It's Only Temporary (11 page)

And in no time, phase one of Amanda's party began, and the art jerks were so busy making a scary masterpiece of the Berrigans' front porch that everyone's costume was forgotten, to Skye's intense relief.

“Step back a little farther, Skye, and tell us how it looks,” Amanda called from the front porch forty-five minutes later – kind of bossily, Skye thought, but in keeping with her bad ballerina costume. Amanda sounded just like Taylor Shuster-man, in fact.

The Berrigans' porch glowed like a stage set as Skye trudged across the wet lawn toward the street, which was dark on this moonless October night. Streetlights in the small foothill town were scarce among the narrow roads that crept rootlike into the canyons.

“It looks good, Amanda,” Skye called out as convincingly as she could, though she thought they should have stopped decorating the porch fifteen minutes ago. Now, rubber bats hung from the porch ceiling, the Styrofoam tombstones – illogically dripping with pretend blood–leaned crazily against the light-festooned front door,
pumpkins balanced precariously on the porch railing, and spiderweb strands had been tossed in large and unconvincing hunks over absolutely everything. “It looks good,” Skye shouted again, wondering when their hamburgers would be ready. Her stomach growled.

“I can barely even hear you – or see you, it's so dark,” Amanda yelled back. “Pip's coming out there to check, 'cause I have to go inside and help my mom. Hang on.”

“I'm hanging, I'm hanging,” Skye muttered to herself. She shifted her feet in the soggy grass as Pip came toward her, his wig jammed low on his head and his temporarily enlarged chest leading the way.

Pip turned and regarded the Berrigans' porch for one long, considering moment. “It looks like a craft store exploded,” he finally said. “But Amanda likes it. And I definitely don't wanna have to start again.”

“I know,” Skye said, laughing. “If we say anything, we'll
never
get to eat.”

Pip tilted his head and looked at the porch again. “Maybe you can't go too far this time of year,” he said, obviously struggling to turn his artistic opinion around.

“Maybe not,” Skye agreed. “So let's tell Amanda it looks fine, and then we can–”

“Boo,” a voice behind them said. “Trick-or-treat!”

S
kye whirled around, her heart seeming to leap into her throat, but Pip turned more slowly, as if he knew that the only thing awaiting him was trouble – because the jeering voice had belonged to Aaron Petterson. And looming behind him in the dark were Danko, Cord, and Kee.

“What are you guys doing here?” Skye asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“I live a block away,” Aaron told her. “Not that it's any of your business.” He leaned forward and took a closer look at Skye. “It's that girl from Mexico,” he told his friends. “That Skye-chick. And she's gone all retro and Goth for that fat chick's party.”

“Skye's from
New
Mexico,” Kee said quietly, reluctantly.

“I'm supposed to be Georgia O'Keeffe,” Skye heard herself
object in a quavering voice. “And Amanda's not fat.”

This was just too bizarre, Skye scolded herself instantly – and silently. She could not believe she was arguing with an eighth-grader about her Halloween costume and Amanda Berrigan's weight, of all things – in temporary Sierra Madre, California, on a cold Saturday night in October. What had happened to her nice, ordinary life in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where the real people lived?

And where were Amanda, Jamila, Matteo, and Maddy? Or Amanda's parents, for that matter? Inside, probably, eating hamburgers and chips, and guzzling soda.

“Whatever,” Aaron said, already losing interest. He shifted his attention to Pip, whose identity was still hidden by the darkness, by the blond wig that covered his hair–and by the two large and prominent bumps underneath his polka-dotted dress. The blond hair and the bumps were obviously what had attracted Aaron's attention. “Who's this?” Aaron asked, teasing, and he reached out to lift Pip's chin a little so he could get a better look.

It was obvious to Skye that Aaron thought Pip was a girl – because a guy wouldn't dare touch another guy's face that way.

Pip swatted at Aaron's hand and turned his head, but the unexpected result of this was that Aaron's hand grazed Pip's fake mustache.
“Eee!”
Aaron squealed, jumping back a little. “It's a dude!”

“No way,” Cord said. He reached forward, grabbed the end of Pip's mustache, and gave it a tug.

“Give that back,” Pip roared, reaching for the twirl of stiffened hair that Cord's paw was now gripping. “I made that!”

“Hey!” Cord shouted, shaking his hand as if Pip's half-mustache was the world's longest centipede. And seeing this, Skye couldn't help but giggle.

“Shut up,” Cord yelled at her.

“'
I made that
,'” Aaron Petterson mimicked, concentrating on Pip, and he gave Pip a shove that sent him staggering back a step or two on the Berrigans' lawn.

Skye automatically reached out to grab Pip's arm, but Pip brushed her away. “Leave me alone,” he shouted angrily, but Skye couldn't tell whether he was talking to her or to Aaron – and she wasn't about to ask.

“It's the pipsqueak pansy,” Aaron shouted, finally recognizing Pip, and he gave Pip another shove, knocking him to the ground.

“Stop
saying
that!” Skye heard herself object loudly.

“He tried to trick us,” Cord yelled, furious, and, eager to erase his earlier humiliation, he drew his leg back as if he were about to attempt to kick a field goal. And then–
thud
! Cord's foot connected with Pip's ribs.

“Hey,” Danko and Kee objected simultaneously.

“
Uhh
,” Pip groaned as the air was knocked out of him,
and he tried to roll away from the blows that were sure to follow.

“Stop that!” Skye cried, panicked.

“Quit it, dude. You made your point,” Kee said to Cord, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from Pip.

But it was Aaron's leg that was going back for the kick this time.

This was really, really happening, Skye told herself, stunned.

“
Hey
,” a man's voice shouted from across the street, and suddenly, the beam of light from a powerful flashlight swept across their faces. “What the heck is going on over there?”

“They – they were beating my friend up for no reason,” Skye cried, her words tumbling out into the night.

“We were not,” Cord said, sounding both innocent and outraged.

“Yeah,” Aaron said. “And I live around here.”

The flashlight beam rested on Aaron's face for a moment. “Oh, it's you,” the man said as he approached the group of kids, his voice flat and unsurprised.

“Hi, Mr. Walters,” Aaron said with no change in his expression. “These kids were making a lot of noise, and we
just stopped by to see if anything was the matter.”

“You guys are what's the matter,” Skye exclaimed, hoping like crazy she wasn't about to start crying. “We were just standing here! Are you okay, Pip?”

As Pip struggled to his feet, Skye could make out two orange balloons – Pip's former Dolly Parton chest, she supposed – bouncing across the lawn like escaping ghosts. “I'm fine,” Pip said. He tried to stand up straight, but Skye could tell by the way he clutched his side that he was in pain.

“Are you okay, son?” the man with the flashlight asked, echoing Skye.

“I'm fine,” Pip said again.

“See?” Aaron said to the man – in a tone of voice that was just this side of rude, in Skye's opinion. “Everything's great.”

“Let's go,” Kee murmured, taking a few steps back, and Danko and Cord stepped back, too. But Aaron didn't move.

“I'll be keeping my eye on you, Mr. Petterson,” the man said to Aaron. “C'mon, kids,” he said, turning to Pip and Skye. “I'll walk you to the Berrigans' front door.”

“Buh-bye,” Aaron called out after them, his voice fake-nice, cheerful, and threatening – all at the same time. “See you guys at school!”

So much for being invisible, Skye thought, resigned to whatever was going to happen next.