Page 5 of Shelter
Ava gave the back of her brother’s head a silent, mocking sneer. “Can we go?” She jammed her knuckles against her hips. “It’s already after six.”
We left.
The three of us didn’t actually trick-or-treat together. Not exactly. Saying he didn’t want to be seen with two little girls, Cole walked ahead of us, and whenever we went to a house on the right side of the street, he chose the one opposite. And vice versa.
I, for one, was relieved. Cole Whitehurst couldn’t be mean to us — or more specifically, to me — from across the street. But I saw how Ava’s eyes followed him, and I knew that if I hadn’t tagged along, he probably would have kept close to his sister.
So, yeah, that stung a little.
But I quickly learned that Myrtle Place was great territory for trick-or-treating. Most of the houses were really nice. Not quite as nice as the Whitehursts’, but if my ribbon wand held real magic, I wouldn’t have been disappointed with any of them.
And the people on Myrtle Place gave good candy. No candy corn or Swedish Fish or 3 Musketeers.3 Musketeers. Yuck.Just the thought of nougat on my tongue made me gag.
Before we were even halfway down their street, my Chinese wedding bag was heavy with the good stuff. Twix, Kit Kat, and, my favorite, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I loved chocolate, but I wouldn’t turn my nose up at Starburst — except the red flavor. Red Starburst tasted like dentist office tooth polish, as far as I was concerned. Now, give me a yellow, orange, or pink Starburst, and I’d be happy to make it disappear.
By the time we reached the corner of Myrtle Place and Azalea, in addition to my chocolate hoard, I had six packets of Starburst and four rolls of Smarties — which, I’ll admit, tasted like baby aspirin, but I always liked baby aspirin. It sure was better than Children’s Tylenol.
“My feet hurt,” Ava said after we’d stopped at the last house on the street. “Let’s sit down for a few minutes.” She pointed to the concrete curb of the median. My feet didn’t hurt at all, and I wanted to keep going, but I knew better than to insist. Besides, I knew that Ava was wearing plastic dress-up heels. The kind that came in sealed plastic with a princess dress and pretend jewelry. I’d never had any, but even though they looked cute, and I would have loved some of my own, they didn’t seem very comfortable.
We sat down on the curb and immediately helped ourselves to candy. I peeled open a tube of Sixlets and gave a sigh of satisfaction when the first candy-coated sphere crunched between my teeth. I stared up at the cloudless night sky, savoring the sweetness. The thought occurred to me that maybe Sixlets tied with Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups as my favorite candy. I couldn’t be sure without further testing.
I was so lost in my candy comparison I didn’t notice Cole’s approach.
“Ava, why are you sitting on the curb?” he asked, impatience edging his voice.
Coming out of my chocolate haze, I was grateful he hadn’t addressed the question to me.
Next to me, Ava wagged her feet. “My feet hurt.” A whine that hadn’t been in her voice before crept into her words.
Cole rolled his eyes. “I told you not to wear those shoes. They’re just for dress-up. Not for walking.”
I swear, he sounded just like Mama. Not like a lady. Just bossy. He was only two years older than Ava. Why was he so bossy? I wanted to ask this question aloud, but I kept my mouth shut.
Ava was probably thinking similar thoughts because she didn’t respond to hisI-told-you-soeither.
Cole sniffed out a breath and sat down on the curb with us, choosing the space on the other side of Ava. Without hesitation, he emptied his knapsack of candy onto his lap. Blinking in shock, I couldn’t hold my tongue.
“A-are you going to eat all of that right now?” I asked half-stunned.
Cole tucked his chin, crinkled his brow, and looked at me like I’d just blown a snot bubble. “God, no,” he said. Then he focused on the pile in his lap, his look of disgust never fading. “Half of this is inedible.”
“Huh?” I asked, confused by his fancy word.
Licking her chocolaty fingers, Ava enlightened me. “He means you can’t eat it.”
I gasped at the pile of candy on Cole’s thighs, horror stricken. “Why not? What’s wrong with it? Is it poisoned?”
Cole’s snot bubble look returned. “No, dummy, it’s trash. Not worth eating.”
Not worth eating? Was that like not worth knowing? Candy?
My neck hitched back. His lap was full of the best candy around. Nestle Crunch, Twix, $100,000 Grand, Milk Duds, and, of course Reese’s. And he had six Kit Kats. Six!
Ava gave me a look of boredom. “Cole’s a candy snob.”
A candysnob?What did that mean?
I once heard Mama’s friend Rita say that Mrs. Hillborn at church was a snob, and when I asked what a snob was, Mama explained that it was someone who thought they were better than everyone else.
