asked innocently. “I’m just offering an alternate theory, in case the squirrel hypothesis doesn’t work out.”
    â€œAre there bad ghosts here?” asked Rolly, who sounded curious rather than scared.
    â€œOf course not, darling,” said Mrs. Malone. She opened her eyes to give him a reassuring look. “And even if there were, your father and I would simply”—she waved her hand in the air—“banish them!”
    Rolly fixed her with an unblinking stare. “How?”
    Mrs. Malone looked flustered. “Why, by using the, er, Gliffenberger Technique, of course.” She cast a desperate glance at Mr. Malone. “Isn’t that right, Emerson?”
    â€œHmm, what?” Mr. Malone opened one eye. “Oh yes, right. Gets rid of ghosts practically before you know you’ve got them.” He closed his eye again.
    â€œYou’ve never said anything about a Gliffenberger Technique before,” said Poppy. “Is it hard to do? How does it work?”
    â€œOh, you burn a smudge stick, say a few incantations, that sort of