Page 21 of The Two of Us

“Why can’t I be the scissors again?” I groan.

“Because you’re not cut out for it,” Cat drawls, humor glinting in her eyes.

I snort as we put the finishing touches on our costumes. The plan is to start trick-or-treating in the neighborhood parallel to ours because it’s where all the well-to-do retired folks live. They’re notorious for passing out full-size candy bars instead of the chintzy mini ones. There’s a soft knock at my door and my dad’s head appears, one hand shielding his eyes.

“Are rock and scissors decent?”

“Yes, Dad.” I laugh.

“Great. You girls should get going if you want a leg up on all the cute little toddlers out there. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hog most of the inventory.”

His point is valid and I’m not sure if I should be proud or disappointed in him for basically encouraging us to steal candy from babies. Ruthless man. Cat and I snatch our white pillowcases off the bed.

“Is it okay if we stop by Macy Lang’s house after we trick-or-treat? Her parents are letting her throw a party in their basement for the kids from school, but they’ll be upstairs the whole time,” I recite. Cat made me practice the script she wrote all day so I wouldn’t choke up when asking my dad’s permission.

“And what exactly will a bunch of middle schoolers be doing in a basement on Halloween night?”

“Um. Well. We’ll probably play board games and trade candies… those kinds of things.”

His nose scrunches up as if I reek of suspicion. But he must remember who his daughter is and how I’ve never so much as had a bad note from a teacher because his shoulders relax.

“Fine,” he relents, leaving the room. “But no kissing!”

“Ewww!” Cat and I respond exaggeratively.

We’re no longer at the age where we find kissing gross. In fact, we welcome it. But I figure it doesn’t hurt to put on a performance for my dad if it sets his mind at ease.

***

Trick-or-treating is a bust. I hide my disappointment from Cat because I know how hard she’ll take it, but there’s not a single person who understands our costumes. Four people ask if I’m a potato and Cat is reduced to office supplies. We handle the embarrassment well, but what we can’t get over is the fact that we’ve been refused candy at multiple houses. Somewhere between last year and this year, twelve-year-olds apparently became too old to receive treats. It’s ageist and unjust, and it makes my blood boil. After getting our pillowcases filled up a third of the way by the houses that take pity on us, we call it quits and walk over to Macy’s.

Macy Lang’s house is the most well-known house in Speck Lake. The pressure-washed, white colonial-style home sticks out like a sore thumb in our small lake town. Her dad is the head sheriff in town and her mom is the school district’s superintendent. They’re basically the Kennedys of our small corner on the map. Macy is the second-born child. The eldest, Brandon, is kind and laid back—the opposite of Macy—and her twin sisters, Kira and Kerrigan, are adorable, but have a knack for biting. They’re seven.

The tree in their front yard boasts an idyllic tire swing and rumor has it that Macy’s dad let her pick out the tree herself before paying men from my dad’s construction company to come in and plant it. I heard it took over two days to finish the job because Macy kept changing her mind on where she wanted the tree to be placed. We walk up to the house, the excessive decorations stopping us in our tracks.

The stairs of the front porch light our steps with the glow from the orange-and-purple firefly lights. “Monster Mash”blares from a hidden speaker and the legs of the Wicked Witch of the West stick out from a bush. We rush to the rocking chair nearby where the biggest goblet we’ve ever seen sits, filled to the brim with candy. King-size chocolate bars and bagsof cookies lie inside. There isn’t a single adult manning the goods, and Cat and I give each other a knowing glance before stuffing our pillowcases.

Cat rings the doorbell and the sound is a laughing ghoul. Macy answers the door and squeals, racing forward to hug Cat. “I’m so glad you came! Everyone’s here already. Are you supposed to be a pair of scissors? So cute!”

I don’t understand how a pair of scissors could be considered cute, but I’m not surprised. Macy adores Cat, like everyone does, and she’s constantly trying to replace me as her best friend. It’s not lost on me that my presence has yet to be acknowledged and I clear my throat.

“Oh. Mara. Hi,” she says with an expression that resembles the one you’d have if you realized you had a dead bug under your shoe.

“Hey Macy. Thanks for inviting us.” I smile, hoping the gesture thaws her ice-cold heart.

“Sure… so what are you supposed to be exactly? A potato?” She laughs.

“She’s a rock. The rock to my scissors. Like Rock, Paper, Scissors, except my brother—oh never mind. Are you gonna invite us in?” Cat hooks her arm with mine.

Macy shoots one last disapproving look in my direction. “Follow me.”

“So, Macy,” I say. “What are you supposed to be?”

“Do you have eyes? I’m obviously a witch.”

Yes, she is. And it is obvious, but I can’t help asking, knowing it’ll rub her the wrong way. The pointed hat on her head has real feathers around the brim and her tulle dress and striped stockings look like something straight from a high fashion Halloween magazine. Cat sticks out her tongue at Macy’s turned back in solidarity.

The basement is packed with kids and being that it’s Speck Lake, it’s most likely every student in grades six through eight. A disco ball hangs in the center of the room, its light bouncing off the kids playing at the pool table and vintage arcade machines. A six-foot-long table sits in the corner, decked out with every junk food you can think of. The cupcakes look like mummies, the marshmallows look like ghosts, and a red punch fountain spews out of the mouth of a giant vampire head. Cat and I gather our food on paper plates and settle into an unoccupied corner. I allow myself a few seconds to wonder about Ambrose’s whereabouts. According to Alima, he went trick-or-treating with a few of his older friends, but after the fallout the day before, we haven’t seen him.

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