Wicked Cruel (12 page)

“What do you care?”

“Just don’t be late.”

“Just mind your own business and shut up.”

He could not possibly look at every pumpkin, but Danny moved slowly through the crowds, amazed at the variety. There were jack-o’-lanterns on every doorstep, on every bench, in every store window, and on hundreds of scaffolds. Every pumpkin had a small candle inside.

In the wide alley between the old inn and the tavern, people were feverishly carving more pumpkins, hoping to push the number above the record.

Central Square was so dense with scaffolds that Danny spent nearly an hour looking at jack-o’-lanterns as the band banged out covers of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” and “Welcome to the Jungle.”

Most pumpkins were carved with scary or goofy faces, but others showed intricate scenes of dragons or witches or constellations.
I’ll do a better one next year
, Danny thought.
Much better
.

He was surprised by a tap on his shoulder, and more surprised when he turned to see Janelle. She was wearing a maroon baseball cap, and her braid hung down to the middle of her back.

“You disappeared this afternoon,” she said.

“Yeah … well … I had to be somewhere else.”

“Too bad. My brother’s band was good.” She tilted her head toward the bandstand. “This one is just loud.”

Danny stared at the band for a second: two guitarists and a drummer in the small gazebo. “You’re alone?” he asked.

She nodded. “Luke and them think they’re too cool to look at pumpkins. But I love them.”

“See this one?” Danny asked, pointing to a fat, round pumpkin on which a carved horse was leaping over a gorge, with a large crescent moon behind it.

“That will look awesome when they light it up,” she said. “We’ve gotta be here for that.”

We?

Janelle laughed. “That one makes mine look like something a kindergartner would have done.”

“Mine, too.… But yours is a whole lot better than mine.”

“I didn’t see yours. Show me.”

“It’s way over by the Colonial,” Danny said.

“So’s mine.”

“I know. I saw it.” He did not want Janelle to see his very weak pumpkin, so he pointed to a nearby one with fine lines showing a haunted house with a bat flying overhead. “I also did that one,” he said, grinning.

Janelle smirked. “You did not.”

“Sure I did. It only took a few seconds.”

Janelle smiled and swatted him gently on the arm. “Make another one, then. I’d like to see how you do it.”

Danny looked around and shook his head. “No tools. And no spare pumpkins.”

“They’ve got hundreds of them in the alley. It only costs a dollar.”

“Wish I had the time,” Danny said with insincere regret. “Otherwise, I’d make a really elaborate one. A masterpiece.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“They’re starting to light them,” Danny said. The sun was down, and adults with long, tapered candles were lifting pumpkin stems to light the smaller candles inside.

“It’s so cool,” Janelle said. “Let’s get candles and help.”

Volunteers were handing them out. Danny and Janelle went from pumpkin to pumpkin, holding the flames to the wicks until they began to glow. All over town, people were doing the same.

“Awesome,” Danny said after a third of the jack-o’-lanterns in the square had been lit.

“Let’s go see ours,” Janelle said. “We’ll light them if nobody else has.”

She grabbed Danny’s arm and gave a little tug. He blew out his candle and they pushed through the crowd, hurrying along Main Street.

A light drizzle was falling, but since there was no wind, the pumpkins were staying lit.

Danny glanced at the clock in the bank as they passed—6:56.

“Oh, man!” he said. “I’m late.”

“For what?”

“My father has this … show he’s doing at seven. I have to be there.”

“He’s performing?”

“Something like that. But it’s all the way over at the college.”

“Let’s go.” Janelle cut down a side street and started running. “We’ll make it.”

Danny caught up. “You don’t have to go,” he said. “I don’t think you’d want to.”

“Is he playing music?”

“No. He’s reading his poems.”

“Scary Halloween poems?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I wish.”

They cut across the parking lot in front of the diner and
ran past a row of run-down houses rented by college students. They reached the campus in another minute, but the arts center was all the way on the other side.

They ran until they could see it. Danny was slightly out of breath. Janelle did not seem to be. “Think we’re too late to get a seat?” she asked.

“Have you ever been in there?”

“Yeah.”

“There are about six hundred seats. How many people do you think are going to be at a poetry reading the night of the Pumpkin Fest?”

The head of the English department was at the podium when they walked in, reading an introduction from an index card. Danny quickly counted eleven people in the first three rows of seats. The other rows were empty. He and Janelle stood at the back of the theater and waited.

His mom and sister were in the center of the first row.

“He earned his bachelor’s and master’s degrees right here at CNSC before taking the PhD at the University of New Hampshire,” the introducer read. “And now, please give a warm welcome to Professor Byron Morgan.”

Danny’s father stepped to the podium at the edge of the stage and everyone clapped politely. Danny led Janelle to the sixth row and they grabbed the first two seats on the aisle.

His father launched right into “Life in the Shadow,” which sounded a bit better than when Danny had read it to himself. Then he told a story about the first time he’d hiked to the top of Mount Monadnock with his father when he was eight years old. He mentioned “the exhilaration of seeing a red-tailed hawk from the peak.” Then he began reading another poem. “This one is called ‘Sighting the Hawk.’ ”

Claudine glanced back. She stared at Danny and Janelle for a moment, then tugged on her mother’s arm. Danny sank lower in his seat as his mother turned in surprise.

At the end of the poem, Janelle leaned toward Danny and whispered, “I loved that line about ‘soaring in my father’s updraft.’ ”

Danny winced. “I’d rather be looking at pumpkins,” he said. But that wasn’t entirely true. He liked that he was being seen with Janelle. At the Pumpkin Fest she’d be part of a crowd and the best Danny could do was trail along behind.

Or maybe not.

His dad read twenty poems, including the one about the brickyard horses, then brought his palms together and stepped to the center of the stage as everyone stood and clapped. Janelle walked toward the front of the theater and lined up behind four people who had copies of the book.

“It’s nice that you brought someone with you,” Mom said to Danny. “Who is she?”

“She’s in my class.” He could see Janelle talking to his dad.

“Are you on a date?”

Danny immediately turned red and scowled. “She’s just in my class.”

Claudine stepped in front of Mom. “Can I go now?”

“I suppose,” Mom said. “Be home right after the fireworks.”

Claudine left in a hurry. Janelle came back.

Mom reached out her hand. “Hello. I’m Mrs. Morgan.”

Janelle reached out, too. “Janelle.”

“So,” Mom said. “Have you two been enjoying the festival?”

Danny hated that she said “you two,” as if they were together. A couple.

“We need to go,” he said. “Or we’ll miss something.”

“Have fun,” Mom said.

Janelle said, “Thanks.” Danny did not.

“Was I supposed to buy a book?” Janelle asked as they reached the exit.

“No. Of course not.”

“I mean, I’d like to have one. But it was twenty dollars.”

“I’ll get you one. We have boxes of ’em in the cellar.”

“That’s a lot of money for a little paperback.”

“Poems are expensive.”

It was still drizzling and there was a bit more breeze. Danny zipped up his jacket.

“I want to see the pond,” Janelle said.

Danny pointed. “It’s right there.”

“I mean, close up.”

“Okay.”

“I can just picture those horses,” she said. “I’ve heard that legend, but nobody ever described it like your father did. With all those details. I felt like they were galloping right past me.”

“I’d like to see them.”

“It’s exciting and sad. How they died is sad, I mean. The fact that they’re still around is exciting.”

They walked along the path that circled the pond. No one else was in sight, and only the arts center cast any light on the water. Janelle’s moist cheeks glistened.

It was dead quiet. Danny could feel the breeze picking up, but since most of the leaves were down and they all were wet, they didn’t rustle.

“Your father has a wonderful imagination,” Janelle said. “Such a great way with words. It must be amazing to live with him.”

“Amazing,” Danny said flatly. “Yeah.”

“I can imagine what your dinner conversations must be like. So intelligent and clever.”

“Yeah,” Danny said.
If you only knew
.

“At my house we just talk about things like who I shouldn’t hang out with and why I shouldn’t wear ripped jeans or a certain color of lip gloss. My parents are so hung up on appearance. It must be great to have a father who’s so deep and … worldly.”

Worldly
, Danny thought.
He’s never left New Hampshire for more than ten minutes
.

He let out his breath and watched the mist float away. Here he was, walking with Janelle. Alone in the dark.

Why did his mother have to embarrass him like that? A date? He was lucky that Janelle would even talk to him; he knew he was the nerdiest kid in class. And she was way up there in status, even though she didn’t act like it.

“I can’t even imagine how exciting it must have been to see those ghost horses,” Janelle said. “What did he say, ‘strong and ripped’? How cool.”

Danny had thought about this more times than he wanted to admit to himself. Walking in the dark with Janelle. Not kissing her or being her boyfriend or anything. Just hanging out. Just knowing that she felt like being with him, too.

He didn’t know why he said it; it hadn’t even occurred to him that he was about to say it. But suddenly Danny was whispering, “ ‘How often has my spirit turned to thee.’ ”

Janelle leaned forward slightly and turned her head to him as they kept walking. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, really. What did you say?”

“It just popped out of my mouth. Some line my father said.” He wished he hadn’t said it.

“In one of his poems?”

“No. In somebody else’s.”

“Tonight?”

“No. Some other time.”

“Oh.” Janelle was quiet for a moment. “So what was that again?”

Danny sighed and spoke quickly. “ ‘How often has my spirit turned to thee.’ ”

“To
me
?”

“Thee.” Danny kicked gently at a pile of leaves. He could feel his face growing hot. “It just came out.” His voice was a little sharper. “It’s from William Wordsworth, okay? Some dead poet.”

“Okay,” Janelle said. She giggled. “It sounded kind of nice.”

“It just came out. My father’s always saying things like that; quoting poems from a million years ago.”

“Like I said,” Janelle replied, “he must be amazing to live with.”

They didn’t say anything else until they’d reached a brighter part of the campus by the library and the science building.

“ ‘How often …’ ” Janelle said. “What was it? ‘How often has my spirit turned to thee’?”

“Right.” Danny wished they could get off this subject very quickly. “The fireworks will be starting soon.”

“You know what Luke said to me this afternoon?”

“No. And I want to get a caramel apple.”

“He goes, ‘I was thinking about you when I was flossing my teeth this morning.’ ”

“Why did he say that?”

“I really don’t know. I think he was trying to be flattering. Or romantic.”

“That must have made you swoon.”

Janelle shrugged. “At least he was trying. But it didn’t have much impact.”

“So, does he like you or something?”

“He seems to be trying to let me think so. The floss thing is the closest he’s come to actually saying so, but he shows up wherever I am lately. And he stares at me a lot.”

I guess we all do
, Danny thought. “So, how would it make you feel if Luke said that his spirit often turns to you—to
thee
?”

“I don’t think he’s capable of saying anything like that.”

“Neither do I.”

“But maybe he feels it anyway. Who knows? I think a lot of boys can’t say what they feel.”

“I’d certainly agree with that.”

They’d reached the edge of the campus and could see the biggest scaffold in the distance. It was three stories high, and all of the jack-o’-lanterns were wired with lightbulbs. In the square and the surrounding streets, candles flickered in thousands of pumpkins.

“They’re still playing,” Janelle said, pointing toward the band. “Let’s go!”

She led the way toward the square, where a small crowd was dancing to “Light My Fire.”

“Do you dance, Danny?” Janelle asked.

Danny looked around. He didn’t see anyone he knew. Not dancing might put a quick end to whatever this was with Janelle. So he said, “I guess I can.”

“It’s easy.” She took a few steps closer to the band, finding an open patch of pavement behind the fountain, but then the song ended with a crash.

“Here’s one for the pumpkins!” called the lead singer as the band went into “Monster Mash.”

Janelle danced very naturally. Danny danced very awkwardly.
But she seemed at least as pleased as she was amused. He started to relax. A little. He was dancing with Janelle; he could even offer to walk her home later.

At the end of the song, the singer said he had bad news and good news. “The fireworks are canceled because of the rain,” he said. Everybody booed, but not too much.

“The good news is, we’ll play another half hour, unless our equipment gets wet.” The gazebo had a roof, but the sides were open.

The music started again. Danny turned to Janelle and found Luke standing between them. He was wearing the same shorts and T-shirt he’d had on at noon, even though the temperature couldn’t have been much over forty. There was a tomato-sauce stain near his chest.