The Midnight Door

by Sam Fisher

  At last Melissa flopped back in her chair and put her hand on her stomach while Morton licked the crumbs off his plate.

  “Not so bad, eh?” Dad said with a satisfied grin.

  “Awesome,” James said.

  “They were almost as good as Mum’s,” Morton said, trying not to sound incredulous.

  “Yeah, they were,” Melissa agreed, her expression suddenly shifting to suspicion. “Wait a minute. Did you just buy them from the bakery?”

  “No, I did not!” Dad said with a tone of mock offense. “They’re homemade.”

  “So you made them, all by yourself?”

  Dad scratched his ear the way he always did when he wasn’t being exactly truthful. “Well, actually, no. I didn’t do that either.”

  “Aha!” Melissa said. “I knew it!”

  “But if you didn’t make them, who did?” James asked, still chewing his last mouthful.

  “Mrs. Smedley very kindly brought them over early this morning.”

  “Mrs. Smedley?” Melissa said. “The old lady from across the street? I’m surprised she could manage to walk this far. I saw her shuffling down her driveway with her walker last week, and she was moving so slowly I thought she’d keel over and die before she got to her door.”

  “Melissa!” Dad said. “Don’t be rude. Mrs. Smedley is a very energetic and generous woman. You be sure to thank her next time you see her. Now, it’s time for school. Off you go. Put something useful in your heads.”

  Morton jumped up and grabbed his schoolbag and Zombie Twin mask, and a few minutes later the three kids tramped out the door. Melissa’s classmate Wendy was waiting for them at the bottom of the winding driveway, wearing a tight-fitting panther costume.

  “Great costumes,” she called as they approached. “You must be young Albert Einstein,” she added, smiling encouragingly at James, who for some reason had dropped his pipe.

  He picked it up quickly and gave Wendy a disappointed look. “I’m Sigmund Freud,” he said.

  “Oh, really?” Wendy replied with a confused expression. “I was sure he smoked a cigar.”

  “He did?” James said, scratching nervously at his beard. “Well, anyway, your, uh, costume looks really good.”

  “Thanks!” Wendy said. “And I’ll tell you something: It’s a lot more comfortable than that duck costume I wore last year.”

  Melissa frowned disapprovingly. “You wore a duck costume? Don’t you know the rule? Mice, bunnies, carnivores, or princesses. Anything else is bad taste on a girl.”

  “Oh, at least I got the carnivore thing right, then,” Wendy said. “And I can do the growl too.”

  “No need to get carried away!” Melissa said, glaring. “In fact, we all have to remember not to get carried away. Especially today. Don’t even think about magic!”

  At that moment an old yellow car stopped right in front of their driveway. Morton saw a nervous-looking teenage boy in a cowboy hat sitting in the driver’s seat. He wore a brass sheriff’s star on his striped red-and-gray shirt.

  “Oh, I forgot,” Melissa said. “That Jim boy is giving us a ride this morning.”

  “Actually, his name is Jake,” Wendy corrected.

  “Jake, Jim, Jack-in-the-box. He’s the boy with the car is all I remember,” Melissa said, waving her hand dismissively.

  “Why do you need a ride?” James said. “Your school is even closer than ours. It’s like five blocks away.”

  “Yes, and I’d like to see you walk even one of those blocks with these shoes on,” Melissa said, pointing at her white pumps.

  James screwed his nose up, and Morton was fairly sure that he and Melissa were about to start bickering about the merits of sensible shoes, which was a favorite disagreement they had, but fortunately the teenager driving the car got out and waved eagerly even though he was only a few feet away.

  “Hi, Melissa. Hi, Wendy,” he said, and then turned to James and Morton. “Hi, I’m Jake. You must be James and Morton. I’ve heard lots about you.”

  “You have?” James said with a look of complete surprise on his face.

  “Sure,” Jake said. “Melissa says you’re both really cool and —”

  Melissa suddenly stepped in front of Jake and pulled the car door open.

  “Yes, well, I don’t think we have time to stand around and chat,” she said, glaring at Jake. “I mean, we all have school to get to, right?”

  For some reason Jake blushed slightly as he nodded. “Uh, yeah, well, nice to meet you both,” he said, and climbed back in the car.

  Wendy got in the backseat and Melissa gave the boys another warning glance. “Remember, don’t even think about you-know-what,” she said, and then jumped in after Wendy.

  Jake struggled with the gears, waved to James and Morton one more time, and then lurched off down the road.

  “Don’t you think Melissa’s overreacting to this whole Halloween thing?” James asked as he and Morton turned to head in the other direction.

  Morton didn’t know how to respond to this. On the one hand, he had to agree with James that they were all overreacting a little. But on the other hand, he wasn’t sure it was true to say Halloween was just an ordinary day. One of the things he used to love about Halloween was the fact that it was one of the oldest practiced traditions in the world. It was older than Christmas, dating back to pagan times and quite probably older even than that, and try as he might, he just couldn’t shake the idea that if it had been around for that long, there had to be something to it.

  “I don’t know,” Morton said, deciding not to share his concerns. “Nothing’s ever happened to us before on Halloween, so I don’t suppose there’s any reason for something to happen now.”

  “Hm!” James said. “You don’t sound very optimistic. What does it say in Scare Scape about Halloween anyway? I only ever remember that one funny story about all the pumpkins coming to life at midnight.”

  Morton remembered that story, but he also remembered lots of others, and they all had one thing in common: On Halloween night, the magical realm has a habit of spilling over into the normal world.

  “I’m sure it’s going to be fine,” Morton said, but even as he was saying this he had a pang of doubt.

  At that moment Robbie came bounding up behind them, looking just about as cheerful and excited as Morton had ever seen him. He was wearing a very authentic pirate costume, minus the cutlass, because Principal Finch had made it very clear that there were to be no swords or guns as part of the costumes.

  “The cape looks great,” Robbie said. He then looked more closely at James’s outfit and smiled. “You must be that painter guy, what’s his name? Salvador Dalí.”

  James frowned. “Sigmund Freud actually.”

  Robbie cocked his head curiously. “Really? Didn’t he smoke a —”

  “Look, does it matter?” James cut in crossly. “I mean, it’s just a costume.”

  “Uh, sorry,” Robbie said, clearly puzzled by James’s tone. “Listen, I can’t stop. I have to go and meet with Nolan about his new band.”

  Morton was completely surprised by this statement. “New band?” he said. “I thought you weren’t interested in joining his band.”

  “Yeah, I know, but he kept asking me and I figured it might be fun. The only bad news is that the first rehearsal is tonight.”

  “On Halloween?” Morton exclaimed.

  “I know, I’m sorry to miss trick-or-treating. But Nolan’s already got a concert scheduled for next week, so he says we need to start practicing right away.”

  Morton didn’t quite know what to say. He’d been so looking forward to having Robbie join them that it was difficult to hide his disappointment.

  “Oh well, at least your teeth will be happy that you’re missing out on Halloween,” James said in his usual optimistic tone. “What kind of music are you playing?”

  Robbie smiled. “It’s punk rock. Very loud, very cutting edge. It’s going to be pretty cool. And I can get you guys into the shows for free!
”

  “Oh, uh, wow!” Morton stammered, wondering why Robbie thought he’d have any interest in going to a punk rock concert.

  “You will come to the shows, right?” Robbie said.

  “Yes, of course!” Morton replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  “Great! It’ll be fun, you’ll see. Anyway, gotta run.” And with that Robbie started sprinting on ahead.

  “See you at recess,” Morton called.

  Robbie slowed down momentarily. “Oh, I might be meeting with the other band members then,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll let you know!”

  Morton sighed. “I can’t believe he’s joining that stupid band.”

  “I don’t know,” James said, shrugging his shoulders. “It might be cool. That Nolan kid seems pretty smart.”

  “I guess so,” Morton replied, but he couldn’t help feeling that this was a bad start to Halloween.

  When they arrived at school Morton was pleasantly surprised to find that there were a lot more Scare Scape–inspired costumes than he had seen in his previous school, where he’d been practically the only fan. Barry Flynn wore a Gristle Grunt costume, one girl who Morton didn’t recognize wore a silky blue Toxic Vapor Worm outfit, and, not surprisingly, Timothy Clarke was also dressed as a Zombie Twin, although Timmy’s cape wasn’t nearly as authentic as the one Robbie had found for Morton.

  Aside from that, everything looked and felt just like any other Halloween he’d experienced. Most of the costumes were of cats, ghosts, and grim reapers, and everyone was just a little more excited and mischievous than usual, which of course led to the usual spate of minor accidents and pranks. Oliver Jones tripped and sprained his wrist while trying to play soccer in his clown feet, Nelly Stark broke out in a rash because her fluffy pink cloud costume was made of fiberglass insulation, and Karen Blandford got tangled in her cloak and stumbled into Mrs. Wallis’s fossil table, sending the collection flying across the floor. Fortunately neither fossils nor bones were broken.

  When morning recess arrived, Robbie was nowhere to be found, and Morton stood around looking at costumes and wondering just how many meetings a punk band really needed. From what he understood, they mostly just made noise.

  As he stood there, a boy approached him wearing an expensive-looking silver space suit with a plastic bubble helmet.

  “Hey, Morton!” the boy said. “I hear your dad’s from England?”

  Morton stared at the boy, wondering who he was, and only when he got much closer did Morton spot the slicked-back, perfectly combed hair and realize it was Derek Howell, a boy his age. Derek usually wore fancy clothing consisting of pleated pants, a buttoned-up collared shirt, and formal shoes, so he was barely recognizable in his space suit.

  “Uh, pardon?” Morton said, confused not only by the comment but also by the fact that Derek was talking to him at all. On several occasions Morton had tried to strike up conversations with him, but Derek had always either ignored him completely or answered curtly and walked away.

  “Your dad, he’s from England, right?” Derek repeated, now standing face-to-face with Morton.

  “Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Morton said warily. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason. I just think England’s a fascinating country.”

  “Fascinating?” Morton echoed.

  “Yes. And cricket is my favorite game. I suppose it’s yours too?”

  “Um, not really,” Morton said, realizing this was a vast understatement. He’d never even played cricket, although Dad had bought James a cricket bat once, long ago.

  “Oh!” For a moment Derek looked so appalled that Morton was sure he was about to do his usual trick of just turning away and walking off, but for some reason he didn’t and the expression quickly passed and he put on a faint smile. “Do you want to see the rest of my costume?” he said. “It’s in my locker.”

  “Sure, that would be fun,” Morton said, happy that Derek seemed to have come out of his shell and wondering if he might have found a new friend.

  Derek led Morton to his locker, which was tucked away at the end of a long empty corridor on the top floor.

  “Since you’re a Scare Scape fan I thought you might like this,” Derek said, opening his locker and pulling out a large, futuristic-looking toy rifle. Morton recognized it at once. He’d seen it advertised in the back pages of Scare Scape many times, but it was one of the more expensive collectibles and it had never really appealed to him as much as the monster toys. According to the advertisement, it was an Antigravity Laser Cannon. Morton remembered that the ad showed a kid sitting on a floating chair in a classroom while the teacher and all the other kids looked on in shocked amazement. Of course, Morton knew the descriptions in those ads were always hugely exaggerated.

  Derek handed the rifle to Morton proudly. “I’m keeping it in my locker until I go home because of Principal Finch’s stupid ban on toy guns, but it’s part of my costume.”

  Morton held the laser. “How does it work?” he asked.

  “Pull the trigger. Try it out,” Derek said in a gloating tone.

  Morton pointed it down the hall and pulled the trigger. A faint green bulb flickered in the barrel of the gun and a tinny electronic sound emitted from a small speaker in the handle. It was far from impressive.

  “Oh, uh, that’s pretty cool,” Morton said, trying to sound enthusiastic, but Derek seemed put off by his reaction.

  “Well, I think it’s cool,” Derek said, sounding offended, and he reached to take the laser back, but before Morton could hand it over, a voice that froze his heart reverberated in the hall behind him.

  “Morton Clay, why am I not surprised to find you flouting school rules?”

  Morton turned, the laser cannon still firmly clutched in his hands, to see Principal Finch pacing toward them with angry, bulbous eyes.

  “Sir, I … It’s not … ,” Morton stammered, but Derek cut in before he could say anything coherent.

  “He made me show it to him, sir. I told him it wasn’t allowed, but he made me.”

  Morton turned and stared at Derek, his jaw dropping in disbelief.

  Finch stopped just a few feet from Morton. “Hand it over.”

  “But, sir, it’s mine,” Derek said desperately. “I was keeping it in my locker until after school when —”

  “It’s not in your locker now though, is it?” Finch shot back. “Hand it over, Morton. I’ll keep it in my office. You can collect it after school tomorrow.”

  Derek’s face went deathly white. “But, sir, it’s part of my costume. I need it tonight.”

  “Don’t care. You’re lucky you’re not getting detention.”

  Morton handed over the toy. Finch took it and stared down at him as if about to say something. He cleared his throat, but then an odd expression flashed across his face. To Morton’s confusion, it looked like fear. But the expression vanished as quickly as it had come, and Finch paced off without another word. A moment later Morton and Derek were alone again.

  “Now what am I going to do?” Derek snapped bitterly. “That was part of my costume.”

  “I’m sorry,” Morton said, still pondering the odd expression on Finch’s face, “but I didn’t make you do anything.”

  “Well, Finch never comes up here,” Derek said with a scowl. “You know what I think: It’s true what everyone says about you. You and your whole family, you’re jinxed.” And with that he slammed his locker shut and ran off down the stairs.

  Morton stood there for a minute in stunned silence, not sure whether he was more shocked by Derek’s ridiculous behavior or the outlandish accusation he’d just made. Surely the other kids believed no such thing.

  But Morton thought again of the expression on Finch’s face, and about how the principal had come out of nowhere, as if he’d been lurking in the wings, just waiting for Morton to step out of line. He realized with despair that Derek was probably right. Even though nobody could know for certain about Morton’s role in recent strange events, that would
n’t stop them from having suspicions. And it was just beginning to dawn on Morton that people would probably imagine all kinds of odd things — things that might even be a lot worse than the truth.

  For the first time he realized that even without the cloud of runaway magic hanging over their heads, settling into a normal life in Dimvale was going to be a long and difficult road.

  Any lingering concerns Morton had about his family’s reputation in Dimvale were pushed to the back of his mind as the sun went down and preparations for trick-or-treating began in earnest. It turned out that Wendy had convinced Melissa to find a better costume, and she appeared just before dark dressed as an Arabian princess. James quickly made a paper cigar, and Morton put new batteries in his mask to make the eyes glow as brightly as possible.

  At six o’clock the doorbell rang and Wendy arrived in a very excited, bubbly mood.

  “Ready to roar?” she said, making a soft but convincing growl, which seemed to have an odd effect on James.

  “As ready as we’ll ever be,” Melissa said.

  “I suppose I’ll have to stay here and hand out candy,” Dad said, donning the same silly hat and rubber nose that he’d worn each year for as long as Morton could remember. “Which means you’ll be on your own, so stick together.”

  “We will,” James promised.

  “And don’t stay out too late. You still have school tomorrow, remember.”

  “Like we could forget,” Melissa groaned, and the four of them ventured out into the night.

  Wendy led them directly to the nearest side street, which she promised was a hot spot for candy, and Morton was surprised to find it already crowded with kids and parents dressed in all manner of creepy and whimsical costumes. It was also extravagantly decorated. There were softly glowing pumpkins at every door, fake cobwebs stretching in the branches overhead, and dozens of ghosts, spiders, and plastic bats hanging from porches and draped over fences. Not only that, but a soft mist had settled over everything, illuminated by the few sparsely placed streetlights. The scene couldn’t have been more perfect if John King himself had illustrated it. In fact, Morton suddenly realized, John King had drawn this street, or at least a few of the houses on it, in various issues of Scare Scape. The house closest to them was an old shingled building with a twisted bell tower that Morton remembered from a story about a man whose house became infested with Smother Fish, and just beside that was a square house with a widow’s walk on the roof that had been featured in a story about a woman who turned into a giant moth every month.