What October Brings

  Late summer cooled to fall, and at the end of September the janitors festooned the school in black-and-orange streamers and grinning paper Jack-o-Lanterns, black cats, and green-faced witches. Millie was thrilled! Marsh Middle School was far more keen on Halloween than her old school was. And not only did the town have an official trick-or-treat planned from 6:00 to 8:00 pm on Halloween, they had special Devil’s Night parties planned for older kids and teens on the days leading up to Halloween to prevent pranks and other mischief in town.

  The biggest Devil’s Night party—or at least the most important party as far as her classmates were concerned—was the Cosmic Cola Party at Marsh Mansion up on the cliff above the ocean. None of the Marsh family lived there anymore; old Jeremiah Marsh had donated it to the soda company for charity events and executive retreats. They’d get to ride in a chartered bus up the winding road to the mansion, and at the party they’d dance and drink Cosmic Cola and eat pizza and play games. All that, on the face of it, didn’t seem so impressive to Millie, but the old blood kids all talked about how their parents had said that the company was bringing in a super-secret special guest to play at the party. Some said it might be Aerosmith … others claimed it was Duran Duran or even Michael Jackson.

  Millie’s mother said she was far too young to go to a rock concert, so to think that she might be able to see someone as famous as Michael Jackson … that was most impressive. And even better, because the party ran so late, all the kids who attended would be excused from class the next day.

  The catch was that only thirty kids from Marsh Middle School could attend the party, and they’d be chosen in a special lottery in mid-October. Everyone got one ticket, but students could earn extra tickets by making As, volunteering to help out around the school, and other such things. By October seventh, she’d earned seven lottery tickets thanks to her good grades in math, English and history and a couple afternoons picking up trash. Seven was more than most kids, but she guessed that there were probably nine hundred tickets total for the three hundred kids in the school, which meant that her efforts had earned her only of a fraction of a percent of a chance.

  And then she had a worrisome thought.

  “Papa, I was wondering about something,” she said that night at dinner. Her mother and stepfather preferred that she called him Papa, rather than Steve or Mr. Gibbs. Calling him that almost didn’t seem unnatural anymore.

  “Yes?” He took a bite of meatloaf. “What is it?”

  “The Cosmic Cola party … you work for the company. I won’t be excluded from the lottery, will I?”

  “No, not at all,” he replied cheerfully. “You’ve got as much of a chance as any other kid. Better, I expect, since you got all those extra tickets.”

  Her mother suddenly looked anxious. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up, dear. So few kids get picked. But don’t worry; there are plenty of other parties that evening. There’ll be a sock hop party at DiLouie’s Pizza; that sounds like fun, don’t you think?”

  Millie shrugged and ate her mashed potatoes. The pizza parlor wouldn’t have Michael Jackson except on the jukebox.

  Her stepfather fixed a sharp gaze on her mother. “But if she is chosen, it’s an honor to go.”

  He turned back to Millie and smiled. “Cosmic Cola is putting a lot of effort and money into this party for you kids. If you’re chosen, you’ll be representing our whole family, so you need to be on your best behavior. Can I count on you?”

  His words made Millie feel uneasy; how could a party for a bunch of middle schoolers really be such a big deal? But she knew what he wanted to hear. “Yes, sir. You can count on me.”

  She looked at her mother; Mrs. Gibbs’ face had gone white and she was staring down at her half-eaten plate. Her expression was carefully blank but her eyes shimmered as if she were holding back tears. It was then that Millie realized that her mother was not happy, and something was happening here that Millie could but dimly grasp. She wanted to go around the table to give her mother a hug, but she knew that would break some unwritten, unspoken rule; her mother would be embarrassed and her stepfather would be angry, but neither adult would tell her what was wrong. Millie felt as though she were on a boat adrift far from shore beneath storm-gathering skies.

  ***

  The school’s portly vice principal reached into the clear plastic raffle tumbler full of names on folded white notecards. He picked one out and opened it with a theatrical flourish.

  “Millie Flynn,” he announced into his microphone.

  Millie sat in shock on the wooden gymnasium bleacher at hearing her name called. The girl beside her started shrieking in excitement and shaking her shoulder, and soon Millie was whooping and high-fiving the other kids near her who’d been chosen for the party, too.

  After the school assembly was over, Millie had study hall, and her excitement faded into curiosity. She and twenty-one other new blood kids and eight old blood kids had been picked. Why had so few kids from established families won seats on the bus? The kid with the limp and the crooked, discolored teeth was one of them. She still wasn’t sure what his name was. But, she reasoned, the old blood kids hadn’t tried very hard. They hadn’t been the ones volunteering for chores to earn extra tickets. They hadn’t studied late trying to earn straight As. They weren’t the ones who had to prove they belonged in Marsh Landing.

  ***

  When she got home and told her parents the news, her stepfather seemed pleased and her mother smiled and congratulated her. Millie could see something like panic behind her eyes. That night after dinner, her father went to his Cosmic Cola bowling league, and her mother put the twins to bed.

  As Millie was helping her mother wash and dry the dishes, her mother asked, “Have you thought about the costume you’ll wear to the party?”

  Millie considered. “A little. I liked being a witch last year, but my dress and stockings are too small now.”

  Her mother smiled, her eyes still dark with worry. “You’ve shot up like a weed this past year. You’re nearly as tall as I am, now.”

  “Maybe I could be a werewolf this year? I saw a cool mask in the window of the costume shop.”

  “I had an idea,” her mother said, looking around as if she was making sure that her stepfather wasn’t still in the house. “Why don’t you go as a pirate queen?”

  Millie blinked. “A pirate queen?”

  “They probably didn’t tell you this in school, but a lot of women were very fierce pirates back in the day. Jacquotte Delahaye was a Caribbean pirate in the 1600s. They called her ‘Back from the Dead Red’ after she faked her own death to escape the British Navy. She became a pirate after her father died and eventually she became a master swordswoman and commanded a fleet of hundreds of pirates. She ruled over her own island. I think ruling your own island makes you a proper queen, don’t you think?”

  “Whoa,” Millie said. Already in her mind she was swashbuckling on a beach, protecting a loot-laden chest from scowling English redcoats in pompous white wigs. “Yeah, for sure!”

  Her mother dried the last dish and put it away in the cupboard. Her hand shook just a little as she set it down. “I was out shopping at the thrift store the other day, and I found some things some things in your size that I think would make a good pirate costume. Would you like to see them?”

  “Ooh, yes!” Millie clapped her hands.

  Her mother led her down into her sewing room in the finished basement.

  “I found this.” Her mother reached into a white plastic shopping bag and pulled out a gorgeous wig of long, thickly ringleted red hair. It looked like something from a fancy salon and not a cheap dimestore Halloween wig.

  “It’s so pretty!” Millie breathed.

  Her mother looked pleased, but the fearful shadows hadn’t left her eyes. “Well, Back From the Dead Red needs proper red hair!” She pulled out another shopping bag and laid out a rakish
blue scarf, a poofy-sleeved white shirt with laces instead of buttons, a black leatherette vest, tan pants, a thick black belt, black knee-high boots, and a bunch of golden bangles. And a real genuine brass compass! It was so much nicer than the ones they’d learned to read in Girl Scouts, and it looked like something a real pirate would own.

  Millie threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “This is great! Thank you sooo much!”

  Trembling, her mother returned the hug, rubbing Millie’s back in gentle circles. “It’s your last Halloween, and you’re going to a very important party, so I wanted you to feel proud of your costume.”

  Millie hugged her mother more tightly. “You’re the best.”

  Her mother began to cry and shake.

  Millie pulled back and gazed at her mother, worried. “What’s the matter, Mom?”

  “Nothing, nothing.” Her mother quickly wiped her red eyes and smiled widely. Unconvincingly. “I … you’re just growing up so quickly. It makes me sad sometimes.”

  Her mother glanced at the compass lying beside the costume on the sewing table. “You remember how to use a compass, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes, absolutely. It was my favorite part of camp craft!” That was a little lie; really Millie had liked building fires best, but she knew that didn’t sound ladylike.

  Her mother was still blinking back tears. “I think having a compass is a good idea in case they take you out someplace and you get separated from the rest of the kids. It’s easy to get lost in an unfamiliar town, you know?”

  Millie didn’t, but she nodded anyway.

  “Marsh Mansion is due southeast of here. If you had to get back here on your own, go north on Oceanside Highway and follow it to Sixth Street, go left, and then take a left on Craftsman Lane. And you’ll find us!”

  That sounded like a whole lot of walking. “If I got lost, couldn’t I just find a payphone and call you?”

  “Oh, honey, that’s a smart idea but not on Devil’s Night,” her mother replied quickly. “Your stepfather’s concerned about prank callers and he’s planning to leave the phone off the hook. So if something happens, just try to get back here, okay? I’ll stay up waiting for you; just knock quietly and I’ll know it’s you. If it’s late, we don’t want to wake the twins or your stepfather. He hasn’t been sleeping well and you know what a terrible mood he gets in when something wakes him suddenly.”

  Millie did. “Okay, I’ll just come back and knock quietly if something happens.”

  “But nothing will! This is all just for contingency’s sake. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time.”

  “Okay.”

  A flash of remembering crossed her mother’s face. “Oh! And I forgot the most important part of your costume.” She went to the closet and retrieved a long white cardboard box. Inside was a cutlass with a tarnished brass basket guard in a worn leather scabbard. When she pulled the blade out a few inches, it gleamed steely and cold.

  Millie could barely believe her eyes. “Whoa, is that a real sword?”

  “It’s a costume sword, but it’s still pretty sharp, so don’t go waving it around. Can you believe that this was actually cheaper at the thrift store than a plastic pirate’s cutlass at the toy shop? Prices these days! Anyhow, this looks better with your costume, and you’re mature enough to leave it sheathed so nobody knows it’s dangerous, aren’t you?”

  Millie nodded vigorously. Her own real sword! “I’ll just tell people it’s wooden.”

  Her mother smiled again, looking relieved. “Good girl. I have one more thing.”

  From the pocket of her apron, she pulled out a silvery flask, the kind Old West gamblers and gangsters put liquor in. “I know you don’t really like Cosmic Cola, and that’s practically the only thing they’ll be serving at the party. This way, you can take something else to drink. Just, try not to let anybody see you with it, or they might think you have something you shouldn’t. And that would have … consequences.” She paused, rubbing her throat lightly. “Don’t tell your stepfather about the flask. Or the sword. He wouldn’t approve.”

  “I won’t.” Inside, Millie glowed with pleasure at her mother taking her into such confidence. Her own sword and a flask? This wasn’t just the kind of cool boy stuff she’d previously been forbidden from on the grounds it wasn’t ladylike; this was actual grown-up stuff! She was treating Millie like she was an adult! Finally!

  Her mother smiled. “Well, it’s an hour until your bedtime … want to go outside and carve a pumpkin or two?”

  “Ooh, yes!” This was going to be the best Halloween ever!

  ***

  On Devil’s Night, Millie’s stepfather had some kind of meeting he had to go to, so he wasn’t around when her mother helped her get dressed in her pirate costume for the party.

  “There.” Her mother adjusted the red wig, which was much heavier than Millie had expected, as was the lemonade-filled flask in the inside pocket of her vest. Even the brass compass rested more heavily than she expected in her right hip pocket. And the brass-hilted sword hanging against her left hip—Millie had spray-painted it in brown Rustoleum so it looked a little less suspiciously real—was heaviest of all. “Perfect. Turn around and take a look.”

  Millie did. The wig and her mother’s makeup job to give her a proper Caribbean tan made her look much older, but more important, she looked like a real pirate!

  “This is so cool! Thank you!” She hugged her mom.

  Her mom hugged her back tightly. “You know I love you, right?”

  “Of course,” Millie mumbled into her mom’s shoulder.

  “I love you bunches and bunches. I know that, sometimes, I do things that don’t seem fair, and I’m sorry about that. I just can’t change how some things are. Steve and I have to worry about what’s best for the twins, and … well, let’s get you to the party.”

  ***

  By the time Millie’s mother dropped her off at the school stadium parking lot, the twenty-nine other kids were clustered under a tall light, giggling and horsing around as they waited for the Cosmic Cola chartered bus to pick them up. Fifteen boys, and fifteen girls. Seven of the girls were dressed up as different kinds of witches; three were fairy princesses, three were black cats, and one was dressed as Princess Leia. The boys had a more diverse set of costumes; Millie figured it was because they had more movie characters to pick from. There was a Han Solo, an Indiana Jones, a cop, two Karate Kids, a Captain Kirk, three Ghostbusters, a Rocky Balboa, a Batman, a Superman, a solider, a masked slasher … and a pirate captain, who she was dismayed to realize was the old blood kid with the limp and crooked teeth. It made her feel weird that they’d chosen similar costumes. She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment when he looked up at her and grinned and waved.

  The Cosmic Cola bus rolled up, and a pretty woman in a mini-skirted black-tie magician’s costume stepped out onto the pavement. The boys whispered she was dressed like a character named Zatanna from the comics, and once again Millie was annoyed that her parents had forbidden comic books, because she hated knowing less than the others.

  “Hey, kids!” Zatanna beamed at them all. “Are you ready for the party?”

  The crowd exploded in “Yeah!” and “Woo!”

  “Well, everybody get on! Your party awaits!”

  Millie was swept up in the boiling wave of seventh graders and shoved onto the bus. She stumbled into a row and plopped down on the plush red velvet window seat … and her heart dropped when the weird kid sat down beside her.

  “Hey.” He extended his hand. “My name’s Hubert.”

  She awkwardly took his hand and shook it. “I’m Millie.”

  “Yes, I know. Your father’s the new executive. He must be so proud that you got chosen.”

  Millie squirmed in her seat; Hubert was looking at her so intently, and … it was all just so weird. “Yeah, I mean, I guess.”

&n
bsp; “My father’s super proud.” Hubert gave her a snaggle-toothed smile. “He was always so disappointed that I was born with my legs messed up, and the doctors couldn’t really fix them, but now I get to do something really good for the whole family tonight.”

  “Why is this party such a big deal?”

  “Well, it’s the thirty year, and …” He paused, wincing a little, seeming to realize that maybe he’d said something he shouldn’t. “Well, it’s just going to be something special. You’ll see.”

  Zatanna went up and down the aisle with a narrow serving cart laden with apple cider donuts, popcorn balls, bags of chips, frosted Halloween cookies, and of course cans of Cosmic Cola.

  “They’ll have pizza at the party, too.” Hubert grabbed double-fistfuls of donuts. “You want something?”

  “No, thank you; I’m saving room for pizza.” Feeling unsettled, Millie turned away to watch the Marsh Landing Lighthouse and the rest of the dark landscape pass outside the bus windows.

  ***

  They reached Marsh Mansion just before 9:00 pm. It was a huge old place, built on a low cliff above the ocean, all covered in Victorian gingerbread and wrought iron balconies and railings.

  Zatanna and the bus driver—a gruff, heavyset man who’d been silent the entire trip—ushered them all off the bus and into the mansion’s vaulted foyer.

  “Last year, we had the party in the second-floor ballroom, but there was a leak and some of the ceiling came down last week,” Zatanna said brightly. “So this year, the party is in the downstairs grotto.”

  She opened up a pair of double doors at the side of the foyer that revealed wide stone steps with a wrought iron wall railing that coiled downward. The bass line of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” boomed faintly from below. “Everybody, follow me!”