by A. W. Jantha
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Principal Taylor let himself in without ringing the bell, which makes me tense since it means Katie can’t be far behind. He shuts the door behind him, though, so maybe she’s showing up later with Jenny and the rest of their squad. Principal Taylor is wearing a ship captain’s flat cap—a nod, I guess, to the historic lighthouse on Winter Island. My dad says Principal Taylor spends most of his weekends up at the lighthouse, where he serves as a volunteer mechanic and begrudgingly gives tours. When Principal Taylor spots Miss Chen and my dad, he seems to hesitate for a split second, but then he puts on a tight, forced smile and saunters over to join their conversation. I’m surprised Principal Taylor is here, even if Mom made Dad invite all his colleagues.
“I’m shocked he’s not at the lighthouse,” I whisper.
“He can’t turn down an invite from your mom,” says Travis, and I guess he’s right. She does a lot for the PTA, including convincing her firm to sponsor school fundraisers and events. Principal Taylor would’ve known that an invite from my dad was really an invite from my mom.
“So, who else is coming tonight?” Juan snags a pockmarked ghost lollipop. One of mine. Oops. He quickly unwraps it and pops it into his mouth.
“I’m not totally sure,” I say, looking away from Principal Taylor. “Hopefully not Katie.”
But I know it’s just a matter of time before she’s here.
“Yeah,” says Juan. “I saw her messing with you in English today. What’d you do to draw her ire?”
I’m trying to come up with an excuse that doesn’t involve resurrected witches when my mom saves me by sweeping down the stairs. She’s wearing a chic black hat over a platinum blond wig with long bangs and has a metallic blue lightning bolt painted across one side of her face. Her black dress is short and structured, and her hands are covered by studded fingerless motorcycle gloves.
“Mom?” I ask, shocked. She’s not normally a costume person, either, but she’s sure one-upped me. “Who are you supposed to be?”
“Gaga, ooh la-la!” she says, striking a pose. When I just stare at her, she hesitates. “Right?”
“You look gaga in the best of ways, Mrs. Dennison,” says Travis.
“Thank you, Travis,” she says warmly. “Have another cookie.” She points to the adjoining room, where a few more of my classmates have trickled in without my noticing. Luckily, none of them is Katie. “Poppy, why don’t you start a game of charades?” she asks me. “The cards are on the coffee table.”
“I dunno,” I say, “that sounds—”
“Great!” Juan cuts in, noticing my mom’s sharpening look before I do.
I see what Travis means about people not being able to say no to her. Usually it just rolls right off me.
“I thought it’d be fun,” she tells me as the others head over to the couch. “But if it’s not all that, you don’t have to play....”
“I’m sure it’ll be a blast, Mom,” I tell her.
“Oh! Your aunt Dani called. She’s running late.”
“As usual,” I say with a wry smile.
Mom gives me one right back.
We’re both passionate about being punctual, unlike my dad and his sister.
Mom takes my hand. “You look beautiful, by the way,” she says.
I’d been so impressed with her costume that I’d forgotten to be self-conscious about my own.
“Yeah?” I say, cringing. “Travis got it for me. You don’t think it’s too—witchy?”
“It’s perfect.” Mom gives me a big kiss on the forehead. “Now, go have fun.”
I head over to join the rest of my friends, surprised by my mom’s reaction. Seeing both her and my dad in costume and unfazed by my witchy appearance, I wonder if maybe they don’t dislike Halloween as much as I’ve always thought.
Travis goes first in charades, crouching into a ball and then climbing out of it, stretching his arms and legs as far as they can go.
“Creepy baby!” shouts Adena.
“Poison ivy!” says Patsy.
“Baby chicken!” says Cory Brody, a tall, heavyset kid who moved here a year ago and now takes chemistry with me. Tonight, he’s dressed as a top-hatted magician.
Travis turns and leers at us, waving his hands to encourage more guesses.
“Demon baby under an accelerated growth spell!” yells Patsy.
He breaks character to stare at her. “Really, Patsy?”
“No talking,” chastises Juan. The timer beeps and Travis plops down on the couch beside me, frustrated. “Pumpkin!” he says, shaking his head.
“How was that a pumpkin?” asks Juan.
“I think the real question is, how wasn’t that a pumpkin?” says Travis.
The door opens and Katie and Jenny and the rest of their soccer friends come in as one big swarm. All six girls are dressed as zombie soccer players, which isn’t terribly creative.
A knot forms in my stomach. “I’m going to get more cider,” I say to Travis, even though my cup is still full.
He gives me a worried look, but I put on my best smile and slip past the long staircase and into the kitchen.
I’m surprised to find Isabella here. When did she arrive? She’s still in her Athena costume, the shield now strapped to her messenger bag. I’m even more surprised to find my mom here—and I’m mortified when I hear what she’s saying:
“I don’t know about the spirit board. I know it’s a board game and all, but it’s a blood moon tonight, which could amplify magic and psychic connections. Maybe just play charades instead?” She sounds very concerned and disappointed and mom-like.
“Duly noted, Mrs. Dennison. I just thought it’d be a festive game we could all play.”
My eyes land on a flimsy black-and-white cardboard box sitting on the counter between them, with the words summon spirits from beyond the grave emblazoned across the front in a dripping purple slime font. It’s a cheesy spirit board. Isabella must’ve brought it as a fun Halloween-themed gag for the party, but Mom doesn’t find the idea very fun at all, judging by the skeptical look she’s giving it.
“I’m not your mother,” she tells Isabella, “and I won’t tell you what to do, but I just want you to know that it could be very dangerous to tempt the spirits, even if it’s through a cheap board game. Especially tonight.”
I feel a wave of nausea so strong and sudden that I have to summon every bit of restraint I have not to unleash at least a few Halloweens’ worth of pent-up irritation on my mom. For believing such wild things. For dragging me into it—for dragging my friends into it. Of all the Halloween parties in all of Salem, Sanderson-sister superstition walks into mine and does one hell of a number on my already abysmal chances with the most interesting girl in school.
“Isabella,” I say loudly, snapping my mouth into a smile. “I’m glad you could come.”
They both turn to me.
Isabella recovers quickly, grinning and coming over to give me a hug hello as I try not to spill cider on either of us.
A warm, happy feeling pools in my stomach.
“You look amazing, Poppy,” she says, stepping back. “I love your costume.”
Over her shoulder, I give Mom my best We talked about scaring people off face.
She shakes her head, displeased, picks up her cup of cider, and heads back into the party.
“Sorry about that,” I tell Isabella. “She’s superstitious. You know. Her story.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to upset her with my spirit board. Honestly, I thought it’d just be a fun group game, but she caught me at the door and pulled me in here. I totally should have been more sensitive. I wasn’t thinking.” Isabella hesitates for a moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Sorry, I really messed that up,” she laments. “Not exactly the first impression I wanted to make on your mom. She totally hates me now.”
“She doesn’t hate you. And it’s okay. She’s just extra jumpy tonight because it’s a—”
“Blood moon?�
�� asks Isabella, an amused and understanding lilt in her voice. She smiles. “Yeah. I got that.”
“But if we were ever to test the merits of a dollar-store spirit board, tonight’s the night, right?” I say. I realize just how badly I must want to get out of this party if I’m playing into the Sanderson legend. “But we can’t open that box here. Field trip? Sanderson house?”
She looks at me with wide eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah!” I exclaim. I can’t believe I’m saying this—because my parents have always been so strict about the Sanderson house being forbidden—but Isabella looks so excited that in this moment, I really don’t care. She’s clearly interested in the Sandersons, and I’ve never been to the Sanderson house. Why not tonight?
I glance back through the open kitchen door into the main part of my own house and spot Katie breezing around the room as if she’s the hostess of the party. She gives one startled classmate a hug, then takes another by the arm and whispers something in his ear. As she finishes, she looks over at me and smirks. His eyes follow hers. She does this again and again, and each time I feel my willpower draining through my pores and puddling around my boots. “Beats staying here and hanging out with Katie Taylor,” I add.
I look back at Isabella, who looks from me to the weathered spirit board box. We’ve hung out plenty, but rarely when Travis isn’t around. Now, alone here with her, the energy feels next-level. It’s like there’s something crackling between us.
“Ditching is pretty much at the top of the list of things I’d like to do right now,” she confesses. “Plus, Sanderson house on Halloween? Poppy, you’re a genius!”
“Great! Let me go get a jacket.” I put a hand on the light, delicate fabric of her Greek-goddess sleeve.
“I’ll come, too,” Isabella says. “Just in case you need backup.”
“Thanks,” I say.
I feel like the worst is over. At least I hope it is.
But as we walk back into the party room, I bump straight into Katie, nearly spilling my cider all over her.
She steps back from the open kitchen door and smirks at me.
Did Katie just hear everything we said about going to the Sanderson house?
I’m kicking myself for not being more careful, but I tell myself I’m just getting paranoid and push the concern away.
As we pass Travis and his friends, he looks from me to Katie, who’s moved to the center of the room with her zombie soccer squad. She keeps laughing just loud enough and glancing my way so that I know she’s trying to draw my attention.
“Ugh. Why is she so awful?” I ask Travis.
“You’ve been Taylored,” he says in a low voice. “She always picks out one person to make miserable.”
“Have you ever been Taylored?” I glance from him to Isabella and back.
“I haven’t,” he says, “but Juan was last spring because he rejected one of her defensive midfielders, poor guy.”
“Maybe her dad told her it was time to continue the family legacy of bullying,” I joke.
“Yeah,” Travis muses. “We are creeping up on graduation.”
The thought of graduating soon both excites and terrifies me.
“Poppy, you ready to go?” Isabella asks me. “I feel like we’ve reached peak Taylor.”
“Where are we going?” asks Travis.
Well. So much for being alone with her.
“The Sanderson house,” says Isabella matter-of-factly. “I have the spirit board.” She winks at me, and my insides flutter.
“Your mom will be so pissed,” Travis whispers to me with a smile.
Katie lets out a high-pitched shriek of laughter, then glances in my direction and away.
Cider spills over my wrist and I look down, shocked to find that I’ve crushed my cup without realizing it.
“Okay, point taken. Let’s go,” says Travis, extracting the paper cup from my hand as I scramble for napkins to dry the floor.
Juan gallantly mops the last of the cider from my arm with the edge of his cloak.
We all look up when Katie walks toward us, her squad gathered around her in a defensive formation. Is that a soccer thing? I ignore her and tell myself she’s going to breeze past—but then she actually stops short of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Juan take a step back, like he’s afraid of being Taylored a second time.
“I see you’re a basic witch,” Katie tells me. “Cute.” But her tone of voice suggests she’s actually over it.
I eye her soccer uniform. “And you’re...offensive?” I ask.
“Nice one, Pops!” I hear Travis whisper.
“I’m a fullback from the dead,” Katie says, deadpan.
Behind me, Isabella actually cracks up.
Katie shoots her a disdainful look, then turns back to me. “I’m surprised you’re not hiding from the Sanderson sisters. I hear they’re back, and they’re hungry for Dennison blood.”
Her friends giggle at her joke.
“What are you talking about, Katie?” Juan asks. He’s trying to protect me by calling her bluff, not realizing that this opening is exactly what she’s been waiting for.
“Oh, Poppy hasn’t told you? Her family believes in witches and zombies—like, they legit think they brought the Sanderson sisters back from the dead twenty-five years ago.”
Her friends erupt into hyena laughter.
Jenny gives Katie a high five. “Score.”
I feel my face go scarlet. “Stop,” I say, but it comes out in a hoarse whisper. I look around to make sure my mom and dad are nowhere in earshot. Luckily, they’re off in the corner by the crackling fireplace, hand in hand and giving each other their classic love eyes and a kiss.
Still no sign of Aunt Dani.
“If you think her family’s so nuts, why are you here?” Travis asks Katie.
“To live-stream the freak show, of course,” says Katie, waving her phone. “My fans love it. Standards for entertainment in Salem are low.”
“Hey—” starts Isabella, stepping between Katie and me.
“Is something the matter here?” The clipped voice belongs to none other than Principal Taylor, whom I’m surprised to see standing behind me. He looks me in the eyes, and I see some expression flicker over his face when he no doubt notices the intense expression etched on mine, but I can’t figure out what he’s thinking. “Katie, go get some cider,” he commands coolly.
“That’s what passes for cider here? No, thanks,” she says. The venom hasn’t left her voice. “Besides, I was just catching up with Bella.” She fakes a nicey-nice smile.
“Isabella,” she corrects, shaking her head. Her eyes are sharp and clouded, like there’s a storm raging behind them. It’s a look I haven’t seen from Isabella before—like a warning siren in glare form. “And we’re not tight, Katie.”
For a second, I actually think I see Katie wince. She stares back at Isabella like she wants to say something to set the record straight.
My gaze flickers between the two of them. Bella, Katie called her. That’s...new.
Katie rolls her eyes. “Sure,” she replies to her dad. “Whatever you say.” She turns, and her squad parts behind her to let her lead them to the other side of the living room.
Principal Taylor stays put. He studies my face for another second—a long dark stare that’s full of what I can only guess is hate. Seriously, what’s his deal? What have I ever done to him? He turns suddenly on his heel and practically glides out of my house. Those standing closest to the door look over but quickly turn back to their conversations.
“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper to my friends.
“Yes, let’s,” seconds Travis.
I look over at Juan and my other classmates, who are watching me with concern. But are they worried because of the way Katie treated me or because of what she said? Do they all think I’m some loser now, and that I think witches are real, too, like my family?
Isabella leads us back to the kitchen, then holds up her spirit board box. “S
anderson house?”
Travis adjusts his stethoscope uncomfortably. I can tell he wants to get me out of here before I start screaming at Katie, but I also know my parents have his parents on speed dial, and their combined wrath will not be pretty if we’re caught sneaking out of a seemingly innocent party to trespass on private property.
I glance through the open kitchen door at Katie, who’s whispering to Jenny.
Jeez. Give it a break.
“Sure,” I reply to Isabella. “The keys are in my mom’s room. Give me a minute.”
I climb the stairs and slip into my parents’ room, using just my phone’s flashlight to avoid tripping on the rug at the foot of their bed. My mom keeps the two keys—one for the Sanderson gate and one for the Sanderson house—in the bottom drawer of her jewelry box, which sits on the polished top of the dresser alongside some framed pictures.
There’s a photo of their wedding, which took place a few years after they both graduated from college and moved back to Salem. There’s one of me as a baby, draped in a lopsided baby blanket that my aunt Dani made out of red and yellow yarn. It was the first and last thing she ever crocheted. There’s also a framed photo of my mom and dad and Aunt Dani at Halloween, back when my parents were about my age.
I pull out the jewelry box drawer and fish for the old silver keys, which are clipped to a leather key ring. They’re next to my mom’s favorite necklace, which she wore the night she and my dad had their first kiss. The night they woke the Sanderson sisters and sent them back to the grave. Allegedly. My fingers slip over the big pearls of the necklace and the Victorian-style cameo pendant. She wore it on their wedding day, too. How can they dislike the Sandersons and Halloween so much if it brought them together? How can my mom be so afraid of all those things if she doesn’t mind keeping this necklace around to remind herself of them? They didn’t seem to dislike Halloween or costumes or the idea of magic in this photo. In fact, they look so happy to be alive and together on this holiday. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the only reason they’ve held back on the pumpkins and cauldrons and dancing skeletons all these years.
I know I should head back downstairs before I get caught, but instead I pick up the photo and hold my phone’s flashlight a little closer to the glass. Dani was eight or nine then, and in the photo she’s wearing a blue empire-waist dress with cap sleeves. My dad is in full Peter Pan attire, complete with green tights and feathered felt cap. My mom, who has her hair in a ballerina bun, is wearing a short green dress with fairy wings. In the picture, my dad’s on one knee with Dani balanced on his propped-up leg, and my mom’s crouching down to get in the frame. Her left arm is draped over my dad’s shoulders, and her right crosses his chest, holding him tight. She’s beaming at the camera, but he’s only got eyes for her.
