And then her voice was gone, and he believed he would never talk to her again. He thought again of the way her hair swung around her face, the smooth olive skin of her cheeks. He did not know if he should share this call with his neighbors or not. Somehow, he thought not. It seemed too personal and private.

Connecting Creek’s call with loss, he suddenly found himself punching in his mother’s number.

She was glad to hear his voice.

38

Kids didn’t trick-or-treat in Midnight. It was too remote, too spooky. But there was kind of a local tradition in Davy to take the less anxious kids to the Witch’s House. This had begun in Mildred Loeffler’s time, and Fiji had happily continued the celebration. She and other inhabitants of Midnight worked on her house and yard for two days, to the disgust of Mr. Snuggly, who thought Fiji’s time would have been better spent brushing him and stroking his fur and feeding him good things.

Fiji had pressed some of her neighbors into further service this Halloween. Joe and Chuy were wearing silver jumpsuits and huge white wings, and they stood on either side of the steps up to the porch, like patient gleaming angels. They were both wearing long blond wigs, which looked far more natural on Joe than it did on Chuy.

They took turns saying “Enter” to each child, in a deep, forbidding voice. If they’d been dressed like devils instead of angels, it would have been a rare child who had the nerve to claim his or her candy.

All of Fiji’s bushes were draped with fake spiderwebs. She’d positioned huge spiders on each one. Fiji had said a few spells over them, and the eyes of the arachnids gleamed and sparkled and moved in a thoroughly disconcerting way. There was also a huge kettle smoking over a smoldering fire, all of which Fiji had under careful (and magical) control. Parents always thought it was done with batteries, but children somehow knew better.

Prodded by his mom and dad, who’d thought his question was really cute, one boy asked Fiji (dressed in a Morticia dress and a pointed hat) if she weren’t “afraid bad kids would come egg your house someday.” Fiji leaned down to look in his eyes, and he found he was more intent on those eyes than on her cleavage. “I don’t think anyone will ever do that to me,” she said gently. “Do you?”

After a moment of paralyzing fear, he said, “I sure won’t.”

She straightened, with a slight smile, and his parents were proud of him. But for the rest of his life, he dated that as the moment he realized the world would not always think he was as adorable as his parents did.