Rules of a Rebel

Chapter 12: No Costumes

Rule #6: Dress Code - No Costumes

Rebels Have Their Own Style

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A shadow flutters across our porch. 

I press my nose to the glass, craning my neck to get a better view of our porch. My eyes scour the area around my bowl of cat food for any signs of life. But, no, I lean back on my knees with a sigh of disappointment. It's just a leaf that the wind blew across the floor. It gets stuck under one of chairs before flying away to the darkness.

"Honestly, Peyton, don't you have anything better to do?" Mom questions from her place on the couch, although she looks like she's not expecting any answer. What are you looking for anyways?"

"Nothing," I mutter and go back to the window.

In truth, I put a bowl of cat food outside, in hopes to attract Lucky. She's learning how to hunt - I know because I found a dead squirrel under the porch the other day - so she must be on the prowl for food. Hopefully, the smell attracts her. Then, I can slowly gain her trust until I call animal control or something. 

The doorbell rings.

I repress a groan. Except for that little problem. 

"That's your job." Mom reminds me, flipping a page of her magazine. 

Stupid kids, I think, pushing myself up. They ruin everything. I can't believe I signed up for this - although, the alternative was hanging out with Archer, so I guess I had no choice. (Still, a part of me really wants to see that haunted house.)

I grab the bowl from candy (half-empty, since dad ate like ten Kit-Kats already) and swing open our door, tossing my wings to the side.

"Trick or treat!" Three kids cry in unison. They fight for their place in front and hold out the orange baskets. They're dressed up as Mr. Incredible, a cowboy and Princess Tiana. 

"Are you a parrot?" Mr. Incredible asks.

"I'm an Salmon Crested Cockatoo," I correct, putting two M&Ms in his basket. "They're an endangered species - people trap, kill and sell them."

But Mr. Incredible's already running across the field again, trying to conquer another house. The other two thank me and rush to follow him. They run to the house across the street. 

Groups of children walk everywhere, laughing and screaming at each other. One of them, dressed like a bumblebee, slips and falls into a puddle and starts crying. His mother rushes to him and picks him up, looking embarrassed from all the people looking at her.

Rolling my eyes, I brush my hair (which I styled to resemble the bird) back and slam the door shut.

"It's nine o'clock. Shouldn't they be going home by now?" I mutter under my breath.

"Hardly. You used to stay up until ten, remember," Dad says, his lips twitching at the memory. I just shrug and go back to my spot in the window.

Mom and dad suddenly go on a rampage of all our childhood memories. I block them out, focusing on the window again. My reflection makes it hard to see, but all of a sudden, I spot a figure approaching the bowl. My heart skips a beat. 

It's Lucky. 

I would have squealed with joy - you know, if ever I squealed. Or felt joy.

I shield my eyes from the light and press my face against the glass. Lucky pounces at the bowl and suspiciously takes a sniff. Her yellow eyes, larger and wiser, seem to match the eerie atmosphere for Halloween. She looks stronger now, as well. Her body is more full, as if she's actually feeding herself. Lucky munches on the cat food curiously and then, starts to gobble it down.