the top. One of hers shows them kissing.
After I put my sweater in with all those other treasures, I put on my nightgown and got into bed. I looked around the room. Now it was filled with our stuff, Sweet-Ho's and mine, that we had brought over from the garage. Even the patchwork quilts that Gnomie madeâthey were on our beds instead of the plain white spreads that were the Bigelows' guest room spreads. My schoolbooks were piled in a chair. Sweet-Ho's old blue robe hung on a hook on the back of the door, and her hairbrush lay on the dresser.
She was still downstairs, and I could hear her and Mr. Bigelow laughing. She had gotten out the sewing box and was stitching up the pink tights so's they would fit Gunther's little legs, and I knew that they were laughing about that, about the thought of homely old Gunther being a ballerina.
In his little bedroom, Gunther was sound asleep,
probably dreaming about trick-or-treating in his tutu. And down the hall, I could hear Veronica still moving around in her room while she got ready for bed.
A night breeze was blowing, and I could hear the oak treeâthe one Veronica and me called the Family Treeâwith its last few leaves rustling, waiting to be blown off to the ground. The tip of one of its branches touched the window now and then. I turned off the light, and thought about all of that, and about the gift of the yellow sweater that was folded in my drawer.
It gave me such a strong feeling of belonging.
Trick-or-treating night was a school night, a Thursday. We was all ready. Mr. Bigelow had brought home stuff he got at the dime store: for Gunther, a pink mask of a lady's face, with bright red smiling lips, and a wig of golden curls. For me and Veronica, just plain old eye masks, which was what we wanted. We was gypsies, with bright scarves tied around our heads, shawls over our shoulders, and a lot of junk jewelry, some borrowed from Sweet-Ho and some from Mrs. Bigelow's jewelry box. She hadn't worn no jewelry for a long time, but she still had fake golden earrings, real gypsy-like, which Mr. Bigelow said we could wear.
"Is my magic wand ready?" Gunther asked, all anxious, after we had him dressed in his outfit.
It was. We had painted a cardboard star with gold paint and glued it to the top of a long stick from his Tinkertoy set with Elmer's glue. He took it from us
and waved it about, dancing in his toe shoes. Sweet-Ho had stuffed them with cotton balls in the toes to make his feet fit in better. At first he couldn't see good through his mask, and kept bumping into things. But Mr. Bigelow got the idea to cut the mask eyeholes bigger.
So's he wouldn't get cold, we had painted his old blue flannel pajama top with marking pens, and now it was covered with red and yellow moons and stars, which suited his outfit just fine, and he could wear a sweater hidden underneath. It didn't even make him look too pudgy because old Gunther, he was so scrawny starting out.
Me and Veronica helped him down the back steps, because it was hard going in the toe shoes, and we started out, each of us carrying a big paper bag for treats. When we got down into the yard and stood there in the dark, Gunther shivered, looking around at our neighborhood in the nighttime and at three pumpkins with faces cut out and candles inside so's they glowed on our porch. But it was from excitement, not from being scared. He was already shivering from excitement back when we was still in the warm house.
We whispered to each other about should we go to the Coxes' house. If it was just me and Veronica, we wouldn't. We didn't mind Mr. and Mrs. Coxâthey were really pretty niceâbut somehow the thought of Norman rubbed off on the whole house and gave it a bad feeling, at least to us.
But Gunther loved Mrs. Cox especially. She knew
about his eating habits and didn't fault him none, and always at Easter she brought over special decorated eggs with his name painted on, knowing eggs was one of the things
After I put my sweater in with all those other treasures, I put on my nightgown and got into bed. I looked around the room. Now it was filled with our stuff, Sweet-Ho's and mine, that we had brought over from the garage. Even the patchwork quilts that Gnomie madeâthey were on our beds instead of the plain white spreads that were the Bigelows' guest room spreads. My schoolbooks were piled in a chair. Sweet-Ho's old blue robe hung on a hook on the back of the door, and her hairbrush lay on the dresser.
She was still downstairs, and I could hear her and Mr. Bigelow laughing. She had gotten out the sewing box and was stitching up the pink tights so's they would fit Gunther's little legs, and I knew that they were laughing about that, about the thought of homely old Gunther being a ballerina.
In his little bedroom, Gunther was sound asleep,
probably dreaming about trick-or-treating in his tutu. And down the hall, I could hear Veronica still moving around in her room while she got ready for bed.
A night breeze was blowing, and I could hear the oak treeâthe one Veronica and me called the Family Treeâwith its last few leaves rustling, waiting to be blown off to the ground. The tip of one of its branches touched the window now and then. I turned off the light, and thought about all of that, and about the gift of the yellow sweater that was folded in my drawer.
It gave me such a strong feeling of belonging.
Trick-or-treating night was a school night, a Thursday. We was all ready. Mr. Bigelow had brought home stuff he got at the dime store: for Gunther, a pink mask of a lady's face, with bright red smiling lips, and a wig of golden curls. For me and Veronica, just plain old eye masks, which was what we wanted. We was gypsies, with bright scarves tied around our heads, shawls over our shoulders, and a lot of junk jewelry, some borrowed from Sweet-Ho and some from Mrs. Bigelow's jewelry box. She hadn't worn no jewelry for a long time, but she still had fake golden earrings, real gypsy-like, which Mr. Bigelow said we could wear.
"Is my magic wand ready?" Gunther asked, all anxious, after we had him dressed in his outfit.
It was. We had painted a cardboard star with gold paint and glued it to the top of a long stick from his Tinkertoy set with Elmer's glue. He took it from us
and waved it about, dancing in his toe shoes. Sweet-Ho had stuffed them with cotton balls in the toes to make his feet fit in better. At first he couldn't see good through his mask, and kept bumping into things. But Mr. Bigelow got the idea to cut the mask eyeholes bigger.
So's he wouldn't get cold, we had painted his old blue flannel pajama top with marking pens, and now it was covered with red and yellow moons and stars, which suited his outfit just fine, and he could wear a sweater hidden underneath. It didn't even make him look too pudgy because old Gunther, he was so scrawny starting out.
Me and Veronica helped him down the back steps, because it was hard going in the toe shoes, and we started out, each of us carrying a big paper bag for treats. When we got down into the yard and stood there in the dark, Gunther shivered, looking around at our neighborhood in the nighttime and at three pumpkins with faces cut out and candles inside so's they glowed on our porch. But it was from excitement, not from being scared. He was already shivering from excitement back when we was still in the warm house.
We whispered to each other about should we go to the Coxes' house. If it was just me and Veronica, we wouldn't. We didn't mind Mr. and Mrs. Coxâthey were really pretty niceâbut somehow the thought of Norman rubbed off on the whole house and gave it a bad feeling, at least to us.
But Gunther loved Mrs. Cox especially. She knew
about his eating habits and didn't fault him none, and always at Easter she brought over special decorated eggs with his name painted on, knowing eggs was one of the things
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