14
Heather
Fifth grade
“Who are you trick-or-treating with?”
We were preparing to leave the house when my dad asked that question. I had his green robe on with a dozen stuffed cats either glued, taped, or shoved into the pockets, and my hair was in three giant rollers on top of my head. I had explained the whole premise of the costume three times to my dad, and every time, he ended up looking down at his lap with his shoulders shaking.
I wrinkled my nose. “That stupid Channing Monroe.”
“I thought you two were friends.” He stifled more laughter, locking the door behind us.
I got it. It was hilarious.
Insert eye roll here, please.
I huffed out, “We are, but…still.”
I was just sore. Tate had gone trick-or-treating with her friends in Fallen Crest, because that’s where she lived now.
