“The costumes are in at the dime store,” Jessy announced at dinner. She had already taped both of her new decorations to the outside of her bedroom door.
“So, what are you going to be this year?” her Dad asked, dishing up his chili.
“I haven't decided yet,” she said.
“Well, you're not buying any plastic masks,” her Mom said.
Jessy didn't even think she wanted one, but that still made her mad. She knew some kids who got a new plastic mask every year.
“That's not fair. I've never had one.”
“It's just a waste of money, and you wouldn’t like it,” her Mom went on. “They smell funny, and they’re uncomfortable, and you’d just keep taking it off.”
“I wouldn’t take it off.”
“And the string will break.” Her mom turned to Twyla and said, “Remember that ghost costume? We finally agreed to get you the plastic mask?”
“It’s not my fault the string broke.” Twyla rolled her eyes.
“You hadn’t even left the house yet. We rigged up the string, and how long did it stay on your head?”
It had all been ruined for Jessy before she was even old enough to remember. “Thanks a lot,” she mumbled.
“You don’t want one of those masks anyway,” Twyla said. “Those are for kids with no imagination.”
“That's certainly not your problem,” their mom said.
****
The Jack-o-Lantern Box Page 7