Page 77 of Sort of Seeing Someone

From inside his cloak, he procures a witch’s hat. With a flick of his wrist, it goes from a flat circle, to a brim with a pointed top.

“Oh, wow. Youreallyshouldn’t have.”

“Come on, Moonie! Let’s have a little fun.”

Wait. Theengineeris telling thewoo-woo girlto have a little fun?

“Plus: a wizard and a witch. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

I grab the hat from Ollie and put it on. I’m not sure how long it’ll stay on considering the forecast calls for wind and storms later, but I figure it’s polite to show him I appreciate his thoughtfulness.

“Hottest witch I’ve ever seen,” he says, looking around—presumably for Charlie and Matteo.

“They’re outside playing soccer.”

“In that case…”

Ollie leans in and puts a sweet little peck on my lips. I secretly hope it turns into more when all of the sudden I hear Matteo come stumbling through the back door.

“Auntie Moo-Moo?”

“Auntie Moo-Moo?!” Ollie echoes like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.

“Yeah? What’s up, buddy?”

“Um, who’s that?” Matteo asks as Ollie comes into frame.

“It’s my friend I told you about. The one who is going trick-or-treating with us. Remember?”

Matteo gives Ollie a death stare. I’m impressed that a kid this young has already perfected such a good Resting Bitch Face but then realize immediately heinherited it from his mother.

“What did you need, little man?” I ask, hoping to snap him out of the dagger glare.

“Charlie broke his foot.”

“Charlie broke his foot?” I repeat back in utter shock—not of the actual potential broken bone, but the nonchalant manner in which I’ve been informed.

“Yeah, I tripped him when he was trying to dribble passed me and now he can’t walk.”

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Ollie.

“I’ll come with,” he offers.

We follow Matteo out to the backyard where sure as shit, Charlie is on the ground crying and clutching his foot.

“You okay, Charlie Bear?” I ask as I bend down and take a look.

I feel his ankle, it’s swollen and bluish, but nothing appears to be dangling—thank god.

“Well, the good news is: I think it’s just a bad bruise. But the bad news is: this means no trick-or-treating.”

“What?! NOOOOOO!” both boys shout in unison. At that, Matteo joins Charlie in crying.

“There’s no way, guys. Charlie can’t walk. That’s essentially what trick-or-treating is—non-stop walking for three hours.”

“Not necessarily,” interjects Ollie. “Who says you have towalkto collect the candy?”

“What are we going to do? Rent a golf cart and drive from door to door?” I volley back.

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