Boys of Halloween Past
The Year: Seventh Grade
“Please, please, please, please, PLEE-ZE?” I beg my sister, standing behind her in our bathroom giving her zero personal space. “It will take two seconds!”
“Kat! You’ll never learn how to do spells if I always do it for you.” Her eyes are on the mirror, where she is applying her third coat of mascara. Harry has always been great at mascara.
“But you’re just so good at it!” I take a strand of her gloriously soft blond hair and hold it between my thumb and index finger. “I remember what your hair was like when we were kids. And this summer it’s suddenly frizz-free? You fixed this with magic.”
Harry drops the mascara wand, and it bounces into the sink as she spins around to look at me, smelling like a mix of mint leaves and vanilla, a scent she made herself because it was her boyfriend Chris Branton’s favorite.
(Chris stats: high school freshman and founder of his very own after-school initiative: Save the Patch, a group dedicated to promoting local pumpkin patches in New England.
There has never been such a town outcry as the year Mayor Croft found out some people were buying their Cinderella gourds from Trader Joe’s.)
“No, I didn’t,” she insists, but I can see her cheeks reddening.
“You did,” I sing. “And I know you used mom’s favorite silk shirt!”
Harry slaps her hand over my mouth to keep me from talking, but I am relentless, like all seventh graders are.
“She’s been asking where it went for weeks, and I’m going to tell her you burned it, all to get silky hair. You’re gonna be in so much trouble!”
My sister and I share everything. A pale gray cashmere zip-up sweater the aunts gave us, shoes, and even exam notes.
We binge the same shows, listen to the same music, and half the time I talk about something, I can’t remember if the idea is mine or Harry’s.
She is my sister and my best friend. (Laney is very okay with being a close second because Harry frequently gets her books early, totally not through magical spells.)
The only thing we don’t share is magic. While Harry has mastered hers, I’m not sure I even have any.
Harry’s left eye begins to twitch, which is a sign that I am getting to her.
She adjusts her forest-green crewneck sweater she’s paired with jeans.
I may have been teasing her for being vain, but this is the first Halloween that she barely looks dressed up—her only festive Halloween touch is the tiny Headless Horseman earrings we both got at one of Mystic Hollow’s Saturday farmers’ markets.
Meanwhile, I’ve gone full Halloween, like any witch should.
But don’t worry—I made it cute! My Spirited Bookstore tee is adorable and fits nicely under our coveted cashmere sweater.
It could be witchcraft, but my new jeans definitely make me look taller.
And, best of all, my braces came off this afternoon.
My makeup is decent. My scent is Bath and Body sponsored, and my breath is minty fresh.
All I need now is good hair. Hair that Ryan Elliott can’t ignore.
He’ll take one look at me and realize that we aren’t just friends. We have to be boyfriend/girlfriend.
I’ve been telling Harry for weeks he’s been flirting with me.
“Morning, Sunshine,” he says every time he walks into English and sits down next to me.
“You smell good,” he said yesterday, getting a whiff of my vanilla body spray.
I used the rest of the bottle tonight—Harry isn’t going to be thrilled when she gets this sweater back, but it’s totally worth it.
And when we started talking about the Halloween carnival, I told him that I’d never been on any of the spinny rides, even though the entire seventh grade can’t shut up about the Gravitron ride.
Apparently, the bottom drops out, and Tom Callabra did a backflip when he was pinned to the wall by the centripetal motion.
I even told him how, last year, I waited in line with Harry six times and chickened out each time.
That’s when Ryan said, and I quote: “Let’s go be brave together. ”
Together. Tonight is the night.
Or it will be, once I have good hair.
Harry takes my brush out of my hand, and I watch as she plucks a strand of my red hair.
Rolling her eyes, she ties a knot in it, then again, and again.
I watch, open-mouthed in glee—when Harry does magic, it really does feel magical—as she whips out a lighter and my scraggly red hair goes up in smoke.
Immediately, my hair goes from rat’s-nest curls to the cutest beach waves ever.
I gasp as the bathroom door opens and Mom walks in.
“Everything okay?” she asks. “It smells like burning hair in here.”
“Sorry,” I chirp, and throw my arm around Harry, making a show of unplugging the curling iron. “Look how amazing Harry made my hair look!”
“You both look great,” Mom says, smiling happily. “Have fun at the carnival, but remember to be back before eleven to be here when Dad and I—”
“Do the Samhain spells,” we say in unison.
“We know, Mom,” Harry replies for both of us. “We wouldn’t miss it.”
I have plenty of time. When I come back tonight, I’ll have my first boyfriend.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to wait with you to find him?” Harry asks.
Chris has his arm around my sister, his JV Headless Horseman jersey on even though we don’t have any games on Halloween. I’ve never seen him without it, and lately I haven’t seen Harry much without him.
“Ryan will be here any minute,” I assure her. “He already texted saying he was on his way. Go. Have fun. I’ll meet you back here at this exact spot at ten thirty.”
Usually, I have to be home much earlier, but this is Halloween. The Hadley version of the Super Bowl. One of the most important calendar days of the year, according to my mom and the aunts. Curfews go out the window. Besides, Harry is nearby. My parents aren’t worried.
“Okay,” Harry says, pursing her lips slightly and smudging her rose-colored lip gloss. “Be careful.”
“Okay, Mom!” I wave them off, then look around the carnival, which smells like a funnel cake and cotton candy had a baby.
The place, as always, is packed. The carnival is in the parking lot next to Mystic Hollow High, like it is every year.
Kids from the middle and high school mill around eating treats, playing carnival games with Halloween-themed prizes, and riding the rides, which is what I cannot wait to do.
I look around the sea of heads, hoping to spot a boy with dark brown hair.
I am certain he’ll be wearing a hoodie with a flannel unbuttoned over it and joggers.
I am not sure Ryan owns a pair of jeans. That’s okay. We all have our flaws.
“Kat!”
I hear him before I see him waving to me, trying to get past a long crowd waiting to go on the Ferris wheel. Then he’s jogging toward me, his brown eyes and long lashes are brighter in the glow of the carnival lights.
“Hey,” I say, trying not to sound nervous, even though my heart is beating so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if he could see it through my tee and sweater.
“Hey.” He sounds out of breath. “Sorry I’m late. Practice went long and I had to go home and shower.”
He showered for me! Well, for all of Mystic Hollow, really. “It’s okay. I haven’t been waiting long.” My fingers tingle with excitement. “So should we get our POP wristbands and hit the Gravitron first? We can be brave together.”
He laughs. “Anything you want, Sunshine.”
The two of us approach the ticket booth to buy the Pay-One-Price wristbands.
A wristband, I am sure, I will cut off and hang on my wall for all of eternity.
Then someday I’ll tell our grandkids, “Your grandfather and I had our first date at the Halloween carnival in seventh grade . . .” and I’ll ramble on till they roll their eyes like I do at my grandmother sometimes.
“Next!”
We step up to the counter. “One POP, please,” I say, my hand on my bag to retrieve my wallet. I don’t expect him to pay for mine.
“That will be thirty-four dollars,” the girl behind the glass window says. I accept my wristband with a surge of excitement and turn to look at Ryan. For some reason, his face falls.
“Oh, crap.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot my wallet at home.” His big, beautiful eyes crinkle with worry. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I think I’m going to have to take a pass on rides tonight.”
My heart feels like it fell out of my chest. No! This is not how tonight is supposed to go. We go on the Gravitron together, then tackle the mirror maze, ride the coaster, and then have our first kiss on the Ferris wheel. I have it all mapped out. We have to go on rides!
I open my wallet and look inside. The babysitting money I’ve collected from the Murphys over the past month stares back at me. There is just enough for a second POP and some food later. “What if I bought it for you?”
“Wait. Seriously?” When he puts a hand on my arm, my stomach back flips. “You don’t mind? I’ll pay you back. Better yet, I’ll pay for yours next year when we come together.”
It’s official. I’ve stopped breathing.
“It’s a plan,” I say, and hand over the money.
Soon, Ryan is rocking a matching wristband, and we’re off toward the far corner of the parking lot turned Halloween fair.
He walks close, his shoulder bumping mine the entire way to the ride, and I have to remind myself to speak when I am supposed to answer a question.
But inside, I’m all butterflies, walking around with him, nearly touching. It’s finally happening.
I’m not even nervous when we get into line for the spinning ride. Not if we’re together.
Then his phone pings. “Shoot!” Ryan looks at me apologetically. “It’s my mom. My younger sister hasn’t checked in. Can you hold my spot? I’ll be right back, I promise. I’ll meet you on the ride. Just stay here, okay?”
“Of course,” I say, because how cute is it that he is checking on his younger sister? I could swoon. “It’s a long line. I’m sure you’ll meet me before I even get to the front.” The Gravitron ride line is always the worst. Why we all wait so long to be spun at warp speed is beyond me.
“You really are the best, Sunshine,” he says, hugging me again. As his arms brush my back, I feel like I might die. “See you in a bit.” And with another smile and wave, Ryan disappears into the crowd.
My phone pings too.
Laney:
How’s it going?
Me:
Amazing!
I fill Laney in on everything as the line inches forward. By the time we stop texting, I’m nearing the front of the line and there is still no Ryan.
Didn’t he say he’d meet me on the ride? I crane my neck, looking for his mop of brown hair.
“You can go ahead,” I say to the couple behind me.
“No,” says the high schooler running the ride. “I remember you. Either ride or get out of line.”
“C’mon,” says the guy behind me, and next thing I know I’m being shoved onto the ride.
The door shuts with a resounding clang, and I feel like I might have a heart attack.
Then we start spinning. The world pulls around me. Everyone is laughing and screaming, and I clench myself tight, counting the seconds until it’s over.
When I wobble my way down the stairs back to the pavement, I’m half expecting Ryan to be there. To be proud of how brave I am.
But he’s nowhere to be found. He must be trying to find his sister, but the carnival isn’t that big. He’ll be back soon, and he won’t want to wait long to ride with me.
I get back in line.
The second time is worse. I feel like an egg being scrambled.
But the third really takes the cake.
When I get off after, it feels like the entire world has transformed into a spinning carnival ride.
I can barely read the numbers on my phone screen, but there’s no denying that Ryan hasn’t texted me and it’s been over an hour.
I am debating what to do when the crowd seems to part, and I see him playing the carnival ring-toss game.
Is he trying to win me a giant plush Frankenstein as an apology?
That would be so cute—except when he wins, he hands the stuffed animal off to Ali Meadows.
She squeals and throws her arms around him.
He whispers something in her ear, then the two turn and head for the Ferris wheel.
Together. When he puts his arm over her shoulders, his POP wristband catches the light.
My POP wristband. The one I bought for him.
He was never going to go on any rides with me. He just wanted to save thirty-four bucks.
The realization sends me to the nearest garbage can. As the world finally crashes back to stillness, I puke my guts out.
A hand manifests in my hair, gently holding it back, another on my back, rubbing it softly. “Breathe,” comes a gentle voice.
Harry. When I whimper and stand, she wipes at my mouth with a napkin and offers me a ginger ale. I don’t ask how she knows what happened. It doesn’t matter how she knows; I’m just relieved that she knows, that my sister is here, and while everything is awful, if she’s here, she’ll make it better.
“What do I do now?” I ask as the tears start to fall.
“We’re going home.” She hands me a tissue, smoothly accepting the soda back.
“We? It’s only nine o’clock. You and Chris still have—”
“Chris will understand,” Harry says, putting a gentle arm around me, leading me away from the flashing lights and the happy screams of the carnival goers. “Sisters come first.”
We never utter Ryan’s name. But on Monday morning in class, when he sits down next to me, his chair somehow shatters, breaking into a million pieces and sending him hurtling to the floor.
When I get home, Harry is sitting at the kitchen table on a plastic folding chair from the basement.
I don’t ask what happened to her chair, but she has a splinter in her thumb, and the woodpile on the porch is twice as tall.