Page 67 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
“I wouldn’t if you weren’t so easily scared,” she says, reaching for the lollipop she stowed behind her ear and slowly peeling off the red, cellophane wrapper. She nabbed it at the first house we visited, and she’s been secretly plucking a few unsuspecting candies from the bottom of Teague’s pumpkin pail.
I fiddle with the tube on my proton pack, which matches theGhostbustersgroup costume Teague has orchestrated for all of us to participate in. I never really partook in trick-or-treating when I was little, partly because the Halloween decorations scared the crap out of me, and partly because my parents never volunteered to take me and my brother. But I’m glad to be here now,with Teague and Cali, facing my irrational fears of kid-friendly jump scares and house-sized animatronics.
Teague’s a fucking trooper. He’s way less afraid than I was when I was a kid. In fact, he’s gone up to every doorstep all on his own and broke out that pageant-winning smile of his. His pail’s so full that there’s barely any room left for more candy, and we still have a few more blocks to go until we’ve cleared the neighborhood.
Teague’s walking by my side and slowly making a dent in his king-size Hershey’s bar, while Cali’s taking up the front and inadvertently torturing me with the way her ass moves in her tight-fitting uniform.
The streets are overrun with tiny, colorful bodies, and every house is so backed up that we have to maneuver through flocks of first-time parents and disinterested older siblings, all being pulled by children who’ve reached max sugar capacity. A tapestry of darkness swallows the night sky, save for the full moon that hangs above us and casts ribbons of light over sprawling asphalt. Houses are lined with glowing jack-o’-lanterns, seven-foot skeletons and blow-up black cats occupy every lawn in sight, and fog machines exhale a sinister mist over fake gravestones. The skeletal limbs of molting trees sway with the last of autumn’s leaves, causing a few runts to fall to the ground in a flurry of crimson and canary yellow. It’s chilly out tonight, and I’m glad for the coverage of my costume to keep my balls from shriveling into raisins.
When Teague stops at an impressively decorated house—complete with a walk-through scientist’s lab—we stand in a fifteen-minute line full of overstimulated kids and the occasional fussy baby. Teague, however, bounces up and down with unrestrained excitement, which is probably a byproduct of the copious amounts of sugar he’s already ingested.
The line’s stopped moving, allowing my aching feet a rest,and Cali leans against my side, having found a new method of torturing me while she sucks on her lollipop, hollowing her cheeks and flicking her tongue over the semitranslucent candy.
“You know you didn’t have to come with us, right?” Her carmine-stained lips glisten underneath the moonlight, and my saliva glands go into overdrive when I imagine myself cleaning the cherry flavor from her mouth—getting drunk on the aftertaste of a bad decision.
“I wanted to,” I respond, and to corroborate my statement, I ruck my lips up into a smile, mirroring the inflation of my heart. “There’s really nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I didn’t think I’d ever be trick-or-treating with Cali and her little brother. This feels so…serious. We’re not justhangingout. This could be a core memory for Teague. After his concussion, Cali’s family has been weighing heavier on me. The more I hang out with Teague, the more I want to be in his life. And tonight isn’t an exception.
Each time he faces his fears and goes up to a house all on his own, pride crystallizes in my veins, and I want nothing more than to pick him up in my arms and tell him how proud I am. There’s always a split second before the door opens that he looks back at me for reassurance, and a supportive thumbs-up galvanizes his confidence.
Don’t get me wrong: a part of me also wants to keep my distance. A part of me doesn’t want Teague to look up at me like I can do no wrong—because I can, and I have. I’ve convinced myself that I don’t deserve love after the mistake I made with my brother. And would Teague really look at me the same way if he knew his hero wasn’t so perfect?
Cali shoves her lollipop to one side of her cheek, puffing it out like a chipmunk’s. “He’s really happy you’re here, you know,” she whispers to me.
“I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten sick of me,” I joke, but there’san inkling of truth in there somewhere, and it makes my stomach writhe with the intensity of a washing machine.
“Are you kidding? He’s obsessed with you. Never stops talking about you. It’s always ‘I wonder what Gage is doing today.’ ‘Can we please hang out with Gage?’ ‘Cali, did you know that Gage is the coolest person ever?’”
I smirk. “He’s right. Iamthe coolest person ever.”
The line shuffles forward the slightest bit, and every so often, I catch a glimpse of the two gigantic tarps over the multipurpose garage pulsing with a plethora of neon-colored lights.
“It amazes me how big your ego is,” she grumbles.
While Teague’s bucket-deep in search of his next treat, I take the stick of Cali’s lollipop between my index and middle finger, slowly easing it out from between her lips. She doesn’t say much apart from a gasp, and I push the lollipop into my own mouth. “If I remember yesterday correctly, you were a fan ofsomethingthat was big.”
I can tell she wants to retaliate, but since there are little ears present, she settles for an exasperated, “Ugh.”
Chuckles dwindle into the ambience of the night, and I tip my head up to the map of stars, watching as my breath coalesces into thin, gossamer strands, eventually evaporating into the fifty-degree atmosphere. It’s just dawned on me that I’ll never be able to take Trip trick-or-treating now. And the worst part is, I’ll experience so many things with Teague, and they’ll all remind me of the experiences that were taken from my brother.
Cali must’ve descried my uneasiness because she comes to join me at our quick rest stop, leaning against the fence. “You okay?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m all good.” I clear my throat in an attempt to reinstate my conviction.
She eyes me like a hawk, and she leans in just slightly,concern seasoning her tone. “Gage, there’s obviously something that’s bothering you.”
The lollipop lodged in my mouth suddenly couldn’t be less appetizing. “I was just thinking about…”
I can’t even say the words. My guilt’s giving me away like a large, conspicuous, flashing neon sign.
“About?”
“I was worried about coming out tonight,” I admit, somehow feeling claustrophobic in my own skin—feeling like no matter where or how far I run, my past always catches up to me. “I was worried that I’d think about…”
And immediately, Cali catches on to my unspoken truth. “Oh, Gage. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about how tonight would affect you after your brother.”
“No. It’s okay. I’m glad I get to be here with you and Teague. It, uh, it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. You guys make it a lot less painful.”
