Page 2 of Trick or Tease

“Of course.”

She shook her head, knotted the last rope around the flannel-stuffed arm, and stepped back with a satisfied hum, hands on her hips. “There,” she said. “Our boy’s officially on duty.”

Hollow Hank had a classic look. His red flannel shirt was faded and there was a hole in the armpit. We had put gardening gloves on for hands. The gloves were attached to little twigs that had been attached to the branches that held Ol’ Hank’s arms. A pair of scuffed rubber boots were now zip tied to the leg sticks.

But it was the face I wasn’t cool with.

It was a burlap sack of a head, bulging at odd angles. It was one of the same “faces” we used every year. Someone had stitched a crooked smile in black thread and attached two buttons for the eyes. Classic. Harmless. Kind of charming.

And not the least bit intimidating.

Hank couldn’t scare a crow, much less the guests who would be visiting the maze once we opened up to the public. No one was going to look at our Hank and be like, “Oh no. It’s going to get me.”

Which was why I had planned for a little more. I opened the bag of decorations and pulled out the scary clown mask.

Lucy made an uneasy sound and stepped back. Precisely the kind of reaction I wanted.

I slid it over the burlap bag and grinned. “Now that’s the way you announce a haunted corn maze.”

Lucy raised a brow. “We want it family friendly, remember? Not everyone wants to be emotionally terrorized. People hate clowns. Did you know it’s an actual phobia?”

I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t that the point? Halloween is supposed to be scary.”

Lucy groaned. “Sabrina, no. Halloween is supposed to be fun-scary, not nightmare-scary. Let’s make him cute.”

I snorted. “It’s time we step up our game. It’ll really get people into the holiday spirit.”

“Where did you even get that thing?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“This baby was marked down to four bucks last year. I couldn’t not buy it.”

The cheap Halloween-store mask had white skin, exaggerated cheekbones, and bright red lips stretched in a snarl that looked halfway between murderous and confused. The eyes were dark and there was fake blood dripping down the cheeks.

We stood back again, hands on hips, evaluating our terrifying masterpiece. The breeze made the scarecrow’s head nod slightly, making it look like the clown was nodding.

I grinned. “See? Even Hank is vibing with the new look.”

Lucy made a face. “Sabrina, I don’t know about this.”

“What?”

“This thing is going to traumatize someone.”

“That’s the point. He’s our corn maze sentinel. He must demand respect. Or at least pants-wetting fear.”

“Or induce heart failure,” came a new voice behind us.

We turned to see Billy walking up. There was a damp V on his chest and under his pits. Clearly he’d been working hard on the farm as well. There was no shame in his sweaty appearance. Lucy and I were just as disastrous, I was sure.

His dark hair stuck up in about twelve different directions, and there was a streak of something that looked suspiciously like motor oil across his left cheek. His blue eyes scanned the scene with his lips curving in delighted surprise.

“That’s a new look.” Billy carried a massive red thermos under one arm and a sleeve of plastic cups in his hand. “I come bearing lemonade.”

“Thank God,” Lucy said.

We moved to sit on bales of hay in the corner that was partially shaded by the dried cornstalks. Lucy sat beside Billy, their thighs touching. He opened the thermos and handed us cups. I could hear the ice clinking and was suddenly aware of how thirsty I was.

He poured us each a glass and put the lid back on the thermos . I took a long gulp, the tart coldness quenching my thirst.