Upon entering the dining room, George's mouth--or Paul's mouth, whichever, he didn't care, he was ravenous--was watering. The scent of chicken filled the air, along with mashed potatoes, and corn and...Could it be? Yes it was! Pumpkin pie! His temporary stomach growled loudly, and Leila giggled. George grinned back at her sheepishly and sat down to eat.

As the other two started chatting about something, George tuned them out and licked his lips as he stared greedily down at his food. It had been so long since he had tasted...anything. With ectasy, he inhaled the aromas one last time before he decided to dig in. He stopped suddenly as a blank look washed over his features. Did one use a spoon for potatoes? No, that couldn't be right, could it? And what about the drumstick? Did he just pick that up? He didn't look up at the women; they would notice how unsure he was. He stared at his fork. Surely this wasn't the right tool for corn kernals.

When he was a young boy, his mother had spent hours training him, teaching him which piece of silverware to use with what type of food. All of those lessons seemed to have been wiped from his memory as he gazed over the plate and utensils.

"Paul, are you okay?" asked Mrs. Toombs worriedly.

He looked up. Leila was gazing at him with a look that pleaded "Please don't act too weird!"

George looked back down at the plate and picked up his fork. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I was just... thinking about something." He tried to grin reassuringly. Awkwardly, stabbed a bit of chicken off of the drumstick with his fork and put it in his mouth. The savory spices on the skin made his tastebuds tingle. Fortunately, he stopped himself before he would have moaned with joy. It was exquisite! He swallowed.

The meat caught in his throat and he realized that he had forgotten a very important thing about eating: chewing. Gagging, he tried to swallowing it down with some tea. When that didn't work he jumped up and hit his chest with his fist.

"George!" screamed Leila as she sprang up.

"George?" asked Mrs. Toombs with an arched eyebrow.

Leila ran up to the choking boy, wrapped her arms around him, and performed the heimlich maneuver. The bit of food finally came up, flew from his mouth, and hit a nearby wall with a sickening splat.

"You okay?" asked Leila.

Panting, George nodded. "Forgot how to chew," he muttered pathetically. "That was a bit of a faux pas, huh?" They both grinned nervously at Mrs. Toombs and sat back down.

"You two are acting odd today," commented the brunette.

"I'm not quite feeling myself," George grinned as he took another bite of chicken. This time he chewed.

"I thought we'd never drag you out of there," groaned Phineas.

"I am a literary conisseur," Paul replied. "'Sides, Milton was nice. A bit obsessive and neurotic, but nice." He walked along with his three ghost friends for a moment before asking, "Should I be worried about this Atticus dude? What's his problem? Why's everyone so afraid of him?"

After mulling it over worriedly, Ezra, Phineas, and Gus turned to him. The skinnest of the three finally said, "We might not be the best people to ask. We were just mooching--er, staying here as welcomed guests--when it happened."

"It was like he appeared out of nowhere," Phineas continued the story. "He was yelling about Leota and just stormed through the house looking for her."

"He was searchin' for somethin' else, too," Gus added quietly. He lowered his voice for dramatic effect. "Something magic."

Ezra took it from there, bizarrely serious. "Anyone who happened to walk out of a door as he went past, any servant who asked him if he needed help...they were just butchered." He scowled, furious at the memory. Paul could imagine Milton and Prudence, going about their duties, just as they did everyday; suddenly a shadow loomed behind them and pale, clawed hands clasped over their mouths and around their throats. "There were three people who knew who he was and knew he would be coming. They gave us no warning whatsoever."

"They did try to save us, though," the chubbiest chimed in. "Two of them got away. Madame Leota and her daughter... well, they weren't so lucky."

"He murdered that little girl?" Paul cried, disgusted. Anger flared within him at the thought. His own sister was about that child's age. True, Penelope was a brat, but he would never want to harm her, even during her worst tantrums.

As he thought this over, Paul asked, "He was the one who killed Gracey, right?"

He was answered with solemn nods.

"He hanged him from the gallery rafters," Phineas explained. "Atticus said he was 'in the way'. Don't know what he meant by that exactly. Poor George. Took a while to get him out of his post-mortum depression."

Suddenly, Little Leota went running past, her white skirt and long hair flailing behind her, her feet pounding but not actually touching the ground.

"What's up with you?" Ezra called out.

She came to an abrubt halt and whipped around. She didn't know that her three friends knew about Paul. "Um, not much. Just going for a relaxing run, that's all." Gus, Phineas, and Ezra arched their eyebrows in disbelief. Little Leota was a terrible liar. She looked from them to Paul, wondering if they knew the truth. True, the trio may have been a touch on the crazy side, and were problem gamblers, and had a bad habit of picking people's pockets and then getting caught in the act, but they weren't exactly stupid. They were also Master Gracey's best friends. They would have figured out pretty quickly that it wasn't him.

Right?

Could she take that chance?

"It's my mom. She's in trouble. Da--Atticus keeps yelling about something, and if I can find it, maybe I can save her."

"Do you have any clue about what he's searching for?" asked Paul, wanting to help.

The psychic's daughter shook her head. "Please don't tell anyone!" she pleaded. "We can't have the others knowing. I don't want to scare them!"

"Don't worry about that," muttered Ezra.

"Yeah," chirped Gus, "we're already keeping a secret." Phineas and Ezra glared at him and put their hands over his mouth as he mumbled.

Green eyes widening, she gasped, "You do know, don't you? About Mr. Gracey?"

The three nodded and the half-brothers let go of the dwarf. "Your mom sure picked a winner here," Ezra said sarcastically. "We just had to sit through an hour of the history of Ray Bradbury."

Little Leota giggled as Paul stuck his tongue out at him. "Why don't you four help me look?"

"Sounds good," said Paul. "Where to first?"

Furrowing her brow, the dainty child thought hard. "Upstairs, in the attic. There's ton of junk up there."

Phineas and Ezra cast leery looks to each other. "You mean," the fat phantom asked, "visit...Sophia?"

"Not her!" cried Ezra. "She's crazier than Gus!" He pointed to the shortest, who was spinning the metal ball around his ankle and trying to jump over it with the other leg like one a Skip-it.

"We can't," the bony ghost continued, "expose our new friend to that!" He put an arm around Paul's shoulders and hugged him to him. "You see our dilemma."

Little Leota put her hands on her hips and scowled. "You're just a bunch of cowards!"

At once, Ezra, Phineas, and Gus shrugged. "So?" they asked.

Paul let out a frustrated sigh and broke away from Ezra's grasp. "I'll help."

Beaming, the girl thanked him and they started to walk away. Phineas turned to his brother. "Might as well..."

"Yeah," Ezra grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You coming, Gus?"

"One-one thousand..." Jump. "Two-one thousand... just a sec!" Before he could clear the chain again, Ezra grabbed his beard and started dragging him along.

They wouldn't be able to go straight to the attic, however, due to the large crowd that was gathered outside of George's study. "There he is!" cried a ghost, and the mob headed towards them.

George pushed himself away from the table, stomach too full to get up. "What a spectacular meal, Mrs. Toombs!" He had eaten two drumsticks, half a plate of potatoes, and three slices of pie. He just finished his second glass of tea.

"Paul," exclaimed Leila's mother, wide-eyed, "I've never seen you eat so much before! Have your parents been starving you?" she joked.

He smiled, feeling embarrassed. "I'm a growing boy," he answered, and hiccuped.

Suddenly, there was a low, chiming sound coming from the back pocket of the baggy jeans he was wearing. Perplexed, he glanced around, wondering if anyone else had heard it.

"That's your phone," explained Leila, as if Paul was just scatterbrained. "Back pocket, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Then just for good measure he added a phrase that he'd heard at school. "Duh." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, silver contraption that flipped open to reveal a bright screen and numbered buttons. Above the screen where two little slivers that a scratchy, old voice eminnated from. "Paulie, boy, is that you?"

George blinked, amazed. "Yeah?"

"Hey, it's your granny. I need you to come by and pick up Penelope and take her home. I'd bring her with me, but they don't like young 'uns at the Bingo hall."

"Okay."

"Great! I'll see you in a few, shug." She hung up.

Guessing it was the right thing to do, George closed the cell phone and tucked it into his pocket. Confused, he picked up his plate and followed Leila and her mom into the kitchen. "You kids wouldn't mind cleaning up, would you? I've got some paperwork to finish."

"Not a problem, mom," Leila called over her shoulder as she turned on the sink. George stared at her blankly. "What?" the blond asked. "You've never cleaned dishes before?" She blinked in surprise as he shook his head. "You were a spoiled kid."

Mimicking her, he began scrubbing a plate. "I was an aristocrat. I had servants to do all of the chores."

"Spoiled and lazy, huh?"

He chuckled. "I suppose so. Odd how times have changed." He scowled. "That woman on the cell phone told me I had to pick up someone named Penelope."

"Oh, that's Paul's little sister. While his parents are away, she's being watched by your--Paul's--grandmother. It's your job to pick her up at night, take her home, and tuck her in. Then, before school, grandma picks her up and babysits her for the day."

"Sounds easy enough."

"Right," Leila muttered sarcastically. Sometimes, she reminded George of Ezra. She grabbed a sheet of paper out of her pocket, a pencil that was lying ont he counter, and scribbled down some notes. "Here's the directions." She handed them to him. Remember what I taught you about driving. Keep your eyes on the road."

"Right." He walked out of the kitchen.

"Oh, and Paul." She made sure to use the name in case her mother overheard.

"Yes?"

"Try not to kill Penelope."

With a confused departing glance, he left.