Halloween: The Official Movie Novelization

24

Cellphone to her left ear, Vicky ditched her red tennis shoes and sat with her legs curled up under her on the Morriseys’ wing chair, nibbling on the popcorn she’d made for nine-year-old Julian and set on the coffee table in a metal colander. He would have been happy stuffing himself with Halloween candy, but his mother had instructed Vicky to let him pick three snack-sized items and save the rest for later. Overall, Julian was a good kid, so babysitting him provided Vicky with a stress-free evening.

There was no way she wasn’t more comfortable in her white raglan shirt with yellow sleeves and navy jeans than practically anyone in costume at the school dance. One upside of choosing the babysitting gig over an after-school social life. In addition to her sweet thrice rate.

While Vicky talked to Allyson on the phone, Julian sat on the far corner of the adjacent pale-blue sofa watching Repo Man on the flat-screen TV. Barefoot, Julian was equally comfortable in his volcano t-shirt and T-Rex pajama pants. More importantly, he was dressed for bed. Once the little guy nodded off and Dave arrived, Vicky expected her evening to get interesting.

She raised her glass of cider and took a sip. “You guys should come over here when it’s done,” she said to Allyson. Listening to the muffled dance music in the background, Vicky felt a twinge of regret for missing out on the party atmosphere. She lowered her voice and cupped her hand over her mouth, because tiny ears could have big mouths. “Dave’s on his way. He’s bringing some ‘Alakazam.’ Julian’s parents aren’t gonna be home till super late. Catch my drift, Clyde.”

The pause before Allyson’s reply was telling. “School night though.”

Like the girl was genetically incapable of having fun, of letting go and saying, for once in her life, ‘What the hell? Why not?’ Vicky had to practically twist her arm to get her to go to the dance. And she’d almost bailed when Vicky backed out to watch Julian.

“Listen here, young lady,” Vicky said. “Am I or am I not your life coach?”

“Life coach? I wouldn’t go that f—”

“Too much?” Vicky asked. “Okay, then, who is your social specialist? Guy guru? Party pundit?”

“You, Vicky,” Allyson said, laughing. “You are all those things—and so much more.”

“You bet I am,” Vicky said, “but… we do need to nip the girl crush in the bud.”

“That was a—”

“I know, babe,” Vicky interrupted, smiling. “I’m simply irresistible.”

“That’s not what I m—”

“Sorry, Al, just jerking your chain,” Vicky said. “So, you’ll do what I say?”

“Within reason.”

“No hedging,” Vicky said. “This is for your own good.”

“Fine,” Allyson said. “So…?”

“Listen,” Vicky said, and couldn’t help noticing Julian giving her a bit of side-eye when he should’ve been focused on the movie. “I gotta tuck this cute little critter in to bed. Stop being a needy bitch and get over here.”

Allyson laughed. “Sounds good,” she said. “See ya in a bit.”

“Knew there was a party animal inside you waiting to get out.”

“Hey, I’m not—!”

“Better not leave me hanging!”

Before Allyson could change her mind, Vicky hung up.

Julian stared at her.

“What?” Vicky said. “I’m allowed to make personal calls. Besides, I’ve seen this movie before.”

“I heard you telling your friends to come over here and you’re gonna smoke some weed and drinkin’ that stuff. That’s against the rules.” He sat up straight. “I’m telling my mom.”

Little narc, Vicky thought. And after I made him all those snacks—and let him stay up past his bedtime—and watch some questionable movies. Well, two can play the narc game, kiddo.

Vicky crossed to the sofa and sat next to him, the better to look him in the eyes. “They teach you about MAD in school?”

“Getting angry?”

“In a way,” Vicky said. “But this MAD stands for mutually assured destruction. M. A. D. Understand?”

Julian shook his head, confused.

“Well, I’ve seen your browser history, Julian,” Vicky said with a slow, disapproving shake of her head. “Wouldn’t want me telling your folks about that, would you?”

Panicked, Julian shook his head “no” several times.

“That’s what I thought,” Vicky said, adding, “And up late watching scary Alex Cox movies is not what you’re supposed to be doing either.” Actually, she’d catch the heat for that infraction. But he didn’t need to know that.

She patted him on the head and smiled. “Get to bed, you little monster.”

“Now?”

“You bet your little butt now, young man!” she said. “Race you upstairs?”

With a delighted squeal, Julian jumped off the sofa and sprinted for the steps. Urging him on, she pretended to run full tilt, but stayed a few feet back. Of course, in bare feet, he had better traction on the hardwood floors than she did in her socks. But it wouldn’t have mattered. The unwritten rules of babysitting told her to let him end the night with the satisfaction of a clear victory. The faster to bed, she hoped, the faster to sleep. And then she could relax for the rest of the night.

“Okay, you beat me,” Vicky said as she walked through his open bedroom door. “You got some mad skills, little dude. Never saw anyone run up… stairs that fast.”

She looked around his room.

“Julian?” she called. “This was a race. Not hide-and-seek. C’mon, man, it’s already past your bedtime.”

Julian had an enviable corner bedroom for a kid his age, with two windows on either side of his wood-framed youth bed with a matching end table and two more windows on either side of a twenty-gallon fish tank, which glowed white and blue like the world’s biggest night light. His parents had decorated the walls with muted green wallpaper with pale silhouettes of animals—elephants, giraffes, kangaroos, ducks, and roosters in a repeating pattern. Above his bed, fixed to the wall, stuffed, quilted letters in bold patterns spelled out his name in all caps.

She’d seen him enter the bedroom, which limited his hiding options. Julian should have been lying in bed, right beneath the stuffed letters, but had decided to prolong his evening. The bed rested on a large striped throw rug to protect the hardwood floor, with enough clearance under the bed to hide a mischievous nine-year-old. On the far side of the long dresser to her left, a small red rocking chair with a stuffed alligator on the seat occupied that corner of the room. She leaned to the right and peered around the corner of the dresser. No Julian.

“Julian…?” she called. “You need to brush your teeth and use the little boys’ room before you conk out.”

He wouldn’t fit in the closed wooden stand under the fish tank, so no options on that side of the room. To her right stood a youth desk and chair beside a short wooden bookcase with a few sports trophies atop it. Above the desk were twin-framed illustrations, portraits of a polar bear on the left and a panda on the right, with Julian’s own artwork pinned to the wall under these. She leaned over to the right and checked the kneehole of the desk. Again, no Julian. That left the closet and under the bed—unless the kid has a secret passage to Narnia hidden somewhere in here.

“Time’s up, Julian,” she said. “I’m opening the closet.” She stomped her feet for effect, but without her shoes on the soft thumps lacked any intimidation factor. She took two steps around the desk, toward the closet and—

“Boo!” Julian shouted, jumping up from behind the far side of his bed.

Startled despite herself, Vicky swayed back and bumped into the desk chair.

“Did I scare you?”

“Sure did, buddy,” Vicky said. “You got me.”

Julian grabbed the small wooden biplane model from his end table and walked to the left of the aquarium to his craft table, which held wooden train-set pieces and plastic bottles of paint.

No way is he staying up to paint that plane, she thought. Don’t even ask, kid!

Instead, Julian performed loops and dives with the plane in his hand, making engine sounds, and asked a different question. “Would you jump out of a plane?”

“With or without a parachute?”

He laughed.

“It’s an important detail!” she joked. “One is all ‘Ooh—ahh!’ and the other is ‘Ahhhhhhhh—SPLAT!’”

“With, obviously,” he said.

“Might try it someday,” she said. “But you know what I really need to do first?”

“What?”

“Get you to brush your teeth and go to bed.”

“All right,” he said, dragging out the words as he reluctantly set down the plane.

After Julian finished his nighttime routine, he climbed into bed and pulled up his plaid covers, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

“A-ha!” Vicky said, standing at his bedside. “Knew you were tired. Now stop that or you’ll make me yawn.”

“I’m not—” Another yawn. “—tired.”

“No?” She raised her eyebrows. “You’re not even fooling yourself.” She kissed her hand and touched it to his forehead. “Now close your eyes and go… to… sleep.”

Julian nodded.

Vicky switched off the fish tank light and walked to the doorway.

“Will you leave the door open? Just a crack?”

“Okay,” Vicky said, leaving the door open wide enough to let a shaft of light from the hallway spill across the floor of his room. “Before I forget,” she said. “Command, shift, N—next time. Incognito mode.”