Jenny and Ryan scooted closer to Jonathan. He could see no tears in their eyes, but they were shaking, and their skin was pale in the moonlight. He put his arms around them and drew them in closer, until they leaned their heads on his shoulders.
Minutes went by. Nobody said a word. The silence washed over everyone; they were in their own little world. Ryan stepped out from Jonathan's arm and stood on the sidewalk.
"Maybe we should just go home now," Ryan said. Jenny got out from under Jonathan's arm and joined her brother on the sidewalk.
"Yeah," she said. "It is getting kind of late, and maybe our mom will be coming home soon ..."
Jonathan look into their eyes a few moments and then shook his head. "Hold on," he said. "We came out to do some trick or treating, and damn it, that's what we're doing. I'll be damned if I am letting the night end like this. Just one more house, OK? We'll go to one more house and have a better ending for this year than getting shot at by Charles Whitman over there."
Jonathan stood up. "We'll go to that house across the street," he said. "We'll get our candy, and then we'll go home. Does that sound good to everyone?" Jenny and Ryan looked at each other for a moment and then nodded their heads. "Fantastic," Jonathan said.
The trio walked to the house, and Jonathan knocked on the door. A woman opened up and eyed them. "Trick or treat," they said in unison. The woman grunted and leaned over to grab a bowl by the door. She palmed something the three could not see and dropped them into their bags.
"Hey," Ryan said, reaching into his bag. "This is a toy cow."
"Yeah, it's a toy cow," the woman said. "I got plenty of those when I was a kid. Beat it." She looked at Jonathan and shook her head. "A guy as old as you out on Halloween, huh? Who are you supposed to be?"
"Well," Jenny began, but Jonathan stepped forward and cut her off. He reached into his bag and pulled a pink chewing gum police badge he had received earlier in the night.
"Ma'am," Jonathan said. "I'm a federal candy inspector."
"A what?" the woman asked.
"Federal candy inspector," Jonathan said. "I work with the EPA and the FDA to make sure all of America's candy is good and clean. We've recently begun stakeouts with the Border Patrol to control candy being smuggled into the U.S. across the Canadian and Mexican borders, but that's another story.
"Ma'am, I'll level with you -- one of our biggest jobs is making sure kids get good candy come Halloween time. None of this candy corn crap or toy cow nonsense. I mean good, real candy. Now, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you are in violation of the Good Candy Act of 1996. There's a $500 fine for people who are too cheap to get good candy for good kids. Halloween comes only once a year, ma'am, so surely you can break the bank to provide decent candy for these good, young children.
"Don't be a miser, ma'am. Give these kids the candy they deserve."
The woman stared at Jonathan for a few moments, and then she sighed. She turned around and went into her kitchen. She rummaged around her cupboards for a bit before returning with three old boxes of candy cigarettes.
"Sorry," she said. "This is the best I have. Don't get addicted." She closed the door in their faces.
"Should we eat these?" Ryan asked.
"You should probably wait until your mom isn't looking before you eat those," Jonathan said. He walked away from the house with Jenny and Ryan in tow. They strolled along for a few minutes, and then they trudged up the hill back to their home, with Jenny and Ryan bouncing around Jonathan, having eaten a good deal of their candy on the way there.
"That was awesome!" Ryan said. "I want to be a federal candy inspector!"
"Good luck," Jonathan said. "It's a tough gig to get." He yawned as he climbed the last of the hill and dragged his way to Jenny and Ryan's house. Jonathan could barely keep his eyes open as he put the house key into the door; it took him a couple of tries to get right. He stumbled inside with Jenny and Ryan following behind.
"Thanks a lot for taking us out tonight," Jenny said. "We had a lot of fun."
"Yeah, no problem," Jonathan said, fighting off another yawn. "I need some place to sit down for a few moments. Holy crap, am I tired."
Jenny and Ryan grabbed Jonathan's arms and led him to a room with a bed inside. They settled him down on the bed and covered him up in warm blankets. He let loose an enormous yawn and settled into the pillows.
"Good night," Ryan said.
"No, no," Jonathan said. "I'm just going to rest my eyes ..." Before he knew it, he drifted off to sleep, although it seemed to him only a few seconds before he was awakened. He sat up and looked around the room quickly. The light was turned on, and Miss Martinez stood in the doorway.
"Did you have a nice rest?" she asked.
"Huh?" Jonathan asked. "Oh, sorry, I just wanted to rest for a few moments, and ... what time is it?"
"It's 2 a.m.," Miss Martinez said. "And it's OK -- I just came to ask if you wanted to go home. You're welcome to stay the night if you wish."
"It's all right," Jonathan said. "I should be going. If I get in later than my roommates, then they'll bombard me with weird questions."
"What kinds of weird questions?" Miss Martinez asked, grinning.
"Don't worry about that," Jonathan said, getting up. He walked to the door, and Miss Martinez stepped to the side to let him go.
"Thank you for taking my kids out tonight," she said. "It means a lot to them, and to me."
"Again, no troubles," Jonathan said. "I actually had a decent time, myself ... eventually."
"Will you be OK getting home by yourself?" Miss Martinez asked. "I could drive you home if you like."
"Nope, I'm good," Jonathan said. "Before I go, though, how is your sister doing?"
"She's doing just fine," Miss Martinez said. "The accident wasn't serious. She just needs to stay at the hospital an extra day or two for examination."
"Good to hear," Jonathan said. "I'll see you another time, Miss Martinez."
"Good bye," she said.
Jonathan stepped outside and walked to his car. The night felt a bit warmer than it did earlier; Jonathan let out a tiny yawn and wiped some sleep from his eyes. The drive home was short, and he was looking forward to sleep.
He wasn't looking forward to midterms, though. Fucking tests.
