“Yes?” He took a bite of meatloaf. “What is it?”
“The Cosmic Cola party … you work for the company. I won’t be excluded from the lottery, will I?”
“No, not at all,” he replied cheerfully. “You’ve got as much of a chance as any other kid. Better, I expect, since you got all those extra tickets.”
Her mother suddenly looked anxious. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up, dear. So few kids get picked. But don’t worry; there are plenty of other parties that evening. There’ll be a sock hop party at DiLouie’s Pizza; that sounds like fun, don’t you think?”
Millie shrugged and ate her mashed potatoes. The pizza parlor wouldn’t have Michael Jackson except on the jukebox.
Her stepfather fixed a sharp gaze on her mother. “But if she is chosen, it’s an honor to go.”
He turned back to Millie and smiled. “Cosmic Cola is putting a lot of effort and money into this party for you kids. If you’re chosen, you’ll be representing our whole family, so you need to be on your best behavior. Can I count on you?”
His words made Millie feel uneasy; how could a party for a bunch of middle schoolers really be such a big deal? But she knew what he wanted to hear. “Yes, sir. You can count on me.”
She looked at her mother; Mrs. Gibbs’ face had gone white and she was staring down at her half-eaten plate. Her expression was carefully blank but her eyes shimmered as if she were holding back tears. It was then that Millie realized that her mother was not happy, and something was happening here that Millie could but dimly grasp. She wanted to go around the table to give her mother a hug, but she knew that would break some unwritten, unspoken rule; her mother would be embarrassed and her stepfather would be angry, but neither adult would tell her what was wrong. Millie felt as though she were on a boat adrift far from shore beneath storm-gathering skies.
The school’s portly vice principal reached into the clear plastic raffle tumbler full of names on folded white notecards. He picked one out and opened it with a theatrical flourish.
“Millie Flynn,” he announced into his microphone.
Millie sat in shock on the wooden gymnasium bleacher at hearing her name called. The girl beside her started shrieking in excitement and shaking her shoulder, and soon Millie was whooping and high-fiving the other kids near her who’d been chosen for the party, too.
After the school assembly was over, Millie had study hall, and her excitement faded into curiosity. She and twenty-one other new blood kids and eight old blood kids had been picked. Why had so few kids from established families won seats on the bus? The kid with the limp and the crooked, discolored teeth was one of them. She still wasn’t sure what his name was. But, she reasoned, the old blood kids hadn’t tried very hard. They hadn’t been the ones volunteering for chores to earn extra tickets. They hadn’t studied late trying to earn straight As. They weren’t the ones who had to prove they belonged in Marsh Landing.
When she got home and told her parents the news, her stepfather seemed pleased and her mother smiled and congratulated her. Millie could see something like panic behind her eyes. That night after dinner, her father went to his Cosmic Cola bowling league, and her mother put the twins to bed.
As Millie was helping her mother wash and dry the dishes, her mother asked, “Have you thought about the costume you’ll wear to the party?”
Millie considered. “A little. I liked being a witch last year, but my dress and stockings are too small now.”
Her mother smiled, her eyes still dark with worry. “You’ve shot up like a weed this past year. You’re nearly as tall as I am, now.”
“Maybe I could be a werewolf this year? I saw a cool mask in the window of the costume shop.”
“I had an idea,” her mother said, looking around as if she was making sure that her stepfather wasn’t still in the house. “Why don’t you go as a pirate queen?”
Millie blinked. “A pirate queen?”
“They probably didn’t tell you this in school, but a lot of women were very fierce pirates back in the day. Jacquotte Delahaye was a Caribbean pirate in the 1600s. They called her ‘Back from the Dead Red’ after she faked her own death to escape the British Navy. She became a pirate after her father died and eventually she became a master swordswoman and commanded a fleet of hundreds of pirates. She ruled over her own island. I think ruling your own island makes you a proper queen, don’t you think?”
“Whoa,” Millie said. Already in her mind she was swashbuckling on a beach, protecting a loot-laden chest from scowling English redcoats in pompous white wigs. “Yeah, for sure!”
Her mother dried the last dish and put it away in the cupboard. Her hand shook just a little as she set it down. “I was out shopping at the thrift store the other day, and I found some things some things in your size that I think would make a good pirate costume. Would you like to see them?”
“Ooh, yes!” Millie clapped her hands.
Her mother led her down into her sewing room in the finished basement.
“I found this.” Her mother reached into a white plastic shopping bag and pulled out a gorgeous wig of long, thickly ringleted red hair. It looked like something from a fancy salon and not a cheap dimestore Halloween wig.
“It’s so pretty!” Millie breathed.
Her mother looked pleased, but the fearful shadows hadn’t left her eyes. “Well, Back From the Dead Red needs proper red hair!” She pulled out another shopping bag and laid out a rakish blue scarf, a poofy-sleeved white shirt with laces instead of buttons, a black leatherette vest, tan pants, a thick black belt, black knee-high boots, and a bunch of golden bangles. And a real genuine brass compass! It was so much nicer than the ones they’d learned to read in Girl Scouts, and it looked like something a real pirate would own.
Millie threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “This is great! Thank you sooo much!”
Trembling, her mother returned the hug, rubbing Millie’s back in gentle circles. “It’s your last Halloween, and you’re going to a very important party, so I wanted you to feel proud of your costume.”
Millie hugged her mother more tightly. “You’re the best.”
Her mother began to cry and shake.
Millie pulled back and gazed at her mother, worried. “What’s the matter, Mom?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Her mother quickly wiped her red eyes and smiled widely. Unconvincingly. “I … you’re just growing up so quickly. It makes me sad sometimes.”
Her mother glanced at the compass lying beside the costume on the sewing table. “You remember how to use a compass, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely. It was my favorite part of camp craft!” That was a little lie; really Millie had liked building fires best, but she knew that didn’t sound ladylike.
Her mother was still blinking back tears. “I think having a compass is a good idea in case they take you out someplace and you get separated from the rest of the kids. It’s easy to get lost in an unfamiliar town, you know?”
Millie didn’t, but she nodded anyway.
“Marsh Mansion is due southeast of here. If you had to get back here on your own, go north on Oceanside Highway and follow it to Sixth Street, go left, and then take a left on Craftsman Lane. And you’ll find us!”
That sounded like a whole lot of walking. “If I got lost, couldn’t I just find a payphone and call you?”
“Oh, honey, that’s a smart idea but not on Devil’s Night,” her mother replied quickly. “Your stepfather’s concerned about prank callers and he’s planning to leave the phone off the hook. So if something happens, just try to get back here, okay? I’ll stay up waiting for you; just knock quietly and I’ll know it’s you. If it’s late, we don’t want to wake the twins or your stepfather. He hasn’t been sleeping well and you know what a terrible mood he gets in when something wakes him suddenly.”