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“See ya, Spider-Man. Catch some bad guys.”
I head back inside my house and scribble a quick note onto a white piece of paper:Happy Halloween. Take 2 pieces of candy!I prop up the note behind the bowl of candy on the rocking chair on my porch so I can finish getting ready for my night out without any interruptions.
After I put the final touches on my hair and makeup, I gather all the bachelorette essentials—penis lollipops, a crown for the bride-to-be, and a few games—and toss them into a large tote. Then I grab my purse off the entryway table and balance the tray of pregame Jell-O shots as I step outside.
A flash of long dark hair flies off the top step of my porch and runs across my lawn, with four more girls following behind her.
“What the…?” I glance down at my rocking chair and my jaw drops open.
No candy.
No bowl.
Nothing but my note left behind.
They stole my candy bowl!
Without thinking, I drop my bags and lay the tray on the porch, and bolt after the group of girls. “Hey, come back here.”
The thief holding my bowl glances over her shoulder, giving me a clear view of her face. She lives in the house directly across the street from me, but I don’t know her name.
“I know where you live!” My eyes narrow. “Give me back my bowl.”
But the girls pick up speed and widen the gap between us.
Trick-or-treaters jump onto the grass, clearing the path for us on the sidewalk as we barrel down the block.
“Somebody stop them!” I point in their direction. “They stole my candy.”
I look like a lunatic—a grown adult flailing and shouting through the neighborhood, half-running, half-limping in my thigh-high stiletto boots as I gasp for air.
I can’t keep this up for much longer.
“You can keep the candy,” I offer. “I just want my bowl back.”
If they’re that hard-up for sweets, they can have it all. But the ceramic bowl, hand-painted with black cats and dangling spiders around an orange background, belonged to my nana.
I follow the girls for as long as I can until they turn a corner and disappear through someone’s backyard. My lungs are burning. I’ll never catch up to them at this rate, and I’m not about to climb a fence in this ridiculous outfit.
My feet slow to a stop, and I hunch over, resting my hands on my knees as I suck in big gulps of air.
Defeat mixes with anger, churning in my stomach like the perfect storm. What is wrong with kids today? I’d never have done something like that growing up—mainly out of fear that my parents would find out and beat my ass. Clearly, these girls don’t have that same fear. Maybe they assume they won’t get caught.
Fine. You want to be a punk-ass kid and steal my shit?
I’m telling.
I spin around with clenched fists, stomping my heels in the opposite direction toward the gray colonial house across the street from mine.
But my fury dies down the closer I get.
I’ve never formally met my neighbor. I don’t even know his name. He keeps to himself and doesn’t mingle with any of the families on our block. He cuts his lawn with earbuds in and checks his mailbox with his head down. Not the friendliest of people, but Lord, is he beautiful to look at.
I may or may not have checked him out…several times over the last few years.
I blow out a breath and get my head right.
I can do this. He’s just a man.
