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as we watch it run across our path and disappear around the house.
    I don’t know why, but a little chill runs through me. “It
must
be.”
    “Great,” Marissa mutters. “A black cat just crossed our path.”
    There’s another flash of lightning and crack of thunder, and the light kind of catches in the mummy’s eyes. I stop walking and look at it a little better. “Wow,” I say, leaning forward. “Those eyes are so—”
    “GHAAAAAAAHHHH!” the mummy cries, jolting at me.
    “AAAAAAAHHHH!” I cry, jumping back.
    The mummy smiles at me. “Gotcha.”
    I try to swallow my heart and act all cool, but the mummy’s right—it got me.
    Got me
good
.
    Everyone else thinks it’s hilarious, of course, and Billy slaps five on the mummy. “Dude, that was classic! She’s really hard to get, too!”
    Other kids are blasting past us, so the mummy gets back in position and we hurry toward the front porch, which is totally decked out with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs and more laughing skulls. The person handing out candy is a classic-looking old witch with a honkin’ nose, warts galore, and long stringy black and gray hair. She holds out a steaming cauldron to us. “Candy, dearie?”
    So Billy sticks in his hand, but immediately yanks it out.
    “You have to pass through me
eyeballs
for the sweets, dearie,” the witch cackles.
    Billy gives her the biggest smile. “You guys are awesome!” Then he jabs his hand in and comes up with a full-sized Snickers. “Yes!”
    The rest of us do the same, and even though I know they couldn’t be real, passing through the layer of gooshy “eyeballs”
is
very creepy—so much so that Marissa almost can’t do it.
    When we all have our monster bars of candy, we tell the witch, “Thank you!” and follow the painted wooden arrows that say, ESCAPE THIS WAY and FLEE THEE! and THE ONLY WAY OUT!
    “That was incredible,” Holly says when we’re back onFeere Street. But while the rest of us are going on and on about how cool it was, I notice that Casey’s quiet and kind of looking around.
    “Hey,” I tell him, slipping my hand into his. “There’s nothing you can do about her.”
    He just shakes his head and pulls a face like, Whatever. But as we’re trick-or-treating our way up Feere Street and back to the barricades, I can tell he’s still looking for her.
    That it really bothers him.
    “So what are you going to do?” I finally ask him.
    He shrugs. “Nothing.”
    “You’re not going to tell your mom?”
    “Are you kidding? She’s probably where Heather gets her cigarettes.”
    I bite back
And sense of style
and instead say, “Your mom smokes?”
    Casey scowls. “Oh, yeah. And you’re right—there’s nothing I can do about it.”
    But even though he’s acting like he’s disgusted and blowing the whole thing off, I can tell he’s worried. We’re almost to the barricades when he frowns and says, “She is headed for some serious trouble.”
    And then, like an omen coming true, we see that there are two police cars parked across the street, and that there’s a cop talking to a girl in shiny black shorts, fishnet stockings, and long black hair.
    “Oh, no!” Casey says, then drops my hand and takes off running.

It made sense that Casey thought the cop cars had something to do with Heather because a cop
was
talking to her, but by the time Casey gets up to her, the cop has moved on to someone else.
    I hang back, but I can still hear Casey ask her, “What happened?”
    “Someone shut up the Preacher Man,” Heather says, like she’s in a little bit of shock.
    There’s a small mob of trick-or-treaters gathered, and we can see another cop kneeling beside someone lying on the ground. But all we can really see is the back of the cop and the legs of the body.
    “Someone
killed
him?” Casey asks.
    She shakes her head. “Beat him up.” And then it’s like the Evil Switch goes
click
inside her brain. She looks at Casey like she’s just remembered she hates his