Halloween: The Official Movie Novelization

3

By the time Allyson stepped outside, Vicky and Dave had retreated to the curb. Sipping mango bubble tea from a clear plastic cup, Vicky wore her denim jacket, decorated with her growing collection of metal pins, over a maroon ringer t-shirt with a white collar and dark overalls. Her red Converse high-tops added a splash of color. Her straight blond hair flowed over the leather strap of her large knit shoulder bag, which she carried instead of the standard high-school backpack. Dave, on the other hand, toted the expected backpack with the addition of a green canvas pouch slung in front of him, which—if Allyson had to guess—contained non-school-approved supplies. He wore his fur-trimmed hat, a flannel coat with Navajo patterns, dark-green cargo pants and scuffed brown boots.

Of course, they had no plan to leave for school without her. They’d stepped away from the front door in case Allyson hadn’t been the one to answer the doorbell, because Dave had already—big surprise—fired up a joint. As she joined them, he took a deep hit, no longer concerned about discretion.

“Off to an early start, Dave,” Allyson commented. Then immediately worried she’d come across as too judgmental after sitting through her mother’s performance.

“Medicinal,” Dave said.

“How’s that?”

“Don’t ask,” Vicky said, rolling her eyes.

“For school,” Dave said, grinning. “Raises my bullshit tolerance quotient.”

Vicky cast a sidelong look at Allyson. “Told you not to ask.”

Despite his nonchalant attitude, Dave trailed a bit behind them as they walked, effectively shielded from any approaching adults, keeping the joint low at his side when not pressed between his lips.

Every house they passed displayed a variety of Halloween decorations, but most had at least one jack-o’-lantern on their steps or beside the front door and faux cobwebs stretched across bushes, windows, or doorways. Except Allyson’s house, which was the exception that proved the rule.

Vicky nudged her with an elbow. “Something bothering you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seem tense,” Vicky said. “Instead of relaxed. Like you usually are. After your morning run. What gives?”

“Yeah, well,” Allyson said. “My mom is a liar. She told me she invited my grandmother tonight, but she didn’t. She never even contacted her.”

“How do you know?”

“I called her.”

“Your grandmother?”

Allyson nodded.

“That’s bullshit,” Dave chimed in.

“What’s your mom’s deal?” Vicky asked. “Why would she say that?”

“She literally just tries to keep me away from her. Turns into a nutcase this time of year.”

“If I were you guys,” Vicky said, “I wouldn’t celebrate either. I’d put up a Christmas tree instead. Just skip over all the spooky Halloween shit, right?”

Feeling the effects of his joint, Dave nodded seriously. “Jumping to Thanksgiving would make sense. Puritans, cornucopias, plagues, starvation, slaughtering the Indians. That stuff isn’t creepy at all.”

“Dave,” Vicky said. “You’re rambling.”

“What can I say? I’m a ramblin’ man.”

“Oh, brother,” Vicky said, shaking her head. Turning to Allyson, she said, “Does she ever talk about it?”

“Pretty much all she talks about. It defines her life. She’s been traumatized ever since. You should see her house.”

“Freaky.”

Dave frowned in thought. “Wasn’t it her brother that cold-blooded murdered all those babysitters?”

“No,” Allyson said. “I think people made up the bit about them being related because it made them feel better. Like it couldn’t just happen to anyone.”

“I mean, that is scary,” Vicky said with a sympathetic shudder. “To have a bunch of your friends get butchered by some rando crazy person.”

“Is it though?” Dave asked. “I just feel like the world has way worse shit now. One dude just killing a few people, I don’t know.”

Vicky glanced back at him in disbelief. “Her grandmother is a badass and was almost fucking murdered, Dave!”

“And she escaped!” he said, taken aback by Vicky’s explosive reaction. “And he was caught! He’s, like, super-incarcerated right now.” He held up both hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just saying it’s not like the absolute worst thing that has happened to a person. By today’s standards.”

Vicky stopped in her tracks and whirled around to face him. “Shut up, Dave. Stop talking.”

“I’m sorry,” Dave said. “I sensed myself going on a rant and didn’t know how to eject. Sorry.”

Allyson was almost as surprised as Dave by Vicky’s defense of her grandmother’s ordeal. While Vicky frequently teased Dave, busting his balls now and then, her tone usually remained in the snark zone rather than emotional outbursts.

Noticing another jack-o’-lantern on a decorative bale of hay, Dave’s eyebrows rose, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Or perhaps he merely wished to deflect attention away from his rambling faux pas to escape Vicky’s ire. “You guys cool if I explode this pumpkin head?”

With a flicker of a smile, Vicky said, “Yes, please.”

Allyson plucked the stem lid off the jack-o’-lantern. “Go for it.”

Dave fished what looked like an M-80 out of his jacket pocket and lit the fuse with the dwindling roach, which was almost short enough now to burn his fingers.

“Houston, we have ignition,” Dave said, dropping the firecracker through the carved opening. Allyson replaced the lid. Dave set the jack-o’-lantern on the sidewalk. Allyson could hear the fuse sizzling. “Go!”

As they ran clear of the blast zone, Dave yelled, “Wooooo! Happy Halloween!”

Allyson glanced over her shoulder at the muffled whump!

Orange chunks and pumpkin gore splattered the sidewalk, a nearby fence and the rear quarter panel of a white SUV. The three of them couldn’t stop laughing.