Graveyards and Ghoulies: Hallo-Tween, #1

By Chynna Pace

MEET TUESDAY SKULLCAP, THE MIDDLE GRADE VERSION OF SABRINA THE TEENAGE WITCH.

Tuesday Skullcap doesn't realize there's a reason her favorite holiday's Halloween and she's drawn to spooky things like a magnet and her best friend is a snarky black cat named Nightshade. Until her twelfth birthday. Then her whole world is turned upside down when her family reveals she is a witch, a witch who's just come into her full powers. But Tuesday barely has time to get used to her new reality before she is thrust into the most dangerous adventure of her life. Can her new powers keep her out of trouble? Or will the supernatural weirdness of her small town get the best of her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chynna Pace
• Release date: Oct 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215545539

Book preview

Chapter 1

When Tuesday Skullcap woke up on Friday, October the tenth, she knew her twelfth birthday was going to be the absolute worst birthday of her life. Knew it the second she smelled the eye-watering stench wafting up the stairs to her tower bedroom.

Whatever the heck that is, it’s NOT the FBB!

Tuesday threw the covers off her with a grunt and looked at the black furball lying in the bed beside her. Nightshade was jerking up his head in surprise at her sudden movement. Tuesday felt bad for waking up her cat—who was her absolute best friend, when Briana and Kacey weren’t around.

But the smell made it hard to think of anything else—yes, including poor Nightshade’s sleep. But hey, he was a cat. He’d take at least thirty thousand more naps before the day was over.

Tuesday, on the other hand, had to brave a breakfast that was most definitely not her FBB. That was torture at its finest.

The FBB, or Fabulous Birthday Breakfast, as Tuesday coined it, was a tradition that had been going strong for as long as Tuesday could remember. Normally, her mom and Aunt Comfrey liked to make nutritious breakfasts, which usually meant tasteless, gloopy, and barf-worthy. Things like chia seed oatmeal, kale smoothies, and bran muffins.

Maybe it was because her mom and aunt owned a nursery and were around plants 24/7 that made them so obsessed with healthy eating.

But despite all that, every year Tuesday could look forward to her birthday, the one day a year her family prepared the Fabulous Birthday Breakfast—which was always sugary and fattening, never green and lumpy.

But if that awful smell was anything to go by, that tradition had fallen by the wayside.

Tuesday rolled out of bed, slipped on her purple slippers—which matched her newly and awesomely dyed hair—and ran out of her tower bedroom and down the steep, stone stairs leading to the lower floors of the house. Well, the Skullcap residence was much more of a spooky Halloweentown manor, as Tuesday liked to think of it, than anything else. With its spires, turrets, and the very witch’s tower Tuesday lived in, it was known around town as the most haunted building in all of Whitley Corners. Tuesday thought it was pretty dang cool she lived in a haunted house (even though she’d never seen any ghosts herself, unfortunately), but right then, she wasn’t thinking about her cool house.

In fact, all she could think about was how very uncool it was that she wouldn’t be having her special breakfast on her most exciting birthday yet!

Tuesday ran as fast she could, flying past the shiny armored knights guarding the corners of the third and second floors, until she skidded to a stop outside the grand double doors leading to the dining room.

Inside, Tuesday’s worst fears were confirmed.

The dining table had a massive feast spread out on it. But none of it was the usual suspects of her FBB.

"What the flaming unicorn is all this?" Tuesday cried.

With a laugh, Aunt Comfrey, who was setting down a bowl of what looked like liquefied brains, looked up and said, That’s a new one.

Tuesday turned away from her smirking, auburn-haired aunt and focused on her mom. Tilia Skullcap was a beautiful woman, with her blond-streaked chestnut hair and her collection of long, pretty dresses. But right then, as she was setting a platter of what looked like grilled organs on the table, Tuesday had never seen anyone more hideous.

Mom! she gasped. "Am I being punished? Where’s the hot cocoa piled high with whipped cream and caramel sauce? The triple chocolate peanut butter pancakes? My favorite bacon?"

Tilia Skullcap sent her daughter a guilty grin. "Tues, honey, don’t get yourself riled up. We know it’s your birthday, and we promise to feed you something fattening and delicious for your special birthday dinner tonight. But right now—"

Right now, Aunt Comfrey interrupted, you need all the nutrients you can get.

She lifted a billowy sleeved arm and shook out her hand, pointing at the dishes. Cod liver egg salad—delicious on toast, and a health powerhouse. Grilled calf heart and onions—excellent source of nutrition, which you need lots of, today of all days.

Tuesday frowned. She didn’t even have time to barf at the thought of calf hearts and cod livers, because her family was being too weird.

Well, they were always weird. But today seemed worse than usual.

What’s with the nutrient obsession? Tuesday asked, taking a tentative seat in her usual chair. With the way her mom and aunt were acting, it was like they thought her body had undergone some massive drastic change the moment the clock struck midnight last night.

I’ve only turned twelve, she added. "It’s not like I’m even a teenager or anything. Last year you let me have triple chocolate peanut butter pancakes. What’s the difference between eleven and twelve?"

A big difference, my dear. Aunt Comfrey picked up Tuesday’s plate and started spooning heaps of stinky slop on it. A difference you won’t understand just yet.

Tuesday raised an eyebrow. How cryptic can you get?

Mom? she said, making her eyes extra big and sad-puppy-like. If you could count on Aunt Comfrey being odd, you could count on Tuesday’s mom having weak heartstrings.

But no matter how hard Tuesday pulled on them, her mom just wouldn’t budge!

Sorry, my sweet, she said, brushing her hand over the back of Tuesday’s chemical-scented purple hair. But Aunt Comfrey’s absolutely right. You need extra strength today, so eat up. The bus will be here soon.

Ugh! There was no getting out of this barf fest.

Tuesday had no choice but to endure the hideous breakfast with her strangely behaving aunt and mom. Something was going on with those two, something even stranger than usual, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

It was a mystery she’d have to solve another time, because the moment she finished choking down her food, it was time to get ready for school.

School would definitely be one bright spot in her so-far-awful birthday. Tuesday looked forward to seeing her best friends—they always brought her little gifts on her birthday—and hanging out after school to decorate the gym. She’d joined the dance committee solely to be part of the decorating for the upcoming autumn fundraiser. Tuesday lived for Halloween—it was her absolute favorite season, and she couldn’t wait to deck out the gym with all the orange and purple crepe paper, plastic skeletons, and glowing jack-o-lanterns she could get her hands on.

But her mood took a sharp dip when she got out of the shower and realized why her box of hair dye had been marked down to 99 cents. Because it sucked!

Put on top of her white-blond hair, the dye had turned her shoulder-length strands an adorable bright lavender color. Yesterday. But now almost all the color had washed out, so it looked like a gross milky periwinkle. Like watercolor with too much water for the actual color to come through.

Ugh! Even more frustrated than she had been at breakfast, Tuesday glared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She eyed her wet, barely-purple hair like it was the source of all her problems, willing it with all her mental energy to turn vibrant again.

When it didn’t, Tuesday was annoyed for a minute before shifting her focus to the upcoming math test. She mulled over fractions in her head while she ran a comb and a hot blow dryer through her wet hair.

Cute hair, Tues! A voice exclaimed when she stepped into her room ten minutes later.

Tuesday immediately jumped. Then she laughed at herself for getting so startled—it was probably just her mom or Aunt Comfrey.

She peered around her room as she marched to the closet to pull down her outfit for the day. But neither her mom nor her aunt were anywhere in the tower room.

The only face her curious eyes found was Nightshade’s furry, gold-eyed one. He sat up in her bed, watching her, offering no insights about who the heck had said her hair was cute.

Besides, it’s not cute at all. It looks like a ghost grape—all pale, no purple.

Just to be sure, Tuesday glanced in her mirror as she was shrugging on her sweater.

Surprisingly, her hair did look cute. Certainly cuter than it had earlier. Maybe the fog in the bathroom was clouding up my vision, she wondered, because now her hair was the vibrant shade of lavender she’d wanted it to be. It looked even better than the first day she dyed it!

Wow. Incredible! She stared at her reflection in awe as she picked up a deep grape jelly colored piece of hair and then let it fall back against her cheek.

I know right, a voice answered. Purple is a really becoming color for you, Tues. Much better than your regular blond.

Tuesday froze as every muscle in her body tensed up.

She spun around, slowly. Aunt Comfrey?

The voice spoke again. Aunt Comfrey? Why bring that old whacky bat into this? She’s downstairs, eating up all the livers you wasted.

Mom, are you pranking me? Tuesday asked the empty room, her eyes searching.

No answer.

Nightshade just blinked his big, yellow eyes at her.

Something flipped in the pit of Tuesday’s stomach. Could that voice be…

She shook her head before she could even finish that thought.

Twelve must be the year of insanity because I am officially losing it.

Downstairs, Tuesday’s mom called, Tues, it’s time to go!

Coming!

Tuesday snatched her book bag off the bed, slung it over her shoulder, and ran out of her room like it was on fire.

She’d never been happier to see the inside of her mom’s ancient SUV in her life.

Chapter 2

Is arthritis a symptom of puberty? Tuesday asked.

Huh?

Wait, what?

Briana and Kacey looked at Kacey with stifled half grins, like they weren’t sure if they were supposed to laugh or not.

Tuesday flexed the fingers of her right hand, then wiggled them. Tingles buzzed up her hand and wrist like her whole arm had fallen asleep. And even though her best friends were acting like it was no big deal, the tingles were becoming so much of a distraction, Tuesday could barely concentrate on her decorating duties.

I’m serious, you guys, she said, setting down the glowing plastic skull in her left hand. This hand has been bothering me all day.

It had started just a few minutes after she left the house that morning. But what had began as a tiny tickle in her palm had been steadily escalating all day, and now it felt like her entire right hand had an itch she couldn’t scratch—on top of being asleep.

And I thought I heard voices this morning…and my eyes were acting weird when I washed my hair…maybe I’ve got a disease. Is twelve-year-old-itis a thing? Is that why Mom and Aunt Comfrey were going on about my nutrients?

Earth to Tuesday! Briana called. When Tuesday blinked, her best friend’s warm cinnamon-brown eyes found hers. Always the caring, sensible one, Briana asked, You want me to go get Nurse Malone? She had a massive wad of tangled fairy lights in her hands, and was looking at Tuesday like her mom looked at her when she came down with a cold.

Next to her, Kacey tucked a lock of her short strawberry blond hair behind her ear and stared anxiously at Tuesday. Yeah, seriously, what’s up? You’ve been acting weird all day.

In their own little huddle next to a mountain of fake haystacks they planned to position around the gym, it was like they were the only ones in the wide open space. The other members of the dance committee were busily setting up blow-up clowns and giant black spiders along the room. Tuesday barely noticed them.

I’m scared I might be dying, she said.

Briana gasped and dropped her clump of lights. She reached for Tuesday’s wrist instead. Okay, that’s it. Best friend intervention time. Sit down.

Kacey nodded firmly and pushed one of the haystacks toward Tuesday. It was long enough for all three of them to sit beside each other, and once they did, Tuesday couldn’t keep her feelings hidden for one more second.

First it was my mom and aunt, she said. They were acting so weird this morning.

Your mom and aunt are always weird. No offense. Kacey smiled sheepishly, a grin that lit up her sky blue eyes. "I mean, they named their nursery Flowerhaus instead of Flowerhouse. What’s up with that?"

Tuesday shrugged. It’s a German thing. To honor our ancestors, or whatever.

Still, Kacey’s right, Briana said, tugging on the curly end of her long, brown braid. "I mean, your family’s lovely, but they are…strange. They decorate the house for Halloween all year long—"

They dance at funerals, Kacey added.

They always seem to appear out of nowhere, Briana continued.

And they don’t believe in microwaves.

Tuesday laughed. True.

So what’s different about this time? Briana asked.

Well… Tuesday swallowed, bracing herself to give them the news. They didn’t make me my special FBB.

"WHAT? Kacey shrieked. No Fabulous Birthday Breakfast?"

Nope. Tuesday shook her head gravely. "Instead, I got cod livers and calf hearts and all sorts of other things you guys do not want to know about. And then they just went on and on about how I needed all the nutrients to build my strength…and they kept saying today of all days, like something unusual was gonna happen to me today. Aside from turning twelve of course."

Briana bit her lip, and bright red color seeped into her brown skin. Briana always blushed—when she was embarrassed, when she was guilty, but especially when she was nervous.

"That is weird, Tues," she said.

Tuesday nodded. Deciding not to freak out her friends even more with the hearing voices thing, she skipped to the tingly hand part.

And now my fingers feel like I’ve got arthritis or something, she went on, wriggling her fingers and wincing at the itchy, tickly numbness.

Maybe it’s just a puberty thing, Kacey said.