There were at least forty youngsters gathered around the pool, ranging in age from ten to sixteen or seventeen.
The boys were wearing khaki pants, polo shirts, and loafers, mostly without socks.
The girls who weren’t wearing clothes almost identical to the boys were wearing skirts with white or plaid blouses, and had sweaters draped around their shoulders that Myra could see were cashmere even from this distance.
Not one of them was wearing any kind of costume at all.
As Myra and Angel stood gazing down at them, the youngsters began looking up at the terrace and fell into silence.
Someone snickered.
Then someone else snickered.
Then the snickering turned into a ripple of laughter.
Then a single voice rose above the laughter: “Ooooh, I’m sooo scared! Is it a vampire or a witch?” A pause, then: “Oh, no — I’m wrong! It’s an Angel!”
As the laughter erupted into a roar, Angel turned and fled back into the shelter of the clubhouse, Heather Dunne’s mocking voice echoing in her mind. By the time she’d found the ladies’ room, tears were streaming down her face.
Now she knew what had happened. Heather had seen her in the store, then followed her into the dressing room area and—
How could she have been so stupid?
A sob welled up in her throat, but she choked it back as she heard the door open. If it was Heather or one of her friends, she wasn’t about to let them see her crying.
But to her surprise, she heard Seth’s voice. “Angel?” he called softly. “Are you in here?”
“You can’t come in,” she said, her voice catching on the sob that still threatened to overwhelm her. “It’s the ladies’ room.”
But a moment later she sensed Seth standing behind her, and when she looked up and into the mirror and saw the worried expression on his face, she turned around, wiping her eyes with a fold of the cape. “I’m not going to die,” she told him. “It’s just… just…” Her tears welled up again and her chin quivered. “How could they do that?” she asked. “How come they want to be so mean? What am I doing wrong?”
Seth took an uncertain step toward her and clumsily put his arm around her. “You’re not doing anything wrong,” he said. “They just need someone to pick on. And I guess it’s us.”
Us. Not you. He’d said us.
But he wasn’t wearing a costume. What had they done to him?
Sniffling back her tears, she pulled away from him, and Seth could read the question in her eyes.
“Zack’s really pissed at me,” he said. Then, unable to hold back a grin, he told her what had happened on the eighteenth hole. “And you’re not gonna believe this,” he finished, “but the cat that spooked him on the tee showed up again at the green. It was—”
“It was Houdini, wasn’t it?” Angel breathed.
Seth nodded. “I know it isn’t possible, but—”
“I saw him too,” Angel broke in. “He was at my house.” Quickly, she told him what had happened when she and her mother got back from the store, and what she’d seen.
Or at least what she thought she’d seen.
“I thought I must have imagined it,” she said. “But if you saw him too…” She left the thought unfinished, still not ready to say aloud what she knew they were both thinking. Instead she asked, “What are we going to do?”
“First, we’re going to go out there and show them you don’t care what kind of tricks they pull on you. Have you got your makeup?”
Angel nodded. “I brought it all, ’cause I figured it might start wearing off in the middle of the party.”
“Great,” Seth said. “Okay, first let’s get rid of the cape. Turn it around and put it on backward so you don’t mess up your clothes while you wash some of that white guck off.”
“How do you mess all this up?” Angel fretted. “Besides, I’m not going back out there — everyone else is wearing really expensive clothes, and I don’t have anything but what I have on!”
“Quit worrying,” he told her, eyeing her black sweater, skirt, and leggings. “By the time we’re done, you’re gonna look great!”
As they began to work on her makeup, the door opened and they heard Angel’s mother. “Angel?” she said. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Mom!” Angel called out.
Seth jumped into one of the stalls before Myra appeared. “Perhaps we should just go home,” her mother began, but Angel shook her head.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I–I guess I just misunderstood. I’m just taking off this stupid vampire makeup, then I’ll be out.”
“If you’d rather just go home…”
Angel shook her head. “I’m all right.”
Myra still hesitated, then, mentally assessing the contents of the refrigerator — and Marty’s likely alcohol consumption — she shrugged. The barbecue outside was already lit, and she’d seen the cut of steaks they were serving. “All right,” she said. “But if you change your mind—”
“Go find Aunt Joni,” Angel told her. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later, Seth led Angel out of the ladies’ room, back through the clubhouse, and out onto the terrace. The black cape was gone — rolled up and stuffed into the black shoulder bag she’d brought to hold the makeup. Most of the white was gone from her face, and the vampire fangs had joined the cape in the shoulder bag. They’d used the makeup kit to put shadow on her lids, and Seth had carefully applied mascara to her eyelashes, which now looked twice as long and full as before. He’d plaited her hair into a single long braid that hung down her back, and the black clothes now made her look thinner. With her hair pulled back from her face and her features accentuated with the makeup Seth had applied, she barely looked like herself anymore.
And nobody laughed.
Nobody except Heather Dunne.
“Well,” Heather said as she and Seth passed. “I guess we know which it is — she’s obviously not a vampire, but she sure looks like a witch!”
Though Angel tried to keep moving, Seth stopped her and turned to face Heather. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe she is a witch. But if she is, I’d think you’d want to be a little more careful what you say.” Leaving Heather glaring furiously at him, he turned around and walked away, with Angel hurrying after him.
“Are you crazy?” Angel said when she was sure Heather couldn’t hear her. “What did you want to say that for?”
Seth shrugged. “Maybe I’m just sick of putting up with them all the time,” he replied. “Besides,” he added, dropping his voice, “maybe you really are a witch. I mean, how else did Houdini come back to life?”
Angel gasped. “What are you talking about? I didn’t—”
“But you did,” Seth said. “And we both know how you did it.”
For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Angel thought about what Seth had said, and it almost blotted out the whispers passing through the rest of the crowd.
Almost blotted them out, but not quite…
It was as if an inaudible signal went off at precisely ten o’clock. Even though no one actually heard it, the members of the Roundtree Country Club reacted exactly as factory workers half a century earlier had reacted to the whistle signaling the end of the workday. Abandoning the remains of the barbecue around the pool and the dance in the “ballroom”—the main dining room with its tables moved to the walls, and a makeshift dance floor installed over the carpet — the members began their exodus, herding their younger children ahead of them and reminding the older ones that they should be home by midnight.