CHAPTER 12

In the Ghost Room

I went with Seamus Finn to room 107.

“It’s a little crummy,” Seamus said.

“Do you smell that funny smell?” I asked. “Do you think that’s a ghost smell?”

“I think it’s a crummy-room smell,” Seamus Finn said.

It may have been a little crummy. The furniture was sort of scuffed, and the rug was worn, and there was that crummy smell—but it was my own personal hotel room, and I was pleased with it.

“Take a seat,” I said to Seamus Finn. He sat in the beat-up chair. “May I offer you a glass of water?”

“So, how come you’re traveling on your own?” Seamus Finn asked.

I told him all about missing the train, and Mr. MacDougal, and how he was going to try to get me on a train to Los Angeles, only it was going to be difficult.

“There are lots of soldiers, and cowboys and families on vacation,” I said. “I’m kind of hoping he winds up putting me in the crew car—or maybe I could ride in the engine.”

“That would be neat,” Seamus Finn said. “But I just got another idea. My father and I are going to drive back to Los Angeles pretty soon. I could ask him if you could come along with us.”

“That would be great!” I said. “Nearly as good as riding with the engineer. I mean, driving with Dart-Onion and all.”

“It’s not all that interesting,” Seamus Finn said. “I mean, he doesn’t have a sword or anything. But we’re going to the Grand Canyon tomorrow. I’ll ask him. I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

“Ask him if I can come too,” someone else said.

We both jumped straight up in the air. There was someone else in the room! We had forgotten all about the ghost for a minute.

“I’m serious. I take up hardly any room. Ask your father.” The person doing the talking was a bellboy. I had only seen bellboys in movies and cartoons, but I knew what they looked like. This was a kid, maybe a little older than Seamus and me—he had a short red jacket with brass buttons and shoulder straps, one of those round bellboy hats, and a pair of white gloves under one shoulder strap.

“How’d you get in here?” I asked the bellboy.

“I just came in. My name is Billy. So, how about it? Will you ask your father if I can come along?”

I was noticing something about Billy, and Seamus Finn was noticing it too. He was just a little bit transparent. Seamus said, “Billy, is it my imagination, or can I sort of see through you?”

“No, it’s not your imagination,” Billy said. “I’m a ghost, as if you didn’t know. I’m the Phantom Bellboy, and thanks for not screaming or acting like an idiot.”

“So . . . you’re . . . uh . . . dead?” I asked Billy.

“Well, I’m a ghost. You figure it out.”

There was a long silence. Seamus sat in the chair, I sat on the bed, and Billy the Phantom Bellboy stood there, being slightly transparent. It was a weird feeling, being in a room with a ghost.

Seamus Finn was less uncomfortable than I was—probably came from growing up around movie stars and all that. “So, what, do you, uh, just haunt?”

“Pretty much,” Billy the Phantom Bellboy said. “There doesn’t seem to be much else to do. The truth is, it’s fairly boring. That’s why I’d like to come with you to Los Angeles.”

“I’d have to ask my father,” Seamus Finn said.

“I’m no trouble,” Billy said. “I don’t eat, don’t take any space, and I’m very polite. At least take me with you to see the Grand Canyon.”

Billy the Phantom Bellboy told us that what he did, day in and day out, was knock on the door of room 107 and then disappear. Sometimes he would let the guests get a glimpse of him, and sometimes he just wouldn’t be there when they opened the door. “And that’s it. That’s the whole routine. Tell me, how long would it take you to get bored with a job like that?”

“Are you able to leave the hotel? I thought ghosts had to more or less stay in one place.”

“I go across the street to the bakery sometimes,” Billy said. “They have good sweet rolls.”

“I thought you didn’t eat,” I said.

“I like to sniff them,” Billy said. “Take me with you. I’ve had it with this town.”

There was a knock on the door. I opened it and there was Aaron Finn, looking like a movie.

“Father, this is Neddie Wentworthstein,” Seamus Finn said. “He got left behind by the Super Chief and is trying to get to Los Angeles. I told him maybe he could come along with us.”

“I don’t see why not,” Aaron Finn said. “But I’d need to speak to someone in charge of you.”

“You can tell Mr. MacDougal at the railroad station,” I said. “And my parents will be at the Hermione Hotel in Los Angeles tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll give them a call,” Aaron Finn said. “And, if it’s all right with them, you’re welcome to come with us. And who is this?”

“This is Billy,” Seamus Finn told his father. “He’s the Phantom Bellboy. He’s a ghost.”

“Really?” Aaron Finn said, peering at Billy. “A ghost, eh? I do see he is rather transparent. This is excellent. I’ve never met a ghost. I might have a part as a ghost sometime. So you’re a ghost, are you?”

“Dead as a doornail,” Billy said.

“Billy wants to come with us too,” Seamus Finn said.

“Absolutely! Welcome, Billy. I seem to remember there was a script with a very good part for a ghost. I suppose you know all about being one, do you, Billy?”

“I know what there is to know,” Billy said. “I’m the real thing. Do you think I could find something to do in Hollywood, Mr. Finn?”

“Oh, yes—technical advisor sort of thing, I’m sure. You come with us, young man—or is it old man?”

“I’m fifty-seven, if you count from when I was born,” Billy said.

“Imagine that,” Aaron Finn said. “Well, let’s discuss this at breakfast.”

“I’m not supposed to go into the dining room,” Billy said. “It upsets some people.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Aaron Finn said. “Well, in the morning then. We’ll make arrangements for Neddie here, and then it’s off to the Grand Canyon. Very pleased to have met you both.”

Aaron Finn and my new friend Seamus Finn went off to their deluxe room, Billy the Phantom Bellboy went to do some haunting, and I turned in, in my very own hotel room.