I started down the porch stairs and accidentally kicked the jack-o’-lantern from Bettina’s crop off its step. It rolled down into the middle of the sidewalk, laughing at me with an evil, lopsided sneer.

“Fuck you,” I said, kicking it again.

Then I hoisted it up, walked over to the side of our garage, and hurled it at the brick. It smashed with a satisfying thunk, splattering into orange chunks of wreckage.

I left it there and hurried to Alice’s house, licking the pulp from my thumb as I went.

HALLOWEEN

Alice Swanson adjusts her witch hat, wishing she could take it off because it itches terribly, but she’s afraid of pissing off the others. She and her husband are younger than most of the families here, and Alice is self-conscious about it. This is why she reminds everyone with every breath she takes that she is with child. Once she’s a mother, she thinks, she’ll fit in. She’ll belong.

She’s made three desserts for the party. Witch hat sugar cookies, a candy corn cake, and spider cupcakes. She bought uncomfortable black booties with heels that are too high. You can tell by the way she shifts her weight, back and forth, and hasn’t anyone else noticed? Won’t they tell the pregnant woman to sit down? To rest? To go home, crawl in bed, and go to sleep?

Alice pats her belly underneath her black witch dress, still just the tiniest of bumps, still hardly anything at all. But she’ll be such a good mother. She knows she will.

The problem is that everything feels so slippery, so precarious, and Alice worries constantly about falling. She was born to please, and she wants the other moms to love her like she loves them.

She’s one of the Ivy Five. She even thought of the name and was so thrilled when Kendra liked it. Even more so when Kendra bought all of them ivy leaf pins. It reminds her of her sorority sisters. Live and love and die by the group. She knows how to be loyal. She is a very good sister. She’ll be an even better mother.

And yet they’ve deserted her right now (of course they have, there are always tiers, rankings, even in the tightest of groups, and Alice is more disposable than others). She and Justin are alone, by the fire. She sees no other witches. Where did everyone go?

“I need another beer.” Justin is not dressed up for Halloween. He doesn’t think adults should wear costumes.

Alice follows him to the cooler. Her feet are really hurting now—see how she shuffles, gingerly? Poor Alice, the Good Witch.

And then she hears her name. “Alice.” A whisper. A hush. She turns, and there is Kendra. Smiling. Beckoning her. There is Kendra, bringing her back.

“Come here. We need you.”

She should say no, dear reader. But hindsight is everything.