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“You’ll probably have nightmares for the rest of your life.”
Ghouls, goblins, and wicked witches cackle in my mind, causing me to pick up my pace until I’m right beside Brant. “Will you protect me, Brant?”
He switches off the flashlight and stuffs it into his pocket. “You know I will. I’ll always protect you.”
“What if I die, and you can’t save me?” I reach for his arm and cling hard, nearly stumbling through the grass. “What if you die?”
“Whoa, hey…” He stops suddenly, facing me, both of his hands gripping my shoulders. He’s taller than me—a lot taller. He’s tall and strong, and he makes me feel safe. “Why are you asking these things, Junebug?”
“Because it’s Halloween, and scary stuff happens on Halloween.”
“Yeah, but not that sort of scary stuff. You should be thinking about ghosts and jack-o’-lanterns, not—” His words clip short, and his eyes seem to fog over. Brant stares off just beyond me with shadows swirling in his faraway gaze, but before I can question where he’s gone, he’s back. He returns to me, and he’s normal Brant again. “Don’t think about those things. Promise me, June.”
He must be mad. He called me June instead of Junebug, just like when Mama hollers at me and says my full name: June Adeline Bailey. I gulp, nodding my head. “I promise. I swear it.”
“Good.”
Theo calls over to us from the tree-house steps, balancing the bowl of popcorn in one hand. “C’mon, you slowpokes. We need to summon warlocks and raise zombies from the dead! Mwahahaha.”
I giggle to hide the fact that I’m spooked. Brant hauls me onto his back, carrying me the rest of the way to the tree house, then climbs up behind me in case I slip on the ladder. Dad finally allowed me to climb the tree house all by myself last year, but only if Brant or Theo are with me. A light drizzle sticks to my hair as I make my way up, and I tell the boys that I’m shivering because I’m cold—even though that’s not the truth. I’m scared of the ghost stories.
Brant takes off his jacket once we’re huddled inside, draping it over my shoulders. “That should warm you up. Your mom said she’ll bring us hot cocoa, too.”
I crawl across the blankets laid out over the wooden planks, settling into Brant’s lap and pulling the jacket tighter. Theo sits across from us, tossing popcorn kernels into his mouth. Lanterns are placed in every corner, illuminating the small house, while raindrops whisper atop the roof.
We talk about our night by the glow of the lanterns and Brant’s flashlight, laughing about Mr. Sandman’s silly horse costume, comparing candy hauls, and teasing Theo about how Monica Porter unclipped his suspenders and his pants fell down right in front of the entire neighborhood.
I’m having the best time. We aren’t even telling scary stories, which makes it better.
And then Mama calls up to us from the bottom of the tree house, her hands full of hot cocoa cups. But that’s not what has my insides whirling with a queasy feeling.
It’s Monica Porter and Wendy Nippersink standing beside her, still dolled up in their costumes. Monica is a mermaid, and Wendy is a devil.
She really is a devil.
“Your friends are here, kids,” Mama says, climbing up the ladder halfway and popping the cocoa into the tree house. “Can I send them up?”
She has a funny look on her face when she glances at Brant and Theo. She even winks.
“Yeah, okay,” Brant replies. He twists in place, then removes his Luigi hat to comb his fingers through his hair before situating it back on his head.
I stay firmly rooted to his lap.
“Hi.” Wendy pokes her head in first, pulling herself up all the way. “What are you guys up to?”
“Nothing. Just about to tell some ghost stories.” Brant shines the flashlight under his chin again, and Wendy giggles.
Monica appears next, immediately snuggling up next to Theo, her mermaid fin twinkling turquoise in the lantern light.
“Look at you,” Wendy says to me, coming up beside us. “You look adorable, June.”
I finger the princess crown still attached to my hair with bobby pins, scowling as I press my back to Brant’s chest. “I’m Princess Peach. Brant and Theo protect me from the bad things.”
“Like spooky ghosts and monsters?” She wiggles her fingers at me, making a ghostly sound.
“No, that’s silly. Monsters aren’t real.”
Monica chimes in. “You mean the really bad things? Like what happened to Brant?”
