Page 116 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“Samhain never has any fireworks, and I think that’s lame,” said a teenager who worked at the grocery store.

“The county prohibits fireworks,” the moderator pointed out. “We’re in a wildfire zone.”

“Still,” he said, shrugging. “Pretty lame.”

Kristen’s speech made Talula grit her teeth so hard, her jaw muscles spasmed.

Smiling serenely, Kristen began, “Businessman and philanthropist W. Clement Stone once said, ‘Be careful the environment you choose, for it will shape you; be careful the friends you choose, for you will become like them.’ ”

A few amens rippled through the crowd. Talula felt her insides turn to lead—she’d forgotten how good Kristen had been at Speech and Debate.

“The people we choose to surround ourselves with define who we are. Take a look around, and you’ll see Pine Hollow—good, hardworking neighbors who know right from wrong. But then, I think of Samhain and the people it brings, and I wonder, who are they? We’re having this discussion because we know the answer. Samhain attracts bad seeds, people whose values and lifestyles we’d never tolerate. George Washington wrote, ‘Bad seed is a robbery of the worst kind: for your pocketbook not only suffers by it, but your preparations are lost and a season passes away unimproved.’ Banning Samhain will keep the bad seeds out so our community can grow to new heights. Thank you.”

Thoughtful murmurs broke out as Kristen returned to her seat. Talula could’ve sworn she heard Simon swear, “She’s getting the earwig curse.”

Finally, when Dahlia emerged from the back of the auditorium with a stack of hastily stapled presentations, Talula knew her time had come. While Dahlia subtly passed printouts to the audience members, the moderator turned directly to Talula. “Would a Samhain organizer like to speak?”

Talula swallowed. She stood. “Yes, ma’am.”

Each step Talula made toward the nearest microphone felt like a gallows march. She tried to stay calm, even as unhelpful thoughts ricocheted in her brain.

Talk slowly, but not too slowly.

Don’t throw up. No matter what.

Should I call out all the arguments everyone made against Samhain? No…no, I’ll sound incoherent.

Do I have pit stains? Don’t check! They’re all looking at you!

DO. NOT. THROW UP.

The mic appeared. It was time. A stack of papers was forced into her hands—it was the printed presentation. Emilio gave her a fortifying nod, then crept back to his seat. Talula turned, angling herself so she had a view of both the audience and the city council members. Though only the council members would be voting on Samhain’s cancellation, she wanted to try to connect with the town as a whole. Even if facing them like this made Talula even sweatier. She sent a quick prayer to Mithra, Ma’at, and whoever else was listening and in a merciful mood.

“Whenever you’re ready, Ms. Smith,” the moderator said evenly.

Talula took a deep breath and looked down at her printout.

“For years, Samhain has defined the autumn season in Pine Hollow,” she said, her voice wavering. “Bringing together our community and directly supporting small businesses and charitable…I mean nonprofit—”

“Who brought their pitchforks?” a deep, assholey voice called out. Laughter bubbled up from the crowd. Talula felt it like a punch in the gut.

“Hey, witch girl! Get out of our town and keep your weird shit to yourself!”

More jeers followed, but they blurred together in Talula’s ears. White-hot fury filled her chest.

“What did I say about civility in this town hall?” The moderator’s voice cut through the din. “Anyone who says another disrespectful word will be removed.”

Jeff cracked his knuckles for emphasis.

Talula tried to focus on the words on the page, but they started to swim in red-tinged vision. She felt humiliated, belittled, angry, hurt—

Talula spotted Dahlia in the crowd, in the back near the auditorium doors. Both her hands were clasped in front of her mouth in the shape of a ramshackle prayer. Then Talula remembered Dahlia’s words.

Show them where the anger is coming from, show them the love, maybe they’ll want to listen.

Show them the love.

As she stared at Dahlia, something bloomed deep in Talula. A warm certainty that went on forever as she watched Dahlia’s worried, wonderful face.