It was a dark and stormy night, which meant my costume was dribbling green paint down my white tights and into my new shoes.
"Come on, Mom," yelled Brett, pulling me toward yet another house.
"No, no. Not that house. Aren't you done? You have enough candy. I'm wet. I'm tired. Don't you care that my feet are tired?"
"Come ON Mom! You promised you'd take me." he tugged me toward the house.
"I can't." The sound of the rain disintegrating my cardboard m&m costume drowned out my voice.
The house belonged to Cora Nigel, PTA president. Ultra put together. Society lady--never had green paint drip down her legs in her life. Cora Nigel. She would laugh at me. Worse! She'd make everyone else laugh at me. I looked down at my little boy and tried to come up with a reason not to go to that house.
"Come ON." He looked up at me. "You promised we could go to every house."
"Yes," I said slowly. I squeezed his hand and we walked to the tidy front porch. Promises were important. Cora, was not.
Kathleen Dougherty, from Scotts Valley, CA, loves to write. She writes whenever she can.
© 2007 Kathleen Dougherty. Original for CCF (Dougherty grants CCF first electronic rights for one month; CCF may archive the material indefinitely and include it in an eBook anthology).
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