The Mall (68 page)

A 1978 Pontiac Grand Prix.
 
Cadillac Green.
 
V-6.
 
A/C.
 
Power windows.
 
AM/FM Cassette.
 
Oh, I even had a 10 CD changer installed in the trunk in July.
 
My baby.
 
My first car.

“What the hell is this?”

I turned to find Claudia scowling at me.

“This is how you’re getting to Austin and, if you stop right now, how you’ll be getting back home.”

Claudia stuck her head inside the cab and wrinkled her pointy little witch nose.
 
“What’s that smell?
 
Is that hot sauce?”

“I’m getting it.
 
Just hold your horses.”
 
I grabbed up a handful of taco wrappers and shoved them into the garbage bag I was carrying.
 

Before I could stop her, Claudia sprayed something into the seat cushions.

“Hey!
 
What are you doing?”

She held up the can to me.
 
“Strong enough for a man but made for a woman.”

I stuck my nose into the headrest of my imitation velour seat.
 
One whiff and I cringed.
 
“Oh yeah.
 
This is much better.”
 

“It stinks!
 
I’m not riding in a stinky car!”

I begrudgingly collapsed behind the wheel, making a conscious effort to breathe through my mouth.
 
I lowered the windows.
 
“I guess you know that we’re going to have to ride all the way to Austin with the windows down now.”

As we drove away, I glanced up in my rear-view mirror and caught a parting glimpse of Mom and Dad standing just inside the shadow of the garage, arms linked around each other’s waists with enormous smiles on their faces.

Very little conversation took place on the way to Eerie’s.
  
After perusing my CD collection and finding it severely lacking, Claudia cranked up the hard rock station out of Austin, playing groups with names like “Ludicrous Confusion” and “Toxic Dogs”-- the ones that were more concerned with the volume of the distortion than with lyrics.
 
It was clear she didn’t want to make small talk.

When we got there, she leapt from the car like a kid at the gates of an amusement park and disappeared inside.
 
I didn’t see her again for another fifteen minutes.
 
In that time, I made my way methodically up one side of the first aisle, turned and went down the opposite side of the same aisle.
 
After I was sure I didn’t miss anything, I started on the second aisle.
 
Such is my way.
 
Not only do I have to look over the whole store item by item, but I have to do it completely before I even start selecting my purchases.
 
I’d brought a notebook along just to make sure I wouldn’t forget anything, making a note of the price in the margin when I found a close match.

The items get pricier as you get deeper into the store.
  
The first aisle was mostly the cheap stuff, mostly because it was the closest to the door and most at risk of being shoplifted.
 
Make-up kits.
 
Individual pieces of costumes.
 
Hats and stockings and wigs.
 
There was a complete aisle dedicated to plastic hand-held accessories: swords, axes, maces, spiky balls on chains, broomsticks, scepters, plastic crucifixes.
 
The bulk of the warehouse is made up of costumes.
 
Kids costumes.
 
Adult costumes.
  
Funny costumes.
  
Scary costumes.
  
Sexy costumes.

The latex masks were behind a manned counter along the rear wall of the store.
 
The yard decorations including the smoke machines (which I spent a little time comparing) and the plastic caldrons were toward the left hand wall.
 
The coffins and the electronic gizmos that creaked and screamed and leapt out at you down the right hand wall.
 
These have riveted me since childhood.
 
I found it physiologically impossible to pass a label marked “press me” without following the instruction.
 
I was such a sucker for a welcoming red button that they could’ve put one on the far side of a guillotine and I would have reached through the frame just to press the damn thing.

But the things that have always fascinated me the most are the dioramas with the moving parts, the little miniature towns with ghosts hovering over graveyards and witches riding brooms over haunted castles and the little lights going off and on behind windows and the cheesy sound effects.

Oddly enough, this was where I found Claudia.

She had that glassy-eyed intensity that I suppose I must have, like she was trying to solve some sort of mystery the scene had posed.

She straightened visibly when I sidled up beside her and that brief evidence of a childlike sparkle in her eye disappeared.
 
Her eyes seized on my notebook.

“What’s that?”

“My shopping list.”

She grabbed it out of my hand and glanced through it. “You have got to be kidding me?
 
You drew a blueprint of your house and yard?
 
And I have the reputation of being the weird one.
 
Life has a certain irony.”

She started away with my notebook in her hand.

I raced after and snagged it back.

“What are you planning to do with all of this?”

“Decorating for Mom’s Halloween party.
 
She has one for all the neighborhood kids every year.”

“When you say ‘kids,’ do you mean those young enough to get nightmares from the Disney version of ‘Legend of Sleepy Hallow’?”

“Kids.
Yeah.
 
Little kids.
 
It’s a tradition with her.
 
She always thought that there weren’t enough kid-friendly activities for them to do, so ...”

Claudia grabbed an unattended basket that was sitting at the end of an aisle.
 
“And this is what you do every year?”

“Well, yeah, since I can’t trick or treat anymore, I’ve poured my energies into scaring the crap out of the newbies.
 
It’s
how I give back.”

Claudia shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to a séance.”

“Yeah right!
 
Your mother would never let you…”

Claudia swung around and nearly collided with me.
 
“She doesn’t know, so the story is I’m going to be with you and your family at this thing.”

“Hey, it’s your funeral, but if she
comes
calling over there, don’t think I’m going to lie for you or anything.”
 
I scoffed and started past her down the next aisle.
 
“I’m going to be at the party witnessing the fruits of my labor.”

“What a way to spend Halloween!” she replied, running with the basket and hopping up on the bottom rail and sailing past me.
 
“Fine, but what are you doing after this blowout party?”

I reached out and jerked the basket to a stop, before it hit a couple of ten year olds dashing around the corner.
 
“Scaring the daylights out the kids who show up at the door,” I told her proudly.
 
“Though, I haven’t figured out if I’m going to reprise my vampire from last year or go with zombie makeup.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
 
When I didn’t answer, she just shook her head at me and started up the next aisle.
 
“Okay, I’m not promising you anything, but maybe I can talk the others into letting you come to the séance.
 
That way it wouldn’t be total bullshit when I tell her that I’m with you.”

I looked up at her to gauge her sincerity.
 
“Back it up.
 
What makes you think I’d go along with this?”

Claudia leveled her dark eyes at me.
 
I felt a momentary weakness that I’d never felt before.

“You don’t seem totally hopeless, Paul.
 
I figure you could hang with me and my friends.”

“What friends?”

“Friends.”
 
She started away again.
 

I pushed the basket after her.
 
“From Dallas?”

“Of course.
 
Where else would I find cool people?
 
The village of Haven?”
 
She gave an ironic laugh of dismissal.
 
She stopped at the smoke machine display and chose the one I’d already decided to get.
 
“This one has a timer
and
a remote.”
 
She set it in the basket and snagged the list from me again.
 
“What else you got here?”

I moved on, pushing the basket in front of me and wondered if I was going to cave in or stand my ground.
 
I was curious, I had to admit.
 
A séance.
 
What went on at those things?

Claudia followed behind, making little mewing sounds when she approved of something on the list and blowing raspberries when she didn’t.

“Okay Okay.
 
Give me the damn thing.”

“You’re going to need my help if you want this thing to kick ass.”

“What are you talking about? My vision is perfect.
 
I’ve had years of experience.”

“See, this is your problem.
 
You’ve got this thing too fixed in your mind.
 
Anybody who’s been over on previous years will know where to expect the scares.
 
Just like a bad horror movie that telegraphs exactly where the cat will jump out.”

She was starting to make sense.

“First of all, I don’t see anything for the entryway.
 
You’ve got to punch up the entryway because it’s the first thing they’ll see when they enter.
 
It sets the whole tone of the evening.”

“I figured the porch and the yard…”

“The porch and the yard should be the appetizer.
 
Something to whet their appetites.
 
The main course will be the living room.
 
You guys have that amazing chandelier that we could play with and tons of electrical outlets.”
 
It was the first time I recognized excitement on her face.
 
For a moment, she looked nothing like the girl I saw writing elegies in the stadium bleachers a week ago.
 
She looked like an excited teenage girl.
 
I felt that peculiar weakness in the pit of my stomach again and chalked it up to hunger pangs.