Epilogue
“…and then the little ghost said, ‘ Boo’—but only because he wanted a friend.”
A few kids squeal with that particular kindergarten bravado—the kind that only exists among construction paper bats and glitter.
I close the book and take in the sea of tiny faces.
The girl who showed me her ‘spooky’ dance earlier, now vibrating with barely-contained energy.
The quiet boy who’s been methodically peeling glue off his fingers all morning, currently gnawing his Batman cape.
The small figure in the back hugging her knees, watching everything with eyes too old for her sequined witch headband.
The classroom breathes around us—tempera paint, artificial grape scent, the ghost of Goldfish crackers. Someone’s juice box still glistens in the corner.
“Can we read the monster one again?” asks the glitter witch. Her voice has that particular whine perfected by five-year-olds who know exactly how to work a crowd.
Next to her, the dragon kid—who cried when his hood slipped during the parade—shoves the drooping eye out of his face. “Yeah! Where the monster eats all the …” He trails off, suddenly distracted by his own cape tie.
I glance over at the teacher by the cubbies—Miss Lorna. She’s got a clipboard in hand, pretending to check attendance but really just watching me. Not judging. More like … curiosity. Maybe even gratitude. The kind you offer someone who steps into a ghost-shaped hole.
Kristy’s old desk in the corner is now buried under construction paper pumpkins, a few framed photos, and a plastic cauldron of candy.
Earlier, one of the kids showed me a crayon drawing of colorful stick figures and wobbly hearts surrounding a dark-haired woman in a midi dress labeled Miss K floating above a rainbow.
I probably looked away too fast.
“Don’t you ghouls have a hallway to haunt and a candy bucket to overfill?”
“Miss K always gave us two stories,” a tiny voice pipes up.
Miss Lorna clears her throat. “Okay, spooky squad, we’ve taken up enough of Miss Payton’s time. She’s got other important grown-up stuff to get to.”
A collective groan ripples through the group. One kid flops onto his back like his spirit has officially left his body.
“Can’t she stay for just one more story?” the dragon boy pleads.
“No fair!” says the glitter witch. “Miss K used to let us ask questions!”
Miss Lorna gives me a sidelong glance. I nod.
“Three questions,” she says, her tone mock-stern but fond. “Then we let Miss Payton escape before she’s buried in glitter and Goldfish crumbs.”
I hold up three fingers. “Three questions. Make ’em count.”
Little arms waving like antennae. A fairy princess practically levitating off her seat. Someone—probably the werewolf—lets out an excited howl.
I point to Cat Ears first. “Go for it.”
“What’s your favorite candy?”
“Twix,” I answer. “The left one. But only because it’s clearly the superior twin.”
Next is a boy with a crooked vampire cape. “Do you got a boyfriend?”
A few kids giggle. I arch a brow. “Why? You planning to ask me out?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. My mom says it’s never too early to be proactive.”
Even Miss Lorna laughs at that one.
More hands shoot up in the air. Some have both arms up like raising the stakes might give them an edge.
A small hand in the back. Hesitant.
I nod at the boy in a silver space suit. “What’s your question?”
“Did Miss K really die on Halloween last year?”
The room stills.
Miss Lorna steps forward, but I hold up a hand.
“Yes,” I say softly. “Miss K died last Halloween. But not because she was scared. She was very brave. She fought monsters and saved people. Even the ones who didn’t know they needed saving.”
The little astronaut tilts his head. “Did it hurt?”
Something twists in my chest.
Kristy, bleeding out in my arms, whispering about movie nights and spring rolls. Her voice slurring. Her fingers brushing my cheek.
I swallow. “No. She was already somewhere else. Somewhere good. But she made me promise to tell you something. She loved you all so much.”
The dragon kid wraps his arms around my middle like he’s trying to squeeze the sadness out of both of us.
I hug him back, eyes blurring.
Miss Lorna claps her hands. “Okay, pumpkins. Time for hallway trick-or-treating.”
Squeals. Fluttering capes. Glitter everywhere.
“Wait—before you go.” I dig into my bag and pull out the little pouch of stickers—sassy ghosts in sunglasses, a vampire sipping from a juice box, a baby werewolf in bunny slippers. “I made these for you guys.”
That gets a giggle—or five—and suddenly they’re swarming me, sticky fingers grabbing for bats and glittery ghosts, tiny pumpkins with fangs and slogans like Too Cute to Spook or Boo, Bitch!
One little witch slaps a vampire cat to her forehead. “You made these?”
I nod, smile wobbling. “Yep. Limited edition.”
“Whoa. Miss K would’ve loved them,” someone whispers.
Just like that, the rush kicks up again—sneakers pounding, wings flapping, the slap-swish of tails against tiny legs as they pour out into the hallway, sugar-drunk and glowing.
One kid pauses in the doorway.
“Halloween was her favorite,” he murmurs, fingers curled tight around his name-tagged bag.
I manage a smile. “Mine too.”
“Grandpa says ghosts are just people who have reasons to stay. Maybe Miss K’s here watching us.”
Then he’s gone.
And I’m left in the echo of laughter and the quiet hum of a classroom that still misses her.
“Thank you so much for dropping by,” Miss Lorna says quietly. “I swear, Halloween’s been the only thing on their minds all week.”
“I didn’t do much.”
“You showed up. That’s not nothing. Kristy would’ve cackled at the pirate voice.”
That gets a laugh out of me.
She reaches into a drawer. “Eli made you something.”
“Eli?”
“The astronaut.” She hands me a crayon drawing—what looks like a red-haired queen? Princess? With a cape and about six fingers on each hand. Next to her is a stick-figure Kristy floating in the sky, with little wings and a star wand.
“He thinks you’re a superhero for visiting.” Miss Lorna huffs out a soft laugh. “So … cape and crown sound about right.”
My throat tightens. I tuck the drawing into my bag—one more story for Kristy’s collection. The kind where the good guys win and no one has to say goodbye.