AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That’s so nice of you,” Janey said, and Beckett could see Quinn fighting a smile.
“Yeah, right,” Violet said. “It’s really because Micah broke up with Angel today, so he can’t go to her Halloween party.” Micah’s costume was his football uniform. Beckett suspected that Janey was a fan, because she couldn’t seem to quite look at him.
Wait. Micah’d broken up with Angel? And he wasn’t quite looking at Janey, either.
Beckett suddenly had some sympathy for Quinn’s dad.
“Really?” Alexis asked. “She dumped you? But you’re on the footballteam, and she’s a cheerleader. That’s practically a middle-school cultural rule, that you have to go out with each other.”
“No,” Violet said. “He dumpedher.I can’t believe you didn’t hear. It was all over the school.”
“I try not to listen to gossip,” Alexis said, which was so patently untrue, Beckett had to control his face and pretend even harder that he wasn’t listening. Alexis and Violet still weren’t the best of friends, apparently, as Janey had informed them in her nightly episodes of the soap known as middle school. He didn’t remember it containing nearly so much drama. He mainly remembered playing rugby and, by Year Eight or so, getting enormous, embarrassing erections in French class. Partly from the very idea of “French,” and partly from the teacher, but then, Mademoiselle St. Clair had had short, dark hair cut into a cap, the faintest hint of a lisp, and not-quite-knee-length skirts she wore on the tighter side. With stockings.
Tres chic,he’d imagined telling her, in some alternate reality in which he was eighteen and suave. She’d look at him sidelong out of her brown eyes, and …
He hadn’t learned much French. And come to think of it, Quinn reminded him a little of Mademoiselle St. Clair. Except that he got to take Quinn’s clothes off.
Adolescence was overrated.
“She was making fun of Janey at lunch,” Violet said, “and he said they had to talk. And hedumpedher. I heard that in English, later on, she was crying and crossing out all the places she’d written ‘Mrs. Micah Armbruster’ on her binder. Which is so unfeminist, I can’t believe it. My momdidn’t even take my dad’s name, and she’s, like, forty! Why would you want a girlfriend who does that, Micah?”
“The cult of the patriarchy,” Alexis said, “that’s why.”
Micah said. “Shut up, Violet.” He was turning red, and so was Janey.
“Don’t you have English with Angel, Janey?” Alexis asked. “How come you didn’ttellme?”
Janey said, “I didn’t— I’m sorry, Micah.” Actually looking at him, or almost. “If you’re feeling bad about it. I didn’t mean for you to—”
“No, that’s OK,” he said. “I was kind of over it.” And that was the two of them looking at each other.
Janey, along with Alexis, was dressed as a chipmunk from some Disney cartoon, which Beckett had thought was appropriate and fine at the time, since he’d wondered if he was going to have to put his foot down about some sexy costume idea Alexis would decide was perfect. A mermaid. A streetwalker. Who knew? Instead, they had headbands like mouse ears with a pink bow in between—not much like a chipmunk, but never mind—and brown dresses with a light-colored apron that he guessed was a chipmunk front. Marginally. The dresses had a short flared skirt and a petticoat underneath so the skirt stuck out, and the tips of their noses were painted black. They were also wearing flesh-colored tights with black stockings over them.
Over-the-knee black stockings. “Because it’s warmer,” Janey had explained to Beckett with too much of the innocent wide blue eyes when he’d seen the full effect.
She looked cute, yeah. Maybe too cute, with those eyes and her blonde curls tumbling around her shoulders. She’d always looked to him like a little girl. Tonight, despite the cute-chipmunk idea and the black nose, maybe not so much. And she was going to be twelve in a couple of weeks.
Never mind. She’d be wearing a coat. In a group. Walking. Not going to any parties, but collecting lollies in a pillowcase.
Of course, he was still pretending not to listen—or look—as he helped Troy put on his chaps and tied his red bandanna. Troy was being a cowboy. Quinn’s mum had found the costume, but Beckett had bought Troy the cowboy boots and hat at Montana Outfitters. Troy had looked at himself in the store’s full-length mirror with satisfaction and said, “If you got cowboy boots and a cowboy hat, Dad, we could match. You always say we’re in Montana now, and people in Montana are supposed to have cowboy boots!”
Beckett had politely declined. He’d look a right wanker in cowboy boots. He had a kangaroo-hide bush hat for summer, and that was all any self-respecting Aussie needed.
Claire said, hopping from foot to foot, “We need togo.Everybody’s candy could be almost all gone!”
“You can’t go until it’s dark,” Violet said. “That’s the rule.”
“But itisdark!” Claire said.
“It’s not evensix,”Violet said. “You have to wait for people to get home from work, or there’s no point.Honestly.And you need to put on your jacket.”
“No, I don’t,” Claire said. “It’ll wreck my outfit.”
“It’s snowing,” Violet said. “Mom said you have to wear it.”
“But I’m a bride!” Claire said. It was true. That one had made Beckett blink a bit, though Troy had told her she looked “beautiful.” Now he was going to have to worry about hisfive-year-old dating? “Brides don’t wear theircoats,”Claire went on.
“Either wear your coat,” Violet said, “or we’re not taking you.”
