The house had been empty when Mickey had arrived home, out of breath and still shaken from his little chase with the wacko in the pick up truck. The television had been on in the living room and he fully expected to find his mother making a mad dash the second he got through the front door but to his horror the only person in the house was Dexter, sitting on the couch and eating goldfish crackers from a little plastic bowl, his eyes glued on the cartoon in front of him. He looked around as Mickey entered and let out a high pitched trill at the sight of his brother.
"Mousey!"
"Hey little man," Mickey said as he set his book bag on the dinging room table, "where'd Mom take off to?"
"Work," Dexter replied, munching on more goldfish.
Mickey froze, fury rising in his veins. That fucking bitch hadn't had the decency to wait ten minutes for him? Taking out her trumped up frustrations on him was one thing but to leave her youngest child home alone was downright irresponsible. Mickey had half a mind to go down to his mother's stupid little office himself and smash her face into the surface of her meticulously polished glass desk until either it or her skull broke.
Dexter looked back at him over the couch, his green eyes round as he seemingly took in Mickey's costume for the first time. "Are you mad Mousey?"
Mickey gave his brother a smile and plopped himself down on the couch beside him. "Nah I'm not mad kiddo," he said, fussing with Dexter's shirt. His brother giggled and shoved Mickey's hand away. Truth be told Mickey was furious but it wouldn't do any good to let Dexter see that. Out loud he asked his brother, "Wanna go get some candy?"
"Candy!" Dexter practically shouted and began bouncing excitedly in his seat. "Lots and lots of candy!"
"Yeah and then I can pick up after you when you get a tummy ache," Mickey said teasingly but that did little to dampen Dexter's spirits. He continued to squeal excitedly and Mickey, unable to help it, smiled warmly at his brother, opening his arms for a hug which Dexter happily gave him.
Fifteen minutes later Dexter was dressed in a little astronaut costume and Mickey was stooped down, holding his brother's tiny hand as he lead him to the houses on their street. It was gradually becoming darker outside and there were more and more kids trick or treating with their parents, going from house to house with pillow cases or plastic jack-o-lanterns to be filled with candy.
It warmed Mickey to see his brother having so much fun and even though his eye still throbbed and he was still royally pissed at his mother for being so careless he had only to look at Dexter's smiling face and hear his laugh as somebody doled candy into his little pail to forget what a complete pair of irresponsible assholes his mother and father were. Tonight was about him and his brother and they were doing perfectly fine as they continued down their street together.
At dusk Dexter stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and rubbed at his eyes tiredly.
"Wanna go home now little man?" Mickey said. Dexter gave a sleepy nod and without a word crawled into Mickey's arms, wrapping his arms around his big brother's neck and nodding off into Mickey's shoulder as he walked them down the dark street. He didn't wake up even when Mickey had to balance him with one arm when he unlocked the front door.
It was almost dark now. As Mickey gently deposited his sleeping baby brother onto the couch he glanced out the window to the street beyond. The lamps were fluttering to life, casting their amber glow over the steady parade of Halloween revellers. The glowing faces of jack-o-lanterns twinkled at him from the houses across the street, flickering in the gentle breeze of the cool autumn night. Mickey lingered in front of the window for a moment, feeling somewhat calmed by the serene quality of it all. If it were just him and Dexter his life would be perfect. He took far better care of his brother than either of his parents did.
With a heavy sigh Mickey pulled himself away from the window and as quietly as possible pried Dexter's little tub of candy away from him. Neither of his parents would be sober enough to check his brother's candy when they came home, assuming they didn't pass out at the party. Flicking on the light in the kitchen he sat down at the table and started sorting through the miniature bars of chocolate and plastic baggies of candy corn, throwing the ones with the smallest hole or tear into the trash. It was oddly relaxing work and he hummed to himself, feeling strangely at ease doing such a menial task.
He'd been at it for only five minutes when a noise from the living room made his veins turn to ice. Dexter was screaming and crying at the top of his little lungs. Without another thought Mickey dropped the peanut butter cup he'd been checking over and dashed into the living room, looking wildly around for whatever it was that had upset his brother.
He hadn't bothered turning the lights on when they'd arrived home. The only light came from the glow of the television which he'd left on just in case Dexter had happened to wake up. As Mickey rounded the couch to his sobbing brother he glanced at the screen and grimaced. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow was playing. Obviously Dexter had woken up, seen the intense chase sequence between the Headless Horseman and Ichabod Crane and been spooked. With a flick of the remote Mickey changed the channel to a cooking show.
"It's okay buddy," he said as he scooped Dexter up off the couch and let him bury his tear stained face in his neck. "It's just a dumb cartoon." But Dexter was still crying hysterically and with him at such a close proximity to his ears Mickey could finally discern what it was that his brother was saying.
"Boogeyman! Boogeyman!"
Frowning Mickey turned around to stare at the front hall but there was nothing there. Dexter let out a scream and sobbed even harder to Mickey's shoulder. Whatever it was that was scaring him was outside the window...
Once more Mickey looked around and jumped at the sight of a tall, broad man standing just in front of the window in the shadow of the house, the black, gaping eyes of his mask boring into Mickey's. Once again he felt a rush of fury and, setting Dexter on the floor still sobbing he marched to the front door, threw it open and stormed over to the man, who turned his head curiously to stare at him.
"Hey thanks a lot asshole!" He stormed at the bastard who simply stood there in silence. "Really gets your rocks off, scaring little kids doesn't it? Well you know what fuck-face? You've got three seconds to get your ugly mug off my property or I'm caving your skull in!" It was something of an empty threat. The sheer size of the man alone was enough for Mickey to keep at least a few yards between them. But if the bastard wanted to keep running around town dressed in that costume then Mickey was going to make sure that he left his property with at least a compound fracture or two.
"One," Mickey said with emphasis. The man didn't move. "Two..." Still he stood, staring at Mickey with empty eyes. "Th-" Mickey barely had time to finish the word before the man stepped off, turning away from the house and stalking off to the dark street, peeling his mask as he went. "Not so scary without that thing are you?" Mickey muttered to himself as he watched the man's retreating form. With an annoyed sigh he went back inside, locking the door behind him.
Dexter had crawled onto the couch and was watching the cooking show with half open eyes. His face was still red and stained with tears and Mickey wished that the prankster had stuck around just so he could make the bastard pay for having scared his little brother so badly.
"Come on buddy," he said, picking Dexter up. "Bed time for you."
Dexter nodded sleepily and much to Mickey's relief he was fast asleep by the time they got to his bedroom. Usually Dexter liked to have a warm bath before bed but trick or treating had tired him out. So, leaving him in his Halloween costume, Mickey tucked him into his bed, kissed him on the forehead and left the night light on. Just before he went back into the hall he paused at the door and watched his brother sleep for a moment.
"Being tired trumps being scared when you're young," he said to himself with a grin.
He busied himself with his homework as he sat in front of the television. With Dexter soundly asleep he was at liberty to watch whatever he chose and eventually settled on an old black and white haunted house movie, glancing up from his physics notes whenever he heard something that caught his interest. It was dull work and more often than not he caught himself tuning into the movie more. He needed as many as distractions possible. The day as a whole had been a complete and total whirlwind and burying himself in work or schlocky movies was a way of keeping his mind off his anger at his parents and whatever jitters remained from having been chased by the truck and telling off the bastard who'd scared Dexter.
The movie was typical fifties camp, with buxom blondes in elegant white nightgowns, dashing heroes and sinister villains who spouted ridiculously over the top quips. As he sat, enrapt during an extended chase scene through the catacombs of the old castle where the film was set, his stomach gave a loud gurgle. He hadn't eaten since that afternoon at the diner and even though he'd gorged himself on his hamburger, fries and soda he was a growing boy and food was a priority.
He went into the kitchen and had just decided to heat up a pan of popcorn when there was a loud knock at the door that made him jump. He thought of the man who had been outside in the Michael Myers mask. Had he come back to avenge his bruised ego? Before Mickey knew why he seized a large, sharp knife off of the counter, the very same one he'd touched that morning, and crept to the front door, keeping the knife behind him in case it was an innocent trick or treater. His parents had been insistent that they not dole out candy this year, saying that they wanted to save money.
Mickey firmly believed that they just wanted to have cash on hand for the copious amount of booze they would be drinking a their stupid party.
For half a moment he waited with his hand in the knob...then he wrenched the door open and instantly felt completely stupid for having been gripped by such ridiculous paranoia.
It was Curtis, waiting expectantly on the front step, still in his gladiator costume. Behind him on the dark street Mickey saw the SuperBee parked, the roof up. Inside he could just make out the shadowy forms of Laney, Pierce and Vanessa.
"Hey," Curtis said with a smile, "ready to go?"
"Go where?" Mickey asked him as he stealthily set the knife on the small table by the door.
Curtis looked as confused as Mickey felt. "To the dance. It's after six. We waited a little to see if you'd show up yourself."
"Oh shit!" Mickey spat. He'd completely forgotten to tell his friends that his mother had thrown a wrench in their plans. He felt the rage at her selfishness return all over again, the unfairness of her behaviour. His hand jerked out for the nearby knife again but before he could seize it Curtis' voice cut through his wrath, severing his tie to that dark impulse.
"You...you can't go can you?" He looked so disappointed that Mickey took a step towards him, wanting to reach out and comfort him. That impulse he restrained as well, albeit with more difficulty. "I guess I just thought since you were dressed up..."
Mickey looked down at himself and realized that since coming home from trick or treating with Dexter that he hadn't changed out of his clown costume. He hadn't even taken the mask out of his book bag. He had had the common sense to wipe off Vanessa'a bad make up job before he'd left though.
"I, uh, didn't have time to change," he said lamely.
"Why can't you come with?"
"Mommie Dearest decided to run for parent of the year and leave Dexter home alone while she cut out to get trashed with my old man early," he said bitterly.
An ugly expression of anger passed over Curtis' face, just as it had that morning when he'd seen Mickey's bruise. He called Mickey's mother something so vile that it made Mickey smile in disbelief.
"Couldn't agree with you more," he replied. "Look I'm really sorry...like, you have no idea how much this sucks for me but I am not leaving him home alone for anything."
Curtis smiled. In the light streaming from the house Mickey saw the other boy's brown eyes shine with warmth at him and he suddenly felt his restrain on his desire to be closer falter somewhat, but still he did not move.
"Course you wouldn't," he said. "That's what's so damn great about you Mickey. You're more loyal than a labrador."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Mickey said, feeling his ears burn at the remark.
Curtis sighed, looked back at the car and said, "It's gonna suck the meat not having you there tonight clown boy" Then, suddenly remembering something he added, "Wait right here for a sec. There's something I was gonna give you after school but I guess you were too pissed off to hear me calling you."
He jogged back to his vehicle and returned half a second later, holding a small plastic jar. "Bruise ointment," he explained as he unscrewed the lid. "Coach gives it to us whenever we get banged up too badly. Here lemme help," and with that he strode forward, right into Mickey's personal space, swiped a smear of yellow paste from the jar, and dabbed at Mickey's purple bruise.
Mickey hissed when Curtis' fingers pressed against the area around his eye too hard.
"M'sorry!" Curtis said instantly and he was more gentle as he continued to apply the ointment. Mickey stood there, frozen, in a kind of stupor, his eyes never once looking away from Curtis' face, his whole mind numb. This kind of contact wasn't entirely unlike him. There had been a few times in the past when Curtis had shown he didn't find touching or being so close to Mickey awkward at all and Mickey didn't know whether or not it was because Curtis liked being close to him or if he just didn't think much of personal space. Being an athlete meant he had to have something of a disregard for it but still...Mickey had never seen Curtis act this way with anyone, except of course Vanessa.
"There," he said after he'd covered all of the bruise. "Keep it on overnight and it should be good by tomorrow."
"Thank you," Mickey said gratefully.
Curtis laughed softly and reached his hand out, pushing Mickey's bangs out of his eyes.
He'd never done that before.
Their eyes met for a long, drawn out moment. The wind picked up, pushing Mickey hair back over his eyes.
The sound of a car horn made them both look around.
"GET TOGETHER!" Laney shouted, leaning out the window. "KISS EACH OTHER!"
Mickey rolled his eyes.
"Don't let me keep you from the fun," he said. "I'm not worth it."
"Yeah," Curtis said, "you actually kind of are." He smiled and before Mickey knew what was happening Curtis pulled him in for a brief hug. Then he turned and walked down the steps and back towards the SuperBee.
Mickey watched as the car drove down the road and out of sight. For a moment Mickey stood there, looking at the dark street without really seeing anything. Then he turned around and closed the door, shutting out the darkness and the silence. The wind picked up once more. Across the street the light from a jack-o-lantern sputtered in the breeze, flickered back to life for the briefest of moments and finally died, the light extinguished in one swift, cruel second.