Trick or Treat by Richie Tankersley Cusick Page A

up. “They sent me to doctors, you know … and one even hypnotized me. But I still can’t remember much about that night. People say I found my friend Elizabeth and that … that someone had killed her….” She tucked her arms around herself, and her face was plaintive, like a little girl. “But, Martha, I really can’t remember. I remember … terrible … horrible fear. And the long dark.”
    Martha was interested. “What’s that? The long dark?”
    But Wynn gave an irritated shrug. “Just … dark. Darkness that went on and on forever.”
    Martha thought a moment, picturing the house, the dark shadows, the dark corners, the dark secrets….
    “You can’t imagine how awful it is.” Wynn drew a shaky breath. “Trying so hard … but just … nothing comes.”
    They turned off the school grounds and headed up Main Street, past rows of old-fashioned shops. Wynn’s face was still troubled, but as she glanced over at Martha again, a slow smile began to replace the pain.
    “That’s why I acted funny yesterday when we came to pick you up at your house. I just haven’t been back there for such a long time. But I worried and worried about it — I … I didn’t want you to think it was you or anything —”
    Martha reached over and gave her a hug. “I didn’t think that. And thanks for telling me.” For a second Wynn looked like she might cry, and Martha added quickly, “We don’t ever have to talk about it. You don’t ever have to come.”
    But to her surprise Wynn shook her head. “No, that’s just it. I want to talk about it. I need to. And I want to come to your house, too — I just … have to get up my nerve.”
    “Whenever you want, it’s okay.” And then you can tell me if the house is really evil … or if Conor’s trying to drive me out of my mind . There were so many questions Martha was dying to ask, but instead she said, “I’ve never been to this part of town before.”
    Wynn seemed ready to change the subject. “It’s the original downtown — take my word for it, nothing’s any different than it was when we were kids. In fact, it’s probably the same as it was a hundred years ago.” Wynn gave her a glance that was almost apologetic. “I’ll bet you feel so trapped here, after Chicago. I’ll bet you had millions of things to do back there.”
    Martha thought a moment, smiling. “There were lots of places to go. Now that I’m gone, I wish I’d done more. But what do you do here? You know, for fun?”
    “Well, you saw the pizza place — everyone either hangs out there or this other place called Marty’s — it’s right at the edge of town, and they have a band.”
    “Ooh, I love music —”
    “You wouldn’t like this. They’re not very good, and they never learn any new songs. I mean, after they play the same old stuff three times in a row, it gets boring.”
    Martha laughed. “Okay, forget Marty’s. What else?”
    “Clubs at school. And school dances. Sports, naturally. And church.” Wynn made a face. “It’s really — really — the pits.” She glanced towards a storefront window and suddenly pulled Martha over to the display. “Oh, look — don’t you love that sweater?”
    “It’d look great on you — go try it on.” Martha tugged on her arm, but Wynn held back.
    “No — I’d only get depressed.”
    “Depressed! Why?”
    Wynn shook her head. “If you were as shapeless as me, you’d never ask that question.”
    “You? Look at me — I have —” Martha pinched at her own ribs — “lots of extra insulation.”
    “You do not! You have a great shape!”
    “Lumpy —”
    “All in the right places. Listen — I still remember a few years back — when everyone was getting measured in gym class? Afterwards I found out my chest and Blake’s were the same!”
    “You’re kidding!” Martha couldn’t help herself; she doubled over with laughter while Wynn looked on helplessly.
    “Would I kid about something like that? I’ll never get over it