Page 12 of Pumpkin to Talk About

Chapter 8

Belle

All I can do is gape at Mike’s costume. I blink a few times, hoping I’m not seeing what my brain says I’m seeing, but no luck. He’s standing in front of me with his head poking out of the middle of a giant shirt that must be held up with some kind of wire frame. There’s red blood at the top where a neck would be, and blood dripping down from where his actual head sits cradled in two fake arms. The face paint is what really does it, though. He’s got white paint slathered over his skin, and dark circles under his eyes that are so realistic, it looks like he’s truly undead.

Annie must have been in on this. There’s no other explanation for a makeup job that good.

“You are going to terrify the children,” I say flatly.

He scoffs. “Isn’t that the point?”

“No,” I all but laugh. This has to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. “The point is to have fun. And, I repeat, they’re children.”

He shrugs, which has the disconcerting effect of bobbing the entire costume up around his head and back down. “You said monster. I delivered.” He looks me up and down. “It’s better than your costume.”

“I’m a witch!” I exclaim, as if it weren’t obvious. I’ve got the hat, the black hair, the dark lipstick and nail polish, and I even put fishnet tights under my ripped jeans.

Mike tilts his head, which is so gross, I have to look away. “You barely look any different than normal,” he says. It’s not unkind. Just a statement of fact. And he’s not wrong, but that’s what kid-friendly costumes are about—a hint at something else. Not this hyper-realistic terror-fest I’m looking at in front of me.

“You’re the man who squirmed through peeling grapes because I called them eyeballs,” I say incredulously. “How are you possibly wearing this right now?”

“It’s different when I’m the one scaring. Honestly, I get it now. This is going to be amazing.” He rocks back and forth on his heels, which is so creepy, it makes me gag.

But then something occurs to me. “Wait a minute, do you hate Halloween because you’re… scared?”

His eyes widen, and that’s when I know I’ve caught him. There has always been something off about how he reacts to the Halloween shenanigans of this town. I thought he simply hated it here, but it’s all adding up now. Mike Page is a scaredy-cat.

“Oh my god. You are.” I cover my mouth with my hands as if that can keep the laughter inside.

“Everyone’s obsession with skeletons and zombies and… death. And pumpkins! It’s weird.” He tries to justify it, but the fake shoulders of his costume are shaking, too. “I hear it,” he says. “I know how stupid that sounds.”

“No, not at all,” I pat his costume arm. “Everyone has something they’re irrationally afraid of.”

He cocks a… hip? Except with the weird placement of the costume, it looks like his thigh is out of place. “Oh yeah? What’s yours?”

“Bugs,” I say without hesitation.

He leans forward as if he didn’t hear me right. “Bugs?”

I open my arms wide and turn in a slow circle. “Do you see any spiders in here?”

“Well… no,” he admits.

“That is by design. Can’t deal with them. Never could.”

He turns the corners of his lips down and nods slowly as if in respect. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing his detached head move in any way.

“Belle! We’re opening the doors. The kids are coming!” one of the first grade teachers says from the front of the library. I eye Mike up and down again. Nothing to do now but let him scare the shit out of the children. Holding open Mystery Door number two, I usher him inside. He waggles his eyebrows at me before I shut the door, and I can’t help but giggle at how weird it looks. I narrow my eyes at the door for a minute, thinking, then scrawl out a sign that reads: Beware! Open at your own risk! and tape it on just before the kids descend into the library.

There’s a lot of ohh-ing and tittering as they make their way through the strobe-lit, ghost-ridden entryway. Once each child emerges into the transformed library, the volunteer teachers and I hand them a pumpkin scavenger hunt sheet. The goal is for them to find all twelve pumpkins, and everyone who does wins a prize. As they look, the kids stop by the apple-bobbing station. They squeal with delight at the eyeball bowl. The battery-operated talking skeleton is a huge hit. And Mystery Doors one and three get opened several times.

Just when I’m considering taking the sign on Mike’s door down, a butterfly stands tall in front of it. I casually walk over so I can run interference if I need. From the profile, I can see the butterfly is, in fact, Claire, and I wonder if she knows what her uncle is wearing.

She puts a steady hand on the doorknob, then pulls it open slowly. Mike is standing inside, casually waiting. When the door is fully open and Claire can see his whole costume, he smiles, his teeth almost glowing in the blacklights we hung in this area on Tuesday.

“Hi,” he says simply.

That’s enough to make Claire scream at the top of her lungs. But right before I jump in to save her, she doubles over and holds her belly, cackling. She laughs so hard that she falls to the ground and literally rolls.