June, age 6
The leaves are crisp and crinkly beneath my rain boots as I stomp through the backyard, following behind Brant and Theo.
I can’t help but startle when thunder rolls in the distance. It’s Halloween night, and everything feels a lot spookier on Halloween night. The dancing tree branches, the roar of the wind, and even thunder. Definitely thunder.
We’re still in our costumes after a long night of trick-or-treating in a nearby subdivision, since we don’t have many neighbors on our quiet street—Theo is Mario, Brant is Luigi, and I’m Princess Peach. Mama took lots of pictures, and everyone told us we had the best costumes they ever saw. I collected so much candy in my bucket, Dad said he had to take some of it for himself, or else the bucket would break. He took all of the Snickers bars because they were the heaviest.
Brant spins around to glance back at me, carrying a flashlight in his fist. He points it under his chin, waggling his eyebrows as shadows and yellow light dapple his face. “Where’s Aggie? Don’t you want him to keep you safe from the ghost stories?”
I shiver when a dank draft sweeps through. “He’s still handing out candy with Mama. You and Theo will keep me safe,” I say, my small legs trying to catch up.
“Did he dress up in a costume, too?”
“No. He’s already an elephant.”
Brant’s face brightens with a smile, reminding me of a lightning bug at dusk. I stare at him for a moment, and the prickle of fear fades away. His face is handsome and brave, with eyes like the earth; a little green, a little brown. He has divots that pop up on both cheeks when he smiles wide, and Mama says they’re called dimples. I love Brant’s dimples. I pretend they were made just for me.
“Are you sure you wanna come, Peach?” Theo takes long strides toward the treehouse, adjusting his Mario hat with one hand and carrying a big bowl of popcorn with the other. I can hardly see him through the darkness. “We’re going to tell really scary stories.”
Another chill rushes down my spine. “How scary?”
“You’ll probably have nightmares for the rest of your life.”
Ghouls, goblins, and wicked witches cackle in my mind, causing me to pick up my pace until I’m right beside Brant. “Will you protect me, Brant?”
He switches off the flashlight and stuffs it into his pocket. “You know I will. I’ll always protect you.”
“What if I die, and you can’t save me?” I reach for his arm and cling hard, nearly stumbling through the grass. “What if you die?”
“Whoa, hey…” He stops suddenly, facing me, both of his hands gripping my shoulders. He’s taller than me—a lot taller. He’s tall and strong, and he makes me feel safe. “Why are you asking these things, Junebug?”
“Because it’s Halloween, and scary stuff happens on Halloween.”
“Yeah, but not that sort of scary stuff. You should be thinking about ghosts and jack-o-lanterns, not—” His words clip short, and his eyes seem to fog over as the full moon glitters inside of them. Brant stares off just beyond me with shadows swirling in his faraway gaze, but before I can question where he’s gone, he’s back; he returns to me, and he’s normal Brant again. “Don’t think about those things. Promise me, June.”
He must be mad. He called me June instead of Junebug, just like when Mama hollers at me and says my full name: June Adeline Bailey. I gulp, nodding my head. “I promise. I swear it.”
“Good.”
Theo calls over to us from the treehouse steps, balancing the bowl of popcorn in one hand. “C’mon, you slow-pokes. We need to summon warlocks and raise zombies from the dead! Mwahahaha.”
I giggle to hide the fact that I’m spooked. Brant hauls me onto his back, carrying me the rest of the way to the treehouse, then climbs up behind me in case I slip on the ladder. Dad finally allowed me to climb the treehouse all by myself last year, but only if Brant or Theo are with me. A light drizzle sticks to my hair as I make my way up, and I tell the boys that I’m shivering because I’m cold—even though that’s not the truth. I’m scared of the ghost stories.
Brant takes off his jacket once we’re huddled inside, draping it over my shoulders. “That should warm you up. Your mom said she’ll bring us hot cocoa, too.”
I crawl across the blankets laid out over the wooden planks, settling into Brant’s lap and pulling the jacket tighter. Theo sits across from us tossing popcorn kernels into his mouth. Lanterns are placed in every corner, illuminating the small house, while raindrops whisper atop the roof.
We talk about our night by the glow of the lanterns and Brant’s flashlight, laughing about Mr. Sandman’s silly horse costume, comparing candy hauls, and teasing Theo about how Monica Porter unclipped his suspenders and his pants fell down, right in front of the entire neighborhood.
I’m having the best time. We aren’t even telling scary stories, which makes it better.
And then Mama calls up to us from the bottom of the treehouse, her hands full of hot cocoa cups. But that’s not what has my insides whirling with a queasy feeling.
It’s Monica Porter and Wendy Nippersink standing beside her, still dolled up in their costumes. Monica is a mermaid, and Wendy is a devil.
She really is a devil.
“Your friends are here, kids,” Mama says, climbing up the ladder halfway and popping the cocoa into the treehouse. “Can I send them up?”
She has a funny look on her face when she glances at Brant and Theo. She even winks.
“Yeah, okay,” Brant replies. He twists in place, then removes his Luigi hat to comb his fingers through his hair before situating it back on his head.
I stay firmly rooted to his lap.
“Hi.” Wendy pokes her head in first, pulling herself up all the way. “What are you guys up to?”
“Nothing. Just about to tell some ghost stories.” Brant shines the flashlight under his chin again, and Wendy giggles.
Monica appears next, immediately snuggling up next to Theo, her mermaid fin twinkling turquoise in the lantern light.
“Look at you,” Wendy says to me, coming up beside us. “You look adorable, June.”
I finger the princess crown still attached to my hair with bobby pins, scowling as I press my back to Brant’s chest. “I’m Princess Peach. Brant and Theo protect me from the bad things.”
“Like spooky ghosts and monsters?” She wiggles her fingers at me, making a ghostly sound.
“No, that’s silly. Monsters aren’t real.”
Monica chimes in. “You mean the really bad things? Like what happened to Brant?”
Everyone is quiet. I feel Brant’s muscles go stiff, so I swivel my body to glance up at him. His expression is as white as the ghosts we just spoke of. “What’s that mean, Brant?”
I’m not sure what Monica is talking about, but something in the air changes. Something in Brant changes. He doesn’t smile or laugh—he just stays quiet, wrapping an arm around my waist, almost like he’s trying to protect me from whatever bad stuff Monica is talking about.
Theo throws a piece of popcorn at Monica. “We don’t talk about that.”
“Why not?” she laughs, swatting at his shoulder. “You said you were telling scary stories. Maybe Brant can tell us about what happened to his parents.”
“Will you tell us, Brant?” Wendy adds. She scoots closer to us on the blankets, her eyes glinting with devilish curiosity.
Brant is squeezing me too hard. I don’t think he means to, so I pluck at his hand, entwining my tiny fingers with his until he relaxes and lets out a hard breath into my hair.
“Not with June here,” Brant finally replies, his voice sounding shakier than normal. “Maybe someday I will.”
“She’s just a little kid,” Monica insists. “She won’t even—”
“Not with June here.”
My skin itches with confusion and unease. I’m not sure what anyone is talking about, but Brant sounds angry, and I hardly ever hear him sound angry. When I turn around in his lap again, his face looks pale. He looks afraid.
That makes me feel afraid.
I scamper from his crisscrossed legs, landing on my knees in front of him until we’re facing each other. His earthy eyes seem darker than usual, but maybe it’s because it’s nighttime.
Monica grabs the discarded flashlight and starts talking into it like a microphone, ignoring Brant’s order. “My big brother told me the story of the haunted Elliott house,” she begins, her tone low and frightening. “Once upon a time, on a dark and dreary night, little Brant was woken up by a terrible thing… Gunshots. Death. Blood. So much blood…”
I wince. My eyes flare, terror sinking into my tummy.
“Monica! You’re being a biatch,” Wendy exclaims.
Theo also voices his aggravation from behind me. “Quit it, Monica. Not cool.”
But their words blend together into a blur of nothingness because all I can focus on is Brant, and all I hear is the thundering of my heartbeats. There’s a terrible, awful look in his eyes; I think he might throw up. Even his hands start to shake as he sits there, our gazes locked, my insides curling up like the dying leaves outside. “What does that…” I start to say, but I’m cut short.
“Junebug,” Brant whispers, and he’s still the only thing I hear. Monica prattles on, spewing gibberish behind me, but Brant’s words are what slices through the fog. “Cover your ears.”
He almost chokes on those words.
His voice breaks.
And I’m too young to understand what that means, but I think…
I think it hurts.
I think Brant is in pain.
I’m frozen to the checkered blankets, not sure what to do, when Brant quickly jerks forward and plants both of his hands over my ears. There’s a deep frown between his eyes, wrinkling his forehead. His skin glistens with sweat. His chest moves up and down with giant breaths.
My own hands lift, covering his, and then I close my eyes.
I can’t hear anything.
I feel safe.
I feel protected and loved as Brant holds his hands over my ears, shielding me from the awful story. I’m not sure what Monica Porter was talking about, but it was scary enough to scare Brant, so it must be really bad—especially because Brant is one of the bravest people I know.
I’m safe. I’m safe.
And just like that, noise returns. Brant whips his hands away from my ears and stands to his feet, hurrying away. Giggles from Monica follow him out of the treehouse, and I turn to watch as he disappears down the ladder.
“Brant, come on,” Monica calls out to him. “We were just having some fun. You don’t have to get all weird about it.”
Wendy crawls over to the opening, shooting a glare toward her friend. “You wench… that was so evil. What’s the matter with you?”
“Whatever.”
Both girls climb out of the treehouse, then Theo scurries to follow behind them. “Hey, wait for me…”
They all leave.
They all leave me up here.
Raindrops are my only friend as I look around at the shadows and lantern light. The wind howls, the tree branches scrape the roof. My mind spins with frightening things, like boogeymen and black bats. Tingles race up and down my spine, and tears wet my eyes.
I’m afraid. I’m all alone.
I want Theo.
I want Brant.
Crawling on my hands and knees, I make my way over to the treehouse door and peer down over the edge. It’s so high up—I’ve never climbed down all by myself before.
Maybe I should call for help. Maybe I should wait for someone to fetch me. My dad says I should never use the ladder without a grown-up.
My fingers curl around the blankets, my heart thumping hard against my chest.
I think I’m going to wait up here. They’ll come back.
They must.
But then the wind howls again, hissing like a snake, and I panic. I’m stolen by blind fear; all I want to do is run inside and bury myself in my Winnie the Pooh bed covers, clutching Aggie in my arms. Pivoting around, I slide backward on my belly until my feet poke over the ledge.
I lower myself out in an attempt to climb down the ladder.
Only, a terrible thing happens.
I miss.
I miss the first step.
And then I’m falling, my scream the only thing howling louder than the wind.
