Hey, guys, happy Halloween!
The night had that eerie chill of the supernatural, or at least the barely-natural. Witches and goblins and ghouls were out tonight, happily galumphing to and fro, doing such wicked and mystical deeds as bothering people and threatening them to give up their sweets or they may wake up in toilet paper land. They walked around carrying sacks and bags and pillow cases filled with unknown trinkets. Bats, maybe, or spiders, or maybe even kidnapped children. But most likely candy.
And Carl watched them all from his room. It was always a good feeling to watch from above, like a ruler or a god watching the insignificant subjects roam the streets, but only when you were sure you weren't missing out on something. Protected by the cold air, Carl was missing out on Halloween.
It wasn't anything new. He should have been used to being confined in the house, finishing up a sugar free dinner and helping with the dishes. Candy-begging was for the homeless and the immature, not serious, literate kids like himself. His parents at least gave out something to these costumed brats.
They were the ones that gave out things like apples and pencils. One year, they were feeling particularly bitter and gave out slips of paper that said 'GROW UP' in large red letters. Around this time of year, Carl was usually picked on. He knew he almost deserved it, though he sorely wished his parents would be punished for their gross sin instead.
Tired of twisting his innards with envy, Carl wandered downstairs, where his father was reading a book and his mother was methodically drying dishes. They had the matching cold expressions of bored frogs, showing no notice that they knew you-know-what was going on outside, but once in a while their eyes would flicker to the door, as if daring any poor kid on the other side to knock. A worn paper bag stood on a side table near the door, and Carl peeked into it. This year it was lemon juice sitting innocently in lemonade cartons. They really didn't want anybody coming.
To satisfy his parents, Carl sat down at the living room couch, a seat away from his father, and took a book titled 'Mathematics For Young Mathematicians.' Silence reigned the Fredricksen abode. Not even the happiness of children penetrated their fortress. There was only the sound of drying dishes and the turn of a page when Carl remembered to.
And then there was a knock at the door, strangely confident. Usually, the knocks, if there were any, said 'Why did I do this' or 'Why did I accept that dare' or 'I hope I won't have to go through therapy again because of this.'
His parents glanced at each other, engaging in a quick, silent war before his mother lost and marched sluggishly to the paper bag. She flung the door open, unleashing the torrent of condescension, and said, "Oh. I didn't expect you to visit, Ellie. Here. Have one."
To Carl's surprise, his parents didn't dislike Ellie. In fact, they enjoyed having her around, and when she left, they would gleefully point out everything she did wrong. She was an Example of what Carl shouldn't be. The boy wasn't sure if Ellie knew this happened behind her back. He was too embarrassed to tell her.
Ellie seemed to have taken the pseudo-greeting and the pseudo-lemonade as an invitation inside and slipped under his mother's arm, shouting 'Carl! Carl!' Carl looked up from the wall of text (shouldn't math books have numbers in them?), making sure not to look up too far in case he met his mother's disapproving face. She could purse her lips like nobody's business. Sometimes Carl was afraid that she would eventually purse her whole face.
"C'mon! Ya hafta come, it's gonna be really cool - "
"I'm afraid, Ellie, that Carl has some work to do," said Carl's father from his seat. The words 'unlike you' seemed to hang invisibly in the air.
Ellie halted. Apparently, she had never considered the option that her friend wouldn't be allowed to go. She tossed the pseudo-lemonade from hand to hand for a bit before slowly saying, "I gotcha, sorry fer both'rin' ya an' all." As discreetly as a tap-dancing elephant, she winked. Carl was grateful that his mother could only purse her lips at the young girl's back and that his father wasn't even looking up from his book.
Carl waited for several long minutes before noisily grabbing more math books and trudging up the stairs. Once he reached his room, he dropped everything and opened his window. Ellie was waiting below, hissing 'hurry up' as he quickly arranged some books on his bed, threw a quilt over them, and turned off the lamp. What else, what else…ah yes. He stuffed the familiar hat and goggles over his head. Now he could step out onto the shingles that shielded the porch...oh wait, better close the window a bit too. Okay, good.
Carl eased himself onto the yard as carefully as he could. He quickly lost his footing and almost broke his neck.
"C'mon, c'mon!" Ellie tugged him up on his feet once more and they were off.
He wasn't sure where they were going. They could join the masses in the persistent search for more candy. Or maybe they would hang around a party, telling scary stories. All that really mattered was that he was free, outside, with Ellie.
"Um, uh, I would throw that…'lemonade' away."