by Jeff Strand
“A…witch?”
The witch nodded.
“Any special reason why?”
“It is unexpected. It is frightening. Nobody would ever guess it was me.”
“Because it’s a witch? No offense, Peter, but you aren’t built like most people.” Marcus was starting to believe that he should flee the car and take his chances outside.
“This was my mom’s mask.”
“For fighting crime?”
“No, for Halloween. But she’s my hero, and to honor her, I wear it.”
“So…what? You go around on a broomstick fighting crime?”
“You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me.”
“That wasn’t making fun of you,” Marcus insisted. “You’re wearing a green warty witch mask. It was a legitimate question.”
“You know perfectly well that I can’t fly.”
“I didn’t say fly. I said, ‘Go around.’ You could be acting like you were flying on a broomstick but just walking around with it. I guess that does sound like I’m making fun of you, but you’re the one wearing a witch mask.”
“I’ll accept that,” said Peter. “I do not have a broom. I don’t wear a pointy black hat or a cloak, and I don’t have an eye of newt in my pocket. I don’t stir a bubbling cauldron, and I don’t try to cast spells. I did try to cackle once. But it sounded dumb, and I didn’t try again. I wear this mask when I protect the defenseless.”
Marcus didn’t know if asking if Peter was joking would count as making fun of him. He decided not to risk it. “Okay, you’re a superhero known as the Witch.”
“I didn’t say superhero.”
“You implied it.”
“I behave in a way that a superhero would, but I’d never use that word to describe myself. If I had Batman’s funding, I might, but I don’t. And I don’t call myself the Witch. If others choose to do that, that’s their business. I simply protect my secret identity so my mother isn’t subjected to attempts by villains to seek vengeance. I come out here every once in a while to help keep the streets safe.”
“Okay,” said Marcus. “Well, this has been very eye-opening and educational. I’m honored that you trusted me with your secret, and you have my promise that I won’t breathe a word about it to a single soul. I’m glad we went on this little adventure.”
“I’m glad too.”
“Ready to take off the ol’ witch mask and go home? We need a good night’s sleep if we’re going to do school and shark tank construction and stuff tomorrow.”
Peter reached down and pulled a lever to pop the trunk. “No way did we drive all the way out here not to stop a crime.”
17
Now Marcus decided that his question would not be considered making fun of Peter. “You’re joking, right?”
“Nope.”
“I’m not getting out of the car.”
“I didn’t say that you would be stopping crime. You’re just going to watch while I do it.” Peter opened the door.
“Seriously, Peter,” said Marcus, staring to panic, “this isn’t funny anymore.”
“I won’t let you get hurt.”
“Look, I don’t want to offend you by using the word delusional, but yes, you’re being just a tiny bit delusional. You can’t go fighting crime in a witch mask. You’re going to get killed.”
“I haven’t died yet.”
“Lots of people didn’t die until the moment they got themselves killed.”
Peter got out of the car. “C’mon.”
“No.”
“C’mon.”
“No.”
Peter shut the door and walked back to the trunk. He raised the lid.
This was absolute madness. This was pure, unfiltered insanity. People didn’t do this! They didn’t drive out to a scary part of town, put on a Halloween mask, and venture out to fight crime! It was not the traditional way that humans chose to behave!
Marcus needed to call Mom, tell her about his poor judgment, and ask her to pick him up. He was about to place the call, but then he flinched. A witch was standing next to the door. He had plenty of evidence that it was, in fact, Peter in his witch mask, but Marcus couldn’t lie to himself. There’d been a split second when he thought it was a real witch.
“C’mon, Marcus. It’ll be exciting.” Peter held out a pair of hockey sticks, which seemed woefully inadequate for an evening of crime fighting.
“I don’t want or need any more excitement in my life.”
Peter tried to open the door, but it was locked. He pressed a button on his car key, unlocking the door, and then he opened it. “Are you calling the police?”
“No, my parents.”
“Why?”
“To pick me up.”
“Oh, you’d be dead long before they got here. Why is somebody who can fend off three big kids with a deck of cards so worried?”
“Ken, Chris, and Joe weren’t going to shoot or stab me. Or both!”
“You don’t know that.”
“It’s a reasonable assumption.”
“I guess so.” Peter scratched his cheek, but apparently, he couldn’t get at the itch through the mask, so he reached underneath it.
“If you want to be a vigilante, that’s totally fine,” said Marcus. “I’m choosing a slightly different plan for tonight.”
“Please don’t,” said Peter.
“Sorry. I’m not going to watch you put yourself in peril.”
Peter lowered his head like a child being scolded. “I guess this was a bad idea.”
“You think?”
Peter returned to the back of the car, put away the hockey sticks, and closed the trunk.
“Hello! What have we here?” somebody called out.
Marcus turned at the sound of the voice. It was two guys about a block away. One had spiky blond hair, and the other had shaggy blond hair. They looked a few years older than Marcus and Peter. Neither of them appeared to be particularly pleasant individuals.
“Oh, we’ve got some Halloween action going on!” said the shaggy one. “Looks like we’re in the middle of a zombie attack!”
“I’m a witch,” Peter muttered, but not loud enough for them to hear.
“Get in the car, Peter,” said Marcus. “Get in the car really fast so we can drive away.”
Marcus felt a little guilty for assuming that these guys were bad news. They might simply be delighted that somebody was in the holiday spirit.
They guys reached into their leather jackets. The spiky one took out a great big knife, and the shaggy one took out a claw hammer. Marcus felt less guilty.
“Peter! Car! Peter! Car!”
Peter climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door. “I know I can handle them, but I’ll respect your wishes.”
“Start the engine! Start the engine! Start it! Start it!”
Peter slid the key into the ignition and turned it. Marcus expected the car to start. It did not. The engine made a sound like it was kind of trying to roar to life, but it didn’t actually turn over.
“Hmmmm,” said Peter.
“Start it! Start it! Start it!”
Peter continued to twist the key, but the car still didn’t start. Marcus glanced over at the guys, who looked very amused by their automotive difficulties. They weren’t running toward the vehicle or even picking up their pace, but it was clear that the car was their destination.
“This has never happened before,” said Peter.
“What did you do to the car?” Marcus demanded.
“I didn’t do anything to the car!”
“You sabotaged it!”
“Why would I sabotage it?”
“Because you want to fight crime!”
“Yeah, but I want to be able to drive home afterward!”
“Start it
!”
“Do you want to try?”
“Yes! I do!” Marcus leaned over and turned the key in the ignition. The engine made a noise that indicated it was aware of the basic concept of what was supposed to be happening, but it wasn’t ready to commit.
“Don’t twist it so hard!” said Peter. “You’ll break the key!”
Marcus let go of the key and leaned back in his seat. He was getting tired of fearing for his personal safety. He just wanted to go for a short amount of time—perhaps two or three days—without being in danger. Two or three days. That was all.
“Please start your car,” requested Marcus, keeping his voice calm.
“I’m sure it’ll start this time,” said Peter, turning the key again. The car didn’t start. This time it didn’t even make a noise to indicate that it was trying.
The two guys walked up to the car. The shaggy-haired guy with the hammer stood next to Marcus’s window, and the spiky-haired guy with the knife stood next to Peter’s.
“Did you ever end up calling 911?” Peter asked.
“No.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“Drop your phone on the floor,” said Shaggy Hair. Marcus wasn’t sure if the ruffian had heard Peter’s question or if it just made sense that, as a criminal, he would know to address the phone issue on his own.
Marcus considered not dropping it, but at this point calling the police would just expedite the process of the two guys killing them, so he tossed his phone by his feet.
“Get out of the car,” said Spiky Hair.
Peter and Marcus both shook their heads.
Shaggy Hair and Spiky Hair tested the door handles. Fortunately, they were locked, ensuring Marcus a couple of extra seconds of sweet, precious life.
“Unlock the door,” said Shaggy Hair.
“Don’t unlock the door,” Marcus told Peter.
Shaggy Hair held up the hammer and tapped it gently against the window. “I said…unlock the door.”
“Peter, I’ll give you a million dollars if you tell me this is a practical joke,” said Marcus.
“Do I have to tell the truth?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t do that.”
Shaggy Hair tapped his hammer against the glass again, less gently this time. “Don’t make me come in there after you.”
Peter said, “They could just be messing with us.”
Shaggy Hair bashed the hammer into the window, shattering the glass. There was no need for Peter to say, “Well, I guess they aren’t.” They both understood that once the situation escalated to a car window being broken by a claw hammer, it was no longer likely to be an amusing prank.
Marcus wanted to stay brave, so he let out his bravest scream.
“Going to unlock the door now?” asked Shaggy Hair. The lock was now easily accessible to both of them, but Marcus reached over and pulled it up. Shaggy Hair thanked him and opened the door. “Get out.”
Marcus decided that it was in his best interest to follow instructions. He got out of the car.
“Give me your wallet,” said Shaggy Hair.
Marcus took his wallet out of his back pocket and handed it over. Shaggy Hair opened it up and flipped through the contents. “Eight bucks?”
“I thought it was nine.”
“I miscounted. Nine bucks? It’s barely worth breaking your window for nine bucks.”
“Sorry.”
“Where are your credit cards?”
“I’m fifteen.”
“Don’t you have, like, a movie theater gift card or something? This frozen yogurt card only has two stamps on it.” He took out Marcus’s student ID and looked back and forth between it and Marcus. “Not a great picture, dude.”
“I know.”
“Does he have a library card?” asked Spiky Hair.
“Yeah.”
“Maybe we could check out a bunch of books and sell them.”
“Nah. The libraries are all closed. He’ll cancel the card before they open tomorrow.” Shaggy Hair took out the nine dollars, shoved it into his pocket, and tossed the wallet back at Marcus. “You made me waste my time, kid. Know what I do to people who waste my time?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Guess.”
“I don’t know.”
“Try anyway.”
“You scold them?”
“Nope.”
“Tickle them?”
Shaggy Hair held the hammer up to Marcus’s face. “What I do is I knock out all of their teeth. So yeah, it’s the same punishment as if you hadn’t gotten out of the car.”
“Do you want to see a magic trick?” Marcus asked.
“What?”
“I’m a magician. Do you want to see a card trick?”
“Nope, I sure don’t.”
“It’ll only take a minute.”
“Are you seriously trying to distract me from knocking out your teeth by offering to show me a magic trick?”
“No, I’m offering some entertainment. Without teeth, I can’t really do my patter, so it’ll be my last trick for a while.”
“Are you hearing this?” Shaggy Hair asked Spiky Hair. “The kid is trying to distract me with a trick. Nobody would be dumb enough to fall for that.”
“These three bullies were threatening to beat me up, and it worked on them,” Marcus offered.
“No way.”
“It did.”
“The bullies at your school must not be very smart.”
“Bullies usually aren’t.”
“Didn’t they suspect that something was up? If I’m about to mug somebody and they offer to do a magic trick, I automatically assume that their intentions are sneaky.”
“I’m sure they thought I was being sneaky,” said Marcus, “but they got caught up in the performance.”
“But why did they even let you begin? That’s the part I’m having a problem with.”
“I guess you had to be there.”
“I can’t envision that scenario. If I’m going to punch somebody or break their bones with a hammer, there’s no way that I’d ever allow them to start a magic trick. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy magic as much as anybody. Well, maybe a little less than most people, but I still enjoy it on occasion. If I’m at one of my nephew or niece’s birthday parties and a magician comes out, it’s not like I leave the room or anything. But it’s a completely different environment. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Like I said, you had to be there.”
“Who were these bullies? Give me their names. If they’re that dumb, maybe I should pay them a visit, get them out of the gene pool.”
Marcus didn’t think Shaggy Hair was serious, but he also didn’t want three dead seniors on his conscience. “Abner, Hugo, and Mortimer.”
“What are their last names?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know them very well.”
“That’s okay. This will be more of a challenge. I’m always looking for ways to pass the time.”
“So you’re going to hunt down the bullies and let us go?” Marcus asked.
“Oh, no, no, I hope I didn’t give you that idea. Apologies if I did. It certainly wasn’t my intention.”
“You’re going to kill us?”
“Nah.”
“You’re going to insult us and then let us go?”
“Worse than that.”
“You’re going to…shove me?”
Shaggy Hair grinned. “Magicians use their hands a lot, don’t they?”
“Yes,” Marcus confirmed.
“You use your hands to shuffle cards, to make coins disappear, to wave magic wands—all that stuff. Could you be an effective magician without the use of your hands?”
Marcus felt a full-fledged panic attack coming o
n. “Not really.”
Shaggy Hair scraped the claw end of his hammer down the side of Peter’s car. “Yeah, it would be a bummer if something happened to your hands.”
Marcus said nothing.
For the first time since the hooligans had broken the windows, Peter spoke up, “If you hurt him, I’ll destroy you.”
Shaggy Hair glanced over at him. “That so?”
“Yes.”
“Planning to eat my brains?”
“It’s a witch mask, not a zombie.”
“Fine. Planning to cast a spell on me?”
“Perhaps.”
“Take off the mask.”
“No. Sorry.”
“My buddy has a really big knife, and I think you’ll be unpleasantly surprised by how willing he is to use it. My recommendation—and it’s just a recommendation—is that you do exactly what we tell you to do when we tell you to do it. If you choose to ignore that, well, we make our own choices in life, I suppose.”
Shaggy Hair returned his attention to Marcus. “Put out your hand.”
“No.”
“I strongly suggest that you put out your hand.”
“What are you going to do?” Marcus asked.
“I’m going to make it more difficult for you to do magic tricks.”
“Please don’t.”
“Asking nicely won’t help. You have three seconds.”
This had to be a prank. It had to be. Marcus really wanted Peter to be so desperate for attention that he was willing to pay somebody to break his car windows to impress Marcus. The possibility simply did not exist that Marcus was actually standing in a shady part of town with some guy demanding he put out his hand so that he could crush it. This couldn’t be happening. No way. Not a chance. Not in the real world.
“Three…two…”
Marcus put out his left hand, palm up.
“Thank you,” said Shaggy Hair. “I bet you think I’m the kind of person who’s too nice to do something really terrible. Maybe you’re right. Let’s see, shall we?”
Marcus just stood there. His hand quivered in fear. His entire body was shaking too. He felt like even his veins were trembling in terror.
Shaggy Hair winked. Then he raised the hammer over his head and slammed it down on Marcus’s hand.
