Halloween was ringing through Rachel’s house, and it was all the children talked about. Janie was dressing as Madeline in a costume Rachel had ordered from a catalog. Ben was going to be a baseball player.

In the days before the holiday, I helped the children scoop the slimy insides out of their pumpkins and carve them into jacko’-lanterns. Janie used marker on hers to draw brows and lashes around the carved-out eyes. Ben just wanted his to look creepy, and he thought that the more eyes it had, the better. We baked the pumpkin seeds in shallow pans, though no one wanted to eat them. Janie helped me decorate the front window with dark streamers and cutouts of pumpkins and witches’ hats, while Ben sat by us complaining that it wasn’t scary enough.

On Halloween morning the children were up early, excited to go to school in their costumes. They stood in front of Rachel’s camera, Janie in a blue dress and yellow hat, and Ben in his Little

League uniform and Cubs hat. After school they burst off the bus, ready to go trick-or-treating.

“And we’re not going to the Robbinses’ house,” said Ben, as Rachel gathered their bags and flashlights.

Rachel smiled at me. “Dr. Robbins is a dentist,” she explained. “Instead of candy he gives out toothbrushes.” I felt the airy sense of held-in laughter as I watched them leave the house.

I tried to imagine how I would describe this event to my parents. It all seemed harmless enough. The begging for candy would be hard to explain, but maybe if they realized that the entire community participates, it would seem more like trading than begging.

When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, I opened it excitedly. On the doorstep were two boys dressed as dinosaurs.

“Trick or treat!” they cried in unison.

“Well, don’t you look scary,” I said as I plunked a tiny Milky Way bar into each extended bag. But by the time my words were half out, the children had dashed from the stoop, their tails flailing behind them. It continued like this for the next hour. I opened the door to a variety of dark creatures and colorful characters, all with bags extended, all anxious to catch their loot and trot off to the next house. After I gave candy to a small pirate, I closed the door only to have the bell ring again. Josh was standing on the stoop, his backpack slung over his shoulder. “Trick or treat,” he said.

He stepped inside, and I put down the candy bowl as he pulled me into an embrace, his lips and tongue searching for mine. I smiled against his kiss. “They’ll be coming home any time,” I said.

He stepped back and looked at me in that hungry way that made me feel a little bit pretty and a little bit mischievous. The doorbell rang again, and I dropped a piece of candy into the bags of two girls dressed as fairies. After I closed the door, I turned to Josh. “I wasn’t expecting you so early. Rachel’s still with the kids, and she and Sam won’t be going out until later.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I brought some homework, and I thought I’d keep you company during the trick-or-treating.”

A warm contentment filled me as I answered the door to a doctor and a ninja and a cowboy. An evening with Josh awaited me after the children were in bed, and I was looking forward to it. The holiday was getting boring, with all the outstretched bags and ungracious retreats. The next time the doorbell rang, I considered not answering, but Rachel had told me that older children sometimes vandalize houses where they don’t get treats.

While I opened the door, I absently reached for the half-empty bowl of candy. Then, facing the two figures on the doorstep, I froze. The smaller girl was dressed as a princess, a shiny crown atop her blond head. The taller girl had a different costume. The first thing I noticed was the kapp, the one I hadn’t worn since I’d left home. My eyes traveled down the familiar purple dress and the starchy white apron, then up to Valerie’s face.

“Trick or treat,” said the little girl.

“This is my sister Michelle,” said Valerie, her grin spreading up her face. “How do we look?”

I stared in silence at the image before me. There on the doorstep

I saw myself and my mother and sisters and friends, and all the Plain people who filled my other world.

“Well, you said I could borrow it, didn’t you?” said Valerie, shifting her weight. “And don’t worry. I’ll clean it before I give it back.”

Still I couldn’t speak. I stepped back from the door and felt the smoothness of the bowl against my palms before it slipped from my fingers in an explosive crash. Michelle looked startled at the sound, and Valerie reached for her hand. Ignoring the fragments of glass on the floor, and the scattering of candy at my feet, I looked at Valerie, the reflection of myself, and saw what she saw. Someone in a costume, someone to be mocked.

“Liza?” came Josh’s voice from the kitchen. “Is everything all right?” I couldn’t answer.

Bending down, I began to pick up the shards of glass, almost enjoying the roughness of the jagged edges against my skin. In front of me, Valerie and her sister stood quietly on the stoop. Josh was beside me now. I sensed him looking down at me and then out at the scene before him. I heard his intake of breath before he spoke. “Valerie, seriously?”

“Eliza knew about this,” said Valerie. “She said I could borrow her dress to show my sister. Right, Eliza?”

“Yes,” I said in a small voice. “To show your sister.” I could feel something stinging the palm of my hand, and saw a red drop fall on the floor. I was thinking that I needed to clean up this mess and that I needed to get fresh candy and that the children would be back soon for their dinner. I looked up and saw that the smile had slipped from Valerie’s lips. The kapp was slightly askew, her hair hanging past her shoulders in limp strands. She didn’t have it right, I was thinking. Her hair should be tied back or braided. She couldn’t even mock me right. Valerie tugged her sister’s hand and they hurried off the stoop.

Josh slammed the door and turned to me, the expression on his face inching from anger to concern. He stooped beside me and reached for my hand. “Come on,” he said. “We have to take care of this.” He led me to the kitchen and held my hand under the faucet. The cut stung under the water, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. It wasn’t like seeing the fake Amish girl who was sometimes my friend looking at me with blank amusement. “It doesn’t look too deep.” He pressed a piece of paper towel against the cut. “Here,” he said, his voice tender. He guided me to a chair and placed my other hand where his had been. “Hold this with pressure while I clean up the mess.”

He opened a fresh bag of candy and brought a broom and dustpan to the front door. Listening to the clinking sounds of the broken glass, interrupted by the doorbell ushering in more trick-or-treaters, I thought about what a silly holiday this was.

A few minutes later, Josh was back, the dustpan brimming with glass pieces and miniature candy bars. He emptied it all into the garbage with a clattering sound and then returned to my side. “Looks better,” he said. We went upstairs, and Josh helped me wash the cut and apply first-aid cream. Then he carefully covered the wound with a bandage. “All better?” he asked. I nodded, swallowing back a trembling feeling. He paused before adding, “Listen, I don’t know what Valerie was thinking. I’m sorry this happened.”

I looked at Josh, and he met my gaze. “So am I.”

He reached for me. I felt the reassurance of his arms wrapped around me, my head against his shoulder.

Back downstairs, I went to work making the children’s dinner—macaroni and cheese from a box, the noodles shaped like one of their cartoon characters. The cheese was nothing more than a packet of powder, but it was their favorite meal and I wanted everything to be easy. When Ben and Janie tumbled into the house, with Rachel following wearily behind them, I served them dinner.

Sam came home and smiled as he listened to their descriptions of Halloween. Later, with the children bathed and busy sorting their candy, I found Josh at the kitchen table with Rachel and Sam. They all looked up when I came in the room.

“I’m so sorry about what happened with Josh’s friend,” said Rachel.

Josh interrupted her. “My former friend.”

His face was firm and unsmiling. A feeling of satisfaction crept over me.

Sam cleared his throat. “I don’t know Valerie, but I think she’s either completely clueless or just very self-involved.”

Josh laughed. “I guess you do know Valerie. And she’s both.” We joined in Josh’s laughter, and I felt myself beginning to relax.

Rachel and Sam left for their evening out, and I put the children to bed. When I came down to the family room, Josh was waiting, a smile wide across his face. “Here,” he said. “I brought you a surprise.”

I looked at the DVD in his outstretched hand. On the cover was a picture of a woman in a black dress and striped apron, her arms outstretched, beautiful mountain scenery in the background. The words sprang out at me: The Sound of Music. I threw my arms around Josh’s neck, and he kissed the top of my head. “Now don’t tell Greg about this. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

We settled on the couch and started to watch. I was quickly pulled into the story of the nun who didn’t fit in with the others and was sent away to care for a widower’s seven children.

It was a wonderful movie, and Josh and I watched it bundled together like we were melting into each other. When it ended we stayed together on the couch, neither one of us wanting to reach for the remote, the picture now only a bluish glow. “What are you thinking?” Josh whispered, his hand rubbing my back in soft, slow circles.

My voice was a murmur. “I’ve been wanting to see this movie since I was a little girl and my mother told me about it.”

“And?”

I paused, trying to figure out exactly what I was feeling. “And now I’ve seen it.”

I waited, thinking that there must be more to say about this moment. But there wasn’t. That was all I could think of. Now I’ve seen it.

A few days later, as I was getting Janie into bed, Rachel called up the stairs to me. “Someone’s here for you.” I stepped out of Janie’s room and looked down the stairs to see Valerie standing in the hallway by the front door, the hook of a metal hanger looped over her fingers. Beneath the transparent plastic, I could see my dress, apron, and kapp.

I went downstairs, and Valerie stepped forward, extending the hanger to me. “I had it dry-cleaned.” Her voice sounded squeaky, her words measured. I felt the soft stickiness of the plastic as I took the hanger from Valerie’s outstretched hand.

The chemical smell wafting from the dress was clean but not fresh. I thought of wash days at home, when my mother and I cranked the wet clothes through the wringer and hung each item in a row on the clothesline.

At the sound of a cough, I looked up, surprised to see that Valerie was still standing there. “Was there something else you wanted?”

“Yeah, I thought you’d like to know that everyone’s mad at me. Again. And you did tell me I could borrow your dress, didn’t you? And I did take good care of it, didn’t I?”

I cleared my throat. “I guess I didn’t like being turned into a joke.”

Valerie nodded. “Well, to be honest, I’m tired of worrying about what you like and don’t like. You know, things haven’t been too wonderful for me since you got here. I didn’t just get in trouble after Homecoming. I got in trouble for corrupting an AH-mish girl.” She flicked her hair behind her shoulders with a toss of her head. “And Josh. It’s ancient history, so I shouldn’t really care, but when we were together he always looked bored. Or he rolled his eyes like I wasn’t worldly enough for him. Then you come along, and he’s totally fascinated by you. Go figure that out.”

“So you decided to embarrass me?” I asked, my voice gaining strength.

“Not exactly. I just wanted to take my sister out for Halloween, and I needed a…” Her voice trailed off.

“A costume?”

Valerie paused and squinted at me, as though trying to see me more clearly. “Well, isn’t that what you’re doing here? Aren’t you dressing like us?”

I sucked in a breath, but I didn’t have an answer for her.

“I thought I was being pretty nice to you, taking you shopping, introducing you to my friends. Then you go and say that I can’t be trusted. Well, I just want you to know that you aren’t the only one who’s been insulted.”

This was a lot for me to take in. Valerie had been hurtful, and I would never forget that. But in her own way she had been hurt, too.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “When I came here, I thought we could be friends.”

Valerie didn’t answer. Her eyes looked far away, her features flat. Her thumbs hooked through the belt loops of her jeans, and her sneakered foot tapped the floor. She wasn’t going to return the apology. She was waiting for me to release her.

“Thank you for cleaning the dress,” I said.

She nodded and turned to leave. As I watched her go, I thought about the words she usually used when she said good-bye. “See you around,” or “Later” or just “See ya.” I was glad she didn’t say any of these words, because they wouldn’t be true. I wouldn’t be seeing Valerie around.

I carried the dress up to my room and pulled off the clear wrapping, letting it drift to the floor. It was so carefully pressed, it almost looked artificial. I pulled off my blue jeans and sweatshirt, leaving them in a colorful pile on the floor beside the plastic wrap. As I stepped into the dress, my skin tingled with familiarity. I tied the apron around my waist and set the kapp on my head with the bonnet strings hanging over my shoulders. In the mirror I saw myself the way I used to be, the way I’d looked every day before I’d come here. I had fought against this image, but now it was hard to remember why.

Opening the door to the closet, I stared at the English clothes I had been so proud to acquire, hanging in a neat row. I reached to touch the second pair of blue jeans that Valerie had insisted I needed, the fabric stiff against my fingertips. I had thought these clothes would liberate me, but maybe Valerie was right. Maybe they were my way of wearing a costume.

I changed back into the jeans and sweatshirt and put the Amish clothes on a hanger. For a minute I stood holding the hanger, looking at the familiar shape of the dress, the clean whiteness of the kapp and apron. Then I hung it in the front of the closet, beside my other clothes.