Contents ( 85)
- Contents
- Part I
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Part II
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Part III
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- One
- Two
- Reading Group Guide
- A Conversation with the Author
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
“Help me.”
His voice is a gurgle.
The rigor mortis sets in again. I’m unable to move as he scrambles down the hallway toward me.
Then I see her.
Cora, in the doorway. Materializes like a ghost.
And this thing. This tiny little thing that’s scarier than the blood or the gurgling, the lunging or the prints. Even more horrifying than the scream.
It’s the smile.
Cora’s smiling. Gentle, genuine.
As if posing for her yearbook photo.
Thirty-One
October 31
Present Day
I’m not in a festive mood, but when you’re a single parent of an eleven-year-old who has no friends and a passion for Halloween, you can’t escape trick-or-treating responsibilities.
In Milwaukee, we always decorated the inside of our apartment and then trick-or-treated in a nearby neighborhood. Max always loved running up to each house and inspecting their decorations. He was fascinated by any kind of special effects, even if it was just a cheap Walmart fog machine. But his favorite thing was a person on their front porch dressed up as a prop who’d suddenly animate and terrify the approaching kids.
My father doesn’t decorate for Halloween. He never has. Nor does he ever hand out candy. When I was a little girl, I asked him why he didn’t. I was maybe five years old, but his answer stays with me.
Fuck ’em.
I think it was the first time in my life I’d ever heard the word fuck. I had to ask Cora what it meant. Somehow, she knew.
Tonight, we’re again visiting another neighborhood for our Halloween festivities. Cora and Willow are joining, and she suggested Arlington Estates, which she said has become the Halloween go-to area in Bury. I didn’t object. Arlington Estates is where Alec lives, and the thought of him makes me happy. Not giddy, just happy. A simple, pleasant, smell-of-fresh-baked-bread kind of happiness.
Max is dressed as a classic vampire, and he chews on his plastic fangs as we wait at the agreed-upon street corner in Arlington Estates. Cora finally shows up with Willow in tow. Max and I get out of our car, and the night instantly chills me. The air is so distinct on Halloween night here in Bury. Isn’t that strange? My childhood comes rushing back. Going house to house with Cora, screaming, laughing, screaming more.
The realization of how we all change injects me with bitter nostalgia, making me wish I couldn’t recall my past.
Cora rushes up, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders. “We would have been here earlier if Willow hadn’t been so dramatic about wanting to go out with friends.”
“Jesus, Mom, I’m thirteen,” Willow says, who, if I had to guess, I’d say is dressed as a zombie slut. Dark makeup around the eyes, mussed hair, and a thin, bloodstained T-shirt that has strategic tears in it, allowing me to see her bra and belly button. “We had plans.”
“Your plans changed,” Cora snaps.
Willow rolls her eyes and belts out a huff. Then she looks at Max. “Vampire, huh? Super creative.”