Blood Games

    ‘Yeah,’ Abilene said. ‘We can go to movies any time.’

    ‘Helen does,' Cora pointed out.

    ‘It doesn’t have to be actual trick-or-treating,’ Abilene said. ‘But it’d be neat to get out into the streets. Put together some costumes. Get a look at the kids.’

    ‘See if any are even out there,’ Cora said. ‘Maybe they’ll all be off having a safe and sane time taking advantage of community activities.’

    ‘If they are,’ Abilene said, ‘I pity them. Anyway, how about it? We don’t actually have to go around ringing doorbells. What we could do is buy a bunch of candy and take it with us, and hand it out to the kids we see.’

    ‘I’ll wear my gorilla mask,’ Finley said.

    ‘Newscene wouldn’t approve,’ Cora told her. ‘It restricts your vision.’

    ‘Screw Newscene.’

    Finley wore her gorilla mask and a suit of green, mechanic’s coveralls that she found after cutting her afternoon classes and searching thrift shops in the seamier area of town. She announced that she would be going out as a grease monkey.

    Cora, averse to dressing up, gave in to pressure from the others and wore her varsity cheerleader costume from high school. It consisted of a white pullover sweater with a large M in front, a short white pleated skirt, white crew socks and sneakers.

    Vivian borrowed a costume from the wardrobe room of the theater arts department. She would be going out as a witch, complete with pointed hat and a flowing black gown. She used makeup to construct a nasty, bulbous wen for the tip of her nose. She didn’t want to carry a broom but Finley talked her into it.

    Abilene prepared her costume in secret. She cut out a foot-long crescent in cardboard, taped it securely to the pendant of a chain necklace, covered the cardboard with aluminium foil and attached the Schick label from a pack of injector blades. She scissored a big hole under one arm of an old sweatshirt. While the others were in the living room, she dressed herself in Reeboks, corduroy pants and the maimed sweatshirt. She dropped the chain over her head so that the shiny crescent hung across her chest. Then she joined the rest of them.

    ‘What the hell are you supposed to be?’ Cora asked, seeming to frown and smile at the same time.

    Abilene grinned. She raised her right arm and waved it up and down, showing her exposed armpit.

    ‘An ad for Ban deodorant,’ suggested Finley, who was tossing her gorilla head from hand to hand.

    ‘Beeeeep. Wrong.’ She tapped the dangling crescent.

    ‘Moon something,’ Helen guessed. ‘A silver moon.’

    ‘You’re a Moonie,’ Cora said.

    ‘Beeeeep. Wrong.’

    ‘A lunatic,’ Finley said.

    ‘I get it,’ Vivian said. Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes upward. ‘I’ll give you gals a couple of hints. One, it’s really dumb.’

    ‘That narrows things down,’ Cora said.

    ‘Two, Abilene’s an English major.’

    ‘Got it,’ Finley said. ‘She’s Huckleberry Armpit.'

    In unison, Vivian and Abilene said, ‘Beeeep. Wrong.’

    ‘Give up?’ Abilene asked. ‘Tell ’em, Viv.’

    ‘She’s “The Pit and the Pendulum,” you weenies.’

    The revelation was greeted with groans, chuckles, smirks and shaking heads.

    ‘Nobody’s gonna get that,’ Cora said.

    ‘So what? I think it’s pretty neat. That’s all that counts.’

    ‘You’re so weird, sometimes,’ Helen said.

    ‘Me? What are you supposed to be?’

    Helen, standing there among a grease monkey, a cheerleader, a ‘Pit and the Pendulum’ and a witch, seemed to be dressed as nothing more than Helen. She wore sneakers, brown corduroy pants and a white blouse. Clutched against her stomach was a wadded white sheet.

    ‘A laundry woman?’ Abilene suggested.

    ‘Hardly.’ Helen shook open her sheet. When she draped it over her head, Abilene saw that holes had been cut for her eyes and mouth.

    ‘Caspar the Friendly Ghost,’ Finley said.

    Helen raised her arms and went, ‘Woooooo.’

    ‘And you say I’m weird.’

    ‘I always used to go as a ghost,’ Helen explained.

    ‘Always?’

    ‘Every Halloween. But you’ve gotta get the full effect.’ Pressing the sheet to her face so she could see out the eyeholes, she drifted over to the sofa. She picked up a short length of rope with a hangman’s noose at one end. She dropped the loop over her head like a necklace, positioning the thick row of coils in the center of her chest. The weight of the noose, Abilene realized, was intended to hold the outfit in place.

    ‘Pretty decent,’ she said.

    'She won’t have to worry about getting hit by a car,’ Cora said.

    ‘True,’ said Abilene. ‘Not a ghost of a chance.’

    ‘Groan,’ Finley remarked. She put on her gorilla head. Bending over the sofa, she picked up her video camera. She taped the others while they gathered flashlights and several plastic sacks loaded with candy they’d purchased that day at a nearby convenience store. Then she led the way, walking backward through the doorway, the camera at her shoulder, recording the procession as it paraded along the corridor.

    Lowering the camera, she trotted downstairs. They followed her into the night.

    ‘ “The sky, it was ashen and sober,” ’ Abilene intoned. ‘ “The leaves, they were crisped and seer. ’Twas night in the lonesome October of my most immemorial year.” ’