The Worst Night Ever

by Dave Barry

  “I’m sorry, Wyatt,” my mom said. “I wish we didn’t have to do this. But right now we don’t feel like we can trust you.”

  The thing is, they were right. They couldn’t trust me. I was definitely planning to sneak out. I had a good reason to do it, but they’d never believe me. If I told them that I needed to go throw road stars under a truck full of deadly animals headed for the zoo, they’d make me go see a psychiatrist.

  But I really did have to go. The question was how. That’s what I was worrying about as Halloween day was turning into Halloween night. I had pretty much made up my mind that my only option was to just go out the front door and take off. I’d have to accept whatever punishment I got when I came back home. Death, probably. But I couldn’t think of any other way.

  Then Taylor knocked on my door and, without waiting for me to invite her, came into my room, closed the door, and sat down on my bed.

  “So,” she said. “What’s your plan?”

  “What makes you think I have a plan?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Wyatt, please. I’m not an idiot. What’s your plan?”

  So I told her about Victor and the road stars. She nodded.

  “I like it,” she said.

  “One problem,” I said, pointing to my window. “I can’t get out.”

  She looked at the window and nodded again.

  “Wait here,” she said, and left the room.

  Sometimes my sister scares me.

  I texted Jon again. I didn’t really expect an answer, and I didn’t get one. I stared out the window, listening to the sounds of Halloween.

  Ten minutes went by, and Taylor was back. This time she didn’t even bother to knock. She just came in and sat down on my bed.

  “Okay,” she said. “I can get you out of the house without Mom and Dad knowing.”

  “How?”

  “Before I tell you, you have to promise something.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Taylor, no. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Okay, then you can stay here. I’ll go to Bay Estates. I’m not the one who’s grounded with my window blocked shut.” She got up.

  I sighed. “Okay,” I said. “What’s your plan?”

  “First, promise me I can go.”

  “I promise you can go.”

  She sat back down. “Second thing, do you have twenty dollars?”

  “I think so.”

  “Give it to me.”

  “Why?”

  “To pay Dylan.”

  “Dylan Schweitzer?” This was a kid in my sister’s grade who lived two doors from us.

  “Yes.”

  “Why am I paying him twenty dollars?”

  “He has a horse costume.”

  “I’m paying him twenty dollars for a horse costume?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  So she explained her plan.

  Like I said, sometimes my sister scares me.

  It worked exactly the way Taylor said it would.

  At seven p.m. sharp, Dylan Schweitzer appeared at our house, carrying the horse costume. It was a two-person costume. One person got into the front part of the horse, occupying the horse’s head and front legs. The other person got into the back part, becoming the horse’s back legs and butt. The two parts of the costume attached together in the middle by Velcro strips. Taylor announced to my parents that she and Dylan were going to go trick-or-treating together as a horse. This probably struck them as a little bit strange, since Taylor and Dylan weren’t close friends. But they liked Dylan, and Taylor was always doing strange things.

  Taylor, Dylan, and my parents stood around chatting for a minute or two. Then some trick-or-treaters rang the doorbell, which caused Csonka to erupt. While my parents were dealing with that, Taylor and Dylan drifted back to the bedroom hallway. A minute later the trick-or-treaters were gone, and the horse came shuffling into the living room, with the back legs stumbling a little.

  “Okay!” said Taylor, from inside the horse’s head. “Dylan and I are going now!”

  “Okay,” said my mom. “Make sure you’re back by ten.”

  “Okay,” said Taylor, sticking her arm out of a hole in the horse costume and opening the door. “Bye!”

  “Bye, Taylor!” said my mom to the front of the horse. “Bye, Dylan!”

  “Bye!” said a muffled voice from the rear end of the horse as it stumbled out the door.

  Of course that voice wasn’t Dylan’s. It was mine. Dylan was now in my bedroom with my twenty dollars, which he needed because his parents were making him pay for a new iPhone after he dropped his old one—for the second time—into the toilet. The plan was for him to stay in my room with the lights out, lying on my bed watching movies on Taylor’s iPad, until I got back. If my parents knocked on the door, he was supposed to say, in a muffled voice, “Please leave me alone.” If they opened the door, he’d pull the covers up over his head and mumble about how he just wanted to be left alone, acting sulky and pouty and miserable, exactly like a kid who was grounded on Halloween.

  I had to admit, it was a pretty great plan.

  What was definitely not great was being the rear end of the horse. For one thing, you have to walk bent over. For another thing, you can’t see anything, so you stumble a lot. Also, you’re hot and sweaty, and you’re getting whiffs of the BO of all the previous people who have been in the horse, which in the case of this costume must have been the entire Miami Dolphins offensive line. After maybe a minute of walking, I was dying back there, so I undid the Velcro and stood up. This meant now Taylor and I were a two-part horse. She was the head, with just the two legs, and I was the horse’s rear end, with the tail sticking out behind and my upper body sticking out the top, holding the rest of the horse up around my waist with one hand. We looked pretty stupid, but at least I could breathe.

  We headed for Bay Estates, passing groups of trick-or-treaters on the way. It was getting pretty dark, and the older kids were out. We went as fast as we could, but by the time we got to the Bay Estates entrance it was past seven thirty. There were two police cars parked out front, with two officers leaning against them, watching people come and go, keeping an eye out for Halloween troublemakers. We walked past them toward the security gate. Usually to get past the security guard you have to be on a guest list, but since it was Halloween he was letting trick-or-treaters in. Taylor and I trotted past the guardhouse, a two-part horse with the butt running in front. The guard gave us a funny look but didn’t stop us.

  It took us five more minutes to get to the Bevin property. The house was dark. There was a black iron fence running along the entire front of the property. At the far end was a closed electric gate leading to the driveway. In the middle of the fence was a smaller gate, also closed, leading to the front walkway. As we arrived, some trick-or-treaters tried to open the gate, but it was locked. Apparently the Bevin household wasn’t giving out treats tonight. The trick-or-treaters moved on down the street, toward the next Bay Estates mansion.

  The street was quiet now, and the sky was totally black. I looked around, wondering if Taylor and I had gotten there too late. Then I saw Darth Vader, almost invisible in the shadows, standing under a tree at the far end of the Bevins’ lot. I trotted over to him, with Taylor behind.

  “Hey,” I said. “Is that you?”

  “Yes,” said Victor’s voice from inside the Darth mask. “And you’re, what, a horse’s butt?”

  “It got me out of the house.”

  “Who’s in the horse head? Is that Matt?”

  “No, my sister.”

  Taylor waved her hand through the hole in the horse.

  Victor nodded his mask. “The trucks are still back there. When it was light I could see them. They’ll have to come out on this side of the house, where there’s room next to the wall.”

  “You have the road stars?”

  He held up a black trick-or-treat bag wi
th a pumpkin on it. “In here. Do you know if Matt got out?”

  “No.”

  “What’s that?” said Taylor, pointing.

  We turned and saw a shape trotting along the street toward us. It had a cone-shaped head and cone-shaped arms. When it got closer we could see that the head and arms were actually orange traffic cones. Two big round white cardboard eyes had been glued to the front of the head cone, which was held in place by a string around the neck of—you probably already guessed this—Matt. In addition to three cones, he was wearing a pair of pink rain boots.

  “Did I miss it?” he said.

  “What…” I pointed toward Matt’s cone head and cone arms. “What are you?”

  “You can’t tell?”

  “No.” I shook my head. So did Darth Vader and the horse.

  “I’m Patrick!” he said. “The starfish! From SpongeBob!”

  Matt is a huge fan of SpongeBob SquarePants.

  “Seriously?” I said. “You’re wearing traffic cones?”

  “At least I’m not a horse’s rear.”

  He had me there.

  “Who’s the horse head?” said Matt.

  “Me, Taylor.” The horse waved its hand.

  “Okay,” said Victor. “Here’s the plan.”

  We gathered around him, our dark-helmeted leader.

  “They have to come out from there,” he said, pointing along the right side of the Bevin house toward the backyard. “When they get to the street they’ll turn right. We need to stop them early, before they get up too much speed.”

  “Stop them how?” said Taylor.

  “I’ll stand in front of them.”

  “What if they don’t see you in that costume?”

  “They’ll see me.” Victor pulled a lightsaber from his belt and flicked it on. It was bright red. He flicked it off. “They’ll have to stop. They won’t like it. They’ll honk their horn. They might even get out of the truck. So you guys need to move fast.”

  He dug into his trick-or-treat bag and handed two road stars to me and two to Matt. They were heavier than I thought they’d be. They were made from two pieces of round metal rod, bent and welded together so four ends stuck out in different directions. The ends had been sawed off at an angle to make sharp points. They looked serious.

  “Wow,” said Matt, hefting the two stars in his hands.

  “When the trucks stop,” said Victor, “go to the back truck first. Wyatt, take the right side, and Matt you take the left. Stick one of your road stars under the rear tire on your side. Then walk forward to the front truck. Walk calmly, like you’re just two regular trick-or-treaters, because the guys in the back truck will be able to see you then. When you get to the front of the first truck, casually lean over and put the second star under the front tire. I’m hoping the guys in the front truck will be paying attention to me and won’t notice what you’re doing.”

  The Darth mask turned toward Matt, then me. “You guys got that?”

  “I think so,” said Matt.

  “Back truck first,” I said. “We put one star under the rear tire. Then we walk forward…”

  “Calmly,” said Victor.

  “Right, walk calmly forward and casually put the second star under the front tire of the front truck. Got it.”

  “Then keep walking,” said Victor. “Calmly. When I see you’re done I’ll get out of the way and the trucks will move. Then the tires will blow. Then we all stop being calm, and run. They’ll have one spare tire for each truck, so they can fix one tire. But they can’t fix two. They’ll be stuck here.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, trying to sound like I believed myself.

  “What do I do?” said Taylor.

  “You stand by,” said Victor.

  “Stand by?” said Taylor. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means be ready,” said Victor. “In case.”

  “In case what?”

  “In case we need you.”

  “Hmph,” said Taylor, making it clear, even inside the horse head, that she was not happy with standing by.

  So then we waited. I sent a text to Jon telling him what our plan was. I didn’t expect him to answer, but he did, right away:

  trucks still there?

  I texted back yes. He didn’t answer that.

  “What time is it?” said Victor.

  I checked my phone. “eight fourteen.” We all looked down the side of the Bevin house. It was still dark.

  “They have to move soon,” said Victor.

  We stood around waiting some more, staring toward the back yard. Groups of trick-or-treaters drifted by, tried the gate, moved on. Victor went over the plan one more time, but I had trouble focusing. The road stars felt heavy in my hands. I was sweating, even though it wasn’t that warm. I could feel my heart pounding, and there was a hole where my stomach was supposed to be.

  We waited some more. There were no trick-or-treaters for a while. It seemed very quiet.

  “I have to pee,” said Matt.

  “Seriously?” I said. “Now?”

  “Yes. Bad.”

  “Then pee,” I said. “But hurry.”

  “Where?”

  I waved at the darkness. “Out there. Just hurry.”

  He shuffled away in his traffic cones and pink rain boots, disappearing in the shadows of some trees on the other side of the street.

  For a few seconds, it was quiet again.

  Then Taylor grabbed my arm and said, “Look.” She pointed toward the electric driveway gate.

  It was opening.

  In the backyard, headlight beams came on.

  The trucks were coming.

  It did not go exactly the way Victor planned it.

  The first problem was that Matt was across the street peeing, and he still had his two road stars.

  “Matt!” I yelled. “They’re coming!”

  “Just a minute!” he yelled back, from the darkness. “I’m still peeing!”

  “I’ll get his road stars!” said Taylor, galloping off in Matt’s direction.

  “No time!” said Victor, moving to the right and toward the middle of the street. “Wyatt, get ready.”

  So apparently we were doing this with just the two of us.

  I gripped my road stars, one in each hand, and stood on the side of the street. The trucks, close together, came out from alongside the house and onto the driveway. Like Taylor said, they were white and had GOMEZ PARTY RENTAL on the side. I couldn’t see who was in either truck.

  The trucks went through the gate, reached the street, and turned right. Victor was now standing in the middle of the street. He had turned his lightsaber on. I gripped the road stars. The trucks went past me, picking up speed. Then the driver of the first truck saw Victor and jammed on the brakes, honking. The second truck almost hit the first truck before it stopped, right in front of me.

  I ran to the back tire, leaned over and put the road star down. So far, so good. Then I stood up and started walking forward along the right side of the trucks, remembering what Victor said. Walk calmly.

  The front truck driver was blasting his horn. He rolled down his window and yelled “MOVE!” I could see Victor in the headlights, waving his lightsaber around like the truck was Luke Skywalker. Victor had guts.

  Walk calmly.

  I was alongside the front truck, next to the cab. The windows were open, and two people in the truck were yelling now. I didn’t look as I went past them. I leaned over, as casually as I could, to put the road star under the truck’s front right tire.

  “HEY!”

  The right-side truck door banged open, and before I could stand back up, a guy was on me. He was a big guy, wearing a white hazmat suit, like what people wear when they clean up chemical spills.

  “What are you doing?” he said. I tried to run, but he grabbed my arm, tight. He was really strong, and it really hurt. He yanked me back toward him, looked down, and saw the road star gleaming in the headlights from the truck behind us.

&
nbsp; “DON’T MOVE!” he yelled to the driver, who was still honking at Victor. Gripping my arm painfully hard, he reached down, picked up the road star, and showed it to the driver, who said a bad word. Before he could say any more, there was movement on the other side of the street. It was the horsehead, occupied by Taylor, galloping toward the front truck, a road star in each hand. Stumbling along behind her, attempting to zip up his fly despite having traffic cones on his hands, was starfish Matt. What I’m saying is, it was not a stealthy attack.

  The truck driver, who was also wearing a hazmat suit, opened his door, jumped out, and yelled at them to stop. Matt did stop, but Taylor kept coming, although it wasn’t clear what she thought she was going to accomplish. When she got within range, the truck driver, also a large person, took a swing at her and nailed her right in the nose. Fortunately it was the horse’s nose, which was a foot or so higher than Taylor’s actual nose. But he did knock her backward, sending her sprawling onto the road, and sending the two road stars she’d been holding clattering across the street into the grass.

  The driver leaned over and looked like he was going to grab Taylor, but Victor—did I mention that Victor has guts?—came running around from the front of the truck, yelling something I couldn’t understand, and started whacking the driver with his lightsaber.

  The driver probably could have killed Victor, but I guess he decided it was time to stop fooling around with costumed kids and get out of there. He shoved Victor aside, got back into the truck, and told the guy on my side, who was still holding my arm, to get in. The guy shoved me away, jumped into the truck, and slammed the door. The driver stomped on the gas and the truck lurched forward. The second truck did the same thing. But when it moved, there was a loud bang from the back. That was the right rear tire blowing when it rolled over the road star I’d put there.

  The first truck was accelerating away now, and the second one started to follow, but when the driver realized his tire was blown, he hit the brakes and stopped. He started honking his horn, flashing his lights, and yelling at the front truck, which also stopped. The front truck backed up, fast. Doors on both trucks opened.