Maybe I wasn’t worth knowing.
As Mama drove me to the Whitehursts’, hissing every time she had to use the clutch, all I could picture was Cole dressed in one of those white fencing outfits. Would he try to poke me with his fencing sword? Or what if he wore his karate costume? The ones I’d seen on TV looked like a bathrobe with pajama pants. I hoped he wouldn’t wear that because then I’d laugh at him, and he’d karate chop me in the stomach.
But when we arrived at the Whitehursts’ house at a quarter to six on Halloween night, Cole wasn’t dressed for fencing or karate. At first, I didn’t see him because as soon as we pulled up, Ava dashed down the steps of the spacious front porch and ran to greet me in her short pink dress, pigtails, and plastic heels, her makeup done to look exactly like Baby Spice from the Spice Girls.
I smiled at her as I got out of the car, and it wasn’t until my feet hit the concrete of their driveway that I saw him. Cole Whitehurst descended the steps of their porch dressed for battle. In camouflage from head to toe, his eyes blackened with greasepaint, Cole carried a toy machine gun and wore two bands of pretend ammo crisscrossed over his chest.
The sight of him wiped the smile right off my face. He was that scary.
“Aren’t you both something,” Mama said, sounding almost as surprised as I was. “I’ll just go in and let your mother know we’re here.” She limped up to the house, leaving us. Ava was smiling gently at me, but Cole and I just stared at each other.
He narrowed his ice-blue eyes at me. “What are you supposed to be?” His voice was low and held dislike, though, I’d admit, not as much as the day I wore a bag of onions on my feet.
Ava turned to him, appalled. “She’s Mulan, silly.”
His left brow arched, and his lips pressed together and to the side. “That’s a pretty shabby Mulan,” he muttered.
I clutched the pretend hilt of my broomstick sword, not sure whether I wanted to draw it out of my sash and hit him with it or throw it in the garbage.
Ava stuck her tongue out at her brother. “Ignore him,” she told me. Then she reached for my medallion. “I love the dragon. Did you draw it?”
I nodded, allowing myself to smile under her admiration. I noticed Cole’s eyes trailed after Ava’s, and when he saw the dragon, he blinked and his lips parted. Then his eyes shot to mine before he clamped his mouth shut. But I knew. I knew he’d seen my drawing and thought it was good.
And it was good.
“Are you going to carry that?” Cole asked, nodding his chin to my plastic jack-o-lantern. The way his nose wrinkled, I might as well have filled the fake pumpkin with dirty diapers.
I frowned at the jack-o-lantern and then looked back at him. “Well, yeah, it’s for trick-or-treating.”
Cole rolled his eyes. “Hua Mulan was a sixth century Chinese warrior. She wouldn’t have carried a plastic pumpkin.”
His words made me feel like I’d been pushed into the dirt. I looked to Ava for rescue, but she was biting her lip and scrunching her nose up.
“It doesn’t really go with your costume,” she admitted, wincing. She lifted a pink sequined purse. “See. I’m using this for my candy. It’s something Baby Spice would wear.”
My eyes ran over Cole’s costume, and as they did, he dropped his left shoulder and held up an army green rucksack as evidence, that he, too, wouldn’t be carrying a plastic pumpkin.
I swallowed thickly and wished hard that Mama hadn’t dropped a jar of imported Italian olives on her foot.
But then Cole stepped forward, his haughty brow lowering. He watched me for a long moment. Long enough for me to narrow my eyes at him and clench my teeth, forgetting that I’d wanted to cry a moment before. Now, I just wanted to bounce my plastic pumpkin off his face.
Before I could, though, he gave a decisive nod. “I might have something.” He turned back to the house, but then caught his sister’s eye. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave the yard.” He set off, leaving Ava and me to gape at him.
Mama stepped outside just after he disappeared behind the front door. “Now, Elise, you have got to stay with Ava and Cole.” She bent down to look me in the eye. “I’ll be here to pick you up at eight o’clock sharp, but if y’all finish before that, you wait for me out here. Am I making myself clear?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Whenever I had to join Mama at work, I had to stay in the kitchen or the laundry room or play outside. Without Mama in the house, I knew I did not belong indoors.
She pressed a kiss to the top of my head. Smiling down on me, she tried to smooth my cowlick. “You make an excellent Mulan,” she whispered and then stood straight. “Be good and have fun, Elise.”
Just after Mama’s car pulled from the driveway, Cole came through the front door carrying a red and gold pouch. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. “This should work.”
The pouch wasn’t quite as big as my jack-o-lantern, but it was beautiful. The silky fabric was a bright red, but gold Chinese characters decorated one side. I touched the cool, sleek material between my thumb and index finger “Where did you get this?” I uttered in hushed awe.
Cole frowned and straightened his shoulders. Then he cleared his throat. “My father brought it back from a business trip to China.”
I studied the lines and curves of each character on the silk, mesmerized. “What’s it for?”
“What does it matter?” he snapped, forcing me to blink out of my daze and meet his glare.
I cocked a brow at him, forgetting for a moment how scary he looked in his battle gear. “Because I don’t want to put candy in it if you use it to wipe your nose,” I shot back.
His mouth fell open in surprise, and I heard his breath move past his lips before he clamped his jaw shut. Cole bunched his lips together like he was either really mad or he was trying not to laugh. I couldn’t tell which. His eyes became slits, so I guessed he was mad.
“Wipe my nose on it?” he asked, looking at me like I’d just wiped my nose on it. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Ugh,” Ava groaned a frustrated sigh. “Enough already. Elise, it’s a Chinese wedding bag. Like for party favors. I had one, too, but I lost it.”
Rolling his eyes, Cole turned away. “As usual.”
Ava gave the back of her brother’s head a silent, mocking sneer. “Can we go?” She jammed her knuckles against her hips. “It’s already after six.”
We left.
The three of us didn’t actually trick-or-treat together. Not exactly. Saying he didn’t want to be seen with two little girls, Cole walked ahead of us, and whenever we went to a house on the right side of the street, he chose the one opposite. And vice versa.
I, for one, was relieved. Cole Whitehurst couldn’t be mean to us — or more specifically, to me — from across the street. But I saw how Ava’s eyes followed him, and I knew that if I hadn’t tagged along, he probably would have kept close to his sister.
So, yeah, that stung a little.
But I quickly learned that Myrtle Place was great territory for trick-or-treating. Most of the houses were really nice. Not quite as nice as the Whitehursts’, but if my ribbon wand held real magic, I wouldn’t have been disappointed with any of them.
And the people on Myrtle Place gave good candy. No candy corn or Swedish Fish or 3 Musketeers. 3 Musketeers. Yuck. Just the thought of nougat on my tongue made me gag.
Before we were even halfway down their street, my Chinese wedding bag was heavy with the good stuff. Twix, Kit Kat, and, my favorite, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I loved chocolate, but I wouldn’t turn my nose up at Starburst — except the red flavor. Red Starburst tasted like dentist office tooth polish, as far as I was concerned. Now, give me a yellow, orange, or pink Starburst, and I’d be happy to make it disappear.
By the time we reached the corner of Myrtle Place and Azalea, in addition to my chocolate hoard, I had six packets of Starburst and four rolls of Smarties — which, I’ll admit, tasted like baby aspirin, but I always liked baby aspirin. It sure w
as better than Children’s Tylenol.
“My feet hurt,” Ava said after we’d stopped at the last house on the street. “Let’s sit down for a few minutes.” She pointed to the concrete curb of the median. My feet didn’t hurt at all, and I wanted to keep going, but I knew better than to insist. Besides, I knew that Ava was wearing plastic dress-up heels. The kind that came in sealed plastic with a princess dress and pretend jewelry. I’d never had any, but even though they looked cute, and I would have loved some of my own, they didn’t seem very comfortable.
We sat down on the curb and immediately helped ourselves to candy. I peeled open a tube of Sixlets and gave a sigh of satisfaction when the first candy-coated sphere crunched between my teeth. I stared up at the cloudless night sky, savoring the sweetness. The thought occurred to me that maybe Sixlets tied with Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups as my favorite candy. I couldn’t be sure without further testing.
I was so lost in my candy comparison I didn’t notice Cole’s approach.
“Ava, why are you sitting on the curb?” he asked, impatience edging his voice.
Coming out of my chocolate haze, I was grateful he hadn’t addressed the question to me.
Next to me, Ava wagged her feet. “My feet hurt.” A whine that hadn’t been in her voice before crept into her words.
Cole rolled his eyes. “I told you not to wear those shoes. They’re just for dress-up. Not for walking.”
I swear, he sounded just like Mama. Not like a lady. Just bossy. He was only two years older than Ava. Why was he so bossy? I wanted to ask this question aloud, but I kept my mouth shut.
Ava was probably thinking similar thoughts because she didn’t respond to his I-told-you-so either.
Cole sniffed out a breath and sat down on the curb with us, choosing the space on the other side of Ava. Without hesitation, he emptied his knapsack of candy onto his lap. Blinking in shock, I couldn’t hold my tongue.
“A-are you going to eat all of that right now?” I asked half-stunned.
Cole tucked his chin, crinkled his brow, and looked at me like I’d just blown a snot bubble. “God, no,” he said. Then he focused on the pile in his lap, his look of disgust never fading. “Half of this is inedible.”
“Huh?” I asked, confused by his fancy word.
Licking her chocolaty fingers, Ava enlightened me. “He means you can’t eat it.”
I gasped at the pile of candy on Cole’s thighs, horror stricken. “Why not? What’s wrong with it? Is it poisoned?”
Cole’s snot bubble look returned. “No, dummy, it’s trash. Not worth eating.”
Not worth eating? Was that like not worth knowing? Candy?
My neck hitched back. His lap was full of the best candy around. Nestle Crunch, Twix, $100,000 Grand, Milk Duds, and, of course Reese’s. And he had six Kit Kats. Six!
Ava gave me a look of boredom. “Cole’s a candy snob.”
A candy snob? What did that mean?
I once heard Mama’s friend Rita say that Mrs. Hillborn at church was a snob, and when I asked what a snob was, Mama explained that it was someone who thought they were better than everyone else.
I already knew that Cole Whitehurst thought he was better than everybody else, but did he think he was better than candy? And quality candy, too?
I didn’t understand how anyone could be too good for candy, and I also thought someone should introduce Cole to Mrs. Hillborn. They’d probably get along great.
But I watched in growing disbelief as Cole began picking through his stash and putting select pieces back into his knapsack. Hershey’s Special Dark, which, as far as I was concerned, was the bad penny of the Hershey’s miniature line. Almond Joy and Mounds, both of which had me tasting bile because coconut was worse than nougat. Dove Chocolate, Red Hots, and Junior Mints also made it into the bag.
“What are you going to do with the rest?” I asked, baffled.
Cole shrugged. “Throw it away.”
My eyes nearly fell out of my head. He might as well have said the GD word right in front of a priest. “You can’t do that!” I practically wailed, and then I thrust my Chinese wedding bag at him. “Give it to me!”
I didn’t care that he now looked at me like my snot bubbles had grown googly eyes. All that mattered was the candy. Normally, if I rationed myself to one piece a day, I could make my Halloween haul last until Christmas, but if I snagged all of snobby Cole Whitehurst’s candy too, perhaps I could coast until Valentine’s Day. And that achievement was worth a little humiliation.
Mama didn’t approve of spending money on candy. It was expensive, unhealthy, and unnecessary, she’d say. So I usually only got candy on holidays and on the rare occasion when I bought it for myself, but since I also only got money on holidays, that didn’t happen very often either.
Cole looked from me to his leftover pile. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” he said under his breath but still loud enough for both me and Ava to hear. “Sure, weirdo, come and get it.”
I stood and walked around Ava, making sure I didn’t let my face show any reaction to his name-calling. He already thought I was dumb and tacky and cheap. Not worth knowing. What did it matter if he added weird and lowlife to the list? I was getting his candy.
I didn’t look him in the eye as I plunked down beside him and started grabbing handfuls of his leftovers, reassuring myself that this lump in the pit of my stomach would go away soon, and I’d be able to enjoy the spoils of his snobbishness.
I mean, really. Who would pass up Milk Duds?
But on my third handful, Cole grabbed my wrist. “Wait a minute,” he said, a spark of something igniting his pale blue eyes. “What about we make a trade?”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “What do you mean? You don’t want it, and you said I could have it.”
His stare locked with mine, and he looked like he was searching for something. “Yeah, but…” he said, working his mouth and frowning as though he were trying to solve a puzzle, “…that was before I knew how much you wanted it. If this stuff has value, you should pay for it… Otherwise, it’s like taking charity.”
The way he said the word charity made my cheeks sting with shame. I clenched my teeth together. “Well, maybe I don’t want it,” I said, dropping my handful back into his lap.
Cole smirked. “Now, just hold on,” he said with a wicked smile. “We both know you want it. What’s it worth to you?”
His voice had softened in a way that on other people might sound nice, but I knew he wasn’t being nice. Cole Whitehurst didn’t know how to be nice. When I didn’t answer, he let go of my wrist and picked up the fun-size bag of M&Ms I’d just dropped.
“How about this? Let’s make a deal. You can keep everything of mine you already have. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, after all,” he said, grinning.
I had no idea what those words meant, but I understood the part about keeping what I’d already claimed. That was a relief because I didn’t really know how much of that was his, and if I had to give it back now, I might actually lose some of my own candy in the bargain. Still, I said nothing.
He waved the M&Ms at me. “I’ll give you one of these for one box of your Junior Mints.”
I immediately shook my head. Junior Mints weren’t my favorite, but I’d seen him stuff those in his backpack when he’d kept none of the M&Ms. That meant he didn’t think they were the same value, so why should I?
“No way. You give me three of those, and I’ll give you one box of Junior Mints.”
Cole’s eyes widened in surprise, and to my amazement, he smiled. “Oh, so little Elise Cormier knows how to negotiate,” he murmured.
I scowled at him, not wanting him to see that I didn’t know what negotiate meant. Why did he have to use such fancy words? He was fancy, and mean, and snobby, and I hated him so much.
“Okay, three for one. Deal,” he said, still smirking.
Without a word, I reached into my red bag and picked up a box of Junior Mints. He took it and gav
e me his three bags of M&Ms. Then he quirked a brow at me. “Any more?”
I glanced into my bag. I had two more Junior Mints. I didn’t want to give over both because, now, I was starting to wonder what was so good about them. Maybe I hadn’t given Junior Mints their due.
“I’ll give you one more box, but I want a Nestle Crunch and two Milk Duds instead.”
Cole seemed to laugh without making any noise, and I hated him all the more for that too. Who laughed without making noise? But he nodded and handed over the candy.
We went on like this, me giving up all the dark chocolate options in my bag — except for one each now that curiosity had bitten me — and Cole trading in all the milk chocolate goodness he was so foolish to part with.
By the time we’d finished, Ava had grown impatient. “What time is it? I still want to go to a few more houses before we have to get back.”
Standing up from the curb, Cole checked his wristwatch. “It’s seven-thirty. We still have thirty minutes before Flora comes back for Elise.”
Ava shot to her feet and pulled me with her. “C’mon! Let’s go. We still haven’t been to any of the houses on Azalea Street.”
Even under the light of the streetlamps, I could see Cole’s eyes roll skyward. “Your feet will start hurting again in five minutes. We should go up on Parkside so we’re at least heading back in the right direction,” he said, pointing north.
“But at the blue house at the end of Azalea, they give away homemade Rice Krispy treats,” Ava whined. “We always get those.”
I liked the sound of that, so I cast my vote, even if I didn’t get a vote. “I want Rice Krispy treats, too,” I said, stepping closer to Ava.
Cole heaved a sigh. “Fine. But let me at least get a head start so we’re not walking together.” He set off at a run without another word, but Ava yelled at his retreating back.
“Oh, so you can sit here with us and swap candy, but we’re not good enough to be seen walking down the street with you. Is that it?” she hollered.
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