“Why are they dressed like that?” Remi wondered.
The Boissonault brothers waddled down the street, dressed up to look like two giant slices of white bread. Their costumes were ridiculous, but bullies could wear whatever they wanted because no one would ever dare make fun of them.
“If they catch us Crossing The Line, we’re in big trouble.”
“It’s okay. You’re in disguise, Marty.”
“Do you want to take a chance on getting nurpled?”
Remi slapped his hands over his chest. “Maybe you’d better hide.”
I slid behind my friend and ducked low; he spread his jacket open like butterfly wings, shielding me from the approaching brothers.
“Your sister’s catching up,” I whispered. “She’ll blow our cover.”
Remi sped up, leaving me out in the open. I chased after him, crouching low. Suddenly he skidded to a halt and I did a face plant into the back of his trench coat, leaving some of my make-up on the back of his jacket.
“Hey, Remi. What’s with the jacket?” Jean asked.
“Too hot,” Remi said, still holding his jacket open. “I’m trying to cool off.”
Jacques laughed. “You look like a dork.”
I glanced through a hole in Remi’s jacket. Jacques and Jean’s bread costumes blew back and forth in the night breeze like floppy sails. Jean carried a slender can in his right hand but I couldn’t read the label. Was he Graffiti Ghoul?
“Who’s behind you?” Jean asked.
“What are you talking about?” Remi said.
Jacques pointed. “Turn around.”
I squeezed tight against Remi’s back as he shuffled around. My back bumped against a wooden gate, which creaked open. I jumped through the open gate and crouched behind the slatted fence.
“There’s no one behind me,” Remi said.
“She’s right there,” Jean said, pointing.
“Oh. That’s just my sister.”
Through a space in the fence I saw Monique join the boys. Jean dropped the can into his plastic Halloween bag. I had to get a closer look.
Monique asked Remi, “What’s your friend doing?”
Jean said, “I’m not his friend.”
“Don’t look at me,” Jacques said.
“Not you guys.” Monique pointed at me. There was no other place to hide in the treeless yard. I was trapped.
“You mean . . . uh . . . Martina?” Remi said.
Monique snickered. “Yeah, Martina. I know she went into that yard.”
“You hang out with a girl?” Jacques asked Remi.
“This I gotta see,” Jean said.
The fence gate swung open, and Monique poked her head into the yard. “Let’s go, Martina. No more games.”
She held the gate open. I pulled the wig over my eyes, straightened up, and walked out. I stumbled in my heels on the sidewalk as the Boissonaults watched me.
I squeaked, “Nobody was home.” I eyed Jean’s trick-or-treat bag.
Jean whistled. “Hello.”
Jacques elbowed his brother and stepped in front of me. “I’m Jacques.”
“Hi!” I said, squeaking like Minnie Mouse.
Jean pulled his brother behind him. “I’m Jean, his better-looking brother.”
Jacques shoved Jean aside. “Don’t mind my idiot brother. He’s got no manners. Say, have we met before?”
I shook my head and my wig almost fell off.
“You look familiar,” Jean said.
“Yeah, you do. How do you know Remi?” Jacques asked.
Remi answered, “She’s my cousin.”
“I thought you said you were friends,” Jacques said.
“She’s my cousin and my friend,” Remi said.
“Stop lying, Remi,” Monique corrected her brother. “This isn’t our cousin. It’s — ”
I cut Monique off: “I’m his girlfriend.”
“What?!” Remi cried. “NO WAY!”
Monique laughed like a hyena, barely able to catch her breath. The Boissonault brothers looked puzzled. Remi, his face bright red, glared at me. I wanted to tell him that I had no choice; anything was better than being caught Crossing The Line. The sting of embarrassment was nothing compared to the pinching pain of ninety-nine nurples.
“We’re not dating,” Remi declared.
Monique laughed. “The lovers’ first fight. Maybe you should kiss and make up.”
Remi jumped away from me, squeezing between Jean and Jacques.
Jacques smirked. “I think someone’s got cold feet.”
Jean agreed. “Martina, if he won’t kiss you, I will.”
“I’m not that kind of girl,” I said.
Monique howled, “You’re telling me!”
Remi said, “Let’s just go.”
“Not yet,” I said.
“Are you nuts?” Remi exclaimed, walking toward me.
Jacques grabbed the back of Remi’s jacket. “That’s no way to talk in front of ladies.”
“It’s okay,” Monique said. “She’s no lady.”
Jean nudged Remi. “Tell Martina you’re sorry.”
“Sorry,” Remi grumbled.
Jacques swatted the back of Remi’s head. “Say it like you mean it.”
“I’m sorry,” Remi said, then shuffled out of swatting range.
“It’s okay,” I replied. “Actually, I’m feeling faint. Jean, do you have any food in your bag?”
Jean grinned. “What do you want?”
“Can I look?”
“He’s got nothing. Look in my bag.” Jacques shouldered his brother aside.
“She asked me first,” Jean said.
“Why don’t I look in both?” I asked.
The Boissonault brothers snapped open their bags. I only cared about what was inside Jean’s bag — chocolate bars, Mojos, an apple, and the can.
I pulled out the can.
Jean took it from me. “Silly. You can’t eat this.”
Remi craned his neck to see. “What’s the can for?”
Jacques pulled out a similar can. “If people don’t treat, we have to trick.”
He popped the lid off and shot Silly String at Remi. Neither of the Boissonault brothers were Graffiti Ghoul, just bullies with canned string.
“I don’t see anything I want to eat,” I said.
The brothers’ smiles dropped. Remi ushered me away. “Let’s go, Martina.”
“Hey Jean, are you hungry?” Jacques asked, glaring at Remi.
Jean nodded, “I’m starving. What do you have to eat, Jacques?”
His twin brother smiled. “How about . . . a SANDWICH?!”
The Boissonault brothers grabbed Remi and body-checked him, making him the filling between their slices of bread.
“Ugh. You guys stink!” Remi shouted.
“Jean, are you still hungry?”
“You bet. How about another . . . SANDWICH!” Jacques cried out as the two brothers gave my friend a second helping of their joke.
Remi staggered forward, barely hanging on to his pillow case of candy while the bullies laughed.
Jacques beamed. “Great idea for costumes, Jean.”
Jean laughed. “I’m never going to get sick of that joke. See you later, Martina.”
Jacques waved goodbye, and the brothers walked away, high fiving each other. Remi leaned against me, trying to catch his breath.
“Did you have to tell those snot gobblers you were my girlfriend?”
“Sorry, Remi,” I said. “I thought I saw the ‘you-know-what’ and I thought the brothers were the ‘you-know-who’.”
Monique walked over. “Time to take Martina home.”
But our wander out wasn’t done yet. “I still want to do more trick-or-treating,” I said.
“My pillow case isn’t even half full,” Remi whined.
“My mom said I could stay out for another hour,” I said.
“You can come over to our place and count your candies,” Monique said. “Now let’s go. It’s cold, and I’ve got homework to do.”
Remi shook his head. “You’re lying. You never do homework. You just want to get home so you can see your boyfriend before Mom and Dad come home from bingo.”
“Shut up,” Monique growled.
Remi smooched the air.
“Quit it,” I said. “We need her so we can stay on the wander out.”
He didn’t hear me. He hugged himself and pretended to kiss an invisible partner. “Oh, Brian.
You’re so strong, but your hands are so soft,” he said.
“You’re going to get it when we get home,” Monique said. “Now let’s go.”
She grabbed Remi by the collar, and dragged him down the street. Our wander out was a bust.