The Halloween Party

THE HALLOWEEN PARTY

The school gym, full of boisterous fifth and sixth graders, was not only noisy, but hot this Friday evening, the night before Halloween. Sagging streamers of orange and black crepe paper hung across the gym, hinged cutouts of skeletons, ghosts and witches adorned the cork-covered walls, and the movable bleachers were shoved up against the walls

Around the edge of the gym ran booths and tables where mothers and teachers’ aides hovered as they applied face paint to the cheeks of the girls in the form of ghosts, goblins and quarter moons, and ran booths with bright red apples bobbing in tubs of water or other game booths.

In the corner Miss Abernathy, the third grade teacher, sat in a tent darkened with an extra blue plastic tarp thrown over it. She was dressed as a gypsy, a bright red bandanna tied around her hair, wearing a white blouse with red and blue beads sewn on the front. She was reading out loud from a book titled “Erie Tales From The Crypt”, the beams from a battery-powered “candle” providing the only light and casting long shadows across the floor.

Zak, a short 11-year old with unruly red hair, elbowed his friend Phil in the side, then leaned over and whispered to him, “Their ain’t anyway a guy with no head could ride that horse.”

“I dun know,” Phil whispered back, “Maybe he just had his head pulled down under his shirt. Or maybe a ghost COULD run around wit out no head.”

“No way!” wit no head he’d be dead.”

“Ghosts ARE dead!”

“There ain’t no such thing as ghosts you dufus,” Zak replied, punching Phil in the shoulder lightly.

“I dunno ‘bout that. Maybe there are,” Phil answered, rubbing his shoulder with his left hand.

Miss Abernathy finished reading her story and looked up at the small group, “And that’s why ghosts live in cemeteries.”

“See,” 10-year-old Phil whispered back to Zak, his face beaming as he scored a point,  “Miss Abernathy says there are ghosts so THERE.”

“Naw, that’s just a story,” Zak replied, running his short fingers through his hair that hadn’t seen a comb since the last full moon.

“All right children, it’s 9 pm and the party is over. Those who are going to take the buses home need to wait by the doors, you walkers make sure you have flashlights for your way home,” Miss Abernathy said as she stood up, flipping a switch to fill the tent with the light from a 100-watt bulb.

Zak blinked and Phil closed his eyes for a few seconds as their eyes adjusted to the increased illumination. The two boys, who had lived next door to each other their entire lives, got up and Phil pulled a flashlight from his back pack. “Where’s yours?” he asked Zak as they walked to the door.

“We only live three blocks away, we can use your light.”

Both boys slipped into their jackets, Phil put his back pack on and they walked out into the cooling October night along with the other “walkers”. On the street they turned south toward their homes, the other children lived north of the school and they suddenly were alone with only the not quite full moon for company, thin dark clouds flashing across the moon’s face as it grew quiet.

“I been thinking,” Zak said.

“’Bout what?”

“Ghosts. There really ain’t no such thing.”

“I’m not sure. There might be,” Phil replied as he waved the flashlight around the trees they were walking under.

“Have you ever seened one?”

“Nope, but ghosts are invisible,” Phil replied logically.

There was a pause for about 20 seconds as the two walked on.

“Tell ya what,” Zak broke the silence, “let’s cut through the old cemetery and I’ll show you there are no ghosts there. I mean, if they was going to be out it’d be tonight. Tomorrow’s Halloween and they’d be practicin’ to scare peeps.”

“Naaaaaww,” Phil stammered back, “my mom said we was supposed to come straight home after the party.”

“It’s only a block out of the way. She’ll never know, we can tell her the party got over late.”

“Naw, I couldn’t lie.”

“Chicken.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Not!”

“Are!”

Phil gave in to his friend, “Ok, I’ll show ya I ain’t chicken, lead the way.”

The two turned right at the next corner and 45 seconds later they stood before the old cemetery, which really was about two lots big on the corner of a block. A black iron fence enclosed the cemetery which was full of tall trees and large bushes.

The boys stopped at the gate, Phil shining his light all around the grounds before the two entered the cemetery.

“See, told ya,” Zak said; “No ghosts!”

“Shhhh,” Phil answered; “I hear something in the bushes.”

“I dun hear anything.”

“Over there,” and Phil swung the light to some very dark bushes. “Look! They moved,” he said.

Zak replied in a wobbly voice, “Prob, probly the wind.”

“I dunno. Listen to THAT,” Phil said as a high pitched screech emanated from the bushes.

Both boys stood transfixed as the screeching continued.

“Uh… I’m scared – a little,” Zak said.

Suddenly a white shape flashed out of the bushes and passed between the two.

“Ghosts!” yelled  Zak as he turned and ran for the front gate.

Phil stood rooted to the spot for a second then a second shape shot from the bushes, this one was black and white, chasing the first shape. Both shapes were screeching and yowling as if they were being murdered..

“Cats, they’re CATS,” Phil said, “fighting I guess. Not ghosts.”

But Zak already was out of the cemetery running as fast as he could home.

Phil laughed to himself and thought as he started walking to the gate, Zak was right, there ain’t no ghosts, but look who’s scared when he THOUGHT there were. I guess he’s not as tough as he thought.

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