Trick-or-Treating False Key

We younger children, I gripping my plastic samurai sword and Bella tripping on her too-long kimono hem, crept closer to the dark house while our older siblings lit cigarettes and loitered outside the garden wall. Lumbering after us in a masked turtle costume, Nick complained, "Wait up, Tyler!" Bella and I both shushed him.

I heard my brother Xander laugh from the sidewalk. "Later, losers." Already bored, he and his friends would move on to their teenager party, leaving us to our fate.

It was a dare, the annual one, to trick-or-treat the Rockefeller house, and we were the dumb fish who had taken the bait. Proof we'd been inside the decaying mansion could buy us entry to the older kids' party and games like Spin-the-Bottle. Reaching the front door was our first challenge, so we made our way over the coquina pavers, slick with moss, past the sculptures lining the pathway--nightmare figures screaming, cowering, and kneeling. I checked my back jeans pocket to be sure my penny whistle was there. At the first rustle in the underbrush, Nick cried out. "Oh!"

"It's just a cat," Bella said calmly.

"The witch's cat!" His cape fluttered out as he ran for it.

"What a baby," Bella muttered, shaking her head.

Privately, I agreed with Nick. Several freakish cats emerged, meowing in strangled harmony. So, the stories were true. Three, four, five cats--all had six toes on their forepaws. What other stories were true about the old lady? I shuddered. "Come on," I said. "Let's get this over with."

We climbed the porch steps. A plastic jack o'lantern flickered in the window. Next to the door, the shell-shaped name plate read "Rockefeller." With a jolt, I remembered the family from class--something to do with oil? Supposed to be stinking rich, weren't they? Couldn't be. The place was a dump. I knocked.

"She's not a witch, you know," Bella said.

"Of course not." I said, my voice edgy. "Don't believe everything you hear."

"She's a mermaid," she whispered.

I laughed. "Don't be stupid." I knocked again, louder this time, and rang the bell, but heard no sound.

"No, really. Trapped on land. She sings and carves people." She hugged her bulging candy bag to her chest. I liked the freckles that danced across her nose from one cheek to the other and the shiny, red ponytail which bounced when she talked.

I grinned. "You mean with a great, big knife?" I held up my make-believe sword.

"No, like an artist. With a hammer and chisel."

I stared at her, uncomprehending.

Impatiently, she huffed. "We just walked past her artwork."

"Whatever." I shrugged. "She's not home."

"Maybe she's in her workshop. Let's go see."

I shook my head. "No way." I'd seen plenty of scary movies, and I knew this was the deciding moment. "Let's go the party." Maybe play Truth or Dare.

Bella smirked. "Baby."

Apparently, Truth or Dare was happening now. Fine. "Where's the workshop?"

"Around back."

"How do you know?"

"I've been here before."