Ted sat down cross-legged on the ground, the weight of his full backpack pulling him down. He glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was looking. One of the moms had brought her Great Dane puppy into the schoolyard, on the far side by the basketball hoops. Dogs were not allowed, but the three or four kids and one nanny who remained didn’t seem to mind. They pet the dog and talked to its owner. No one noticed Ted.
He flicked the lighter, causing it to spark but not light, and put it in the pocket of his Adidas track pants. Then he pulled it out and flicked it again, harder. The flame rose and swayed in the purpling light. When it died, he flicked it again. It was addictive.
His parents had matches lying around their house. His dad brought them home when he picked up takeout from restaurants and used them occasionally to light candles. A lighter was better. You could stare at the flame and it didn’t burn your fingers. When it went out, you could just light it again.
He wanted to hold the lighter to the corner of the subway map and watch it burn. He could put the fire out with the bottle of water. He wanted it so badly, his mouth hung open and he drooled a little. But the people admiring the huge puppy were still there, across the schoolyard, and the lame principal and strict lunch ladies and even stricter librarian were still inside, preparing for tomorrow. He pushed the lighter back into his pocket, its heat against the top of his thigh, and opened the subway map. Here was Brooklyn, there was Queens, there Manhattan, the Bronx. You couldn’t take the subway to Staten Island but it was on the map because it had its own subway that wasn’t connected to anything. He pretended to study it, waiting.
* * *
Halloween Hijinks
Call them pranksters, call them artists, call them Halloween devotees to a crazed degree. Someone went overboard this year. In the lead-up to Brooklyn’s favorite holiday, someone scattered the limbs of dolls, mannequins, stuffed animals, and porcelain figurines in parks and gardens around Cobble Hill, giving members of the community quite a fright.
“The ankles looked just like my husband’s,” said Plum Brenner of Amity Street. “He’s been dead for seven years.”
The fun of it is, no one knows who’s behind it. But we prefer it this way. Maybe it’ll become a yearly thing, like the spiders crawling up the houses on Verandah Place, the piano that plays itself on Clinton Street, or the tiny pumpkins stuck all around the prongs of the wrought-iron fence on Kane.
(Cue evil laugh).
Happy Halloween!
PART IV NOVEMBER 3
Chapter 21
Wendy said she would buy the firewood herself.
It was Friday. The party was Sunday night, which meant she had all weekend to prepare, but she’d taken the day off work to get a head start. She’d found the name of a woodcutter in Staten Island. Finding him would be an adventure. Wendy was excited. Parties were her specialty, and this was their first in Brooklyn. Roy couldn’t be bothered; he was too busy with his book.
She’d rented a U-Haul van to pick it up. A cord of wood, just over the Verrazano, which was the impressive-looking bridge over the whitecapped bay that you could see off the Belt Parkway on the way home from JFK. That was about all she knew. Wendy wasn’t big on driving. She’d quit altogether in England because they drove on the wrong side of the road and the roads were narrow and fast. The only time she’d tried, she’d sideswiped an entire hedge and made permanent fingernail gouges in the car door trying to find the gearshift.
The U-Haul place was a much longer walk than she’d expected, up Union Street, across the Gowanus Canal, up and up to Fourth Avenue and then over to Fourth Street. She could have taken a car service, but the staff at Enjoy! were encouraged to walk.
The U-Haul van was basic and raw and empty in back, modern and full of gizmos in front. A screen barked at her when she backed up, showing her a picture of what was behind her and the dangers therein. The GPS never shut up. The E-ZPass allowed her to zip through tolls. Wendy drove in a dutiful daze, following the GPS instructions.
She’d get the wood and maybe even some fireworks, she thought as she crossed the Verrazano Bridge.