Chapter 28
By Wednesday, Evie and I are in serious party-planning mode.
Just like Evie said, Eddie asked his dad straight up if he could have people over while they were gone. His answer was yes,
but that their basement bar would remain locked, and if so much as a carpet fiber was out of place when they returned from
Miami, he recommended that Eddie join the witness protection program to escape the wrath of Eddie’s mom.
Eddie laughs recounting this to me and Evie, but I’m nervous on his behalf. I personally would not mess with Eddie’s mom.
She’s the CEO of a major company for a reason.
I’ve never seen Evie throw herself into something like this. She’s going all out: we’re going to have vintage horror movies
playing in the background, like Halloween from the 1970s and Scream from the ’90s. We’re going to make gross snacks, like witch finger pretzels, apple teeth, and worm Jell-O.
“Maybe I’ll be a party planner when I grow up,” Evie muses as she tapes fake spiderwebs to the ceiling of Eddie’s basement.
“I’m sure my parents would love to send me on some, like, ‘learn how to party plan’ retreat.”
On Thursday, Lily and Dylan come over to help us finish decorating.
Dylan’s going as Morticia from the Addams family, and Lily as Gomez.
I know from Evie that Lily and Dylan are constantly going back and forth between “are we better as best friends or as girlfriends?” and given the Halloween costume choice, I’m assuming they’re in a girlfriend period.
“Have you figured out what you’re going to wear?” Dylan asks me.
“Not yet.”
“What about Lucas?” Lily asks.
“Not sure for him, either.”
“What are you going to tell Ben?” Evie asks. “Like, about who this tall, mysterious drink of water is that you’re bringing
as your plus-one?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking we’d say he was my cousin,” I say, fiddling with a piece of black lace trim. “But I honestly
don’t know what’s going on with us. Me and Ben, I mean.”
“Eddie said he’s into you,” Evie says. “Confirmed.”
If she’d said this a month ago, I would have been thrilled to have another chance after messing it up with him this summer.
But now . . .
Evie must be able to see it on my face because she snaps her fingers and changes the subject. “I know! Luke should go as Jason.
The killer from Friday the 13th. You know that movie, right? All he’d have to do is wear a white hockey mask and black clothes. Eddie went as a hockey player
sophomore year. He should still have the mask. Eddie!” Evie calls.
“What?” Eddie calls from upstairs.
“Do you still have your hockey mask?”
“Uh, I think so!”
Evie smiles at me, pleased with herself. “See? Easy and perfect.”
“Okay. Luke is Jason. Maybe I’ll go as a cat again.”
“No, Claire. I can’t handle a third year of you wearing black cat ears and claiming you’ve dressed up.”
“I draw a nose and whiskers on. That counts.”
Evie doesn’t say anything, she just looks at me.
“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll come up with something else.”
She taps her wrist. “Ticktock, darling.”
When I get home, Todd’s car is in the driveway. I steady myself. I have to get used to this. Because if—no, when—they get married, it’ll be like this all the time.
As I head inside, I wonder if the plan is for Todd to move here, or for her to move to Stamford. I can see Todd pushing for
that, since his job is there. That would mean when I was home from college, I wouldn’t be here, close to Evie.
“Claire?” Mom calls. “That you?”
I lean my head against the door frame and give myself another second before I go to the kitchen.
“Yeah. Hey,” I say.
“Hi, Claire,” Todd says.
They’re sitting at the kitchen table, with Mom’s laptop in front of them. It’s open to what looks like the landing page of
a fancy hotel. Todd notices me looking.
“I was trying to tempt your mom into a romantic Christmastime getaway,” he explains. “I have a certificate for this place that expires in January.”
He wants to take her away for Christmas? Does this man not realize that she’s a single mother with two children?
Mom must understand my expression because she laughs and says, “Not on Christmas, Gus, don’t worry. We wouldn’t leave until the twenty-seventh.”
I want to say that doesn’t make it much better, but I have to try. I have to at least try. “Sounds fun. Mom, you still have
that vintage dress, right? The red one?”
I thought of it on the drive back home. Mom has this vintage silk dress she got at a flea market in New York City last year.
She laughed when she showed it to me, because it’s not like there are many places you can wear a dress like that in Glenridge. But as soon as she unzipped it from its garment bag, and I saw its low back and the beaded details on its shoulder
straps, I understood why she had to have it. She let me try it on, too. Even though Mom is a good four inches shorter than
me and fifteen pounds heavier, somehow it fits us both perfectly.
“Yes. Why?”
“Can I borrow it for a costume party this weekend? I was thinking of going as Little Red Riding Hood. It’s okay if you say
no,” I add.
Although I hope she doesn’t. The costume could work in part because Carson and Ellie went as princess vampires last year.
Carson wore red, and Ellie wore black. Both had robes, princess dresses and tiaras, and fake blood dripping from their mouths.
I think Natalie held on to Carson’s velvet hooded cape, which was at least three sizes too big for her, because the only red one they could find that Carson approved of was an adult-sized Little Red Riding Hood cape.
At their school’s Halloween parade, she kept tripping on it.
It’s crushed velvet with a silk red bow at the collar, which would look great paired with Mom’s dress.
Natalie could bring it to their kindergarten costume parade tomorrow, which I’m sneaking over to see.
“Whose house will the party be at?”
“Eddie’s.”
“Will his parents be there?”
“No,” I admit. “But Eddie asked his dad if he could have a party. It’s not like he’s doing it behind their backs.”
“Should Claire even be allowed to go to this party, period?” Todd asks Mom. “With no adults there? I’m not sure if you know
this, but in Connecticut, guardians are legally responsible for everything that happens at a party, even if they aren’t physically
there.”
I stare at him. Like, are you serious, Todd? You are not an adult with authority over me. Stop talking.
Mom must feel my energy toward him because she says, “I trust Claire. She’s allowed to go. And yes, you may borrow the dress.
Just be careful with it, okay?”
“Thank you!” I say. “I’ll go get it to make sure it still fits.”
To Todd, she adds, “It’s not like I’ve had a chance to wear it anywhere.” But he only presses his lips together in the approximation of a smile.
As I’m taking the stairs, Thisbe at my heels, I hear Todd say to Mom, “Teens will do whatever they can to get what they want.
They’re manipulative by nature. You should have more of a backbone with her.”
Deep breaths, I tell myself. I will not let Todd Mackey ruin this for me.
On Friday morning, Mom calls me out of second period so I can go watch Carson and Ellie’s kindergarten Halloween parade. Carson
and Ellie are Princess Peach and Toad. I almost cannot handle how cute they look, especially Ellie with her little red-and-white
mushroom hat.
I stand with Natalie and Bill, waving and screaming over the ruckus of their school’s band when they pass by, like I’m at
a rock concert. Once they’ve made two full turns around the soccer field in their costumes, the kids disperse and come looking
for their parents, friends, and raving fans (me).
“Before I forget, and before Carson sees,” Natalie says, pulling out the velvet hooded cape. She shoves it into my bag, checking
to make sure Carson isn’t nearby, which makes me smile. There is no chance Carson has thought about this item of clothing
once since last year, but if she sees it being lent out, even if it’s only to me, her missing cape will be all she’ll think
or talk about until it’s returned safely to her.
Bill swings both girls around when they come over as Natalie and I enthusiastically tell them how incredible they looked in the parade, and that they had the best costumes by far.
A few minutes later, Natalie and Bill get pulled into a conversation with another set of parents. I keep talking to the girls.
“Is Luke here?” Carson asks.
“Not today, I’m afraid.”
“Aw,” they both say, with exaggerated pouts.
I pull out my phone. “But I can take your picture and send it to him.”
The girls put their arms around one another and grin at the camera. Carson’s flyaways are so intense she looks like she’s
been electrocuted, and Ellie’s mushroom hat has gone slightly askew. They’re both missing teeth. My heart squeezes as I snap
pictures of them. They’re going to grow up so much while I’m at college.
I show them one of the pictures and then send a couple off to Luke.
He immediately FaceTimes me.
“Hey,” he says. “I needed a live view of the heroes of the Mushroom Kingdom.”
I turn the phone around so the girls can see him.
“Hi, Luke!” says Carson.
“Hi, Luke!” says Ellie.
“You both look great,” he says. “I wish I were there in person to see it.”
The girls smile and hop up and down. They clearly have no idea what to say back to him. I turn the camera back to me.
“Where’s your costume?” he asks. “I was hoping to get a sneak peek.”
I laugh. “You’ll see later.”
We texted this morning about his costume for the party tomorrow—I told him to come to my house in all black, and I’ll supply
the Jason hockey mask—and he asked me what I was going to be. When I told him Little Red Riding Hood, he asked, “How do Jason
and Little Red Riding Hood go together?”
“They don’t,” I told him.
“I see” was his only response.
We say goodbye—I let Carson and Ellie have the last wave—and I click it off and slip my phone back into my pocket.
“I like Luke,” Carson announces.
“Me too, Carson,” I tell her. Me too.