How much time they passed like that, Mal couldn’t be sure. Long enough for their hot chocolate to go very lukewarm, and for their elbow to grow sore where it was perched on the arm of the rocking chair. When Emerson pulled away, Mal’s lips were wet and tasted of peppermint, and still they wanted more.
“Weare Correct,” Emerson said, soft but sure, reaching for their hand.
Mal put down their coffee, energized in a different way. They put their left hand in Emerson’s right and squeezed.
“We should see what everyone else is up to,” Mal said, because that felt Correct, too. This night was theirs and Emerson’s, but it wasMixxedMedia’s too—Nylan’s and Parker’s, James’s and Kodi’s and Alex’s, even Stella’s. And this new feeling growing in Mal’s rib cage, warm and glowing like the fire on the promenade, was begging to be shared.
“Yeah, okay,” Emerson said in a huff. She gestured between the two of them with their joined hands. “But I’m not done with this.”
Mal smiled, shook their head. “Oh, no. Me either.”
Emerson stood, pulling them up from their rocking chair. And like she had that first time, she threw her arms around Mal, pulling them in for an unexpected hug. Without even being told, she squeezed tight, just how Mal liked their hugs.
When she let go, Mal took her hand, and they were off together into the night. They left their coff-chocolate on the porch, forgotten.
It was only when they got back to theMixxedMediabooth, only when they saw a member of the Holmes High School soccer team, still in their game gear and a face full of sweat-shifted zombie makeup, that Mal realized they had completely forgotten Maddie’s soccer game.
BOOTH #4
HAINT HISTORY FESTIVAL
A celebration in honor of Mainstrasse Village’s historical spirits
October 31st, 5:00PM – 10:00PM
6th Street Promenade
Free to all. Family and pet friendly.
Free S’mores ? Food Trucks ? Halloween Craft Market ? Fun
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWOSHOW UP
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
Before they even made it to the driveway, Mal was already issuing apologies. Maddie and their parents were still unloading the car, Mal’s dad carrying Maddie’s game bag, Mal’s mom a weighty look of disappointment, and Maddie her cleats, which were stained with damp earth and grass. The green smell of it wafted up into the air, mixing with the scent of decaying leaves.
“It’s fine,” Maddie said, smiling. She looked tired, and also like a zombie. Mal remembered that plan now: a vague, forgotten thing that they’d sworn they would write in their planner but never did.
“I had—we hosted a zine fest at the Haint History thing in Mainstrasse, and—”
“Is that where you were?” their dad asked, still in his Glen’s polo shirt from work. “I stopped by the Haus to pick you up, but you weren’t there.”
The weight on Mal’s shoulders doubled. If her dad, who had worked today, had stopped for them beforehand, it meant he had been even later to Maddie’s game than he might have been otherwise.
“Yeah, sorry,” Mal apologized again. “I—we’ve been planning for it for a while, and I guess I got so wrapped up in it that I… forgot about the game.”
Mal had forgotten to tell their family about the festival too. No, that wasn’t right. It was more a case of what Emerson had said once about it sometimes being easier to ask forgiveness than permission. If Mal had asked permission, they were almost certain their mom would have given them a resoundingno.
There was a small part of them, too, that still felt protective of the event—and of their space within it.
Still, guilt surged through them now. Mal said, “I’m really sorry, Maddie.”
“I said it’s fine,” Maddie said, her tone suspiciously light as she pressed the button to make the door of their mom’s minivan slide closed. She turned to walk toward the house, Mal close on her heels in the darkness. “How did your thing go?”
“Well, actually. I think we crushed it.” Mal smiled, if a small one. “Or were crushing it. I had to leave early.” The armpits of Mal’s ghost sweater were damp with the effort of booking it up Madison Avenue, the dregs of their shiny makeup now probably much closer to Maddie’s zombie look.
Maddie walked through the door, which their mom held open, and Mal followed. “Really?” she asked. Her smile, as far as Mal could tell, was genuine. “That’s so cool.”
