✓ 𝐖.𝐈.𝐓.𝐂.𝐇. | ʜᴏᴄᴜꜱ ᴘᴏᴄᴜꜱ

𝗼𝗻𝗲

"POOR THACKERY BINX," Mrs. Evans sighed, her voice heavy with the weight of history. "Neither his father, nor his mother, nor anyone else ever knew what became of him those three hundred years ago."

I had heard the story countless times before, in every corner of our small town, whether from family, friends, or teachers. The tale of Thackery Binx and the Sanderson sisters was a legend in Salem, whispered on every autumn breeze and carved into every Halloween tradition.

"And so, the Sanderson sisters were hanged by the Salem townsfolk," Mrs. Evans continued, her gaze turning to the windows as if she could still see the ghosts of those bygone days. "Now, there are those who say that on Halloween night, a black cat still guards the old Sanderson house, warning off any who might dare to resurrect them."

"Gimme a break," Max Dennison, the new boy from California, muttered loudly, earning a few surprised glances.

Mrs. Evans slowly turned toward him, her eyes narrowing as if she had caught wind of a scent. "We seem to have a skeptic in our midst," she said with a wry smile. "Mr. Dennison, would you care to share your California, laid-back, tie-dyed perspective?"

Max grinned, clearly eager to stir the pot. "Okay, granted, you guys here in Salem are all into black cats and witches and stuff."

"Stuff?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. I couldn't help but feel the stirrings of annoyance. "Who does this guy think he is?"

"Everyone here knows that Halloween was invented by the candy companies," Max declared confidently, as though he had just uncovered a secret truth.

Mrs. Evans let out a small chuckle, clearly unimpressed, while Allison, ever the voice of reason, interjected. "It just so happens Halloween is based on the ancient feast called All Hallows' Eve."

Theodore, who had been quietly observing the exchange, added with a quiet intensity, "It's the one night of the year where the spirits of the dead can return to the earth."

Max, realizing he wasn't going to win this round, began to sulk, scribbling something on a piece of paper. I secretly hoped it was a count of how many times he had been humiliated in front of the entire class.

Max stood, paper in hand, and made his way toward Allison, a determined look on his face. "How much you wanna bet it's his number?" I whispered to Theo, knowing exactly what was coming.

Theo smirked. "Oh, it's definitely his number."

Max paused in front of Allison and handed her the paper. "Well, in case Jimi Hendrix shows up tonight," he said with a grin, "here's my number."

Theo and I exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter. We quickly stifled ourselves, eager to see how Allison would respond.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and everyone started to gather their things. Theo made his way over to Max, placing a friendly but forceful hand on his shoulder. "You've got a fat chance, lover boy."

"That Max kid is so weird, Al," I said as we walked home together, the crisp fall air swirling around us. "Acting like he knows everything about Halloween, while we're the town's geeks."

"Yeah, totally," Theo agreed, his voice full of mock indignation. "My family's been here for generations, and then here comes this guy, acting like he owns the place."

Theo nudged my shoulder. "Speak of the devil."

And, as if summoned by the very words, Max appeared, riding down the street on his green bicycle, his bookbag weighing heavily on his shoulders, his green jacket fluttering in the breeze.

"Hi," Allison greeted, her tone light but unreadable. I couldn't quite tell if she was open to conversation or just being polite.

Max slowed down, stepping off the bike and pulling it alongside her. "Hi. Look, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to embarrass you in class," he said, his voice genuine but a little awkward.

I had to stifle a laugh. It was honestly the funniest thing I'd heard all day. Theo and I exchanged looks, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"You didn't," Allison replied, her tone casual, though there was something in her voice that made me think she wasn't buying his apology entirely.

Max extended his hand, a gesture I didn't expect from him. "I'm Max Dennison," he said, his voice now softer, less cocky.

Allison hesitated but eventually took his hand, shaking it firmly. "You just moved here, huh?"

"Yeah," Max replied, his eyes meeting hers. "Last week."

"Big change from California, huh?" Theo said, slinging his arm around Max's shoulders in a somewhat brotherly gesture. Despite the awkwardness in Max's posture, I could tell he didn't want to miss his chance to make some friends, even if we weren't exactly the group he had envisioned.

Max gave a half-smile. "Yeah, that's for sure."

"You don't like it here?" Allison asked, her gaze lingering on him with curiosity.

Theo and I exchanged a look. We both knew it was time to give them some space. We promised Allison we'd meet her at her house later, and with that, we went our separate ways.

***

"You gave him your number back?" I laughed, shaking my head. "I thought you liked him. I thought you thought he was chill."

"That kid's a jerk," Allison muttered as she adjusted her costume, a slight frown on her face. "It's like what you and Teddy said."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly is that?"

She followed me down the stairs, and I could see the discomfort in her movements. "We're the town geeks," she said with a shrug, clearly not all that thrilled about it.

We entered the parlor to find Theo practically skipping in his costume, grinning from ear to ear as if he'd just won a prize. "You like it?" he asked, his pride practically glowing. "I'm a poor guy on the Titanic."

Allison and I shared a look. "That's not the theme, Teddy," she said dryly.

"The theme is 18th century America," I added, trying not to laugh at his mistake.

Theo paused for a moment, looking confused. "Wasn't the Titanic in 1812?" he asked, the realization dawning on him. "Wait, no. It wasn't."

"Either way," I said, throwing up my hands, "the 18th century is the 1700s! You're, like, 200 years off."

Theo, completely unphased, grabbed the sketchbook he had been holding and tossed it aside with a dramatic flourish. "Jack Dawson wouldn't stand for this."

"Who the hell is Jack Dawson?"