Midnight Girl

by Will Shetterly

  “Not doubting the clueless.” Tarika set down the makeup. “You’re awful hard on him.”

  “How often does your mom tell you she loves you?”

  “Um, every day? At least.”

  “Evil Dad never said he loved me.”

  “Cat, he takes great care of you.”

  “That’s ‘cause he’s got an ego thing about being responsible. I think

  I was an accident, so he feels obliged to pay for it.”

  “That’s more than some fathers do.”

  “Yeah. I don’t call him Evilest Dad, do I?” Cat nodded at the makeup. “Who’s wasting time now?” Tarika resumed painting Cat’s face. “Why don’t you think Ms.

  Arkan’s just a stalker girlfriend?”

  “‘Cause they were talking about danger. About his arms being strong.”

  “Don’t be shocked, girl. Sounds like sex talk.”

  “No way! He’s not interested.”

  “You’re like evidence to the contrary.”

  “But he hasn’t gone out with anyone since Mom died.”

  “Doesn’t mean he’s not interested.”

  “He’s crippled!”

  “Just because he can’t walk doesn’t mean he can’t—”

  “No. If you’d heard, you’d know. It was about something dangerous.”

  “Okay. Let’s say the van wasn’t an accident. Maybe your dad and

  Ms. Arkan were international spies, and the Russian mob is trying to get revenge on them by killing you and framing her.”

  Cat laughed. “I’m not the only one who reads too much manga.”

  “But if I’m right, someone might try to kill Ilya and frame your dad now.”

  Cat shook her head. “I don’t think it’s spies.”

  “So ask your dad about it.”

  “I did. He lied.”

  “Your dad? He never lies!”

  “He said he was at the library. Maybe he lies all the time, and I never caught him before.”

  “Maybe he had a good reason, like it’s something private that doesn’t affect you. I say stop worrying and start trick-or-treating.”

  “Easier said than done.” Tarika held up a mirror. “Say you can’t.” Cat stared at herself in delight. The second skeleton was ready for

  Halloween. They grabbed hats, a jazz musician’s porkpie for Cat and a black- and-silver mariachi sombrero for Tarika. As Cat picked up the karaoke machine, Tarika said, “Maybe this isn’t the best idea after all.”

  Cat said, “What’s the second rule?”

  “I’m not wimping out! I’m just not sure I’m ready—”

  “And when would you be sure?” Tarika swallowed, then nodded. “At least no one’ll know who we are in our make-up.”

  “No, not at all,” Cat said. “We could be any two kids in the barrio.

  Who look like ninth-grade girls. One short, one tall.” Tarika sighed. “Whose stupid idea was this?”

  “Yours,” Cat said, laughing, as she hauled Tarika through the house. As soon as they stepped outside, Tarika relaxed and Cat started looking for orange vans, white wolves, and strange people. Then she smiled. Pirates, zombies, and superheroes were walking along De Anza Street. Strange is the point of Halloween.

  Cat said softly, “No wimp outs.” Tarika glanced at her. “Heard it the first time, Cat.”

  “Saying it for me, Tee.”

  “Oh,” Tarika said, and then, “Oh! Are you still shook—”

  “Way no!” Cat said loudly to convince both herself and Tarika.

  “Let’s do it.” She marched toward the neighbors’ home. Tarika said, “Can I half-wimp?”

  “It’s the Sanchezes.” Cat set down the karaoke player and rang the door bell. “They’ll love it, even if it’s all fail.”

  “We could just get candy and go.” Cat punched play. “Too late.” For the next two hours, they raced from house to house performing

  Halloween carols: “Monster Mash,”

  “Thriller,”

  “Ghost Riders in the Sky,”

  “Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner,”

  “Jumbie Jamboree,” and “I Put A Spell On You.” Tarika sang lead, Cat sang back-up, and they danced to their own choreography. When they were exhausted and their bags were stuffed full of candy, they staggered back to Tarika’s house, where Mrs. Soto insisted they perform all the songs again. When they dropped Cat off at home afterward, she told Tarika, “Best. Halloween. Ever!”

  But she knew the best was yet to come.

  Chapter Four:

  Midnight Girl

  The only thing better than trick-or-treating was coming home to the front path lit by candles in tin luminarias, a jack o’lantern glowing by the door, and Professor M and Granny Lupe sitting on the porch. Under the yellow porch light, Granny Lupe rocked in her chair, snapping her fingers to the beat of whatever was playing through her earbuds. Professor M, reading a book, sat near her with a blanket over his legs. Cat laughed—this was how every trick or treating was supposed to end.

  Which made her think of Baldomero. He had never been part of her Halloween. But she did not mind changes that made Halloween even better.

  Granny Lupe grinned at Cat and took the buds from her ears. “Have a good time, my terror?”

  Cat shook her head. “Who should I punish?” Cat laughed. “I had a great time.” Granny Lupe nodded. “You are truly—”

  “Yourself,” Professor M finished. “Yes,” Granny Lupe agreed. “You should get ready for your midnight party.”

  “I can’t be skeleton girl?” Granny Lupe smiled and shook her head. “How often does Ysabel get to see you? Be beautiful for her.”

  “Skeleton girl is beautiful.”

  “You don’t have to hide yourself, my fierce one. You’re beautiful exactly as you are.”

  “I wish I looked like Tarika.” Professor M said, “Tarika’s got that covered. Look like you, and you’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah, right.” Cat headed inside, thinking that in father-talk, “fine” meant “hopelessly weird.” Granny Lupe said, “I’ll start hot chocolate.”

  “With cinnamon?” Granny Lupe lifted her chin high and stared at Cat. “We are a proud family of a noble lineage! Of course, with cinnamon!”

  Professor M said, “I’ll light the fire.” Cat said, “S’mores?” Professor M nodded. “It is your birthday.”

  “I wish Tarika could come over.”

  Granny Lupe said, “We de la Sombras are jealous of our good luck.”

  “Tarika could have hot chocolate and s’mores before Ysabel comes.” Professor M glanced at Granny Lupe. “Maybe next year.” Granny Lupe shrugged. “Who can know?”

  Professor M rolled down the ramp and went from luminaria to luminaria, blowing each one out. Cat asked, “Can’t we let them burn?”

  Granny Lupe shook her head. “Ysabel doesn’t need the light. Or want it.”

  In her bedroom, scrubbing away makeup, Cat thought about the Halloween Fairy’s gift. A white dress and slippers were so meh after all the birthday costumes she had known. But she was fourteen now. White meant innocence. Maybe the costumes would become more mature with each birthday after this: pink for fifteen, red for sixteen, crimson for seventeen, black for eighteen. Or maybe white didn’t mean a thing. Maybe whoever brought the costumes simply thought a change would be nice.

  What would Baldomero think?

  She put on the dress, wondering if the right clothes would transform her from a big-nosed, flat-chested girl to a gorgeous young woman who looked like her mother. When she looked in the mirror, she thought, Chica, you’re just funny-looking. Accept it.

  She saw a girl dressing up like a woman. She turned from side to side, but she could not make herself look like Mama. She studied the painting over her bed. She could see a resemblance, but it was like a sculptor’s apprentice had taken all the same pieces and put them together slightly off.

  Baldomero was lying or crazy. She hoped for crazy. She wished Tarika was the
re to do her hair and makeup. If she tried to do anything more than comb her hair, she would look like a clown or a zombie.

  She shivered. Whoever chose her costume had forgotten Tucson nights could be cold by the end of October. She closed her bedroom window, then thought, If you have to look like a funny-looking girl, look like a comfortable funny-looking girl.

  She pulled on striped black-and-purple leggings and her purple hoodie. That made the white slippers look odd, so she changed them for her low purple boots, then checked in the mirror.

  Her father was right. Since she couldn’t be Tarika or anyone else, she should be herself.

  When she came into the parlor, the fire was blazing. Professor M glanced at her and nodded. Granny Lupe’s eyes narrowed. She said, “That’s—”

  Professor M said, “Yes?”

  Granny Lupe shook her head. “Different. Which proves she’s the daughter of Zoraida de la Sombra.”

  Professor M winced as usual at her mother’s name. Cat asked Granny Lupe, “Have you been drinking sherry again?”

  Granny Lupe laughed. “It’s a wonderful night. I had a taste.” Professor M said, “Four tastes.” Granny Lupe whirled toward him. “You’d be better company if—”

  Then she smiled. “No. You would sink from glum to maudlin. Stay sober.”

  Professor M shrugged and poked at the logs in the fireplace. “It’s my birthday,” Cat said. “You two have to play nice.” Professor M turned his head like a hawk, and Cat thought of the things that had happened during the day. She opened her mouth to ask about Ms. Arkan, but before she could, Granny Lupe said, “Hot chocolate’s ready. Help carry.”

  And Cat decided that anything unpleasant could wait one more day.

  For the next hour, they drank hot chocolate and toasted s’mores. They played Chinese checkers, and Cat won every game. She was bouncing a marble across the board in victory when the hall light flickered, and she turned.

  A slender woman in a red coat, tank top, capris, and sandals smiled at her from the parlor doorway. Her skin was brown and her eyes were amber, like Baldomero’s and Granny Lupe’s. Her hair was the color of copper. The bones of her face were strong and beautiful, so much like the painting of Cat’s mother that, for an instant, she thought she was looking at her mother. Then she said, “Tia Ysabel!”

  “Yes! La Ysabel esta aqui! Lessez les bon temps rouler!” Ysabel held up a tiny purple MP3 player and asked Professor M, “You don’t mind, Herr Professor?” Before he could answer, she plugged it into the parlor’s sound system. As a Brazilian pop song began to play, Ysabel tapped her foot and held out her hand to Cat. “We are the stars, Darling Miracle!”

  They danced around the parlor with Cat following Ysabel’s moves as best she could. When Granny Lupe began clapping time, Cat cried, “You, too!” and offered her hand.

  Granny Lupe grimaced, saying, “I’m too old for this nonsense,” then began dancing as gracefully as Ysabel. Cat wished they could dance forever. How would it be better? If Tarika was there to dance with them?

  No. If Baldomero was. As the next song began, Ysabel grabbed Professor M’s wheelchair to spin him. A glance at his face made her let go. For once, Ysabel did not laugh, though she smiled as she returned to dance with Cat and Granny Lupe.

  The sound of an approaching motorcycle cut through the music. Professor M looked at Granny Lupe. “You didn’t say there would be more.”

  Granny Lupe said, “We de la Sombras do not care to be predictable.”

  “I’ll get it!” Cat cried as she raced to the front door and flung it wide. In the middle of the yard, a slender young man in a black helmet, gray leather jeans and a matching jacket, a white silk shirt, and dark gray boots was setting a large black motorcycle on its kickstand. When he pulled off his helmet, she saw Baldomero grinning at her. Dropping the helmet onto his seat, he ran toward her, leaped onto the porch, and bowed low. In the shade of the night, he was more handsome than she remembered.

  “Command me, your highness!” he said with a smile that was half- mocking and half-sincere. “I, Baldomero de la Sombra, your cousin and champion, will seek your heart’s desire, wherever it lies, whatever its cost.”

  She opened her mouth to laugh, but instead said quietly, “Perhaps I shall.”

  He smiled up at her. “I never make light promises.” Then, rising, he frowned. “You modified your costume. You didn’t like it?”

  “You’re the Halloween Fairy?”

  “Me, a fairy?” He laughed. “Yes. Your fairy. I hoped to delight you.”

  “I loved the others. This one…” She shrugged. “The others were for you to hide in. This one’s to bring out your true self. I should’ve known that meant you would change it.” His smile grew wider. “Your father must be driving off boys with a stick.”

  Could he see her cheeks grow warm? She shook her head, too flustered to answer.

  From the hall, Professor M said, “I was planning to start tonight.” Baldomero laughed. “Ah, Professor! You have the wit!” Professor M said, “I’d rather have the stick. You come unannounced.”

  “It’s our way.” He looked at Cat. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then I’m welcome?”

  “Always!” She hesitated, then thought, He’s family! It’s okay! She threw herself into his arms to hug him. He felt cold from his ride, and firm and lean. It was like embracing a stallion made of ice. Rocking back from the impact, Baldomero laughed. “Ah, I believe I am!” Professor M said, a bit louder than he may have needed to, “Since you’ve been welcomed, let’s go in.” In the parlor, Granny Lupe was setting a large purple cake on a table by the fireplace. Cat wanted to ask why it wasn’t strawberry as usual, but she felt torn: Change bad, purple good.

  Ysabel stood and beamed at Baldomero. “My son. Where did I see you last? Prague? Johannesburg?”

  “Stockholm, Mother Dear.” He kissed Ysabel, then said, “Or Reykjavik? Someplace cold where we fed well, anyway.”

  Cat studied them. Ysabel looked exactly as she remembered, yet Ysabel could have passed for Baldomero’s sister. Was that plastic surgery, or did the de la Sombras age very gracefully?

  Ysabel caught her look. “Forgot to say. Love the costume. Best yet!”

  Cat nodded and glanced at Professor M and Granny Lupe. If she had not seen them for a year, would she think they looked younger?

  No. Granny Lupe, in her loose black cotton dress and a black lace shawl, looked exactly like herself: tiny, wrinkled, gray-haired. Who could tell if more wrinkles had been added in a year? None had been taken away.

  But, with a shock that she hid, Cat saw her father looked weaker. His hair and beard were flecked with gray. His scarred face was leaner than she remembered. His eyes were sunken, sleepless and haunted. The green wool blanket covering his legs and lap made him look frail. Until tonight, he had only worn blankets when he went outside in very cold weather.

  Granny Lupe laughed as she took Baldomero’s face in both hands, kissed him loudly on each cheek, and said, “It gladdens this old woman’s heart to see you as handsome as ever!”

  Professor M said, “He’d look better if he worked on his tan.”

  “No way,” Cat said. “He’s perfect.” Baldomero shook his head. “I’m not so vain I need flattery. Tell me, my princess, how has your birthday been?” Cat said casually, “Well, a van almost hit me this morning.”

  “A van owned,” Granny Lupe added, “by Alexandra Arkan.”

  “No!” Ysabel hugged Cat so tightly that Cat thought, Like hugging a panther. Ysabel, frowning at Granny Lupe, said, “We should—”

  “Cat’s fine,” Professor M said. “And it’s her birthday. Focus on enjoying that now.”

  “Wise words, Herr Professor!” Ysabel unplugged the purple music player and put it in Cat’s hand. “Your present, Miracle. It was black, but I knew that would never do, so I painted it.”

  Baldomero slapped his forehead. “I haven’t given you your present yet!” He dre
w a slender chain from his jacket. A heart-shaped locket dangled from it. Cat didn’t dare speak as he set the cold silver in her hands.

  He said, “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s the most beautiful thing ever.” His smile grew wider. “You can open it.” She found the clasp. The heart sprang apart. Inside were two tiny paintings. One was Baldomero with long white hair tied back in a queue. The other was her mother with white hair in ornate curls.

  Ysabel looked at the portraits, “Powdered hair was such a pain.”

  Baldomero glanced at Granny Lupe. “It suited Zoraida.” He turned to Cat. “Throw away the one of me, if you want. I couldn’t find one of Ysabel or Lupe that fit—”

  Cat said, “No throwing away is happening,” then looked at Ysabel and Granny Lupe. “Now I need something for pictures of you two.”

  Ysabel kissed her forehead. “Never change, dear Catalina.” Granny Lupe said, “No. Change well.” Professor M said, so softly that Cat barely heard him, “Ditto.” As Cat settled the necklace over her dress, Baldomero asked, “What are you now, Catalina?” She smiled smugly. “Me.” He glanced at Granny Lupe, who looked away. Cat wondered if she had said something wrong as he looked back at her. His eyes were like the sky on a stormy night. “You’re la princesa de la sombra.”

  Cat smiled. “I’m kind of old to pretend I’m a princess.”

  He shook his head. “Never, Catalina. First you pretend, then you become.” As she frowned, he smiled. “If that amuses you. Doing what amuses you is the most important part of being a princess.”

  She laughed. “Okay, for tonight, definitely princesa de la sombra.”

  Professor M exhaled, a tired sound. He had folded his arms under the blanket. Cat wanted to ask if he was cold, but he would never admit to a weakness where people could hear. No, he would never admit to a weakness where Cat could hear. Realizing that made her want to hug him, but she couldn’t think of an excuse that wouldn’t make her look childish or make her father look weak in Baldomero’s eyes. She thought, Maybe Tee’s right. Maybe I’ve been too hard on him.

  Professor M saw her glance. “Happy birthday, kid.”

  Baldomero looked at the tall clock by the door to the hall. “You’re early.”