The Fantastic Family Whipple (13 page)

“Ahem,” said Mrs. Goldwin. “Would you like to introduce yourself, young lady?”

The ghost girl stepped forward once more. “Oh, right. Sorry,” she said. Executing a halfhearted second curtsy, she added, “Ruby,” then returned to her previous position. Next to the others, she might well have been the illegitimate daughter of Dracula, sent to be raised by a family of fashion models.

“You’ll have to forgive Ruby,” explained Mrs. Goldwin. “As record-breaking children go, she’s a bit…unpolished. And for some reason, she insists on dressing herself like a corpse these days. Powder and lipstick are meant to enhance your features, dear—not deaden them.”

Ruby gave a strange, joyless smile, then shifted her eyes to the sky, as if halfheartedly searching for some distant heavenly body.

Arthur remained thoroughly perplexed. Apparently, he was not the only one who could see the ghost girl. Indeed, it seemed she was simply an odd-looking member of the Goldwin family. But how could this be possible when he had witnessed a figure bearing her exact likeness not long ago on the Crosley estate?

“Well, it certainly was a pleasure meeting you and your lovely children,” Mrs. Whipple concluded. “We must arrange a joint outing sometime. Where was it you said you lived?”

“Just down the road, actually,” said Rex Goldwin. “Would you believe we’ve just purchased the old Crosley estate?”

As a wave of realization swept over Arthur, he did not notice his father’s face grow a shade paler, from something of an eggshell cream to more of a glacier white.

“Have you now?” said Mrs. Whipple. “My—that
is
close. I’m surprised we’ve never seen any movers.”

“Well,” Rex replied, “we’ve only just closed the deal this week, so we’re still at the Dwellinger Grand for the present moment. But we’ve been visiting the grounds for over a month now with various architects and landscape designers; you can imagine the work we’ve got ahead of us to make the place halfway inhabitable. Still, we just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to move to where the
action is—what with the International World Record Federation honoring your back-to-back wins at the championships by holding them in your city this year, alongside the Unsafe Sports Showdown. Seems this is the place to be for record breaking these days, eh? Luckily, the heavy machinery arrives tomorrow, so it won’t be long before we’re all moved in and joining you for neighborhood gatherings!”

“I say, that is exciting news,” beamed Mrs. Whipple. “Do you intend on competing in any events now that you’re here?”

Rex smiled bashfully. “We’d certainly be honored—if they’d have us. But of course, up till now, record breaking has only ever been a private hobby of ours. We’ve never publicly competed as a family before, and I myself haven’t competed in years—so we’re really only just getting our feet wet. For a while there, it did seem we might make the deadline for championships eligibility tonight, but I’m afraid we’ve ended up just a couple of records short of the required thousand.”

“Well now,” said Arthur’s mother, “that’s nothing to be sneezed at, Mr. Goldwin. We scarcely made that number ourselves! I’d say your record tally is absolutely spectacular for a family of beginners—even if you won’t be eligible this year. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble at all gaining eligibility for the next championships, if you keep at it. My,” she chuckled, “we’ll have to watch our backs, won’t we, Charles?”

“Indeed,” Mr. Whipple said gruffly. “Now, I do apologize, Mr. and Mrs. Goldwin, but we really must be getting back to the party….”

“Oh, of course, Charlie,” Rex replied. “And what a lovely party it is. Fine food, distinguished company…though I must say the band’s a bit of an odd choice.” Nodding at Johnny Stump, he chuckled, “Really, Charlie—I do hope you only paid
half
price!”

“Why, Mr. Goldwin!” laughed Arthur’s mother. “I’ll have to share that one with Mr. Stump—he gets quite a kick out of that sort of thing.”

“Oh, but Mrs. Whipple,” Rex grinned, “surely he doesn’t do any
kicking
at all!”

“Ahem,” Arthur’s father scowled, curtailing any further laughter. “As I was saying, I’m afraid we are neglecting our other guests, as well as a number of vital birthday duties, so—”

“Say no more, Charlie,” said Rex. “Again—terribly sorry about any mix-up with our invitation. I’d hate to cause any distress on your special day. Just say the word and we’ll head straight back to the hotel.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t dream of it—would we, Charles?” Mrs. Whipple asked without looking at her husband.

Mr. Whipple sighed.

“Do stay,” implored Mrs. Whipple.

“You are very gracious indeed,” said Rex Goldwin. “Now, please—get back to your party. I’m sure we’ll be seeing plenty of each other from now on—eh, neighbors?”

“Most certainly,” Mrs. Whipple smiled. “Let us know as
soon as you’re settled. Now enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Mr. Whipple let out another tortured sigh. Mrs. Whipple shot him a stern glance.

Arthur’s parents gathered up their birthday-celebrating children and led them off to perform their next vital birthday duty, leaving Arthur to wait awkwardly beside his uncle. He now stood only a few feet from Ruby Goldwin, who clearly was not, nor ever had been, a ghost—but merely a girl with peculiar fashion tastes whose parents had purchased the house down the street. The terror Arthur had once felt in her presence now turned to embarrassment.

But before he could persuade his uncle to take him somewhere—
anywhere
—else, Uncle Mervyn, who had been listening in just outside the conversation with the new neighbors, stepped forward and introduced himself to Rex Goldwin.

“Mervyn McCleary,” said Arthur’s uncle, shaking Rex’s hand. “Adjudicator for the International World Record Federation, under contract with the
Grazelby Guide
—and the Whipples’ primary officiator. Pleased to meet you. Afraid I’m not familiar with your earlier work, though I have read your recent profile in
The Record
. So, how are you liking it over at the
Almanac
? I’ve known quite a few certifiers over the years who’ve been contracted by Ardmore after earning their officiating licenses from the IWRF—but I’ve since lost touch with all of them. Bit of a secretive place, it seems. And what of their publishing
policy regarding the Regrettable Records? I’m afraid I can’t say I approve.”

Rex nodded considerately. “Your concerns are perfectly valid, Mr. McCleary. I’m the first to admit the
Almanac
hasn’t had the best reputation in the past—but we’re trying to change all that. It might take some time—years maybe—but they assure me this is the start of a new era for Ardmore.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear it. Very few wrongs that can’t be righted with the proper amount of effort.”

“Indeed, Mr. McCleary,” Rex said with a heartfelt smile, “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

“Very good, Mr. Goldwin,” Uncle Mervyn smiled back. “So tell me about some of your recent records then. I’m always eager to hear what the rest of the record-breaking world is up to.”

While Rex proceeded to describe his record for Largest Private Collection of Military Prototypes, Arthur continued to stare straight at the ground—and away from Ruby Goldwin—until he was overcome by a sudden fit of curiosity.

He glanced in Ruby’s direction—and found she was already looking straight at him. Their eyes met for an uncomfortable moment, before Arthur quickly glanced away again.

After several more seconds of staring at the ground, he could no longer bear the awkwardness. “Mrs. Waite,” said the boy, turning to his chaperone, “may I go browse the Grazelby exhibition for a bit?”

“I suppose, dear,” the housekeeper replied, “but don’t be too long. The ceremony begins in less than half an hour, and you know we can’t start without you.”

“Yes, ma’am—I won’t be late,” Arthur called over his shoulder, then hurried off toward the massive tent at the rear of the crowd.

The tent that contained the Grazelby exhibition was large enough to house a small circus, and when Arthur stepped through the draped entryway, he imagined himself its ring-leader. Any thoughts of ghost girls—or of unpleasant neighbor children masquerading as ghost girls—vanished from his mind as he slipped into a state of wonder.

The tent was filled with assorted record-breaking exhibits, some belonging to the Whipple family and some on loan from the private collections of their guests—but all astonishing. And since most of the partygoers in the area were still out watching Johnny Stump and the Missing Limbs, Arthur practically had the place to himself.

Though he had seen his sister Cordelia’s scale model of the Arc de Triomphe before, it never failed to fascinate him. It was over twelve feet tall and constructed entirely from standard playing cards. Despite a total lack of adhesives or fasteners, it was so well built, Cordelia assured him, that an entire rugby team could stand on its roof without causing the slightest structural damage.

Stepping through the giant archway, Arthur proceeded
down the first row of exhibits, pausing to marvel at each of them.

Soon the boy had reached the rear of the chamber, where a giant floor-length curtain spanned the full width of the tent. Following the velvet rope that ran along the front of the curtain, he came to a silver-plated sign that read:

Though most of the guests had no way of knowing what the sign was guarding, Arthur knew that behind this curtain sat dessert. The rear half of the tent was in fact being used as a holding bay for the World’s Largest Birthday Cake, which was to be kept under wraps until the official unveiling—an event that held particular interest to Arthur that year.

Staring up at the giant curtain, Arthur dreamt about the colossal cake behind it. He was dying to get his first peek; he only hoped the wait didn’t kill him first. With a wistful sigh, he stepped away from the curtain and returned to the exhibition.

As he headed down the center aisle, he suddenly stopped short. There, studying the pendulum on the World’s Thinnest Working Grandfather Clock, stood Ruby Goldwin—the
one person Arthur had sought to avoid by entering the tent in the first place.

Now that he knew she was not an apparition but a living, breathing human girl, he could hardly decide which was worse: to have been put to death by a soul-swallowing specter—or to be constantly reminded how foolish he’d been to actually believe in soul-swallowing specters. It was beginning to seem that the ghost girl—in one form or another—would simply go on tormenting him forever.

Luckily for Arthur, she appeared to be unaware of his presence, so he quietly performed an about-face, then made his way around the corner. Proceeding down the next aisle, the boy peered constantly over his shoulder to make sure she was not following him.

When he felt confident he wasn’t being trailed, he turned his head forward to locate the main exit—and nearly collided with the very girl he thought he was eluding.

He skidded to a halt—but this time, he did not escape her notice. Indeed, it seemed she had been watching him for some time.

“Hello,” she smiled.

“Oh,” gulped Arthur, startled by her proximity. “Hi.”

This was the closest he had ever been to the ghost girl.

“So you’ve had enough of the crowd as well, eh?” she said.

Arthur squinted. “Um…yeah.”

“Excellent,” smirked the girl, “we can be unsociable together then.”

Arthur gave an awkward smile, then, not wanting to encourage her, turned away and pretended to browse the exhibits on his right. Briefly stopping at each display, he retreated down the aisle, back toward the enormous cake-concealing curtain at the rear of the tent. But as Arthur tried to move away, the girl simply followed him, examining each exhibit as soon as he had finished with it.

“I’m Ruby, by the way,” said the girl, still smiling as she offered Arthur her right hand. “You know—in case you lost track in the never-ending onslaught of delightful Goldwin children. We keep running into each other, you and I, but we’ve never exactly met.”

Not knowing what else to do, Arthur took the girl’s hand and gave it a perfunctory shake. “Yep,” he said, doing his best not to prolong an already awkward conversation.

For a moment, it seemed he had succeeded—but Ruby Goldwin would not give up so easily.

“You’re Arthur, right?” she added after a brief silence, effectively taking on introductory duties for the both of them. He hadn’t seen that one coming.

“Um. Yeah.”

“Pleased to meet you, Arthur,” she smiled.

“Yep,” said the boy. “So…do you always dress like that?”

“What—this?” she replied, referring to her makeup and tatter-sleeved dress. “Oh, you know—just taking a stand against the oppressive grip of popular fashion. As one does.”

“Oh, right,” said Arthur. “Of course.”

“Yeah,” the girl frowned. “Not really sure it’s my thing, to be honest. Just don’t tell that to Rita. Wouldn’t want her to think she’d broken me….”

“Fair enough,” Arthur said brusquely. “Well,” he added, turning back toward the entrance, “I should probably get back. See you—”