Wanted (9 page)

My three
least
favorite things in the world?

1. Soggy Oreo cookies.
   
2. Homework on any day of the week.
   
3. Walking in a pumpkin field at night.
   

So here I was, Devin O'Bannon, walking through an endless pumpkin field on a cold October night. No moon in the sky. And chilly gusts of wind that made the fat pumpkin leaves scrape and slap one another.

And just to make the moment perfect, my twin sisters, Dale and Dolly, both six, tagging along. Pulling my hand, tugging me through the tangles of disgusting leaves and vines, tripping and singing, and laughing at their older, wiser brother — as always.

Did I wish I was back home, sitting on my friend Lu-Ann's couch, tossing down handfuls of popcorn and trading insults with her?

Three guesses.

But like I said, here I was, walking through the pumpkin field with my sisters. My Number Three least favorite thing to do. Mainly because pumpkins are so creepy. I mean, have you ever looked at pumpkin leaves?

They are big dudes. Fat and kind of round. They remind me of baseball gloves. They look like they're about to grab you and pull you and suck you inside them. You know. Like those snapping plants that like to eat flies.

And those fat, ugly leaves are noisy, too. When the wind comes up and they slap against one another, it sounds like hands clapping. Weird.

Clap clap clap clap.
A whole field of hands clapping.

And you know why they're clapping? Because they've just grabbed some poor victim and sucked him inside the vine.

Okay, okay. Maybe that's not true. Dad says I have a runaway imagination. And that's what I'd like to do. Run away. Because this pumpkin farm is
creepy
with a capital C.

And I haven't even started to talk about the vines. They're mostly hidden beneath the fat, clapping leaves. That's so you can trip over them more easily.

Pumpkin vines are thick and long. Wider around than snakes. Really. That's exactly what they look like. Long, thick snakes with pumpkins growing at one end.

Yuck — right?

And that's not all that's scary about this farm. There's a huge black cat named Zeus who follows us everywhere. Zeus has the most evil stare I've ever seen. Talk about bad luck. He definitely has the Evil Eye.

And he follows me silently. Watching … always watching.

Then there's Mrs. Barnes. She's the housekeeper and cook who came with the farm. Mrs. Barnes is a big, round woman with long black braids that go all the way down her back. Like vines.

Her face is round and her body is round. As if she's
built
of pumpkins!

But I'm being unfair. She is actually very nice. She has a warm, friendly smile and a soft voice, and she gave me an extra stack of pancakes this morning, which were great.

But not great enough — because here I was on this cold October night a week before Halloween, walking with my sisters in this endless field of pumpkins.

“This is so
awesome
!” Dolly exclaimed. She did a little dance on the soft, mushy ground.

It's such a pain to have a sister who is wrong all the time.

It's an even bigger pain to have
two
sisters who are always wrong.

But they're both cute as they come, with ring-lets of blond hair and big blue eyes, giggly laughs, little turned-up noses, and dimples in their chins.

Dad calls them little leprechauns.

Leprechauns come from Ireland, where he was born. And he means it as a compliment. But I looked up leprechauns online, and it said they were little creatures who do a lot of mischief.

Dolly and Dale started dancing around a big pumpkin, singing some dumb Halloween song. Dale grabbed me and tried to pull me into their circle to do the dance with them.

Like that was really going to happen.

Let's be honest. I was totally creeped out in this field. I mean, it was very dark and there could be hundreds of
real
snakes slithering along the snaky vines. And all kinds of other creatures.

I mean, this field was a
horror movie
waiting to happen.

But I had to act brave for the girls. I'm the older brother and that's my job, right?

I tugged free of them and took a few steps back. The fat leaves brushed the legs of my jeans. That sent chills up my spine.

And in the darkness, I suddenly saw two glowing green eyes. Cat eyes. Zeus had followed us again.

The girls were dancing faster and faster, circling the big pumpkin and singing:

“Come alive? Are you kidding me?” I shouted over their shrill little singing voices.

They both laughed.

“Where did you learn that song?” I asked.

“We made it up, stupid,” Dolly replied.

“Yes, we make up songs all the time,” Dale said. “Why won't you dance with us, Devin? Don't you think it's cool to dance in the dark like this?”

“Not cool,” I said. “Totally not cool. Let's go back to the house. It's getting cold.”

“No, it isn't.”

See? I'm always wrong.

“Stop singing that!” I shouted. Their dumb song was giving me the creeps, too. I was shivering. Really.

Hey, I'm a city guy. I grew up in New York City. My first seven years, at least. Before we moved to Dayton, Ohio. I don't belong on a farm.

I can't believe Dad leased this pick-your-own-pumpkin farm. But he lost his job last year. And he's been scrambling around, trying to find ways to make money ever since.

So, I try not to complain. I only tell him how much I hate it here five or ten times a day.

A strong gust of wind came blowing down the length of the field. The trees near the fence bent and made weird groaning sounds. The pumpkin leaves rattled and shook at my feet.

“I … I'm going inside,” I said to the twins. “Are you coming?”

I didn't wait for their answer. I turned and started to jog toward the house, jumping over the long, fat vines.

“WHOOOOAAAA!”

I tripped over a vine.

Nothing to grab on to. Nothing to stop myself from falling.

I saw the glowing cat eyes watching me as I went down.

I landed with a thud. My head hit something hard. A pumpkin? A rock?

My knees throbbed. Pain shot up and down my body.

Everything went black. Blacker than the night sky.

I fought it. I forced my eyes to open. Pain danced around my head, circling me. I could feel the blood pulsing at my temples.

“Ohhhhh.” A low moan escaped my throat. I shook my head hard, trying to shake away the pain.

“Are you okay?”

“Devin, are you hurt?”

My twin sisters leaned over me, staring down with wide eyes.

“No. Not okay,” I said. I held my hands out and let them pull me to a sitting position.

“What's wrong?” Dolly asked.

“Didn't you
see
what happened?” I cried.

They both shook their heads. “You tripped?” Dale said.

“No,” I said. “Didn't you see that vine move? That vine right there.” I pointed to it. “It moved. It
tripped
me. Really. I saw it move!”

The girls just laughed. They thought I was joking, but I wasn't.

Squinting into the darkness, I could swear I saw the vines crawling over the ground, twisting, tangling over one another as they stretched and slithered.

I stood up and rubbed my head. I could feel a bump on my forehead from where I hit. No blood. But I knew I'd have an ugly bruise.

The cool wind felt good on my hot face. Except for the clapping of the leaves, the pumpkin field was silent. No night birds. The crickets of summer were all gone.

“Come on. Into the house,” I said. “Enough thrills and chills for one night.”

That's when a long creature rose up in front of me and attacked my face.

“Snake! Snake!” Dolly shrieked.

I screamed.

The girls burst out laughing. Dale waved the vine in my face. She had it gripped in both hands.

I should have known she was moving the vine. But I was freaked from my fall.

“You two are about as funny as moldy pumpkin guts,” I said.

That made them laugh even harder. Okay. Fine. Let them enjoy their joke.

I didn't feel like laughing. I was pretty miserable.

I mean, I had to spend a whole week on this farm. A whole week of caring for the pumpkins, and hauling them to peoples' cars, and helping guide the visitors, and working the cash register, and just general farm work.

A whole week away from school and my friends.

As soon as we came inside, I phoned Lu-Ann to see how she was doing back in our neighborhood.

“I'm still dreading Polly Martin's party,” she said. “It's going to be so lame. Brad and Marcus and I are thinking hard. But we can't come up with any good ideas to help make the party exciting.”

“I know what you can do,” I said, rubbing the bump on my forehead. “You can come here. There's plenty of extra rooms. And you can do all of
my
jobs! Fun, right?”

She didn't laugh. “You know I can't come there, Devin. No way my parents would let me miss school so I can go pick pumpkins on your farm.”

“But, Lu-Ann,” I said, “this farm is less than an hour from your house. Maybe you could —”

“Forget it, Devin. No way. Not happening.” She shouted something to her mom. I heard them talking for a minute.

Then she came back to the phone. “Are you hating it there?”

“
Hating
isn't the right word,” I said. “I think maybe
despising
is the perfect word.” Lu-Ann and I are always looking for perfect words.

“Well, when you start to feel bad, just think about how lucky you are to be missing Polly's party.”

I started to answer, but something caught my eye. A reflection in my bedroom window. Something bright and fiery.

I stared hard at the reflection in the window. It took me a few seconds to realize it was a large jack-o'-lantern. The reflection of a flaming, grinning jack-o'-lantern. Floating inside my room!

I let out a shocked cry. I spun around.

Nothing in my room. No jack-o'-lantern. No floating pumpkin.

I turned back to the window. And saw the grinning pumpkin in the glass. It flickered brightly. A reflection from my room.

I spun around again. No jack-o'-lantern in the room.

Then, as I turned my eyes to the window, I saw the pumpkin slowly fade in the dark glass. It faded to nothing. Disappeared as I stared, my heart pounding.

Whoa.

How can there be a reflection of something that isn't here?

“Devin? Devin? What's wrong? Why did you scream?”

I heard Lu-Ann's alarmed voice in my phone.

“I … I've got to go,” I said. I kept my eyes on the window. Black as the night now.

“But are you okay?”

“Yeah. I guess. Later,” I said. I clicked the phone off and tossed it onto my bed. Then I bolted out of my room. Ran down the hall and out the back door.

A burst of freezing wind blew me back. But I ran to the side of the house, my eyes searching the darkness for the bright jack-o'-lantern.

No. Not out here.

Not in my room. And not outside. But I didn't imagine it. No way I imagined it.

I rubbed the bump on my head. It hurt a lot.

Was it causing me to
see
things?

Hallucinate.
That's a perfect word.

“Anyone out here?” I called. My voice sounded strangely hollow in the heavy night air.

Silence. Except for the clatter of the pumpkin leaves. And the scrape … the
scrape … scrape … scrape
of the long vines as they crawled over the soft dirt.

No. Wait.

Why were the vines making that sound? That wasn't normal — was it?

Wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm, I took a few steps away from the back of the house. I stepped out of the light from my bedroom window and moved toward the pumpkin field.

It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the blackness. It was so dark, I couldn't see where the sky ended and the ground began.

But as I moved closer, I could hear the slither of the vines clearly. Yes. I could hear them stretching … stretching …

The vines were moving.
Dozens of them.

Crawling toward the house, dragging the pumpkins with them.

I realized I wasn't breathing. I'd been holding my breath. I let it out in a long whoosh. My breath steamed in front of me.

And as the steam floated away, my eyes focused on some pumpkins on the ground. Large, round pumpkins right in front of me.

I gasped when I saw them moving. Their sides moved in, then out. Tiny movements. But I could see them.

In, then out.

They were breathing.

The pumpkins were breathing.

“Nooooo.” A low moan escaped my throat. My whole body shook with fright.

I turned and ran. My shoes slid on the loose dirt as I bolted back into the house. I burst down the hall and into my parents' room.

I know. I was supposed to knock. But I was too frightened to remember anything. I just lowered my shoulder and pushed the door open.

They were sound asleep under the covers in their bed. “Mom! Dad!” I ran to the bed and shook them awake.

“Huh? What?” Mom blinked her eyes in confusion.

“Devin? What's wrong?” Dad's voice was clogged with sleep.

“It's … the vines,” I choked out. I was panting so hard I could barely speak. “They're growing. They're moving. I saw them. You've got to believe me. The vines are crawling like snakes. Crawling to the house. And the pumpkins — I saw them
breathing
!”

“Yes, I know,” Dad said, raising his head from the pillow. “I meant to tell you about that.”