The lunchroom sounded like a gaggle of geese during the week before Halloween. The tables were already crowded by the time we walked in, and the place smelled like spaghetti sauce and sour milk. March and I sat in the back corner with CindeeRae, Pat, and Jared.
Jared placed a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos in the middle of the table for trade, and I snatched them, dropping a bag of grapes in their place. CindeeRae pushed a sandwich bag full of graham crackers next to them and said, “Is anyone even going trick-or-treating? Since Lobster…” She fiddled with her juice box. “The Denver Dognapper freaks my parents out, and they won’t let me.”
“I think so,” Pat said, and Jared nodded.
I looked at March. We had been going trick-or-treating together for years, but after getting in trouble for Mission: Geezer’s Garbage Raid, we hadn’t talked about it. I shrugged, and March said, “This is my last eligible year for T-or-T. Someone will pay if I can’t go.”
T-or-T was what March called trick-or-treating. I had never heard anyone else call it that, including his family.
“I’m glad my parents don’t want me to go,” CindeeRae said, but even with all her acting skills, I didn’t believe her.
“But your parents could always go with you.” March pushed a single yellow Starburst to the center of the table with his pointer finger.
“Or you could go with us?” I snatched the Starburst, without offering anything else for trade. March scowled at me, and I said, “It’s one Starburst. It shouldn’t even count as anything.”
“What do you think of a party instead?” CindeeRae had gotten better about turning down her voice, but she was still the loudest one at the table. “We could eat lots of junk food without having to work for it.”
Jared and Pat nodded, considering. I almost nodded with them before realizing March would think I was a huge traitor for even thinking about it, so I ducked my head instead. That’s when I caught sight of Madeleine Brown passing our table and shushed everyone. She stopped at the sound and turned toward us, eyebrows tilting together like they were conspiring.
“You babies want to go trick-or-treating?” She plopped down next to March with Catelyn. “I mean, aren’t fifth graders too old to go trick-or-treating?” Madeleine wore a T-shirt with the number fourteen on the front.
“T-or-T is cool,” March said, and I cringed. Didn’t he know this was the worst possible moment to use his weird Halloween lingo? “Dressing up is fun, and you get free candy. What fifth grader doesn’t like free candy?”
“T-or-T is cool,” she mimicked, rolling her eyes. I stayed silent. Madeleine leaned across the table toward me. “What are you going to be for Halloween, Detective Jones? A superhero crime fighter? Sherlock Holmes?”
My chocolate milk begged me to pour it over her head—the carton nearly twitched in my hand. I took a deep breath instead—even though the thought of Madeleine Brown walking home with sour-milk hair made me smile.
“What’s so funny?” she asked. “Is that what detectives do when someone asks them a hard question?”
She made detecting sound silly, babyish even. I leaned across the table and said, “Would you like it if I made fun of you for dressing up with a bunch of people in matching uniforms to chase a ball around? Probably not, because it’s mean. You can make anything sound dumb if you try hard enough. It’s sad that you want to be good at that.”
Catelyn’s eyebrows shot up. Madeleine’s face was all pinched, like someone had cranked her nose a couple times.
Madeleine stood and slammed her palms on the tabletop. “You, and all your friends, are freaks!” She stomped off, Catelyn shuffling behind to keep up.
We sat quietly for a few seconds. Then March said, “That was the coolest thing ever.” He pushed three more Starbursts to me across the table.
“Totally!” CindeeRae said, and we all hooted together, celebrating.