DeShaun and Stuart took turns bumping one another’s shoulders at the corner where a dusty highway turnoff met Zebulon Street.
“You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into, man?” DeShaun asked.
“I just think she’s a cool chick. Is that such a crime, Dad?”
DeShaun gave a heartier bump. “I’m just saying. Remember when this school year started? We made a deal: no girlfriend drama until next year. One more year to just…”
“Goof around,” Stuart finished. Stuart turned his hand over to show a tiny scar on his palm, and DeShaun opened his hand to show a matching scar.
“Yeah,” Stuart continued. “Ma was going on about how this is the first year I won’t be trick-or-treating.”
“Mine too.”
“I’m not gonna ditch you, man.” Stuart gave DeShaun a pretty good slug on the thigh. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
“Same here,” DeShaun said. But he was staring down at the ground. And he didn’t return the playful punch.
“I like her,” Stuart admitted. He waited to see if DeShaun was going to laugh at him, but he didn’t. “I’m glad you’re here, if that makes any sense.”
“Is this gonna turn into some weird thing?” DeShaun’s face and voice were dead serious, but Stuart detected the sarcasm. “I’m not into you that way.”
“Shut up, dude!”
DeShaun cracked up. Stuart punched him on the shoulder a little harder than usual, and soon the boys had dropped their bikes and were rolling around on the ground, wrestling.
As always, they began calling their own action, serving as both co-commentators and mortal enemies. “Barcroft’s headlock is clearly too much for the weaker Lott, as you can see, Bob. You can hear the screams of agony,” Stuart announced.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken as usual, Mean Gene. Those are gales of laughter. Lott is amused by Barcroft’s jelly-like grasp and is about to turn the tables,” countered DeShaun.
Eventually, DeShaun wound up on top and applied a claw hold to Stuart’s hyper-ticklish ribs, making his friend squint and squirm and cackle. Glancing up, DeShaun grew still, staring at something in the road. “Ooohh…”
He stood up straight and dusted himself off. “Here she comes.”
Stuart popped up and grabbed his bike, trying to position himself on it before Candace got a good look at him acting like a little kid. “Huh? She’s on foot.”
Candace was walking briskly, like those old folks early in the morning at the mall. There was something urgent about this—but then there was always something urgent about her. “Come on.”
They took off to meet her, waving like castaways flagging down a helicopter, and soon they were beside her.
“Hey,” greeted Stuart and hoped he did not seem too excited.
“Hey,” she echoed, still huffing from the walk.
“I figured you had a bike.”
“I don’t mind walking,” she said.
“Well, um…” He considered the situation. “You can ride mine and I’ll walk.”
Candace seemed almost panicked. “Can’t I just ride with you?”
“Well, sure!”
DeShaun grinned at Stuart, as Candace clambered on behind him.
“So where is the cemetery?” she asked, as they took off.
“It’s just behind the big old church.”
“Stop!” Candace yelled it loud. Stuart thought she was hurt.
“Huh?” Stuart hit the brakes and dropped his feet like an ace daredevil, but he wasn’t thinking of how cool it was. He was worried about Candace. “What’s wrong?”
She jumped off the bike and stepped back. “I don’t think I can go.”
“Why not?” asked Deshaun.
“I just…” She turned and walked. “I better go home.”
Stuart stood scratching his head.
“Well, don’t just sit there, brainiac! Go after her!” urged DeShaun.
“I don’t know, man. She seemed pretty intense about not going.”
DeShaun went after her. “I see how it’s gonna be.”
Stuart watched as DeShaun glided up beside her, gesturing and talking. Soon, she stopped, and soon after that, she turned to walk back. DeShaun waved at him to come meet her.
* * * *
Entering the drugstore, Hudson stepped aside for a gaggle of babbling children, bottlenecking the door with their new Halloween costumes.
He made his way to the back, where pharmacist Charles Plemmons gave a prescription package and an enthusiastic “Happy Halloween!” to a customer from the raised enclosure of the pharmacy.
“Ho there, Hudson,” Charlie called.
“Good afternoon, Charles.”
“You need a scrip?” Charlie leaned on the elevated counter. “Big strong guy like you?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you could take a look at something for me. Possibly evidence.”
“Oh? Official police business, eh?”
“I wouldn’t say official.” He slid the candy to Plemmons, on its loose wrapper.
“This a joke, Hud?” Charlie lifted it between thumb and forefinger. “It’s just Halloween candy.”
“No joke.” Hudson’s face gave away how serious—and weary—he was. “I know you’re not set up for this, but I’m hoping you can toss it in your cauldron and see what floats to the top.”
“Ah, a very seasonal way to put it,” Charlie quipped. “Is this something like that silly old wives’ tale about poison candy?”
“I damn sure hope that’s all it is.”
“Well, I’ll be closing up early for parade prep. But maybe I’ll get a minute before I leave.”
“I appreciate it, Charles. And, uh, just you and me, okay?”
“Ooh! Secret agent stuff! All righty then!”
Bats fluttered around the streetlight above his cruiser, casting quick shadows across his face. These shadows, like his hunch about the candy, made Hudson feel uneasy for reasons he couldn’t explain.
* * * *
Stuart and DeShaun took several steps into the freshly mown churchyard and turned to Candace.
“See?” Stuart spread his arms. “The church is like a whole football field away.”
Candace took a few furtive steps.
“All the really old graves are on this end anyway,” said DeShaun, motioning toward a patch of stones more white than gray.
“Are you okay?” Stuart asked.
“Yeah.” Candace hugged her arms against her chest. “Sorry, guys. Churches just kind of weird me out.”
“You haven’t met Reverend McGlazer?” DeShaun asked. “He’s really nice. Not all yelly or anything like that.”
“Haven’t met much of anybody since we got here,” she explained, still on her guard.
“Where were you living before?” Stuart asked.
“Hm.” Candace sounded sarcastic. “Which time?”
“You move a lot?” asked Stuart.
“Yeah.”
“Here’s the first one,” said DeShaun as they came to a weathered, crooked grave.
The boys knelt to take charcoal and paper from their backpacks.
“Good thing we have plenty of extra tracing paper, eh, Stuart?” DeShaun pronounced.
“Oh. Yeah, it is,” Stuart enjoined, turning to Candace. “And that’s because we thought you might enjoy making some rubbings as well.”
Candace took the proffered paper and charcoal. “Okay, yeah.”
Stuart gave DeShaun a grateful wink.
“You guys…” Candace gave them an intense kind of smile. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Well, sure,” said Stuart, pressing his paper against the old grave. “It’s about time you got out to see the great metropolis of Ember Hollow.”
“Yeah,” DeShaun agreed. “Maybe Stuart can show you some of our town’s other interesting attractions.”
Stuart shot him a warning glare, even as he said, “Sure, yeah.”
“I don’t know,” Candace responded. “Maybe.”
“Are your parents strict?” asked DeShaun.
“It’s not that so much.”
Stuart finished and rose. “It’s okay. That’s none of our bees’ wax.” He gave DeShaun a hearty nudge. “Right, DeShaun?”
“It’s just…my brother…” Candace trailed off.
Stuart and DeShaun exchanged a look. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“He’s…kinda not okay.” Candace was quiet for a long time. “He doesn’t get out much.”
Candace finished her rubbing and stepped aside for DeShaun.
Stuart held his rubbing up to compare it to hers. “Wow. You’re a pretty good artist, huh?”
“I guess it runs in my family,” Candace said.
They watched DeShaun finish his. “Come on. Next one is down here.”
“You guys sure know your way around this graveyard.”
“We’ve lived in Ember Hollow our whole lives,” explained Stuart. “Used to play hide-and-seek here. Easter egg hunts. Stuff like that.”
“Must be nice,” Candace said.
“Don’t worry,” DeShaun said. “It won’t take you long to get to know it too.”
She turned away, looking at the ground.
“Wait.” Stuart stopped in front of her. “You’re not gonna move again, are you?”
“Change the subject.” Candace walked around him, leaving him to watch her in bewilderment.
DeShaun grabbed Stuart’s arm, stage whispering, “You gotta make your move, man!”
“What about no girlfriend drama?”
“Screw that!” DeShaun gave him a subtle shove.
Stuart jogged to catch up to her. “Then you have to be in the parade with us. With me.”
Candace’s tears welled. “Can we forget about tomorrow for a minute?”
“Forget? About Hallo-freakin’-ween?”
“I just wanna think about today right now, okay?”
Stuart and DeShaun exchanged another perplexed look. “Sure. No sweat,” Stuart answered.
“There’s ol’ Wilcott,” said DeShaun.
They trekked to a towering obelisk with intricately carved angelic figures and unusual symbols around the base.
But even odder than the big stone, something was stuck in the earth, dead center of the grave.
“What the hell?” Stuart asked.
It was a sturdy wooden cross about four feet tall, made from inch-and-a-half-thick hickory. The light coloring of its smooth-sanded skin indicated it had been recently placed.
“Maybe somebody’s way of paying tribute to the ol’ fella,” DeShaun conjectured, tugging at it. “It’s in pretty good.” Stuart took a turn, with the same result.
Candace gave it a wide berth as she went to examine the towering monument behind it.
“Wilcott P. Bennington the third,” Stuart said. “Town Father.”
“The house we’re going to after this”—DeShaun cocked his head toward the woods to his left—“built right on the site where he settled.”
“Yep.” Stuart pointed beyond a field past the church. “Right over there.”
“It’s awesome, too,” Deshaun said. “There’s lotsa weird rumors about Ol’ Wilcott.”
“There’s a rumor he could raise spirits,” Stuart said.
Candace looked over the marker, drawn to the majestic sickle-wielding being carved in various poses around the tall base of the obelisk. She began rubbing the inscriptions.
“But my dad says that’s silly,” continued Stuart. “‘Said,’ I mean.”
There was another unusual symbol: the cross combined with a lowercase letter h, set inside a triangle, as Mrs. Steinborn had drawn. Candace did a rubbing of this as well.
“These angels, so strong and peaceful,” she said. “Reminds me of my mo—”
Candace’s words became a frightened yelp, as a quick figure appeared from behind the monument, like Mama Bates descending upon Martin Balsam.
The figure was Ruth, lunging to snatch Candace’s paper.
Candace was startled backward. The boys instantly took protective positions in front of her.
Ruth was furious. “What are you kids doing? Desecrating this holy place?”
“N…No, ma’am,” answered DeShaun. “It’s a homework assignment.”
He held up the homework sheet, and she snatched it too, glaring down at it. “It’s still disrespectful. This is what happens when prayer is taken out of school!”
She handed the papers back and loomed over the shaken Candace. “Who are you, little girl?”
“C-Can…”
Stuart and DeShaun helped her stand. “Candace. She goes to our school,” Stuart said.
“Candace. Why haven’t I seen you in church?”
“Uh…” Stuart tried to answer for her, but was at a loss.
“She’s…allergic,” DeShaun blurted.
“To…pews!” Stuart elaborated.
“Pews, pew polish,” DeShaun elaborated.
“Makes her break out in splotches,” Stuart finished.
“Oh, really?” Ruth scowled at the boys, then down at Candace. “Why can’t she tell me herself?”
“She… her allergy… her throat,” Stuart improvised.
Ruth took Candace’s hand and pulled her close, putting her arms around the girl. “Come here and let me pray over you, child.”
“No!” Candace jerked loose and ran for the road, fast as her legs would pump.
Stuart and DeShaun took off after her. “Candace! Stop!”
Ruth watched them with more than suspicion. Perhaps it was hatred. And then she made damn sure the hickory cross was lodged deep and solid.
* * * *
Stuart and DeShaun caught up to Candace. Though breathless, she still stumbled forward as fast as her taxed lungs would allow.
“Candace!” Stuart called. “Stop! Stop!”
She broke into tears, her feet barely rising. Still she ran, driven by fear or fury. Her backpack fell off, but she ignored it.
Stuart hopped off his bike and let it crash, jumping in front of her with hands and arms out like Superman bracing to halt a runaway bus. “Stop!”
She slammed into him, knocking him on his back—but remained in his arms, sobbing into his chest.
DeShaun retrieved her backpack and caught up, taking his time.
Stuart let his arms wrap around her, comforting but not squeezing. “It’s okay, Candace. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
DeShaun knelt and patted her back, and the boys somehow knew to just stay quiet and let her cry.
After a few minutes, Candace stood to walk away. The boys exchanged their hundredth perplexed look.
“Wait!” Stuart called.
Candace stopped but didn’t turn.
“Whatever you’re gonna do, sooner or later you’re gonna need to know how to ride a bike.”
Candace turned to him, and there was almost, at least, relief on her face.