Beetle Juice

Beetle Juice

Trail Mix, Volume Two

Piers Anthony

Wetzel was thinking about the haunted house as he played in the sand. It was some distance away from the village, in an overgrown field, and its roof was sagging down. The children were not allowed to go there. That of course made it fascinating.

Why was it forbidden? What secrets were hidden there? The more he thought about it, the more he had to know. But how could he find out? The adults were always watching, even when they didn't seem to be. They had telepathy they used to spy on children. It was unfair.

A girl came to join him. She was Willa, with blonde corkscrew curls, a pouty mouth, and he didn't really like her though she was the only one whose hair was almost as pale as his tow head. He preferred to play with boys. But she just plumped down before him and started rearranging his sand. He had started a castle with a wall around it; she started another castle, interrupting the wall.

“Your eyes are almost as white as your hair,” she said. “Or the sand. I like that.”

He saw no reason to be polite. “I don't care.”

“There's a way,” she murmured.

“I already know how to make a sand castle,” he said. “Better than any girl. Go away.”

“A way to explore the haunted house.”

He stared at her. How had she guessed about that? Yet she had his interest. “What way?”

“At night, when they think we're asleep. They don't watch us then. We can sneak out and see it by moonslight.”

“But they're watching us now,” he protested.

“No they aren't.”

“How can you know that?” Then he caught on. “The telepathy! You have it!”

“Yes. I'm precocious. Don't tell.”

Telepathy normally developed at puberty, along with the were forms, but some got it earlier. “I won't,” he said, awed.

“I knew I could trust you. There's something about you. Do we have a date?”

Wetzel was wickedly tempted. He knew that two of the four moons would be out this night, doubling the light. It would still be faint, but enough to see by. “Yes. But what if they read our minds?”

“We're just children. They don't bother unless we act funny. They've got better things to do than spy on us. Adult things. So act normal, and don't think about tonight.”

“How can I
not
think about it?”

“Think about chocolate cake and ice cream instead.”

Wetzel concentrated. “Like this?” He mentally pictured a cake the size of a house, dripping with chocolate sauce.

She licked her lips. “That's it.”

That evening when the others slept and the adult proctor was diverted by a book, Wetzel got up, dressed, and snuck out. It was surprisingly easy. The proctor could have caught him any time, but simply didn't expect this, so missed it. Willa was right: adults really didn't pay much attention to behaving children.

Willa met him outside, having sneaked out similarly from the girls' dorm. She took his hand and led him down the street and out of the village. Wetzel was phenomenally excited to be doing this illicit exploration.

“Stop it!” she hissed. “You'll alert them.”

The mind reading; he had forgotten. “Chocolate cake and ice cream,” he said, focusing.

“That's it. Children are always thinking about things like that.”

“But not you?”

“I have other concerns.”

“What concerns?”

“You'll see.”

He wasn't sure he trusted this. “What concerns?” he repeated, halting his walk.

“Get moving,” she said impatiently.

“What if I don't?”

“I'll kiss you.”

“Ha.”

She stepped close, put her arms around him, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Okay, okay, I'm moving!” he said quickly.

“Worse, you liked it.”

“I did not!” But he was lying.

“You forgot again that I can read your mind. But that wasn't my other concern.”

“The hunted house!” he said, glad to change the subject. Then, quickly: “Chocolate cake!”

“That too,” she agreed.

“You knew I was thinking about it today. That's why you came to my sand lot.”

“You're pretty smart, for a boy.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

The moons were indeed bright. They made their way to the lot where the house lurked. There it was, twice as sinister in the half light. Wetzel felt a chill of apprehension.

“Ooh come
on,”
Willa said, forging toward it so that he had to follow. “You know there's no such thing as haunts. Not really.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I read some minds. The adults don't believe in anything supernatural. They've investigated, and know. I have to believe them.”

“Maybe they're just thinking it for your benefit, knowing you're peeping.”

“No they aren't.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I snooped on stuff I
know
they don't want kids to know about.”

“Like what?”

“Like breeding.”

Well, now. That was an even bigger curiosity than the haunted house. Wetzel, like all children, knew that the adults did it, but none would let a child see it happen, or even describe it to them. Something about a man and a woman, naked, together. The rest was a blank. “You have seen it?”

“Yes, mentally. Keep your thoughts down.”

“Chocolate cake,” he said, summoning the mental image. “Will you tell me?”

“Soon. First we must explore the house.”

Oh. That was why they had come here. At least, it was why he had; he wasn't sure about Willa, since she didn't believe in haunts. “Yes.”

They reached the house. It loomed huge, up close, with a big closed front door, smudged windows, and weeds tying to get in under it.

Willa put her hand on the door handle and turned it. She pushed and the door creaked inward to reveal the darkness within. Wetzel felt another thrill of nervousness. Could there really be ghosts?

“Oh, for Peter's sake!” Willa snapped. “Get rational.”

“Sorry.” Yet it was hard to put aside the phantasms of his fancy. He did not have the reassurance of reading informed adult minds. After all, there must be some reason the house was forbidden to children.

“It's too dark,” Willa decided. “I'll light my candle.”

“You have a candle?”

“It's called being prepared, dodo.” She brought out a dish candle and a flint striker, and in a moment had a spark and a flame.

“Neat,” Wetzel said. She obviously did know what she was doing. Too bad she was such a grouch.

“I heard that.”

Oops. He wasn't used to having his mind read by a child, especially a nervy girl. Now he had to defend his position. “Well, you are. Why can't you just be smart without being snotty?”

“Oh, and you're smart without being superior?”

Wetzel laughed. “I'm neither smart nor superior. I'm just curious about things.”

She softened. “You are smart. Smarter than I am. The adults think so, anyway.”

That was a surprise. “They never told me.”

She smiled. She was pretty when she did that. Maybe it was the flickering candlelight. “Or me. I snooped it. They think you have great potential. That's why I wanted to get to know you better.”

Wetzel was amazed. “So it's not really about the haunted house.”

“See? You caught on already.”

“Just common sense.” But he was pleased, and coming to like her better. Or at least dislike her less.

And of course she knew it. “The time may come when you actually want my favor,” she said.

“Never.” But his denial lacked force.

They edged in, their eyes adjusting to the interior gloom and the flickering light. The house was empty, with dust layered everywhere. Nobody had been in it for a long time. But of course ghosts wouldn't leave tracks.

“Every time I think you have potential, you get back into that supernatural garbage,” she said severely.

“Sorry.” He was guilty of that.

Indeed, there was no sign of ghosts or any other supernatural threat. It was just an ordinary deserted house. Wetzel was almost disappointed. The mystery had been more intriguing than the reality.

“But there must be a reason they don't want us here,” Willa said.

“And that's what brings you here,” Wetzel said. “Not spooks, but the mystery.”

“That too,” she agreed.

“You said that before.”

“It was true before.”

Well, she would surely tell him her real reason when she was ready.

“Yes I will.”

Damn that telepathy! His mind was an open book to her. Suppose he thought of something naughty, like pooping on the path? She'd know.

Willa giggled. “Yes.”

Wetzel suppressed his embarrassment and plowed on. “Maybe there's something in the cellar.”

They made their way down the creaky cellar stairs. The cellar was small and lined with stone, evidently serving as a storm shelter in time of need. It was empty.

“Well, that's it,” Willa said. “No spooks here. No hidden treasure. It's just an empty house.”

“Not worth the risk,” Wetzel agreed.

“Fortunately no one knows we're here. There's a faint trace when a person reads your mind, and there's none now.”

“There is? I mean, a trace when someone does?”

“Yes. I'll show you. Listen carefully, mentally, and I'll snoop. See if you can feel it.”

Wetzel tried to blank his mind. Then he did feel a little odd feathery something, like a soundless whisper. “I got it!”

“Right. You can't tell who, just that someone's there. When you do, you have to quickly do chocolate cake until they stop.”

“Wow,” he said, awed.

Willa set the candle on the floor between them. “Now we can talk.” She sat down on the stone floor, her knees raised.

In that position, her legs showed under her skirt, flickering in the candlelight. Wetzel knew he shouldn't look, but couldn't help himself. Forbidden territory of any type intrigued him. And realized she was reading his mind again. “Sorry.”

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He was startled. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She knew that he wanted a peek. “But we're not supposed to. That's why the dorms are separate.”

“Precisely. That's why I want to see it.”

He was wickedly intrigued, but cautious. “But you've read the minds of adults, so you've seen it already.”

“I've seen it in my mind, and felt the huge pleasure they get from it. But that's not the same as seeing it physically. What I've snooped on makes me truly curious to see exactly what's there, so I can know better how it relates.”

“That's why you're showing me your legs! You want me to want to see more. So I'll show you mine.”

“Precisely. And it's working.”

“It's working,” he agreed. “Still, we're not supposed to. We could get in trouble.”

“Not if we don't tell.”

“But they'll read our minds.”

“Not if they don't suspect. Think chocolate cake.”

Wetzel wasn't sure how well that would work. But his guilty curiosity overwhelmed his caution. “Okay. Who's first?”

“I am, since it's my idea. But you've got to do it too.”

“I will.” He knew she was reading his sincerity. She had made an impression on him, and now he was committed.

Willa, stood, then drew off her shirt. Her chest was flat like his; no surprise there. Then she stepped out of her shoes, pulled down her skirt and stood in her panties. Wetzel was really excited. He was about to see the secret place of girls.

Then she froze.

“What's the matter?” he asked. Had she lost her nerve?

“Suddenly I know why this house is forbidden,” she said.