Jessy's bedtime was a full half hour earlier than anyone she knew, which was completely unfair. Karma didn’t even have a bedtime. Every night, after she went grudgingly to bed, Jessy sat awake, listening to the TV shows her parents were watching downstairs, and pictured what was going on, like it was on the radio.
At nine, her mom would come by to make sure her light was out, so she’d be under the covers, pretending to be asleep, in case anyone popped a head in. Her mom usually just lingered outside the door, and then went back downstairs. Her bedtime was annoying, but it gave her time to think about things. Sometimes she picked out an actor she liked, and made up long, drawn-out stories about their future life together. But this time of year she had the Halloween story to ponder.
In the dark, thinking of what might come through her own door, she tried to decide if she'd be more scared of something real, like a killer, who actually had a body. Or would it be worse if there was some kind of ghost monster, that could seep into her room from somewhere else? She imagined that being really silent, with padded feet.
Even if it was dead people, coming out of their graves, it seemed like it would be worse if you could see their bodies, if they were physical and could grab you. But then, they’d be something you could get away from. It would be freaky, and people would get hysterical, and stuff. But you could run home and lock your doors and call the police.
If they were spirits, though, you might not even know they were there. But they’d still be dead. They could sneak up behind you and mess with your mind. If they could get out of the ground, they’d probably be able to go through walls, too. One could be in her room right now.
Eventually she listened to her parents come up the stairs and go to bed. She was still awake. Late that night, her bedroom door slowly creaked open, sounding just like a door from a scary movie.
“You awake?” a voice whispered. It was just Twyla, tiptoeing over to the bed. Jessy sat right up.
“What’d you do tonight?” she asked.
“There were two kegs down at the gravel pits.”
“Who was there?”
“Everybody.”
Twyla always said her class was cool because everyone partied together. Jessy could already tell her grade wasn’t going to be like that, when they got into high school.
Tonight she told Jessy about seeing the Homecoming Queen fall on her face because she was so drunk, and how a girl from their church threw up in some guy’s car. Then she said, “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“I'm thinking,” Jessy said.
“Well, if you’re going to stay awake anyway, there’s something you need. I’ll be right back.” Twyla crept out, silent, to her own room. She came back with her old transistor radio, a plastic string hanging out of it, connected to a small plastic earpiece.
“It’s not as strong as the radio in the kitchen, but sometimes, late at night, you can get WLS in. If you keep it under the covers, they’ll never know you have it.”
She swatted Jessy slightly on the head, and said, “Don't let the bed bugs get ya.”
Jessy wedged the lumpy plastic carefully into her ear, and then strained in the dark to read the numbers on the transistor's small read-out. She turned the plastic dial, which was round, with a sharp triangular edge. Twyla was right; eventually WLS started to come in, faintly, and she tweaked the dial, with the tiniest possible movements, until she got the best signal she could. She kept the sound turned down really low. It shouldn’t matter with the earpiece, but it made her nervous to have it above a whisper.
WLS was officially the coolest radio station in the world. They played all the newest songs, and ran ads for movies that would never play at their theater, and they gave away free tickets for concerts. Rock bands came right to the same town as the listeners, which Jessy couldn't even imagine. The contests didn’t help them any: she and Twyla pretended they might get to be the tenth caller, but the station was in Chicago, unimaginably far away. Even so, even when it was crackling or fading out, like it was doing now, it sounded as close as the country music station right in town.
****
The Jack-o-Lantern Box Page 5
