She isn't sure if she's meant to be disappointed that she and her brother never go trick-or-treating anymore. Sometimes, like this year, they just sit out the front, beneath the verandah, in bad, under-thought costumes and yell at the five-to-fifteen-year-olds begging for candy that, y'know, this country isn't meant to be celebrating Halloween. She supposes that enjoying that more then free candy isn't normal.
Sometimes he'll throw water balloons at them when they past, but not this year. Mother's forbidden it because she always feels so guilty that there are poor, wet and cold children walking around after dark. She supposes that the drenched someteens feeds the sadist in her and wonders if this year will be less enjoyable without the cruelty.
In the beginning, she wanted to be Erin Brockovich, but her mother didn't think that was scary enough, so she ended being the grim reaper, only because all she had was a scythe in her closet. Her brother's playing a member of the gay pride parade, arguing that that has to scare some people. He stole all her rainbow clothing, including her knee-high rainbow socks. She growls and knows that, God damn it, those are going to get way stretched.
She knows, in the bottom of her heart, that this will probably be the last year of this. Her brother's started seeing the Dickson girl down the road. He'll probably spend all his Halloween's with her from now on. She doesn't mind. She gets it. They're teenagers, now, all grown up and on the hunt for significant others. Even though she doesn't quite feel it yet, God knows he does. He eyes every pretty girl that passes them.
"I dream of Halloween being horrible – limbs and lips and modesty gone and flesh torn apart by monsters," she admits, throwing candy her mother gave to hand out at some girls she knows from school wearing far-too-tight costumes.
Really, she didn't think of a laughing matter. She guesses it just proves how fast they're growing apart, so she just laughs along. "It's almost ten," she adds after, checking her watch in the dim light coming from upstairs where their mother is watching bad Halloween movies, "everyone probably gone home already."
He supposes she's right, no one dropped by for ages. He eats caramel chocolates and muses, aloud, "They're playing all those bad Buffy Halloween episodes starting at ten thirty, in case you're interested."
Shrugging silently, she pretends that she doesn't care even though she actually really wants to (she quite likes them, to be honest). He laughs and added after a while with no verbal reply, that they should go as Jay and Silent Bob next year, only without the gay subtext. She doesn't believe you can be Jay and Silent Bob without the gay subtext, so he added that, to be less incestuous, they should go as Jay and Bethany.
Sometimes he just so reminds her of why she loves him so much, it's stupid. She wonders if they're too old to 'I love you' anymore, but comes to the conclusion that, yes, they are. So she laughs and puts ice cubes down his t-shirt instead and hopes he gets the message.
Something for Halloween, even though I'm in Australia.