Marker lines sweep across her cheeks like whiskers. “Hey,” she says, “mind if I tag along?” I almost agree, but then I hear Mary’s cruel words in my head, see Anna standing beside her doing nothing. “Maybe next year,” I tell her. Hurt flashes across Anna’s face like a bolt of lightning, there and gone so quickly I wonder if I imagined it. Then door to door we go, me and Peter the ghost, clutching sticky hands seeking treats and childhood. Though his costume hides his face, I can feel his smile pulse through. I’m so focused on Peter, it takes me a while to notice something moving in the shadows, the swish of a tail the sound of a growl such sure signs that my friends are following me. But I don’t crave their presence tonight. We turn the corner, bump into Dana having fun with her friends.
