The Slither Sisters

SIXTEEN





It was already dark when the boys left the house, and rain was coming down in sheets. The moment they stepped outside, they were completely drenched. They ran the entire eight blocks to Lovecraft Middle School. By the time they arrived, the dance was already under way; most of their teachers and classmates were already inside.

The front door was blocked by a hump-backed witch with green skin and long, stringy black hair. She carried a broom with a Home Depot bar-code sticker on its handle.

“Hello, my pretties!” she cackled. “Welcome to my haunted mansion! You must be Robert Arthur and Glenn Torkells!”

Robert wondered how she knew his name. The witch didn’t look like any of his teachers, and she was too old to be a student. He held out his ticket.

“I don’t need your ticket,” the witch explained. “I just need a big kiss.” She turned and offered her cheek. It was green and crusty and disgusting.

“I don’t think so,” Robert said.

The witch didn’t move. “I’m still waiting, dearie.”

“I won’t.”

She grabbed his arm. “You will!”

Robert leapt backward. “Let go!”

“Sweetie, it’s me.” The witch dropped the cheeseball voice and lifted the black hair away from her face. “It’s Mom.”

Glenn laughed hysterically. “Holy cow, Mrs. Arthur, that’s really you?”

His mother straightened her back and grinned. “Isn’t it cool? I bought the wig at a flea market. Five dollars.”

“Yeah, real cool,” Robert sighed. After being attacked by a giant snake and a shrieking harpy in the same week, Halloween scares weren’t as funny as they used to be. “Can we go inside now? I’m soaked.”

“Brace yourselves,” Mrs. Arthur warned. “Because I have something really special to show you.”

With a dramatic flourish, she stepped aside, allowing the boys to enter the lobby. The walls were draped with black velvet. Pipe-cleaner spiders dangled from the ceiling. The floor was covered with green Astroturf and Styrofoam tombstones. And looming in the distance was a familiar four-story mansion.

Somehow, Robert found himself standing outside Tillinghast Mansion.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Isn’t it incredible?” his mother whispered.

“Where’s the gate? How did we get here?”

“Gate? What are you talking about?”

Glenn crossed the Astroturf, approaching the house, and tapped the wall with his knuckle. It made a dull, hollow noise. “It’s cardboard,” he said. “It’s fake.”

“Of course it’s fake,” Mrs. Arthur said, “but doesn’t it look realistic? Isn’t the detail amazing? The Parents Association has been working on it for weeks.”

It was an enormous model of Tillinghast, scaled down to fit into the school’s lobby, with its most distinctive architectural features painted on layers of flat cardboard.

“Wow,” Glen whispered.

“Here’s the best part.” Mrs. Arthur pushed open the cardboard front door and led them into a replica of Tillinghast’s entrance hall, complete with a cardboard staircase, a cardboard fireplace, a cardboard chandelier, even cardboard reproductions of the tapestries.

Tables of food and drink were arranged on both sides of the room. Mrs. Arthur took great delight in pointing out all of what she called the dreadfully tasty treats.

“Maybe you’d like some fresh eyeballs?” she asked, then lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “They’re just peeled grapes.”

“I know,” Robert said.

“Or how about some Witch’s Brew?” she cackled. “No, seriously, it’s just lemonade with gummy worms.”

“Mom, I get it,” Robert said.

She frowned. “You don’t seem very impressed.”

“Whose idea was this? The staircase, the fireplace, the tapestries?”

“Oh, Mr. Price thought of everything. Sarah and Sylvia’s father. He heads the Parents Association and he designed the whole thing. Here he comes now.”

To anyone else at the dance, it might seem like Mr. Price wasn’t in costume. He was dressed for work at his law firm, in a charcoal three-button suit with a crisp white shirt and burgundy tie. But Robert and Glenn understood that Mr. Price was the costume—that beneath the fancy tailoring and suntanned skin lurked another of Tillinghast’s horrific monsters.

“That’s a good disguise,” Glenn said.

“You haven’t seen the best part,” Mrs. Arthur said. “Go on, Bill, show him.”

Mr. Price smiled, revealing a pair of cheap plastic vampire fangs. “Watch out! I’m a blood-sucking lawyer!”

“Isn’t that funny?” Mrs. Arthur laughed. “I think it’s so original.”

Sarah and Sylvia followed their father into the hall; they were dressed in matching pink princess gowns and pointy hats. The girls hurried toward Robert and Glenn holding paper towels from the restroom.

“You poor things,” Sarah said. “You’re dripping wet!”

“Maybe you’d like to sit by the fire,” Sylvia suggested. “You’ll be warm and toasty in no time.”

“Oh, that’s cute!” Mrs. Arthur said.

Robert refused the towels. “We’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Glenn said. “We’ll dry off at the dance. But you should come with us, Mrs. Arthur. I’m sure they need chaperones inside.”

Mr. Price shook his head. “We need her at the front door. In case any more latecomers show up.” He spoke like a good lawyer, with so much conviction and authority that no one dared question his decision. “But don’t worry, Mrs. Arthur, I’m happy to keep you company.”

“Please,” she said, laughing, “call me Mary.”

Robert didn’t like the idea of leaving his mother in Tillinghast Mansion, even if it was a fake replica of Tillinghast Mansion, and especially not with a monster disguised as Mr. Price. But she was already hurrying him toward the dance. “Go on, kids, have fun! I want to see some fancy footwork out there!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Arthur!” Sarah said.

“You’re the best!” Sylvia exclaimed.

Glenn pushed open the door and they entered the gymnasium. It was decorated like the lobby, filled with fake cobwebs and glowing jack-o’-lanterns and fog machines pumping misty vapors across the empty dance floor. Most kids were loitering on the sidelines, a bunch of zombies and pirates and vampires. At the far end of the gym was a small stage where a high-school student played DJ, blasting pop music over giant speakers.

Sarah and Sylvia stepped boldly to the center of the dance floor, waving their arms and shaking their hips.

“Let’s get this party started!” Sarah exclaimed.

“Woooooo!” Sylvia said. “Go, Lovecraft!”

They were dancing alone—but only for a moment. Soon the zombies and pirates and vampires stepped forward to join them, as if drawn to the Price sisters by some kind of powerful magnetic force. Within minutes, the dance floor was packed.

“It’s like they have everyone under a spell,” Robert observed. “Do you think Tillinghast gave them special powers?”

Glenn shook his head. “They’re just popular, that’s all. They don’t need any other powers.”

The boys found Karina sitting alone at the top of the bleachers. She wore a wispy white gown and a ring of flowers in her hair. Draped around her shoulders was a length of metal chain.

“What are you supposed to be?” Glenn asked.

“I’m a ghooooost,” Karina moaned, rattling the chain with both hands. “I’m trapped for eeeeeternity in a middle schoooool. Help meeeeee.”

Robert laughed. “You need to work on your acting.”

They sat down and Robert unzipped the pocket of his flak vest. Pip and Squeak climbed out and sat beside him. It was eight-thirty and the election results wouldn’t be announced until nine o’clock. They passed the time trying to identify teachers and faculty, all of whom were in costume. Mr. Loomis was dressed as Abraham Lincoln, with a black overcoat, fake beard, and tall stovepipe hat. Coach Glandis had come as Michael Jackson, sporting a red leather jacket and a single white sequined glove. And Ms. Lavinia was dressed as a mermaid, complete with a shimmering turquoise gown and ruffled tail fin. She was filling a cup at the punch bowl when she was approached by a man in a wet suit, diving helmet, and swim fins. She recognized him at once, dropped her cup, and pulled him into an embrace.



“Is that who I think it is?” Glenn asked.

It was Warren Lavinia, Robert realized. Of course. Halloween was the one time of year when Ms. Lavinia’s husband could come into Lovecraft Middle School wearing a mask without anyone getting suspicious. He had promised his wife they would be together soon, and he had kept his word.

The lights in the gymnasium dimmed, the music switched to a slow song, and the Lavinias drifted onto the dance floor. All around them, boys and girls were pairing up. Robert scratched the back of his neck. Karina crossed her legs and then uncrossed them.

Glenn elbowed Robert in the ribs. “You should go dance.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Are you chicken?”

“I’m not chicken, I just don’t feel like it.”

“Any girl in the seventh grade would dance with you tonight,” Glenn said. “You just have to ask. You’re a hero now. You should be down there with the cool kids.”

“I’m happy here.”

“What about Lynn Scott? She’s cute.”

“I don’t think so.”

Glenn was incredulous. “You don’t think Lynn’s cute? She’s gorgeous! Look at her hula costume. Look at those shells!”

“I don’t want to dance with her.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Will you leave him alone?” Karina snapped. “He says he’s happy sitting here. Quit bugging him.”

Glenn threw up his hands, exasperated. “I’m just trying to take his mind off the election. He looks nervous.”

Robert confessed he was worried about his mother. “I don’t like her being alone out there with Mr. Price. I’m afraid something bad is going to happen.”

“Glenn and I will go check on her,” Karina offered. “We’ll make sure she’s okay. You wait here in case they announce the results.”

They left and Robert was glad he didn’t have to talk about dancing anymore. He had no interest in dancing with any of the girls in seventh grade, except maybe Karina. But how do you dance with a girl who isn’t really there? How do you hold hands with a ghost?

He was still pondering these questions when he noticed Howard Mergler ascending the bleacher stairs. Each step required a tremendous amount of effort. He was using his forearm crutches like climbing poles, as if he was scaling Mount Everest.

“Howard!” Robert called. “You want me to come down?”

“I can make it,” he called back. “Just give me a second.”

More than a few minutes passed before Howard finally reached the summit of the bleachers. Robert couldn’t make sense of his costume; he wore a wild white wig and bushy white mustache that made him look like an old man.

Then Robert noticed Howard’s T-shirt. It read: E=mc2.

“You’re Albert Einstein,” he said.

Howard nodded. “The father of modern physics. You’re the first person to recognize me. Well done.”

“How do you like the dance?”

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Howard said. “I’m only here for the election results.”

Robert laughed. “Me, too.”

“Well, let me congratulate you ahead of time,” Howard said, shaking his hand. “If I have to lose to someone, I’m glad it’s you instead of Sarah Price.”

Robert was confused. “You don’t know that you’ve lost.”

Howard laughed. “Yes, I do. I should have known it was pointless to try. People like me never get to be president.”

“How do you mean?”

He gestured to his legs. “Franklin Roosevelt was the last person to pull it off. He was stuck in a wheelchair and voters still elected him president of the United States. But that was before TV, before the Internet. These days it’s all about image.”

Robert admitted that it seemed unfair.

“No one said life is fair,” Howard said. “But I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll try out for Handwriting Club. I hear they’re always looking for new members.” He shrugged. “Anyhow, I just wanted to say congratulations.”

Howard hobbled down the steps, returning to the dance floor to await the election results. Robert decided the whole student council election was stupid. Either Sarah would win because she was pretty and popular, or Robert would win because he hit a giant bird with a music stand. Neither outcome was right—and the one candidate with good ideas didn’t stand a chance.

But there was no time to dwell on the injustice of it all.

Glenn was running back to the bleachers. He looked scared, and Glenn didn’t frighten easily. Something had to be very wrong.

“It’s your mother,” he said. “She’s gone.”