“Well, they will have to do,” Willie Bea said primly about the old, worn clothes. “Keep them warm all through the begging night.”
She left Bay and Bay Sister for five minutes to run downstairs. She had forgotten to light the pumpkins and only now remembered. She hadn’t told them what she was going to do. For she enjoyed lighting the candles without the children waiting, watching her every move. It was hard lighting a candle deep inside a pumpkin. And occasionally Willie Bea was careless.
Wouldn’t want chaps see me burn my fingers to a crisp.
It was dark, but not scary Halloween dark yet. She would be busy by the time it was that pitch black out.
Downstairs, her mama seemed absorbed in the Jack Benny radio show. They were well into the show—Jack Benny, the comedian, Mary Livingstone and Rochester.
Her mama looked up as Willie Bea hopped from the staircase to the landing, but said not a word. Her mama was resting on the couch, with a throw pillow behind her neck. She looked tired. Willie Bea’s papa had finished his chores and was deep in his newspaper.
Willie Bea went into the kitchen and found the box of matches. Then she went outside on the front porch. She took hold of the pumpkin’s stump, and the part of its top that had been carved loose came off like a cap. She lit the candle inside the big pumpkin. Willie Bea and her papa and Bay Sister had scooped out the pulp three days ago. There had been just so many seeds. The pulp from a field pumpkin was stringy, so they threw it away. Then her papa had dried the seeds. They would have lots of pumpkin seeds to eat in the coming winter.
Big old red candle inside the pumpkin, partly used up. There were thick tears of wax that had melted down the candle. The tears weren’t sad at all, Willie Bea thought. They made the candle look pretty. And it would probably last through the whole Halloween time.
Willie Bea went back inside and lit the smaller sugar pumpkin on the dining-room table. Her mama had taken the sweet pumpkin to bake a pumpkin pie for Halloween night, tomorrow night, October 31.
The dining room had only one window, on its north side. It was the room that grew dark first, after the sun went down. When she lit the candle, the darkened room took on an agreeable orange-yellow glow. It made bright the dried, pressed and waxed leaves that were like a mat decoration under the pumpkin. Gleaming purple, red and orange leaves. Oh, so autumn nice!
Willie Bea hurried to put back the matches. She placed them high up in the kitchen cupboard where she had found them, out of reach of Bay and Bay Sister. She had to climb up onto the counter and hold on to the round knob of a cupboard door, balancing. She knew all about balancing. She wouldn’t bother her papa just to put back some matches.
In the dining room again, leaning close to the Halloween pumpkin. Its blazing mouth grinned at her. Its eyes flickered, winking at her.
As if the pumpkin were saying to her, “Hurry! Hurry up! The Gobble-uns are coming!”
“I know it. I’m hurryin’,” under her breath, she told the pumpkin.
She left. And, leaving, she never once dared look too hard into black corners of the Halloween dining room. Cold fear rose up her spine.
Behind her, Gobble-uns could whisper at her, “Got you, Willie Beatrime!” if she so much as glanced around.
7
Willie Bea bounded back up the stairs. The kids were no longer in their parents’ bedroom. They had moved back into Willie Bea’s and Bay’s and Bay Sister’s bedroom. Bay had given up trying to sit still. He was bouncing on the bed. Old bedsprings squeaked and groaned. His effort caused Bay Sister to bounce as well. She didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m too hot, Willie Bea,” said Bay Sister. “I’m about to burn up!” She had put on the angora sweater.
“Yeah,” Bay Brother said. “Too hot, I ’bout to burn up!”
“Be still, Bay,” Willie Bea told him. “You all been running back and forth. I heard you clear downstairs. And now you are bouncin’, messin’ up the bed. Stop that! That’s why you’re hot. You stay still and calm down, you’ll be fine.”
Bay Sister gazed steadily at Willie Bea. Bay stopped bouncing. He watched Bay Sister and then began to gaze at Willie Bea also.
“I’m hot,” Bay Sis said anxiously. “Can’t stand this itchy sweater!” She tore it off.
Willie Bea pointed her finger at Bay, who was about to copy Bay Sister.
“Don’t you move a muscle,” Willie Bea told him, her teeth clenched. The kids were beginning to get on her nerves. “Don’t you say one word!”
Bay stared at Willie Bea, fear rising. He thought to study his fingers.
“Itsy-bitsy spider,” he said, pretending to walk his fingers up a water spout. But he didn’t know how to make his fingers walk.
“Okay. You be good now,” Willie Bea told him. “Me see,” she said, and was silent a moment. “Okay. You leave the sweater off for now,” she told Bay Sister. “I’ll do your faces; then we’ll put on everything.
“Hold on, don’t move,” Willie Bea told them. “You can talk, grin or sing, but don’t move from that bed.”
She ran out of the room. Heard the kids making up words and singing them. Laughing and singing nonsense out of tune.
First Willie Bea picked up the old day-bed sheets from her parents’ room. She slung them around her neck. Next she found the white bath powder her mama allowed them to use for their baths in the big tub. They took their baths each Friday in front of the coal stove in the kitchen, in an out-sized washtub. After their baths, her mama allowed them to dust themselves with bath powder.
Smell so good! Willie Bea thought, holding the scented powder under her nose. Suddenly, she felt a sneeze rise. If she didn’t hold it in, she would blow powder everywhere.
The sneeze faded away. Willie Bea sighed and went about gathering other items she needed. A lipstick. She took an old, used, bright red lipstick from her mama’s dressing table. And a tiny box of black eye make-up.
You put a drop of spit on the black make-up, Willie Bea knew. And then you took a little brush, stirring it in the wet black stuff. And put it on your eyebrows, Willie Bea thought. On your eyelashes, too. Just take a finger, spread the stuff all around your eyes. Make you look like the walking dead! Oooh!
She hurried back to her brother and sister. Bay, his curly head bobbing and weaving.
“You couldn’t sit still even if you were frozen solid,” she told him, smiling.
Bay’s big eyes watched her hands, full of things to make them up. He was still, momentarily, as he thought hard. “Don’t freeze me, Will’ Bea,” he told her.
Willie Bea laughed. “Freeze you in a block of ice.” Bay’s lower lip began to quiver. “No, no,” Willie Bea said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Just kiddin’, little fella. Wouldn’t hurt you for anything.”
Bay Sister watched Willie Bea’s every move.
“Me see,” murmured Willie Bea. “I think I’ll start with you, Bay Sis. We have to braid your hair.”
“No!” Bay Sister said, alarmed. “Aunt Leah fixed it. Don’t touch it!”
Bay Sister’s hair was still piled atop her head, fixed by Aunt Leah.
“It’s a bird’s nest now,” Willie Bea said. “I can’t fit the ghost sheet with it piled like that. And, anyway, it might get caught in a low branch or something. Hurt you, too. And take off those trashy earrings. Those rings, too.”
“No!” said Bay Sister. “Leave me be!”
“Then stay home!” said Willie Bea. She turned swiftly to Bay Brother.
“Well. Well …,” Bay Sister began. “Okay, I’ll take off my earrings and rings.” She did, placing them on the bureau. “Braid my hair,” she said. “But fix it back tomorrow.”
“We’ll see,” Willie Bea said. “We’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes.”
It took Willie Bea some time to fix her brother and sister and then herself. She braided her sister’s hair in two braids in back and one at the side in front. Next she powdered Bay Sister’s face until it was smooth and white. Then she made her sister�
��s lips bright red. And, using the black make-up, she made the space around Bay Sister’s eyes and her eyebrows black.
“My goodness,” said Willie Bea, feeling a slight chill at the sight of Bay Sister’s face. “This is gonna be real good.”
“Let me see,” said Bay Sister.
“Well, look in the mirror, then,” Willie Bea said. They were standing at the foot of the bed now, with the mirror on the wall to one side of them.
“Ooooh!” whispered Bay Sister.
“Now I’ll do Bay’s face. And after that, you’ll have to put on the sweater, Bay Sis, before I fix your sheet on,” Willie Bea said.
“Okay,” Bay Sister said, and quietly sat down on the bed.
Bay Brother didn’t take any time at all. Just the powder, only a little lipstick because he tended to think it was some kind of sweet candy to be licked off.
“Don’t eat it, Bay, hear?” Willie Bea said. “It’s just supposed to cover your lips and sit there awhile.”
“Why?” he wanted to know.
“Just for the color, bright red,” Willie Bea told him.
“Now,” she said, “the ghost costume.” She still had sheets slung around her neck. She pulled one off. “Bay Sis, put on your sweater.”
“Oh, all right,” Bay Sister said. She put on her sweater, making faces and grunting with the effort.
“My goodness, you’d think I was making you walk the plank.”
“What plank, where’s that?” Bay Sister wanted to know.
“Never mind, for goodness sake!” Willie Bea said. “Now. Stand up,” she told her sister.
Bay Sister obeyed and stood at attention. Willie Bea fitted the folded sheet over the top of Bay Sister’s head. She gathered the material under her chin and pinned it with two large pins, one below the other.
“See? Like buttons,” she told Bay Sister. “Now. Spread your arms out.” Bay Sister did as she was told. The sheet fell away in folds from her outstretched arms. “See, your hands are free and you can keep your sack for trick or treats under the sheet if you want to. Keep your hands warm, too, under there,” Willie Bea said.
Bay Sister studied herself in the mirror. “I’m a good ghost,” she said softly. “Thanks, Willie Bea.”
“Now, Bay, it’s your turn.”
“No. No. Don’t want’n be no ghost!” Bay cried. Big tears filled his eyes.
“Oh, Bay, listen!” Willie Bea said, hugging him to her. “You’re not really a ghost. What you’ll be is dressed up in a ghost costume, but that don’t make you a ghost. You’ll still be Bay Brother, Willie Bea’s little brother. Who Willie Bea loves, okay? I have to hurry, Bay. I have to get you ready and me ready still.”
He studied Willie Bea. “It gon’ hurt me?” he asked.
“The sheet—hurt you?” Willie Bea started giggling. She couldn’t stop.
“Stop naughin’ at me, Will’ Bea,” Bay said, pouting.
“I’m not laughin’ at you,” she said, trying to control herself. “You are just so funny, Bay. You are a real Halloween treat.”
“Don’t you try’n eat me!” he said.
Willie Bea collapsed on the floor. “I said you were a treat! Oh. Oh, Bay, you are the funniest. You ought to be on the radio!”
“Jack ’strong,” he said.
“Jack Armstrong,” Bay Sister corrected. She had been quietly watching from the bed. “I’m so hot, Willie Bea,” she said, her voice shaking.
“I’m sorry, Bay Sis,” Willie Bea said. “Commere, Bay,” she told her brother. And she got him ready in a few minutes, pinning his sheet neatly below the neck. “Sit on the bed with Bay Sis while I get myself together,” she said.
The two ghosts sat admiring their reflections in the mirror. Dead-white faces. The blackest eyes. Bay would shiver when he forgot he was seeing himself.
“Just like a ghost,” he said, more than once. “But not a ghost,” he would whisper. “No, not. No, not. No-not, no-not, no-not …”
“Stop it, Bay,” Willie Bea said.
She would be a bindlestiff. A bindlestiff was what her papa called a hobo, a wandering man. Bindle was the bundle of belongings carried on a pole by the hobo. And stiff was the tramp himself. She put on some old red pajama bottoms belonging to her mama, over wool knee stockings. And a wool shirt that her mama had given her especially for dressing up. In the closet, Willie Bea had a whole pillowcase full of clothes that they pretended with. She put on a wide belt and turned it around backward so it looked like a pirate’s sash. She knew that sometimes, when you tried to be a hobo, you turned into a pirate. She didn’t mind which way she came out.
She put on a bandanna to cover her hair. And reminded herself that around the back porch somewhere was a broken broom handle. She would tie the bindle to it, so she would look just like the real thing. A pillowcase would make a good bindle. Full of treats, it would look just like the bindles real hoboes carried. While she made up her face, she thought about getting the stick. She could see her way around the porch by the light from the kitchen windows.
But tomorrow she would take the fifty-cent pieces and go downtown. And she would buy Halloween costumes that they could keep for years and years.
Silently, the children watched Willie Bea change her appearance into a man. She had a mustache that curved up at the ends. She had a goatee, a little pointed beard on her chin made from the black make-up. She made red freckles on her cheeks. And a round black mole right over her left eye. Her eyebrows became thick and black. Very carefully, she made her forehead and the sides of her face white with powder.
“There,” she said. She put her hands on her hips and leaned back on her heels. Then she strutted past the bed and knitted her brows as tight as she could, looking at her reflection in the mirror.
“Willie Bea, you look mean,” Bay Sister said.
“Yeah, mean!” Bay Brother said.
“Just call me Bad Willie,” said Willie Bea. She swaggered out into the hall and back.
“Bad Willie,” said Bay Sister. “Oooh! Hi you, Bad Willie?”
“Hi, Bad Wilnie,” whispered Bay Brother. Big eyes staring at Bad Willie.
Willie Bea giggled. “I’m still your sister, Bay,” she said. “See Willie Bea way behind Bad Willie?” she asked him.
Bay Brother slowly shook his head.
Willie Bea and Bay Sister laughed. “Yes, you do!” Willie Bea told him. “You know it’s me.”
“Yep,” he said uncertainly. And they laughed again.
“Now,” Willie Bea said. She looked all around. “Oooh!” she said, staring beyond the bed. She went over and knelt before one of the low windows. Raised its shade higher. “Can’t see a thing,” Willie Bea said. “Where did all the time go?” All of the windows were black with night.
The children came over and knelt, one on each side of Willie Bea. Willie Bea raised the window a bit. Cool air hit their faces. With the window up, they found they could see some things. Light from the house made it so they could see the shapes of trees. See the dark, wide band of the Dayton road, and lights on at Grand and Gramp Wing’s house. Way to the west, they thought they saw the lights from Dayton reflected on the sky.
“Feel the chill in the air?” whispered Willie Bea. “Oooh!” she shivered. Bay Brother scrunched against her. She felt his little hand holding on to the back of her shirt. Oh, it was nice to make a little fella feel safe, she thought.
“Smell it?” Willie Bea said. Her brother and sister nodded, silent. “Smoke,” she said. “From bonfires, I bet. Oh, let’s get going. Can’t be eight o’clock yet. Haven’t heard that Don Ameche on ‘The Chase and Sanborn Hour.’”
Don Ameche was the smooth-voiced announcer on the radio show.
“I did,” Bay Sister said. “I heard him on the radio clear back here.”
“You did? No, you didn’t!” Willie Bea exclaimed.
“Did, too,” Bay Sister said. “I heard that Charlie McCarthy’s voice.”
“Well, if you did, it’s good and late,” Willi
e Bea said. “And you can’t hear Charlie McCarthy.”
“Yes, I did!” hollered Bay Sister.
“You heard Edgar Bergen on the radio,” Willie Bea said. “He’s the voice of Charlie McCarthy. He’s the ventriloquist that makes the dummy talk.”
There were some things Bay Brother couldn’t understand and wouldn’t try. One was that the wonderful little chap Charlie McCarthy was a dummy made of wood and that the man Edgar Bergen made him talk. No matter how many times Willie Bea had told him, he still couldn’t believe Charlie McCarthy wasn’t a boy like himself. “Don’t talk ’bout it,” he said now, holding tight to Willie Bea.
“O-o-kay!” Willie Bea said. She closed the window, lowered the blind and got to her feet. “Let’s go, kiddies. We are ready for Halloween!”
“Oooh!” both Bay Sister and Bay Brother said.
Willie Bea led them down the hallway.
“Shhh!” Willie Bea warned, all at once. She stopped still at the head of the stairs. Bay Sister bumped into her and Bay Brother bumped into Bay Sister.
“Ouch! Ouch!” came the whispers from behind Willie Bea.
“Shhhh!” Willie Bea warned again.
There was a commotion downstairs. For a minute Willie Bea couldn’t tell what was going on. Everybody was talking at the same time. She could hear her father moving fast from the door to the couch. Then something heavy fell on the couch and pushed the couch up against the wall. Whoever had fallen was quick to get up again because the springs of the couch squeaked the way they would when someone got up from them fast after sitting down on them hard. Willie Bea could tell that was what happened. It sounded like somebody was hurt bad or something, moaning and crying. It was a woman, sounding scared to death.
“What’s the matter, what’s happened?” they heard Willie Bea’s mama say.
“You have an accident with the car?” they heard her papa ask.
“It’s awe-fel! It’s jus’ aw-awe-fel!” they could hear the woman cry, in bitter anguish.
“What?” whispered Willie Bea.
The moaning, crying voice sounded familiar.
Willie Bea and the Time the Martians Landed Page 9