Wrong About the Guy

Riley stood up. “Sorry, guys, but before we get too deep into this, I need to go read over my notes for my AP History test next period. Wish me luck.”

We did, and she left.

“Ugh, that’s zucchini!” Aria

“So what’s your idea?” I asked.

“Okay, you know those Uncle Sam posters? The ones where he points and says, I want YOU?” She switched her fork to her left hand so she could demonstrate the pose.

“Yeah.”

“We do that. Except we say, I want YOU . . . to give to the gift drive.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “It’s a little military-ish, though, isn’t it? Wasn’t that for the draft?”

“No, it’s okay because we won’t actually use Uncle Sam.” She switched her fork back to her right hand. “That’s the whole point—we use your stepdad! Can you imagine how cool it would be for kids to walk down the hallway and see Luke Weston pointing at them from a bunch of posters? I bet they’d all notice it.”

“Yeah, no,” I said. “Let’s not do that. The stencils sound fine.”

“Oh.” She raised her chin a little. “It was just an idea.”

“I know.”

“I just thought he might want to help. Since it’s for a good cause.”

“Yeah. It’s just that I try not to drag him into school stuff.”

“But couldn’t you ask him? Maybe he’d want to do it.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Do you want me to ask him? Since it makes you uncomfortable to do it? I could come over sometime and just put it out there.” Big smile. Lots of teeth. “I’m willing to be pushy for a good cause.”

I believed her. “Let me think about it,” I said again.

She shook her finger at me playfully. “Don’t forget the goal is to get a lot of people involved in this! And there’s nothing wrong with using co

“Luke does tons for charity,” I said, stung by the implication that he didn’t. “I just don’t want to drag him into a school thing. For both our sakes.”

“I bet he’d be happy to do it. I don’t see how it would hurt to ask.”

“Right,” I said, just wanting to end the conversation. I stood up. “I’ve got to grab some books before my next class. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” she said. “You sure you don’t want me to come by and ask him myself?”

“I’m sure,” I said, and walked away.

Mom asked me what I thought we should all be for the Marquands’ Halloween party. She wanted it to be something Jacob would like since he’d be going, too.

I told her I’d already made a costume plan with Aaron, but that I’d double-check. I sent him a text.

Still on for Halloween? Me Suzy, you Shakusky?

Shit—totally forgot. Sorry. Crystal got us all themed costumes, even Mia. Must do what the generalissima says. You shd still be Suzy tho—you’d be so cute.

But I couldn’t be Suzy without Shakusky. She was part of a set.

I found Mom and told her I was in on whatever she decided. We talked about it for a while and decided we should do Peter Pan, since that was Jacob’s current favorite Disney movie.

Halloween was the next Friday night. Riley and Skyler asked me if I wanted to do something with them. “We could hand out candy at your house,” Riley suggested hopefully.

“No one comes to our house,” I said, which was true, because we had a gate and a long driveway, and all the houses in our neighborhood were too far apart to make trick-or-treating worthwhile. “I’m going to a party, anyway.”

“Whose?” Riley asked, with the stricken expression of someone who thinks she’s been socially marginalized. I quickly explained that it was a family thing.

We gathered in the kitchen before we left for the party so we could take a few family photos. I felt a little stupid in my green tights and tunic but I really loved the over-the-knee slouchy brown boots Mom had let me buy. I’d been coveting them for months, but she kept saying they were too expensive until the day before, when I’d argued that they’d work for Halloween and she gave in. She was fu

We’d assumed Jacob would want to be Peter Pan, but when we showed him a picture of the costume and said, “For Jakie,” he’d shaken his head and pointed to a picture of Michael, the little boy with the teddy bear, and then pointed to himself and said, “Jake.” Which for him was practically a sentence. So I became Peter by default. As Mom put it, “It’s either you or Luke, and Luke already said it won’t be him. He’s very excited about Captain Hook’s mustache.”

“Why not you?” I asked. “Isn’t Peter Pan usually played by a middle-aged woman?”

“That sentence alone is enough to send me into therapy for five years,” she said. “Green tights would push me over the edge.”

She had been torn for a while between Tinker Bell and Wendy, but decided that since she’d probably be holding Jacob/Michael for most of the party, Wendy made more sense. “Plus I’ll be wearing a nightgown, so I can go right to sleep afterward,” she said. “It’s my ideal party outfit.”

Lorena took the photos for us. Mom held Jacob, Jacob held his teddy bear, and I stood next to them with my hands on my hips while Luke glowered appropriately from behind us.

Jacob loved taking photos: the second he spotted a camera or phone pointed at him, he froze, smiled, and said “Eee!” which was his version of saying cheese. He did that now, and Lorena took a bunch of photos on my phone and then she gave him a big kiss on the cheek and said good-bye.

Normally we wouldn’t bring Jacob to a big party, since they overwhelmed him, but Michael always hired a cast of young actors to dress in costumes and man booths in the backyard stocked with candy and toys, so kids could trick-or-treat without leaving the house, and Jacob was old enough this year to join in.

Aaron came over to say hi as soon as we walked into their house.

“Aladdin!” Jacob said, pointing at him with delight.

“Smart kid,” he said. “The trick-or-treating has started, if you guys want to bring him out back.” Mom and Luke thanked him and carried Jacob toward the yard, but Aaron grabbed my arm and said, “Stay with me. I need to know what you think of my vest.” He was wearing a small purple one over his naked chest. His body was as taut and muscled as I’d remembered from when we swam, but either he’d been ta

I said, “It’s in a tie with the fez for my favorite part of your costume.” I flicked the tassel on his little cap.

“Ah, we’re playing that game, are we?” he said, and flicked the feather on mine.

We walked into the living room. There was soft sitar music playing from hidden speakers, the lights were slightly dimmed, and the walls and ceiling were draped with silk—it all felt very exotic and fantastical.

“The palace at Agrabah?” I asked, gazing around in delight, and he nodded.

“Crystal’s Jasmine and Mia’s wearing a little tiger costume.”

“This totally leaves last year’s pirate theme in the dust. Why isn’t your dad Aladdin?”

“He said he was too old. He wanted to be Jafar.”

“But Jafar’s evil.”

“He preferred age-appropriate to heroic.”

I halted suddenly and glanced back. “Was that Lady Gaga we just passed a man?”