Three and a Half Years Ago: October
Everyone we passed laughed when they saw us, and a few people tried to give Gin high-fives. He purposefully missed them, keeping in line with his Halloween costume.
Black-and-white striped referee shirt. Black pants. Just like an NBA referee.
The white cane normally used by the blind and dark sunglasses completed his costume. His social commentary, as he’d said several times already, since he wasn’t just wearing a costume but making a point.
I adjusted elastic holding the beard that completed my red Santa Claus suit, and glanced at Maggie, who was trailing a step behind us. I felt like the fun-house mirror compared to their choices. Maggie’s black-and-white striped shirt, black pants with suspenders, black beret, and white facepaint, was monochromatic. Black tears on her cheeks completed her do-it-yourself mime costume. Only the orange plastic pumpkin in her hand added color to her outfit.
I signed at her. You ready to call it a night?
She nodded. I touched Gin on the arm and he glanced at me. “Let’s head back.”
“Okay, but we have to hit up the house on the corner before we stop. They always give out full-sized candy bars. Maggie can’t miss that.”
I nodded, and asked Maggie if she wanted one last stop, and she grinned.
I’ll do one more house for a full-sized candy bar, she signed back.
Rock on. Gin signed back.
The house on the corner had a brick facade, and fake skeletons hanging from the trees. Tombstones were lined up in the front yard. A figure came jumping out from behind the bushes after we passed them, causing me to jump slightly. But Maggie kept marching toward the front door.
“Tough little mime,” the man who’d jumped out of the bushes said. The vampire fangs in his mouth caused him to lisp slightly.
I shrugged, and Maggie turned to see him. She glanced at me. He tried to scare you.
Maggie smiled in response, but it was a sad smile, and she looked down. I put my hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up I let go and signed, He thinks you’re tough. You are, too, Tiger.
The man pulled a bucket of candy bars—Hersey bars with almonds this year—out from a potted plant on his porch. “You just need to say the magic words,” he said.
“Trick or treat,” Maggie said, the words coming out in her high-pitched voice, the words not quite formed the way they should be.
The man blinked slightly, but then smiled, his fangs sticking out against the curve of his smile. He dropped two candy bars in Maggie’s pumpkin.
“How about Santa and the ref?” he asked, and Gin and I held out our bags in unison. I wasn’t asking for candy since we were chaperoning Maggie, but how could I say no?
“Thank you,” I said as we walked away. We took the trail back to my house, bypassing the crowds of people out on the hunt for candy.
Gin paused under a light on the path and looked into Maggie’s pumpkin. Good job, he signed to her.
Thanks, she signed back, and was starting to say something else when there was another roar from behind us.
“Lame,” I said as Alex and Benji jumped out at us. “You two following us?”
“Three, actually,” Benji said as Sarah followed along more slowly. She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder as if she was bored, and she had her arms crossed over her chest.
“Such a warm costume.” I nodded at Sarah’s genie costume that showed her entire stomach and most of her arms.
“Prettier than your stupid Santa suit,” she muttered. She glanced at Gin, and her eyes lit up. She dropped arms down to her side, and pushed out her size-A chest. “Such a clever costume, Gin!”
Gin glanced over from where he was pretending to use the white stick to maneuver down the path. “Umm, thanks.”
“He’s all about social commentary,” Benji said. He was dressed in black from head to toe and I wondered if he was a shadow until I saw he was holding a marionette.
“’Cause sports are representative of society!” Gin said.
“Whatever.” Alex looked bored in his fake-leather bomber jacket and slicked-back hair. His tone matched his expression.
Maggie tugged at my arm. “Guys, let’s start walking again,” I said. Maggie’s face looked like every muscle was tight beneath the white facepaint. Her I-want-to-go-home look.
My sister and I ended up a few feet ahead of the group, and then several yards, as we made our way home. Daniel was handing out candy this year.
“Wait up.” Gin jogged a few steps and ended up by my side. Behind us, Sarah’s shrill voice was saying something about us being too old to trick-or-treat.
“Alex, didn’t you want to TP Silas’ house over on Elm Street?” Benji asked.
“Yeah, we have to do that before we hit up the party at Paisley’s!” Alex roared.
“Almost home,” I said out loud while also signing to Maggie.
“You want to go for a walk after we drop Maggie off?” Gin asked. “Or we could head over to the party at Paisley’s. Alex and the rest will head that way.”
“Maybe.”
Gin winked at me in response, and then he held the back gate open for Maggie and me so we could enter our backyard.
“See you at the party!” Benji called as they passed by a few seconds later. He was trying to untangle the strings of his marionette as he trotted after his cousin.
“Wait, I thought Gin was coming with us—” Sarah’s voice trailed off when Benji spoke.
“C’mon, Alex has a mission we need to help with.”
You okay, Maggie?
Just tired. Maggie’s half-smile made me wonder if something deeper was going on.
I’m going to head over to Paisley’s unless you need me.
I’m fine. Maggie opened the door to the kitchen. I’ll tell Mom and Dad where you are if they ask.
Gin signed goodnight to Maggie, who nodded at him before disappearing into the kitchen.
“So, Paisley’s?” Gin asked as we walked back toward the gate.
“Sure.”
“We can take the long way if you’re not sure about going to the party. But it sounds fun. Even more epic than last year.”
I made sure the gate latched behind us, and after we’d walked about ten feet and were out of the glare of a light over the path, Gin stepped in front of me, stopping me. He looked me in the eyes. We were almost the same height, with me maybe being an inch taller at five-foot-five. But he’d almost caught up.
Unlike last school year, when he’d been two inches shorter than me during our class photos.
Gin took a deep breath, and then leaned forward. Our noses bumped. “Sorry, I’ve never done this before,” he muttered, and then our lips met. My heart fluttered in my chest.
He pulled away from me, and grabbed my hand. “On to Paisley’s?” he asked.
“Maybe we can try this again,” I said, and leaned in. Our lips met.
He was smiling when I kissed him. After a moment, I started giggling.
“We’ll have to practice,” Gin said.
***
Wednesday Evening: April 13th, Continued
Maggie was waiting by the front door for me when Gin dropped me off. Is it true? She signed.
If you’re asking about Sarah…yes. I didn’t know how exactly to respond. Did Maggie think Sarah had committed suicide, or overdosed? Or had my parents tried to keep the vulgar details from my little sister? Would the students at her school care that a slightly older girl had died, or would it seem remote to them? Like a death on a TV show, not quite real? As I studied the confused and sad look on her downcast face, I hoped they’d kept the details from Maggie. She’s not even thirteen.
Thirteen. Uh oh. Maggie’s birthday party was scheduled for this Friday. It would have to be canceled. Or would my father argue that life would need to go on? Would my mother be willing to have a party when one of the members of her book club was grieving? A headache started to pulse inside my skull. I wanted to leave, grab Maggie, tell Gin to pack a bag, pick us up, and drive away.
Maggie looked back up at me. How are you? Gin? Paisley?
They’re sad, but okay. Everyone’s sad about this. A tiny part of my heart pinged when the impact of Maggie’s questions settled in. She was more worried about my friends. About me.
Maggie started to ask something, but her hands stilled as she looked behind me. Her face closed off as her emotions retreated back into herself. I knew that look.
“Where have you been? I texted you over twenty minutes ago.”
My entire body tightened at the sound of the voice behind me. “I headed home after getting your summons,” I said. “I was out.” I could see part of his reflection in the mirror next to the door. Rigid shoulder. No suit jacket, but he was still wearing a blue button-down shirt that matched the pinstripes of his trousers. I turned to face him.
“Your mother is over at Sarah’s house,” he said gruffly. He turned and we followed him back to the kitchen. He motioned to several containers of Chinese takeout from the local delivery place before disappearing into the garage.
Maggie looked at the food and then made a face at me, but grabbed two plates from the cabinet and handed one to me. Kung Pao chicken, dumplings, and some noodle dish with bright orange sauce that neither of us touched.
How was school? I asked after we sat down.
Maggie shrugged and bit into a dumpling.
The door to the garage opened and closed behind us, sending in a blast of cold air. Maggie shivered but soldiered on, clearing her plate of food. I took a few bites of chicken even though I wasn’t really hungry.
Our father joined us a few minutes later, the container of noodles in his hand. No plate. He dug a fork in the noodles and Maggie wrinkled her nose at the sight of the orange sauce. Maggie had eventually decided she’d eat fresh oranges, but she still refused candy corn, pumpkin, and almost all other orange foods.
The silence felt heavy. Maggie stared at the table or her food. My father checked his phone between bites and fidgeted.
“Has anyone told Daniel?” I asked.
My father stilled. “Told Daniel what?”
“You know. About Sarah Effin Dietz. He knew her.”
“I don’t think your brother needs to hear about one of your friends overdosing while he’s in rehab.”
“It’s not like he’s never heard of an overdose before. Maybe he’ll want to come to the funeral,” I said. So the story being spread about was an accident versus suicide.
Maggie motioned to her empty plate. I’m going upstairs.
Okay.
“What did she say?” My father asked as Maggie stood.
“She’s done.”
Maggie rinsed her plate before putting it in the dishwasher, and then ran upstairs.
“Good, I wanted a chance to talk to you privately.”
Oh joy. I choked down one of the dumplings, which slid into my stomach and sat there like a brick.
My father put his phone down on the table and looked at me for the first time since sitting down. “So, Sarah.”
“Yes, dead Sarah.” He flinched, so I continued, “Who would have thought Sarah would be the one to die from drugs, and not Daniel?”
“Harper, you’re not funny.”
“Who’s laughing?” The anger I’d kept tamping down all day starting bubbling to the surface as I glared at my dad.
He returned my glare with a gaze of steel. “Did Sarah get the drugs from you?”
“No!”
“I’m serious, Harper.”
“I don’t do drugs. I don’t deal drugs. Do you really think I would after having a front-row view of what happened to Daniel? Seriously?”
“Stop shouting at me.”
“Then stop patronizing me.” I matched his intense tone although part of me wanted to protest. I hadn’t yelled at him. I’d barely raised my voice. But if he wanted to hear what screaming sounded like, I could bring it. He had no idea.
He looked back down at his phone and swiped at the screen. “I needed to know if you were involved in any way. If you aren’t, we don’t have anything to worry about.” He’d switched to a disinterested tone as he scanned his phone.
The words just slipped out when I realized I was no longer the biggest concern at this moment in his life: “I don’t know if the detective that interviewed me today would agree.” My icy tone matched his.
His eyes snapped back up to stare at me. “What detective?”
I shrugged, hiding a mocking smile inside. “The one who wanted to talk to me about Sarah. Wanted to know if she was depressed and would have committed suicide. Asked about drugs.”
“What did you tell him?” All of his focus was bearing down on me. His phone was forgotten on the table even though it made a beeping noise and starting blinking.
“The truth.”
“What did you tell him?”
I looked him straight in the eyes. “What I just told you. I don’t do drugs. There’s no way Sarah committed suicide.”
A flicker of relief crossed his face before a stern mask covered it. “Next time a cop tries to question you, ask for a lawyer.”
I smiled sweetly as I picked up my plate. “Why? What would I have to hide?”