“It must have looked atrocious. Mom flocked it with white every year. New flock over the old. Hodge podge ornaments with clashing colors, but it always made me so happy. Ridge and I would lie under it and look up at the flashing lights.”
“Dad and I always cut down a real one.” Dylan leaned up against a stack of boxes. “By Christmas, it would sag under the weight of the ornaments, leaving pine needles everywhere, but it made me happy too.”
“We should put up Christmas trees more often,” Sloan said. “Maybe Christmas trees are the secret of life.”
Sloan resumed looking for Ridge’s roller-skating rabbit, and Dylan tackled another box.
“This must be the Halloween one.” Dylan held up a sheet of mummy and vampire window clings.
“Oh! I wonder if any of our old costumes are in there.”
Dylan brought his nose closer to the box and sniffed. “For sure. I can smell the plastic already.”
Sloan stood, dusted off her jeans, and looked into the box. “Rainbow Bright!” She pulled out the plastic mask with eye holes right in the middle of the character’s blond hair. Sloan stretched the elastic strap over her head and turned to Dylan. “Well?”
“That’s terrifying,” Dylan said. “Truly. They at least could have put the eye holes over her actual eyes and not in the middle of her hair.”
“Right?” Sloan removed the mask. “And look at the rest of the costume. A plastic smock with a picture of Rainbow Bright. I mean, could they not have made it look like the dress she wore?”
“I think you’re asking too much from a costume made from a trash bag.”
Sloan laughed. “True. I’m going back to my box, but tell me if you come across my Jem costume.”
“Rainbow Bright? Jem? Wow.”
“Yeah.” Sloan knelt in front of the Christmas box again. “I was much more colorful as a child.”
“There’s a Casper one in here too. Is that yours?”
“That was Ridge’s. Leave it out. He’ll get a kick out of seeing it again.” Sloan heard the mask hit the floor as she continued digging around in the ornament box. “Here it is!” she said, pulling out the roller-skating rabbit.
When she turned to show Dylan, she noticed he had stopped searching in the box. He’d stopped moving altogether. He stared at the ground, taking quick, shallow breaths.
Sloan stood. “Hey, are you okay?”
When he didn’t respond, she placed a hand on his shoulder. Dylan spun around, his eyes wide and his hands trembling. He looked frantically around the cramped attic as though searching for an escape.
“Dylan, what’s going on?” Sloan asked, her own pulse picking up.
He opened his mouth, but then he crumpled to the ground right beside the mask.
“What was that?” Caroline called from below. “Everything okay up there?”
Sloan knelt beside Dylan. He pulled his knees into his chest and put his head down. His breathing still sounded labored. “Let me help you downstairs,” she said. “Can you stand?”
When Dylan raised his head, his skin was flushed, and his forehead was drenched. He held out a fluttery hand for Sloan to take. She helped him stand and called for her mom.
Caroline stood at the bottom of the stairs, and they helped Dylan down. “He must have gotten too hot,” Sloan said, but as she was lowering herself down the stairs, she saw what had caused Dylan’s reaction. It wasn’t the Casper mask he’d dropped to the floor; it was another one.
“I’m so sorry.” Sloan scooted her patio chair closer to Dylan’s. “I forgot about Ridge dressing as Luke Skywalker. You told me about Eddie wearing that mask.”
“Not your fault.” Dylan seemed fixated on a line of ants that marched across the porch. “I felt it coming on as soon as I got into the attic. Eddie kept Logan and me in his attic.”
Sloan pinched the bridge of her nose. “You told me that, too. I wasn’t thinking. I’ve had panic attacks before. I should’ve realized what was going on.”
“Once I got the window open, I thought I’d be okay. But when I saw that mask,” Dylan clutched his hands together, “it was like I was a kid again . . . like it was all happening again.”
Sloan rubbed his back. “What can I do to help?”