Boys of Halloween Past
The Year: Eighth Grade
“Let’s get on the dance floor! I want to see your best ghoulish moves!”
The bleachers clear and eighth graders hugging the walls of the muggy gym migrate onto the gym floor, under flashing orange and purple black lights as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ “Heads Will Roll” begins to play.
I am standing by the punch: small gummy eyeballs floating in a green concoction that tastes like liquid sugar.
Next to me, Tom Callabra is slurping directly from the bowl like an overgrown dog.
“What are you looking at, witch?” he says with an overly loud, annoying laugh as he walks away, his Headless Horseman football jacket slung over one shoulder.
“This is one of those times when I really wish you knew your spells and could strike him down with a massive acne attack right here on the dance floor.” Laney is next to me, her eyes like slits as she watches Tom drift away.
“Me too,” I say with a sigh as I sip a watered-down lemonade.
It’s the Nightmare Before Halloween Howl for eighth graders.
I begged Harry to serve as one of the high school volunteers, and she even got her boyfriend Kevin to DJ.
She’s over by his booth, giving Band-Aids to one of the girls from the swim team.
Our eyes lock and I offer her a little smile. It’s so nice knowing my older sister is here looking out for me. Plus, she’s so cool. I’m so proud to be the great Harry Hadley’s little sister.
Plus, I look pretty cute myself, even though my gothic belted black dress has a tulle skirt that is basically made of itches.
Laney has gone for a dress that has a black top and a white skirt splattered with blood that a few teachers frowned upon.
I think it looks perfectly Laney, who is nervous and chattering a mile a minute.
“We should get out there and dance, right?” she asks me, her tiny red earrings swaying.
“My sister said people don’t couple off until the slow songs,” I tell her, feeling proud to show off my older sister’s knowledge. “And she said it’ll be at least halfway through the dance before Kevin throws in anything slow.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to slow dance with a boy tonight,” Laney gushes. “Have you seen Hunter yet? I mean, have you seen the woodsman?” she corrects herself, using the assigned code word for my crush, Hunter Tyler.
He has big green eyes, freckles that run across his nose and cheeks, a gap-toothed grin, brown hair, and favors the Model UN over organized sports.
Instead of dirty sneakers and sandals with socks, Hunter always looks like he’s heading to an internship.
He even wears dress shoes to school. Finally, I’ve found a smart boy who cares more about his grades than toilet-papering the mayoral mansion!
We are perfect for each other. There is only one tiny issue: I hear he has a thing for Zara Patel.
Insignificant details.
He hasn’t asked her out, and he hasn’t asked her to dance either.
I have been watching his side of the gym all night, and Hunter has never left the bleachers, where he is sitting with his friends.
Meanwhile, Zara is in the center of the gym floor, wearing a skintight orange dress that has tiny black cats all over the skirt.
That’s when a sweeping orchestral chord echoes through the gymnasium. I glance over and Harry is giving me a thumbs-up, as “I Put a Spell on You” has all my classmates coupling off and swaying.
This is my moment. I have to seize it.
“We aren’t halfway through!” I say in a panic. My hands start to itch—they’ve been feeling weird whenever I’m nervous or stressed.
“Now’s your chance!” Laney says, gently pushing me toward Hunter.
“But he’s with his friends! I need to find a way to get him alone to ask. I am not walking up to him in front of everyone.”
“Good plan,” Laney agrees. “Should we pull the fire alarm?”
“Noooooo! That will end the dance! Fire Chief Upton will never let us back in here.” I tap my foot trying to think of another idea.
And that’s when my fingers start to tingle and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
I listen to the lyrics, and inspiration strikes.
“I will do a spell to get him to notice me.”
Laney’s eyes brighten in the glow of the disco ball flashing on the dance floor. “Yes! A spell. You know one to use? I mean, can you actually do it?”
“Yes,” I decide, clutching the crystal necklace my aunts gave me for strength. I think hard about one of the intention spells I read about in my spell book. “I’m going to write Hunter’s name down on a piece of paper and burn it in a cauldron.”
Laney frowns. “So you’re going home? Or did you bring a cauldron in your bag?”
“I didn’t bring a cauldron! Though a pocket-size cauldron could be a good invention. I’ll use a sink. I just need paper and matches, and the bathroom all to myself, so I can say my intention and light the paper on fire without anyone coming in.”
“Won’t it cause a fire?” Laney is starting to sound anxious now. I’m a little bit too.
“That’s why I’m using the sink,” I say. “I’ll do the spell, then turn the water on immediately.” I purse my lips. “That won’t negate the spell, right?”
“How should I know?” Laney asks. “Ooh! But I know someone who will have matches. I’ll meet you at the bathroom in five.”
“I’ll get paper and a pen.” I pick up a napkin with the Headless Horseman on it. “This should work.” I hope. “See you in a few!”
I look over at Hunter again and see him and his friends whispering and laughing about something as they look at the dance floor.
I feel a pang of doubt, but a wave of determination sweeps through me.
This is the intention my aunts are always talking about.
If there was ever a time to do a spell, it’s now.
I head to the gym doors and Harry appears, blocking my path.
“Where are you going?” she asks casually.
She blows a bright orange bubble with her chewing gum; it matches her tulle skirt that she’s paired with a black leotard and tights.
“I asked Kevin to play this song just for you and it’s almost over.
” She points at the far corner of the gym. “Hunter’s over there.”
I knock her hand down. “Shh!” Embarrassment rushes through me, a hot wave. “I can’t just ask him.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Because what if he says no? What if he laughs at me? What if he leaves me standing there, all night, and I spend another Halloween alone?
“I know it’s scary, but trust me, you can’t say the wrong thing to the right person. If he’s a decent guy, he’ll be thrilled if you ask him. And if he’s not? Screw him.”
I flush. “No, Harry, it has to be perfect. I have a plan.”
“A plan?” Harry flashes her green eyes at me under her thick lashes. I decide to be honest. I stand up as tall as I can, only two inches shorter than my sister. “I’m going to cast a small spell. To get the woodsman to notice me so I can ask him to dance.”
Harry’s eyes flicker and I wonder what she’s thinking. “Tonight? In front of all these people? Have you even cast a spell before?”
“There’s a first time for everything,” I say stubbornly, waving the Headless Horseman napkin, which only confuses Harry more.
“Why do you need magic? You’re enough, Kat. You don’t need magic to get some guy to notice you.”
“Yes, I do,” I say stubbornly, crossing my arms, which feel cold and prickle with goose bumps—which is odd when the gym is so warm. I can feel my emotions getting the best of me. “I’m not you, Harry.”
“What does that mean?” Harry snaps, all knowing and acting wise when she’s only eighteen months older.
“He hasn’t noticed me yet. But tonight I’ll change that,” I insist. I look over at the bleachers and realize he’s gone. Where did he go? I have to act fast. “I need to go do this. I’ll talk to you after, or you’ll see us together on the dance floor.”
Her mouth twitches. “O-kay.” She sounds doubtful and I feel a flash of anger.
“Just go dance with Kevin the Great. I’ve got this.
” I spin away from my sister and race for the gym doors.
Along the skeleton display framing the entryway, I feel my skirt give a tug.
It’s caught on something, but I can’t see what it is.
I fumble to pull my skirt away from the skeletons and shove the doors to get away.
That’s when I hear the sound of fabric tearing.
I give a small gasp. My skirt has a huge gash from the waist to the mid-thigh on my right side, giving the rest of the world a view of my Supergirl underwear briefs.
I quickly clutch both halves of the skirt and pull them together.
My eyes meet Harry’s. Help, I silently say, our disagreement completely forgotten.
She’s by my side in less than a breath.
“You can fix this, right? I have to do this spell fast,” I beg.
“Yes, yes, yes.” Harry pulls me into a darkened classroom. “Let me just think of the spell. Ummmm . . .”
“Don’t you know one?”
“I don’t know every spell, Kat. I’ve never ripped my pants before.”
“You should by now!”
“I mean, it would help if I had some actual needle and thread that I could infuse with my magic, but . . . let me try this.” Harry rips a strip of tulle from her skirt, whispers some words, and crushes it in her palm.
Nothing happens. “It’s not working!” I wail.
“Hang on! Give me a second.” Harry tries another strip, bigger this time. And then again. By the sixth spell, I’ve given up all hope, and her skirt has gone from maxi to mini. “This isn’t working.”
“Then focus!”
“I’m trying, Kat! I’m not perfect. Let’s just fix it normally. We’ll make it a fashion statement?”
I’m suddenly suspicious. “Why isn’t this working? I once saw you mend a hole in your sweater sleeve with your eyes.”
“I can’t do that.”
But I know what’s going wrong. My sister doesn’t want to fix my skirt. She has the sacrifice, but not the intention. She’d rather I sit here with my entire butt hanging out than dance with the boy I’m in love with.
My stomach churns as I hear her working below me, somehow having a mountain of safety pins at her disposal that she quickly uses to close the hole. By the time she’s done, I have to admit that she’s worked it out so well, it looks like a seam in the skirt, and no one will even notice it.
“Come on! Let’s get you back out there,” Harry says encouragingly. “You don’t need some spell to get his attention.”
I almost believe her. Besides which, we’ve been gone too long anyway. Laney is probably looking for me too.
But by the time we rush back into the gym, the dance floor has been taken over by a large group who is doing “Thriller” in unison, shimmying across the dance floor.
I grip Harry’s arm in horror when I see who is smack-dab in the middle of the group, staring at each other as if they each hang the moon: Hunter and Zara Patel, dancing together.
As I stare, he reaches for her waist and pulls her in to sway as if it’s a slow song, even though it totally isn’t.
She rests her face in his shoulder, as the music transitions to another romantic song.
I gape at them.
“He wasn’t worth it, Kat. Trust me,” Harry says quietly.
I don’t believe her, but I try to stay positive. “It’s just one dance.”
But it isn’t. Hunter and Zara start dating at the dance and are together till the spring, when the whole school learns Hunter is actually dating three girls at the same time. Zara is one of them, and when she finds out, she dumps her protein shake on him in the lunchroom.
I know it’s silly, but somehow that hurts more. He had three girlfriends, and that feels like three chances, and he still didn’t even look at me.