Chapter One: Of Buttheads and Shadows
It was Halloween, which should have been a good thing, but I was sitting on the porch grumpy-drawing.
I love drawing. I draw when I’m happy too. But that afternoon I was definitely grumpy-drawing. Mainly because my big brother Wyatt was a butthead.
I perched on the front porch railing, sketch book on my knees, pencil case balanced beside me. The porch shadows at my back were cool, the October sunshine warm on my face. I took a deep breath and studied the street scene in front of me. The dark, old-fashioned houses that lined the street were draped in spider webs and framed above by the skeleton branches of giant sycamores. Bright orange pumpkins punctuated porch shadows. More colors flitted up and down the sidewalk--red superhero capes, green goblin masks, turquoise mermaid tails. Trick-or-treating started early for the littlest kids in the neighborhood.
My brother hadn’t always been a butthead. He was four years older than me, and one of the coolest kids at our school, but he always liked hanging out with me and my best friend Zeke. But recently he had started acting really squirrely and weird. He came home late at night and left early in the morning. He hid in his room and didn’t talk to me or Mom and Dad except to be rude. Most buttheaded of all, he didn’t hang out and make comics with me and Zeke anymore.
I fished for the right pencil, a perfect shade of cadmium orange that could be layered to match the vibrant hue of the jack-o-lanterns. Finding it made me feel better and I began to draw.
Focused on capturing the bright scene on paper, I failed to notice the black-clad, tattooed figure lumbering up the street towards me. People are always warning me to pay more attention to my surroundings, that it can be dangerous to get too absorbed in one thing. I didn’t even notice when the figure turned in at the open gate and climbed the porch steps. Lost in my drawing, I nearly fell off the railing when a porch plank screeched under a heavy-soled boot right behind me.
My mom caught me from behind, steadying me on my perch.
“That’s why I tell you to pay more attention, Cody,” she chuckled in her gravelly voice. “You never know what might be sneaking up on you.” She rocked back and forth on the screechy plank a few more times, just for fun.
I craned my head around to glare at her. She was wearing a sleeveless black t-shirt that said “Purposeful,” the name of her bookstore. It was chilly enough for sweaters but Mom would go sleeveless outside until the first snow. Even then, once she was inside the house or the bookstore, she would revert to sleeveless-ness. The reason for this was the tattoos covering her arms, wrist to neck. She was very proud of her tattoos. They covered most of the rest of her too, but thankfully she kept her pants on all year round.
Ignoring my glare she darted in for a quick kiss. “Happy Halloween, babe! Whatchya drawing?”
I wiped sticky red lipstick off my cheek and switched from a glare to a frown, waiting to see if she would notice that I was grumpy-drawing and ask why. She and my dad hadn’t seemed to notice anything weird about Wyatt because in their eyes he never did anything wrong. This was really annoying.
When I didn’t answer, she studied my sketchbook over my shoulder.
“I like it,” she clucked. “You’re putting a little edge in your drawings. Less Norman Rockwell. More Edward Gorey...Hey, did you read that book I gave you?”
“Which one?” I grumped. Mom was always giving me, and everyone else in the world, books to read. Usually Do-It-Yourself books about saving the planet, because that was the kind of book she sold in her store.
“The one on making political statements in your art,” she answered. “You need to read it. Your drawings can do so much more than just look pretty.”
“I’m 12 Mom, I don’t need to make political statements,” I said, feeling my grump get worse. “I’m trying to capture the spirit of Halloween.”
“Mission accomplished. It’s super creepy! Good job, babe.” She kissed me again and said, “I’m going inside to get ready for trick-or-treaters.” The screen door screeched as she opened it and clomped her way inside.
“It’s not creepy,” I grumbled to myself. I had been going for just a hint of malevolence in the jack-o-lantern grins and the spider webs in the corners. But when I looked down at the drawing I had just done I nearly fell off the railing again.
Despite the sun-drenched world around me, the streetscape in my drawing was dark. Really dark. Shadows under porches and behind trees seemed to stretch further than I had actually drawn them, creeping out across the page, swallowing all color and light as they reached towards unsuspecting kids in cheery costumes...
It was creepy.
And it wasn’t what I had drawn. Even though I had been grumpy-drawing and worrying about Wyatt, I knew I had been drawing a happy, well-lit scene.
Heart pounding, I checked my pencils, wondering if I’d picked up the wrong ones without realizing it. They were the same old pencils I used every day. I scrabbled through them, trying to find a certain color.
It wasn’t there.
None of my pencils matched the color of the dark, groping shadows in my drawing.
I shivered involuntarily and thought about telling my mom but she would probably think I was nuts.
Just then she called through the screen door. “What time are you going trick-or-treating with your new friends?”
“Ack!” I said, slamming my sketchbook shut and jumping off the porch railing. “They’ll be here soon!”
Chapter Two: Mom +Zombie=Mombie?
All thoughts of freaky shadows and butthead brothers shoved out of my mind, I raced inside. There was way too much to do before my new friends could see the house. Not that it wasn’t properly decorated outside. Mom would never let her favorite holiday go by without decking the porch in witches and black cats. It was the inside I was worried about.
I tore up the stairs to my bedroom, yelling, “Mom! Put your costume on!” as I went.
I came back down a few minutes later wearing my costume and set about de-weirding the living room. As previously mentioned, the theme of Mom’s bookstore, Purposeful Books, is Do-It-Yourself. But not nice, pleasant DIY projects like making flower crowns or scrapbooks. Mom only sells books that, in her opinion, help make the world a better place. Many of the projects in the books she sells, everything from social justice to raising your own bees to building houses out of old tires have been tested in our living room at some point. Including active bee hives, for a very short period of time. And that was just Mom’s share of the junk in the living room.
I shoved a book titled How to Get Your Daily Protein from Eating Grubs under a cushion and called to Mom, “Do you have your costume on yet?!”
“What?” came a muffled reply from the kitchen at the back of the house.
I ran down the hall and found her rooting through the cabinets. She pulled out a package of shriveled up brown stuff that a customer sent her after reading one of her books and moving to Maine to become a seaweed farmer.
She sniffed it, winced, and said, “I hate it when your dad doesn’t come home early enough to cook dinner.” She tossed the seaweed back into the cabinet, the motion of her arm causing a whale tattoo on her bicep to undulate as if it were swimming.
“Mom!” I barked.
“Yeah, babe?” she said without looking away from the bleak contents of the cabinet.
“My friends will be here soon,” I said through clenched teeth. “You need to get your costume on.”
“What’s the rush? I’m hungry.”
“There’ll be food at the Haunted Secret Garden Party,” I said, thinking of the tables laden with treats that showed up in the community garden every year on Halloween, as if by magic.
“Someone’s gotta stay home and hand out non-GMO popcorn balls to trick-or-treaters,” Mom said. “It’s my turn this year.”
“But you can’t miss the the Haunted Secret Garden, “ I said. “It’s the best party in West Adelfi all year.” And it was, which was saying a lot because West Adelfi threw a lot of parties.
“Meh,” Mom said. “You’ve seen one fire juggler you’ve seen ‘em all. Plus, I don’t eat all that high fructose corn poison anyway.”
“You mean candy? Not when anyone’s looking, anyway,” I muttered, thinking of her stash of Twinkies that no one was supposed to know about.
“What, babe?” she said.
“I said, uhhh, you should put your costume on now or you’ll scare the trick-or-treaters.”
She snorted. “I’m going as an environmental disaster zombie. Complete with UV ray scarring and toxic waste mutations. You think how I look now is scarier than that?”
“Ummm,” I squirmed.
I take after my mom in appearance but no one can tell by looking at us. We have the same straight brown hair, brown eyes, and skin tone (a green gold with flushes of cinnamon, according to my fancy colored pencils) but she dyes her hair black, wears bright blue contacts, and...well...covers her green gold skin with tattoos. Admittedly, some of her tattoos are cool-looking. I always liked the flock of starlings swooping across her back and the whale swimming up her left arm. But visual things have a strong impact on me. The green-fanged cobra coiling around her right arm and the bloody heart dripping down her left leg scared me when I was a little kid. Still do, sometimes.
“Yes?” I said, my voice wobbling. “Just a little…y’know, maybe for people who aren’t used to all the…snakes…and blood…and stuff. On someone’s mom?”
Mom threw her head back and laughed, exposing the nosegay of pansies inked on her neck. I’d always liked that one, maybe because we mostly saw it when she laughed.
“Thanks, babe. You just made my day!” she said, then finally noticed the scowl on my face. “If your new friends aren’t used to seeing tattooed moms then they clearly aren’t from West Adelfi,” she snorted again.
“They’re not,” I confirmed.
“From across the river, huh?” she said, her voice going judgy. “Kids from that new soccer league of yours? Who probably bought their costumes instead of making them by hand the way we do over here in West Adelfi..?”
“You haven’t made me a costume since I was four and you wrapped me in recycled tin foil and called me the Apocalyptic Tin Man!” I pointed out. “And yes, they’re from across the river. But they’re my guests. We should at least try not to scare them!”
“Babe, it’s Halloween! They’re supposed to be scared. Why’d you invite them here if they’re going to get all freaked out by our wild and wooly ways?”
I chewed on my lip, contemplating telling her the truth: I’d invited them because I was desperate for new friends now that my brother was being a butthead and wouldn’t hang out with me anymore.
“Y’know,” Mom said, not waiting for an answer. “Wyatt has never been embarrassed about anything. Your brother is proud of who he is and where he comes from. He’ll need that kind of confidence to heal our damaged planet. You should learn from him.”
The mention of Wyatt just as I was thinking of him made a lump rise in my throat. Mom was so oblivious sometimes. I had learned plenty from Wyatt, including not to bring friends home unless I wanted to explain the grubs in the fridge or the fact that we had no furniture except bookshelves and a bunch of cushions on the floor because Mom read a book that said sitting in chairs was bad for elimination. He also taught me that getting out of West Adelfi every now and then was super healthy. He encouraged me to join the soccer league across the river, same as he did when he was my age. He said it saved him from the pressure Mom and Dad put on him. No big deal, they just expected him to save the world. They hadn’t specified how exactly except that he would be some kind of super activist taking on multiple causes at once. Me, they didn’t think I could pour my way out of a cereal box. But my brother was going to save the world.
“You don’t need to be in a soccer league across the river,” Mom continued. “There’s plenty of stuff going on in your own neighborhood. Nunchuk lessons and sword swallowing and tightrope walking...None of this sports culture that brainwashes kids into thinking you should pay athletes millions of dollars to jump around on a baseball court while the world is falling apart around our ears.”
I sighed inwardly. The most important thing I’d learned from Wyatt was not to take our parents too seriously, which was easier when he was around. He spent hours with me and Zeke making up stories for our comic book. It was called Kyudo and Muncher and it was about a supervillain named Purposeful Woman, her sidekick No, and the two cat-like ninja creatures who did battle with them for the right to eat processed food and watch streaming TV til their brains melted. I did the manga-style drawings and Zeke organized stuff (because that was what he was into, that and gardening).
Until Wyatt started acting like a butthead three weeks ago and I was left to fend for myself against Purposeful Woman and No.
“Wyatt would never fall for that corporate malarky...” Mom said, poking at the contents of the cabinet again.
I was tempted to remind Mom that soccer hadn’t warped Wyatt’s brain. He’d even won some trophies and was still on track to save the world. I was also tempted to tell her it felt really really bad that Wyatt was acting mean and squirrely, that I was afraid it was because of me, that maybe I was too weird and annoying for him, that I missed him and worried about him so much it made my stomach hurt all the time and the only thing that made it feel better was the possibility of making new friends with some kids on my soccer team, even if they did live across the river and buy their Halloween costumes. The words were right there, forming that lump in my throat. All I had to do was speak them…
But I knew Mom wouldn’t understand. She would just say Wyatt was too busy getting ready to save the world to hang out with his little brother and who could blame him?
“Mom,” I said, swallowing the lump and making a mental note to keep my new friends out of the grubby fridge and away from questions about chairs and elimination. “Please go put your costume on. They’ll be here soon.”
Mom, who had tired of waiting for the kitchen cabinets to produce something tasty, organic, and healthy for her to eat (probably because such a thing doesn’t exist), said, “Alright alright…” and clomped her way up the back stairs.
Just then the doorbell rang.
“Phew,” I said. “Close one.” Whatever happened tonight, at least my new friends weren’t going to be greeted at the door by Mom and her snakes and blood and stuff.
I pelted up the hallway, stopped in the living room to kick a basket of partially knitted bat house cozies out of sight, and then went to open the door to my new friends.
Chapter Three: Real Madrid is in My Kitchen
“Ole! Ole! Oleoleole…!”
My new friends, Aiden and Jiao, stood on the front porch. Behind them the sidewalks were filling up with bigger kids as the trees became dark silhouettes against a purpling sky and jack o’lantern faces started to glow. They bounced a soccer ball back and forth between their knees and looked so cool and normal that for a moment I forgot all worries about my butthead brother and my tattooed mom.
“Hi Cody! I’m so excited to be here!” Jiao said, bouncing the ball to Aiden one last time and then turning to face me. Aiden kept the ball in motion by bouncing it off various parts of his body.
Jiao was tall, with a long black (dark sepia, according to my fancy pencils) ponytail that streamed out behind her like a pennant when she ran down the soccer field. Aiden was medium height, like me, with a curly mop of light brown hair (raw umber) that got in his eyes (chrome oxide green) unless he held it back with a striped headband.
“Great!” I said, a little overly enthusiastic. “I see you have your costumes on!”
They were wearing soccer jerseys like mine, shiny scarlet and ultramarine for Real Madrid, one of the best soccer teams in the world. Jiao was the best soccer player on our team so she got to wear Ronaldo’s jersey.
“I’ve heard West Adelfi is the best neighborhood for Halloween,” Jiao continued, “because everyone is so unique over here...”
My heart sank at the word unique, but Jiao seemed genuine.
“And you made the Haunted Secret Garden Party sound amazing! I’ve always wanted to come and see West Adelfi for myself, but…”
We heard tires peeling out and she turned to nod at the tail lights of a large sports utility vehicle rapidly retreating down my block. “That’s my mom. She doesn’t like to leave center city,” she explained.
“She doesn’t need to worry about West Delfi,” I said quickly. “It’s as safe as center city.” Just a little weirder, I thought.
“Oh, it’s not a matter of safety,” Jiao smiled. “She gets nervous in any neighborhood that doesn’t have a Whole Paycheck Foods.”
“Uh huh…” I said, pretending to know what that meant.
“Yeah,” Aiden laughed. “My mom does the same thing. We own a giant car just for grocery shopping. I keep telling her she should at least take it out and do donuts when it snows, but she says no.” He shrugged and popped the ball off the top of his foot. “Doesn’t make much sense to me.”
“Wow,” I said. So Whole Paycheck Foods was a grocery store. And people in the “normal” neighborhoods drove their cars there to get food. In West Adelfi we got food at the co-op and the farmer’s market. My parents didn’t own a car, much less a big shiny one. Though my dad did own a lot of bikes and skateboards, parts of which were still strewn around the living room because I hadn’t had time to clean them up.
“Can we come in?” Aiden asked.
“Of course!” I led them inside to the living room, noticing those very same parts everywhere.
“Whoa,” Aiden said, letting the soccer ball drop and trapping it with his foot. “Cool.”
“Cool?” I asked, a flush rising in my face as I took in all the stuff I hadn’t had time to hide away.
“I’ve never seen so many books!” he replied.
“There are a lot of books in here?” I said. To me it was the usual amount of books but I didn’t have anything to compare it to.
“Aiden doesn’t spend much time in libraries or bookstores.” Jiao teased. “Too busy watching The Kama Show or playing video games.” Her foot darted out and dislodged the ball under his foot so that he lost his balance. She wasn’t the fastest person on our team, but she moved with a kind of fluid grace that always made me think of dancing, even when she was dribbling a ball down the field.
“Hey!” Aiden righted himself. “Don’t knock The Kama Show. It’s epic!”
Jiao rolled her eyes.
“Have you played his new video game?” Aiden asked me. “It’s sooo legit!”
“Uh no,” I said. “I’m not allowed to watch TV.”
“Oh, then check out the game on your phone.”
“I don’t have a phone,” I replied.
“Really?” Aiden sounded like he’d ever heard anything so crazy.
I nodded miserably.
“Bummerrrrr,” Aiden said with sympathy in his voice. “The game is so cool. Kama has, like, disappeared and people are looking for him all over the country. In real time! YOu have to complete challenges in real life to get clues that reveal the map to where he’s hiding…”
“Aiden!” Jiao interrupted. “Has it occurred to you that maybe Cody’s not that into the Kama Show? Cuz maybe it’s stoopid?”
“I don’t think it’s stoopid,”I said, pretending I had a clue.
“Here, you can play it on my spare phone,” Aiden said, reaching into the pocket of his shorts and pulling out a smartphone. “I have an extra in case of emergencies just like this! I can’t believe you don’t have a phone, man!”
“Aiden,” Jiao said again.
“Yeah?”
“No one cares.”
“Not true! Kama’s got, like, 10 million followers on Fritter and Instablam…”
“No, I mean we’re here to trick-or-treat and see Cody’s neighborhood and go to the Secret Haunted Garden Party, not talk about a dumb reality TV show.”
“It’s more like a web-show and I was talking about the game, not the show. But yeah, okay.” He grinned, stuffing the device back in his pocket. Still on, it made his shorts glow.
“So, why do you have so many books?” he asked.
“My mom is really into them,” I mumbled. “She owns a bookstore.”
“Oh! Does she have Kama’s new book?”
“No,” I knew without having to ask her. Most of what I knew about the Kama Show was that she called it ‘consumerist propaganda.’
“She should get it,” Aiden said. “It’s an autobiography written by his butler. I listened to it as an audiobook. Well, some of it. Books put me to sleep.” He yawned then, as if just being in a room full of books made him drowsy.
“A book about a super rich teenager who does nothing but order his butler around and by stuff on TV,” Jiao snorted “What a waste of time. Enough about Kama!”
“Hey! Is that a real surfboard?” Aiden asked, finally distracted from talking about his favorite celebrity.
“Yep,” I confirmed. My dad had never actually surfed on it, but he always intended to. In the meantime, it hung from our living room ceiling and served as spillover shelf-age for all the books and DIY projects Mom brought into the house.
Just then my mom came downstairs, carrying her zombie costume, scary tattoos still visible. I groaned inwardly.
“Hi there! I’m Beanie Seltzer,” she said. “Cody’s mom. Welcome to West Adelfi.” She stuck a hand out at Aiden.
He stared at her, transfixed by the graphics covering her skin. I waited for him to say. “Whoa!” again.
But it was Jiao who spoke up this time.
“Does the ink penetrate the subcutaneous or just the dermis?” she asked my mom. “I’m assuming it has to go deeper than the dermis…”
“No one has ever asked me that before,” Mom replied, looking impressed. “Here, let me show you this book I just got on teaching yourself how to be a tattoo artist.”
“Oh, I’m not going to be a tattoo artist,” Jiao laughed. “My mom would die. I’m going to be a dermatologist.”
“Of course you are,” Mom stopped hunting through her books and turned back to us. “I forgot. You kids are from center city.”
“Mom!” I hissed, hoping Jiao and Aiden hadn’t noticed the judginess in her voice. “We’re going trick-or-treating, remember? We better get going.”
“Yeah, but your dad’s not here yet. And where are your costumes?”
“Where is yours?” I countered.
“We’re wearing our costumes, Mrs Seltzer!” Aiden declared.
“Call me Beanie,” Mom said. “You look like you’re going to soccer practice.”
“We’re Real Madrid,” Jiao explained.
“See?” Aiden said, turning to show her the name “Zidane” written across his back.
Mom stared at him blankly and I was anticipating another lecture on the ills of organized sports when we were saved by the back door bursting open and my dad’s voice booming from the kitchen: “Did I hear someone mention my favorite soccer team?!”
He bounced into the room wearing a Real jersey over his flannel work shirt. Unlike Mom, Dad was okay with organized sports, so long as they were European. Younger and shorter than my mom, with only a few tattoos in key places, he was the less scary-looking of my parents. The sawdust stuck in his beard from being a woodworker also helped lower the intimidation factor.
“Moseph, you shouldn’t encourage them,” Mom sniffed. Mo wasn’t short for Moseph but for some reason it was what she called Dad when she was annoyed.
“Relax, sugarbean,” Dad said, standing on tiptoe to give Mom a peck on the cheek. “Soccer is European!” He turned to my new friends. “Hey dudes,” he beamed like a doof. “I’m Cody’s dad, Mo.”
“Nice to meet you,” Aiden and Jiao chorused, sticking their hands out with synchronized fluidity.
Dad reared back slightly, thrown off by their good manners. He would’ve been more comfortable if they’d said “Cowabunga!” and asked if they could try out his surfboard.
“We should go, before all the candy is gone!” I tried yet again to redirect the awkwardness. If only I could get Jiao and Aiden out of the house, maybe things would start going okay.
“You bet!” Dad recovered from his allergy to social niceties and shook hands.
“Any chance Wyatt is taking us?” I asked, hoping against hope that he’d said something to Dad about going trick or treating with me.
Dad got a hokey look on his face and stuck his fingers in his beard, something he always did when he was nervous.
“Thing is, bro…”
I hated it when my dad called me bro. It meant he was going to tell me something I didn’t like. But I was spared because the doorbell rang just then. My stupid heart leaped with the hope that it was Wyatt, until I realized he wouldn’t ring his own doorbell.
We heard the door open and close without anyone going to answer it and my heart switched from a leap to a splat on the floor. I knew who was coming.
“Hey, Zeke!” my dad cried as my best-friend-since-we-were-four came shuffling into the living room, dressed as a very small, very fuzzy Wookkie.
The Wookkie/Zeke froze when he saw me and two strangers wearing Real jerseys. Zeke wasn’t comfortable with new people.
“Cody, you’re supposed to be Han,” came his muffled voice. “We always go as Han and Chewie.”
I groaned. “I’m sorry Zeke. I…I forgot.”
I hadn’t meant to exclude Zeke. We’d been going as Chewie and Han for as long as I could remember, but I’d forgotten all about him when I made my plans with Jiao and Aiden. Or maybe I just hadn’t wanted to tell him I was putting my lightsaber days behind me. Either way, I felt like a jerksplat.
“But it’s funny because I’m small and you’re tall,” Zeke said in an expressionless voice. “Han Solo isn’t supposed to be taller than Chewie. We always go as Han and Chewie.”
Zeke wasn’t good at showing emotion but I knew him really well. Even under all the fur, I could tell he was upset and I felt even worse, in part because I was annoyed that he was interfering with my evening with Jiao and Aiden. They were both staring at the mini-wookkie with their eyebrows up and their mouths open.
My stomach sank. My high hopes for new friendship and normalcy this Halloween were crashing down around me.
Chapter Four: The Wookkie Right Forward
Just then the back door burst open for a second time that night, and a new voice cried out, “Forget Zeke? Impossible!”
My brother Wyatt came bounding down the hall and into the living room, bringing with him a rush of crisp evening air and the smell of dried leaves.
“Dood! I thought you weren’t coming!” Dad said. He clapped Wyatt on the back and I noticed that Wyatt was taller than Dad now, if only by a little.
My heart leapt off the floor and soared like a happy bird. There he was: tall and skinny and grinning. Mom always said he was handsome like the glittery boys in silly vampire movies, but I thought he just looked nice. Like someone people like.
Except tonight when I looked closer he seemed a little frayed around the edges. His dark (indigo) eyes were slightly bloodshot and had purple (mauve) circles under them. His (walnut) brown hair was always carelessly long and kind of wind-swept, but now it looked lank, like he hadn’t washed it in a while. I wondered if he had been sleeping enough.
“There he is!” my mom said, throwing her hands up like he really was a movie star. “Our hope for the future of the planet!”
Wyatt ignored her, keeping his attention on Zeke.
“Zeke is the coolest kid on the block!” he proclaimed, switching his smartphone to his left hand so he could give Zeke a high five. I noticed the phone because it was unusual. Unlike me, he was allowed to have one because he was older and up to more important stuff (according to my mom), but he rarely took it out of his pocket.
“I mean, what’s cooler than a Wookkie right-forward?,” Wyatt continued. “Imagine seeing that coming down the field at you!”
I forgot the phone and his scruffy appearance and revelled in his presence. He hadn’t given up Halloween! He was back to go trick or treating with me, and my new friends would love him as much as I did. Things were looking up.
Wyatt pointed at Dad. “Jersey, please.”
“Huh?” Dad said. Wyatt raised his eyebrows and nodded at the Wookkie.
“Oh, right!” Dad pulled off his Ronaldo jersey and tossed it to Zeke.
My friends didn’t seem to notice the improvising going on. They were laughing too hard. At first I feared Zeke was the butt of the joke, but then Aiden said. “That’s awesome! A Wookkie Ronaldo. Ha!”
“Like I said, he’s the coolest,” Wyatt beamed at us. “Also, I like your costumes. Real is one of my favorite teams!”
Jiao and Aiden beamed back, entranced by my funny, friendly, normal big brother. All my worries melted away.
“I’m stoked you changed your mind about taking Cody and his friends trick or treating,” Dad put his arm around Wyatt’s neck, showing off the tattoo of a hammer and chisel on his forearm. “I heard the Haunted Secret Garden Party is going to be the best yet!”
That’s when Wyatt started looking kinda shifty.
“Sorry guys. I can’t. I’m working on...something…” He glanced down at the smartphone in his hand. “...important,” he added, looking up again without focusing on any of us. “Just came to grab some things.” He shrugged Dad’s arm off his shoulders and went for the stairs. We could hear him banging around in his room.
“I like your brother,” Aiden said.
“Yeah, he seems nice,” Jiao agreed.
“Nice?” my mom snorted. “He’s a lot more than nice. That kid is going to save the world, just you wait!”
“Really? How’s he going to do that?” Aiden asked with genuine interest.
“Macrame,” I muttered.
“What?” Mom barked.
“Nothing,” I said. “Mom thinks Wyatt is the next Barak Obama,” I explained to Jiao and Aiden.
“Cool,” Aiden said. “He’s a little white for that, but cool.”
Wyatt clattered back down the stairs carrying his laptop and headed for the front door, not realizing Mom lay in wait just inside the living room.
“You’re at least going to the Haunted Secret Garden Party, aren’t you?” She lurched into the hall in front of him. “It’s a community event. You should be there so people get to know you, hear some of your great ideas for improving things in the world.”
She made it sound like he was already running for office. Wyatt’s athletic reflexes kicked in and he veered away from her and back towards the kitchen door. “Gotta go, Mom!” he called over his shoulder.
“Sorry, buddy. Next time,” he said, turning to me briefly before continuing his escape. He still had a smile on his face but it was no longer a rakish grin. It looked a little sad and I got the feeling he was sorry. For what, I couldn’t tell. There was a far-off look in his indigo eyes, like he was barely in the room with us. I couldn’t help wondering where he was instead.
The kitchen door slammed and we stood in awkward silence, feeling the empty space of disappointment where my brother used to be. It only made it worse that he hadn’t acted like a butthead, that he’d been totally cool except for the ditching us part. It just made me miss him more.
A rattling noise made us all turn and we saw Zeke’s fuzzy Wookkie butt sticking out of the broom closet.
“Zeke, outta the closet!” Mom said. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t need my brooms organized. I only have one and I never use it.”
My face flushed as I caught Jiao and Aiden exchanging a look. “He likes things to be orderly,” I tried to explain.
“You should try the Broomer 2000. I called the manufacturer to check on how well-constructed it is. Seems like a good product,” Zeke informed my mom.
I wanted to sink into the floor, but Dad did his best to rally us.
“Ole Ole Ole!” he cried. “Let’s go get our sugar fix, Real!” He waved us towards the front door. I saw him reach for his skateboard.
“No board, please,” I begged. “Just walk like all the other parents?”
“C’mon, bro, loosen up…” He tucked the board under his arm. “It can be my costume, since I gave mine to Zeke. I’m going as a young, hip dood without a care in the world!”
I rolled my eyes and gave up.
“See you after the Haunted Secret Garden Party!” he called to my mom. “Don’t eat too much high fructose corn syrup!”
“Moseph!” my mom replied threateningly.
Dad laughed and pulled the door closed behind us.
“Your dad’s name is Moseph?” Aiden asked, bouncing the soccer ball to me as we descended the porch steps and joined the flow of trick or treaters heading up the block.
“Uh, no…” I felt my face flushing yet again. “It’s Morris.”
“Then why does she call him…”
“Don’t ask…” I replied through clenched teeth.
“Dood! Your family is weird!” Aiden laughed.
I didn’t think my heart could sink any lower but it did. Until Aiden followed up with, “I love it! I’m so glad we came here!” and my heart rose out of my shoes, just a little. I let myself start to think that maybe everything that could go wrong had, and things would only get better from here on out. Maybe it would be an okay Halloween.
But then for some reason I suddenly remembered my drawing from earlier, a bright scene marred by shadows writhing across it, harbingers of darkness to come, and my heart sank again. Whatever creepy thing might happen tonight, I could only cross my fingers and hope they didn’t weird out my cool new friends too much.