“Susan, you look fabulous!” Rose exclaimed when she saw her in the black lace dress. “And that jacket!” Over the dress, Susan had on a cropped, black tight-fitting jacket.

“And I brought you the spiderweb tights.”

“Great! I’ll run inside and put them on.”

They had met at Myles’s house. And because Myles knew every bit of cracked pavement or would-be obstacle to a smooth ride in his wheelchair, he had mapped out a route for trick-or-treating. There was a small park that had perfectly paved bike paths, and by following them they could get to another neighborhood notorious for giving out the best treats. There was one house where they even invited the kids in for cocoa, and they had a ramp for wheelchairs as well. They must have had a disabled family member.

“I’m sort of worried about my gown,” Rose said. “It came out wider than I thought.”

“How did you make it that wide?” Anand asked.

“Hula-Hoops. It was the easiest way. Just stitched them in.”

“Is that collar itchy?” Joe asked.

“Not really. I’m used to it.”

“Used to it?” Myles said. “You dress like this every day?”

“Oh . . . no . . . I mean I’ve just worn a smaller version sometimes for another dress I have. It looks nice.”

Anand was making some adjustments to his own costume. He was wearing a creepy silver mask that had lots of wrinkles. On his back was a pair of wings.

“What are you again, Anand?”

“A weeping angel—an ancient predatory race. According to Doctor Who, they are the deadliest, most malevolent life-form ever produced.”

“And I’m a good guy,” Joe said. “An Ood Sigma. Telepathic talents.” He put on a creepy monster mask to which he had attached sausages at the chin.

“What’s with the hot dogs on your face?” Rose asked.

“Ood Sigmas are supposedly part octopus. Very peaceful for the most part. But see my eyes? Or the eyes in the mask?” He pointed to some eye slits that were actually above the holes he was looking through.

“Yeah.”

“Red!” They suddenly lit up. “That means he has linked back to the collective mind of the Ood hive.”

“Of course . . . ,” Rose said. It seemed that Doctor Who was a lot more complicated than sixteenth-century Tudor England.

“I like your crown a lot,” Joe said. “Where’d you get it?” Anand reached forward and touched it.

“Old Disney Princess crown. I . . . uh . . . embellished it a bit.”

“Oh, points for you. ‘Embellished’—that’s a spelling word for this week,” Myles said. “So I have to say that getting me into the TARDIS time machine box would be easier than getting Queen Elizabeth here in it.”

Joe and Anand lifted the box and began to place it over Myles.

“How are you guys doing?” Myles’s father came into the garage. “Does it fit?” He looked at Rose. “My, that is some costume.”