“It’s okay,” Cole said, hefting his pillowcase. “We already made a good haul.”
“Not much full-size candy,” Dalton pointed out.
“A few little Twixes are just as good,” Cole said, unsure about whether he had any in his bag.
“I heard they have some real cadavers,” Blake was explaining. “Dead bodies donated to science but stolen to use as decorations.”
“Think that’s true?” Dalton wondered.
“I doubt it,” Cole replied. “The guy would end up in jail.”
“What do you know about it?” Blake challenged. “Have you been stealing corpses?”
“Nope,” Cole said. “Your mom was too broke to hire me.”
Everyone laughed at that one, and Blake had no reply. Cole had always been good at comebacks. It was his best defense mechanism and usually kept other kids from bothering him.
As they continued down the street, Cole tried to think of an excuse to walk alongside Jenna. Unfortunately, she now had Lacie on one side and Sarah on the other. Cole had spoken with Jenna enough to feel fairly natural around her. Sarah and Lacie were a different story. He couldn’t work up the nerve to barge in and hijack their conversation. Every possible comment that came to mind seemed clumsy and forced. At least Dalton was getting plenty of proof that he and Jenna were only friends.
Cole paid attention to the route. Part of him hoped Blake would lead them the wrong way, but he made no mistakes. When the spook alley house came into view, Blake displayed it to the others as if he had decorated it personally.
The house looked decent on the outside. Much better than average. A few fake ravens perched on the roof. Webby curtains hung from the rain gutters. One of the jack-o’-lanterns puked seeds and pulp all over the sidewalk. The lawn had lots of cardboard headstones, with an occasional plastic hand or leg poking up through the grass.
“Pretty good,” Dalton conceded.
“I don’t know,” Cole said. “After all the buildup, I was expecting granite tombstones with actual human skeletons. Maybe some ghost holograms.”
“The best stuff might be inside,” Dalton said.
“We’ll see,” Cole replied. He paused, studying the details. Why did he feel so disappointed? Why did he care about the impressiveness of the decorations? Because he had talked Jenna into coming here. If the haunted house was cool, he might get some reflected glory. If it was weak, she would have gone out of her way for nothing. Was that really it? Maybe he was just frustrated that he had hardly talked to her.
Blake led the way to the door. He knocked while the other nine kids mobbed the porch. A guy with long hair and a stubbly beard answered. He had a cleaver through his head, with plenty of blood draining from the wound.
“He must be the special-effects pro,” Dalton murmured.
“I don’t know,” Cole said. “It’s pretty gory, but not the ultimate.”
The fatally injured man stepped away from the door to invite them in. A strobe light flashed nonstop. Dry-ice smoke drifted across the floor. Tinfoil coated the walls, reflecting the pulsing light. There were webs and skulls and candelabras. A knight in full armor came toward them, raising a huge sword. The strobe light made his movements jerky. A couple of the girls screamed.
The knight lowered his sword. He moved around a little more, mostly from side to side, trying to milk the moment, but he was less menacing because he had failed to pursue his attack. Seeming to realize he was no longer very threatening, the knight started doing robotic dance moves. A few of the kids laughed.
Cole frowned, feeling even more disappointed. “Why did everyone build this up so much?” he asked Dalton.
“What were you expecting?” Dalton replied.
Cole shrugged. “Rabid wolves fighting to the death.”
“It’s not bad,” Dalton consoled.
“Too much hype,” Cole replied. “My expectations were through the roof.” Turning, he found Jenna beside him. “Are you terrified?”
“Not really,” she said, looking around appraisingly. “I don’t see any body parts. They did a good job, though.”
The clunky knight was retreating to his hiding place. The cleaver guy started distributing candy—miniatures, but he gave everybody two or three.
Then an older kid with messy hair wandered into the hall. He was skinny, probably around college age. He wore jeans and an orange T-shirt that said BOO in huge black letters. Otherwise he had no costume.
“Was this scary enough?” he asked nonchalantly.