I’m leaving Olympia’s office when I spot Hermione Granger—aka Halle—at her locker, putting her books away. Dumbledore is next to her, fiddling with his beard.

“Why aren’t you wearing a costume?” Dumbledore/Michael says when he sees me. “It’s Halloween!” If he knew about Clean Sweep, he wouldn’t ask. And Halle? She wouldn’t ask even if she did know. I still can’t believe she’s not talking to me.

“I like your Hermione costume,” I tell Halle. “You look cute.”

Halle slams her locker. “Did I say you could talk to me?”

“No, but since when do I need permission?”

“Since you don’t care about being a good friend and you tried to steal my boyfriend, you sneaky—”

“Ladies, please!” Michael steps in between us.

Halle bops him on the head with her wizard wand and runs over to Thing 1 and Thing 2 (Coco and Madeline) who are giggling with Wonder Woman (Liberty) across the hall.

I feel my shoulders sag. I’ve never experienced this kind of rejection before—the achy kind that settles in your bones. But now, watching Halle laughing with her friends, I know what it feels like.

“You look sad,” Michael says, patting my arm.

“I am sad,” I say.

“I’m sad you’re sad.”

I’m not sure what to say next. Saying, “Thank you for caring” would be weird, and “I’m sad you’re sad I’m sad” would be weirder. Luckily, I don’t have to say anything. Halle is back. “Why are you talking to Michael?” she demands.

“I’m not,” I say. “He was talking to me.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

I shrug. “It’s not my fault.”

“Everything,” Halle says, “is your fault.”

“What if it’s not?” I say. “What if this has been a huge misunderstanding, like Olympia said, and it’s nobody’s fault?”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Michael says, adjusting his pointy cap. “Nothing can be nobody’s fault. Unless the nobody is a somebody, which would mean it’s actually somebody’s fault.”

Halle whacks him again with her wand.

“Ow!” Michael’s hands fly to his head. “That hurt.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Halle says. She grabs his arm and steers him away from me. “Let’s go.”

—

I make it through the rest of the day, hanging with Sam and avoiding Halle until it’s dismissal. Dad is waiting for me outside the school building. “Why aren’t you at work?” I ask, zipping up my jacket. “Is something wrong with Barbara? Is Henry okay?”

“Everybody’s fine,” Dad says, taking my backpack. “I just thought we’d have an early dinner first.”

“First?”

“Uh, before you pass out Halloween candy.”

“Oh.” Then I notice the shopping bag in Dad’s hand. When I try to peek inside, he pulls it away from me. “Why can’t I look?” I ask.

“Because you can’t.” Dad waggles his eyebrows at me. He takes my hand and leads me to the Starlight Diner.

After we’ve had cheeseburgers followed by cake for dessert, Dad says he has a surprise for me. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a blindfold.

Huh?

“What’s that for?” I ask.

“No questions,” Dad says, tying the blindfold around my eyes. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He takes my arm and leads me down the block.

“Where are we going?” I say, ignoring Dad’s no questions rule. “Uptown? Downtown? East? West?” Either way, I hope it’s not far. Walking around blindfolded is not my idea of a good time, plus there’s dog poop to consider and a Snapple cap I could miss.

“I said no questions,” Dad repeats. “And no peeking either. That would be cheating.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I say. And I wasn’t. But now as we’re rounding the corner, the suspense is killing me.

Finally we stop walking. “Ready?” Dad asks, leaning over to untie my blindfold.

“Ready,” I say.

When Dad takes off the blindfold, I suck in my breath. We’re standing in front of Halle’s building. “What are we doing here?” I ask.

Dad grins like a jack-o’-lantern. “If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain.”

I must be Muhammad.

“Um, this is really nice of you, Dad, but I think we should go home. I don’t want to miss the trick-or-treaters.”

Dad’s eyebrows spring up in surprise. “I thought you’d be happy to spend Halloween with your best friend.”

Halle was my best friend, I want to tell him, before she decided I was a backstabbing crush stealer. But how can I say that? It would ruin Dad’s surprise. I let him take me into Halle’s building and up in the elevator.

Mrs. Maklansky greets us at the door in bunny ears. She’s also holding a carrot. “What a wonderful idea to get the girls together,” she says, winking at Dad. “I’m so glad you suggested it, Dennis.”

What’s with the wink, I wonder? Does Mrs. Maklansky know Halle and I are fighting? Or does she know about Mom? And if she does, did she tell Halle? But that’s impossible. Halle would have said something to me in school, even if she’s still mad. I know she would. Well, I think she would.

Halle’s mom straightens her bunny ears and calls out to her daughter. “Hal! Look who’s here!”

When Halle joins us in the entrance hall in her Hermione costume, she looks ready to throw her mom to the werewolves. I can’t say I blame her. I’m ready to do the same with Dad.

“I got you a costume, Kit-Kat,” Dad says, handing me the shopping bag. “Take a look.” I dip my hand inside and pull out a tall red-and-white-striped hat. “The Kat in the Hat,” Dad explains. “Get it?”

I get it, all right. I just don’t want it.

“Put it on,” Dad says. “I want to see how it looks on you.”

I give Dad the stink eye, but he doesn’t pick up on it. I put on the hat.

“Adorable!” Mrs. Maklansky says, gesturing with her carrot. “Such a clever idea.”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Dad says, looking pleased. “I think it works.”

“Oh, it does.” Mrs. Maklansky’s bunny ears bobble in agreement.

Halle just snorts.

“Well, I’d better leave you kids to it,” Dad says, rubbing his hands together. “Have fun!”

I won’t, and neither will Halle, but we fake-smile good-bye as Mrs. Maklansky brings Dad to the door.

Once the grown-ups are gone, I wait for Halle to say something about Mom—but she doesn’t. This means either (a) she doesn’t know or (b) she doesn’t care. If it’s (a), I could always tell her, but then she’d be nice to me out of pity. Instead, I take the pillowcase she’s handing me and follow her out the door.

Although we’re barely talking, we agree to start on the top floor, the twentieth, and work our way down, stopping at the apartments with paper pumpkins on the doors. That’s the building’s code for These Nice People Will Give You Candy. No paper pumpkin = Try Another Apartment.

We run to the first pumpkin we see, apartment 20H, and push the buzzer. A tiny white-haired lady opens the door. “My, my, my,” she says, reaching for her glasses. “What have we here? The Cat in the Hat and…” She squints at Halle. “I don’t know what you are, dear.”

“Hermione Granger,” Halle tells her. “From the Harry Potter books. Trick or treat!”

The old lady smiles and drops a king-size Snickers bar into Halle’s pillowcase, then one into mine.

“Thank you,” we say.

We race down to the nineteenth floor and score Skittles, Twizzlers, and peppermint patties from 19A and 19G. The other apartments don’t bother to open up, even though they have paper pumpkins on their doors.

The same happens on seventeen, sixteen, and fifteen—Halle’s floor. “What’s wrong with these people?” Halle wants to know. “Don’t they know Halloween is, like, a national holiday?”

It’s not, but there’s no way I’m pointing that out.

We run downstairs to the twelfth floor (there’s no thirteen, bad luck), but it’s as disappointing as the upper floors. Eleven isn’t much better. “I don’t get it,” Halle says. “My neighbors are heartless.”

Thankfully, the tenth, ninth, eighth, and seventh floors have more to offer. By the time we reach six, our pillowcases are bulging with candy. “This is more like it,” Halle says, nodding. She marches over to 6B and presses the buzzer. We stand back and wait. “Someone better be home,” she grumbles. “Or else.”

A skinny lady in a hot-pink jogging suit opens the door. “Pardon my appearance,” she says, gathering her hair into a messy bun. “I’ve been doing facial yoga.”

Halle and I trade nervous glances.

“I know it sounds odd,” the lady says, “but exercising the muscles in your face is very important. If I didn’t do it, I’d probably need a face-lift.”

“Um, trick or treat?” Halle holds out her pillowcase.

The lady continues. “There’s this exercise I do…the lion? You inhale for a count of eight, then look up to the ceiling and stick out your tongue. Like this.” Before we can stop her, the lady in 6B is demonstrating the lion with a deep, breathy huhhhhhhhhhh, her tongue darting out like a lizard’s. “You girls should try it,” she says, “before the first signs of aging start to appear.”

“That’s okay,” Halle says, turning to go.

“Wait!” The lady disappears and comes back with two overripe bananas. “One for each of you.” She drops the spotty fruit into our pillowcases. “Happy Halloween!”

Halle and I cover our mouths to keep from laughing. Then we run.