Page 51 of Everything She Does Is Magic

“Right answer.”

She leaves my room the same way she came in, through the ladder at my window, with my mom holding it steady for her so she can get safely to the ground.

7 Days Until Halloween

25

Darcy

Going to the haunted carnival on Friday night has always been my and Grace’s personal tradition. Something about sitting through school during the day—giddy, restless—then spending hours getting ready afterward, putting on our best makeup and our cutest nonthemed clothes, is the height of sophistication to us. The contrast is the point. A regular, boring day of school into a long, eventful night in the middle of a cornfield.

The carnival runs later than any other event on the Halloween schedule, open until midnight for the entire weekend. Staying out that late in public, with permission from everyone in the town, adds to the sophistication. Anything can happen at the haunted carnival.

That fateful year that Kyle Holtzenberg and I first got together, we held hands on the carnival’s Ferris wheel. It was the most illicit, overwhelming thrill of my sixth-grade life. The action of it—linking hands with someone else, declaring our connection in public—made the whole night sparkly and unique.Even then I knew it had nothing to do with Kyle and everything to do with the fact that someone wanted to claim me too, wanted to hold my hand as we looked out at the dark together.

Friday nights at the carnival, with the smell of funnel cakes and the constant whir of rides and games, always take me right back to that hope.

Sitting on my couch at 4:57p.m. on the Friday of the haunted carnival weekend, waiting to begin a Halloween movie marathon with my parents, does not have the same excitement. While this is the most benevolent grounding of all time since my parents are making me stay home so we can hang out and spend more time together, there’s so much pent-up longing inside me for all I’m missing—my last haunted carnival night as a Fableview student.

“I just got off the phone with Kathy Holtzenberg, who is beyond ecstatic to get the chance to fill in for us at the carnival this weekend,” Mom says, settling down beside me on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.

Dad’s already gotten out his candy stash, and he’s halfway into biting through his second sour straw when he responds with “You made it clear it’s a onetime thing, right?”

“Yes. I told her we needed some family time, just the three of us. She’ll swing by in a little bit to pick up our ghost costumes.”

“You really didn’t have to do that,” I tell them both. It’s a little awkward between us. I still feel hurt over how they’ve thrust everything upon me. But even I can recognize what a big deal it is that they’ve punted a task over to the Holtzenberg family.

Mom sticks the bowl of popcorn my way, knowing I like to have the first handful. “The haunted carnival is one of theeasiest events of the entire season. It’s not a big deal to have Kathy and Kevin do it.”

Except itisa big deal. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone brings it up at the final planning committee meeting.Is everything okay with the Kellers? They let the Holtzenbergs do the carnival weekend.

“We’d rather be here with you,” Dad says, offering me a sour straw.

We’ve sat this way on our couch countless times in my life—Mom with her right elbow on the arm of the couch, Dad with his feet crisscrossed atop the coffee table. Me in the middle, hands squeezed between my legs, the only one of us who can stay awake for the duration of literally anything we watch.

Mom starts the movie, one we’ve all seen so many times, we can quote it. Still, we watch in silence, pretending to pay close attention. My parents want something more from this—I’m grounded, after all—but they’re not going for it right away. They’re buttering me up with popcorn and treats and our favorite Halloween movies first.

“Can we just talk about it?” I blurt. “The anticipation is too much.”

Mom presses pause on the remote. “Talk about what, sweetie?” It only takes one look from me to get her to change tactics. “We wanted to have a nice evening with you first.”

“Before I sign the paperwork that transfers the title to Pam’s Paints over to me, complete with a name change to Darcy’s Dabbles or something,” I say.

That one gets a chuckle out of Dad.

“Before we tell you that you’re right,” my mom says, serious.

“I’m…right?”

“Yes. We’ve been perhaps a little too present in your life. We just…We love you.” At once, she begins to cry, and it’s so quick and unexpected that it startles her as much as it does me.

“Oh, Mom,” I say, wrapping her in my arms. For as sentimental as she is, she doesn’t cry much. “I know you do. I love youtoo.”

“I think…we hoped…you’d be…like us,” she says through sniffles.

“Fableview lifers,” my dad interjects.

“Neither of us ever wanted to leave here,” Mom adds.