Spoilers for Battleground. If you haven't read it, skip. Meant to post yesterday but had an epic migraine instead.
The prank war had started, like any war, with a first strike: plastic spiders dumped into the pockets of my coat. I could hear diminutive giggling around the corner as I shoveled them out onto the Carpenter's coffee table.
I had been determined to avoid Halloween this year. I'd had enough of blood and gore and monsters. Seemed the city had seen enough as well. Where folks had been bold enough to put decorations out in the week leading up to it, it was decidedly lacking in creep factor, just cutesy stuff.
Innocent, but still a statement.
The next attack occurred a few days later — rubber snakes in my boots, which I found as I pulled them on.
"Snakes?" I said loudly, for the benefit of the snickering pranksters hiding behind the couch. "Why'd it have to be snakes? Snakes in my boots? More likely than you'd think!"
The attacks began to escalate. A whoopie cushion in the chair I'd claimed in the den, green glitter in my shampoo. Someone replaced the contents of the Hershey bottle in the fridge with brown gravy, which made for an interesting glass of chocolate milk.
The eve of the holiday itself, I found the Carpenter kitchen empty. The table was full of Charity's homemade treats — I had been helping her box them up and take them to shelters all week. There were still plenty to hand out, and I could already see families out in the early evening light, sticking close as they went door to door.
Say what you will about Chicago, but we don't give up easy here.
The table of treats was suspiciously unguarded; heaps of cookies and brownies and Chex mix, and in the middle, a platter of candied apples on sticks, caramel-coated and covered in sprinkles and peanuts and stuff. I grabbed the one that had been rolled in crushed Reese's Pieces, my favorite. I took a huge bite.
Into a candy-coated onion.
I spat into the sink and said a string of pretty bad words, turned to chuck the rest into the trash and saw two frightened kids staring up at me.
Little Harry Carpenter took one look at my face and bounced. He scampered away down the hall at top speed, which was kinda funny, because he was dressed as The Flash.
"Please don't be mad," said itty bitty Diana Prince. Tears welled in her big, dark eyes. "We were just trying to make you laugh."
"Trying to..." A sharp little stab of guilt settled in with the permanent ache behind my ribs. I hadn't felt like laughing in… I knew exactly how long. Down to the second, and between that and the look on Maggie's face, I was about to cry, myself. "No, I'm not mad." I scooped her up and sat down at the table, probably hugging her a bit too hard but she didn't seem to mind. "Not at all."
"You promise?" she sniffled.
"I promise. Those were really good pranks." I kissed the top of her head. "Too good for an amateur. You should be working with a professional." I reached for another apple on a stick — this one dipped in chocolate sprinkles.
"Wait!" she said, wide-eyed, before I could take a bite. "That's a potato," she said in a furtive whisper.
I put it back on the tray. I reached for the one next to it. Maggie bit her lip and shook her head.
"How… how many of these are potatoes?" I asked, also whispering, almost, almost laughing.
"... All the ones that aren't onions?" she answered with a very small smile. She hopped down from my lap and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet, towards the door. "I hid the real ones in the treehouse."
"Atta girl."
next up: moonlight