LITMIR.BIZ

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night when Chuck came out of his room with his trick-or-treat bag his mother pushed her hair back with a handful of dishwater and asked why he wasn’t wearing his pirate costume.

      “It’s in my bag,” Chuck said. I’m putting it on at my friend’s house.”

      Lizzie said, “He’s lying. He doesn’t have any friends.” His sister was sitting at the kitchen table gluing pink sparkles to the back of her hands to match her princess dress.

      Chuck said, “What are you gonna be? A Christmas cookie?”

      Chuck’s sister yelled to her mother that Chuck was making fun of her. Chuck said nobody needed to make fun of her, she was funny enough herself. Their mother told them both to shut up or they’d be doing their trick-or-treating in their rooms.

      Chuck said, “I’m going,” but his mother yelled, “Wait a minute” before he got to the back door.

      Chuck waited, pushing the door open with his foot.

      His mother pulled a plate out of the sink and rinsed it. His sister rubbed glue on her forehead, closed her eyes, and threw sprinkles in her face. His mother put her hands back in the dish water.

      “Halloween’s gonna be over in three hours, you know.”

      “Stay away from Ontario Street.”

      “I will.”

      Lizzie said, “He will not. He’s going with Dale Lynkowski.” She closed her eyes and shook some of the sprinkles off her face.

      Chuck said, “She’s spilling that stuff on the floor.”

      Chuck’s mother turned her head, snapped at his sister that the house wasn’t a pigsty, then turned back to Chuck.

      “I promised Dale a long time ago.”

      “You shouldn’t have.”

      “He has to go with Dale,” Lizzie said. “All the guys up here think he’s a baby.”

      Chuck said, “I’m going.”

      He went out the back door, kicking the storm door open so it would slam behind him. His mother caught it before it closed, and gave him a hard stare.

      “What?” Chuck said.

      “You stay away from David’s house. His mother’s sick.”

      “Like the whole town doesn’t know that.”

      “And don’t take any candy from him either.”

      “I know what cancer is.”

      In the kitchen, his sister said, “He swore.” His mother turned and yelled at her to get the sparkles off the goddamn floor, and Chuck ran for the gate.

      The moon was hiding at the edge of the sky when Chuck came out onto Maple Street. By the time he got to Legion Park it had climbed behind the trees, glowing orange, with clouds like black mountains behind it. At a white house with pillars across from the park, a fat guy in a tie was handing out candy to a crowd of kids. Chuck pulled his pirate mask out of his bag and ran up on the porch; the guy threw a purple Dum-Dum into his bag. Chuck ran back to the street, shoved his mask back in the bag, dug the Dum-Dum out, and walked down the hill sucking it.

      A block further down, Rusch and Carner were waiting under a street light. Carner was holding onto a street sign with one hand, swinging around it in a slow circle. Rusch spotted Chuck and walked into the middle of the road to block his path. He pulled the Dum-Dum out of Chuck’s mouth by the stick and said, “Look who’s trick-or-treating.”

      “I am not.”

      Carner said, “Where’d you get the sucker then?”

      “My ma’s giving ’em out.”

      Carner came out into the road. “What about the trick-or-treat bag? She giving those out, too?”

      Chuck said, “It’s a present—for Evelyn.”

      Carner stepped behind Rusch.

      Rusch said, “Bullshit.”

      Carner said, “You don’t give presents to people with cancer.”

      A warm hand clamped itself around Chuck’s mouth, and Omsted hollered, “You’re dead!” He spun Chuck around and winked at him.

      All three of the guys were wearing dark hooded sweatshirts.

      Rusch said, “Don’t touch him. He’s got cancer.”

      Omsted said, “I touch you and you got cooties.”

      Carner said, “He’s bringing that bag to Evelyn Schmidt.”

      “So? She ain’t touched it yet.” Omsted took his hand from Chuck’s shoulder and wiped it on the front of his sweatshirt.

      Something squealed in the dark, making Carner jump, and Spinelli slid to a stop on his bike. He was wearing a high-school letter jacket, red with white leather sleeves, and his blond hair was greased and combed into a curl over his forehead. He flicked his cigarette butt at Omsted’s feet and asked, “Where’s your brother?”

      Rusch said, “Home practicing his swing.”

      Carner giggled.

      Spinelli said, “Shut up, you two.”

      Rusch said, “Make me.”

      Spinelli said, “I don’t make shit.”

      Omsted walked behind Spinelli’s bike, snickering. He tapped his toe against Spinelli’s back tire and said, “I hear Putzie almost wet his pants when your sister gave him that note this morning.”

      Spinelli said, “I asked you a question.”

      “I wasn’t listening.”

      “Where the hell’s your brother?”

      Omsted shrugged and said, “Probably out looking for you.”

      “Shit.” Spinelli shook his head at the group, spotted Chuck for the first time and said, “Who the hell are you?”

      Chuck said, “Nobody you know.”

      “Good. Let’s keep it that way,” Spinelli said and stood up on the pedals of his bike.

      Omsted said, “See you at the park.”

      “You stay the hell out of there,” Spinelli said.

      Rusch said, “It’s a free park.”

      “Not tonight it ain’t. You go near that park, you’ll get your asses kicked.” Spinelli slammed his feet down on the pedals, his back tire shot gravel, and he took off down the hill.

      Rusch dived down by Omsted’s feet and came up with Spinelli’s cigarette. He shoved it in his mouth and drew hard, but it had already burned out. He tossed it back to the curb and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

      Omsted waved over his shoulder and said, “Later, squirt.”

      “Where you guys going?”

      Omsted said, “Out.”

      Rusch said, “And don’t try to follow us or I’ll kick your ass.”

      “I ain’t afraid of you.”

      Rusch said, “You will be.”

      Carner giggled.

      Omsted said, “You get any licorice, save it for me.” He rapped his knuckles on Rusch’s head, hollered that the last one down the hill was an asshole, and the three of them took off running. Halfway down the hill they started walking again, punching each other and laughing until they got to Ontario, then they ran screaming past Evelyn’s house and disappeared in the dark under the trees near Erie Street.

      Dale’s house was next to Chuck’s old house, on the same

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