The Good, the Bad & the Beagle (10 page)

On Yom Kippur, while her mother fasted and waited for sundown, her father poked at the smoked fish and ate both sesame bagels. When Veronica’s grandmother was alive, sundown was when temple let out. Now it was whenever
The New York Times
said. This year it reported that sundown was at 6:27 p.m.

By three o’clock, Mrs. Morgan was hungry and antsy. She asked what time it was every five minutes. “It’s three oh five, Marion,” Mr. Morgan said between bites of whitefish salad. Veronica wasn’t allowed to fast until she was an adult. Not that she was sure she would fast when she was. She had a mother who did one thing and a father who did something else. It was really hard to say how she was going to turn out, but in the meantime she had the opportunity and the encouragement to think about it. Know thyself—that was basically her parents’ mantra. Marion and Marvin Morgan both agreed on that.

Veronica lit a candle in her room and focused on her breathing like they did at Morning Meeting. Oxygen was a relaxant, Mrs. Harrison always said, but getting her breath deep and calm wasn’t easy. She closed her eyes and tried to open her heart and mind.

Her mother knocked.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Were you praying?”

Veronica looked at her mother like she was crazy.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come read with me while I try not to think about food.”

Veronica and Cadbury spent the rest of the afternoon curled up at her mother’s feet on the couch, perfectly content. She pondered her mother’s question. Maybe she was praying, although until her mother asked, she wouldn’t have thought of it that way.

Nothing to Wear

Skeletons hung from doors, pumpkins lined the stoops and windows of every brownstone, fake spiderwebs clung to gates, and Fifth Avenue between Ninety-Sixth Street and 103rd Street was plastered with flyers for the Toddler Parade that took place every year the night before Halloween. Veronica didn’t want to be reminded. Halloween was nine days away, and she had no inspiration this year for a costume. And to make matters worse, she didn’t know if she had anyone to trick-or-treat with.

She came home from school, hugged Mary, cuddled Cadbury, and changed into jeans. She tossed her white blouse in the hamper and hung her Randolf skirt next to the other six in her closet. It wasn’t dirty. She could wear it again. Last summer, these same uniforms had terrified her. They swung from their hangers and made Veronica think of dead bodies. Now they were harmless. Time certainly changed things.

She took her keys, four plastic bags, and Cadbury up to the tenth floor. When the elevator opened Veronica could hear Fitzy’s cries of excitement. She unlocked the Fergusons’ door and Cadbury jumped up and down. Fitzy ran a circle around Cadbury and rolled over on her back. Dogs expressed delight without a trace of self-consciousness.

“You two love each other so much,” Veronica said. “I wish I could just get you married already.” Fitzy’s dark brown eyes looked up in agreement.
Veronica imagined them in miniature wedding attire.
Great,
Veronica thought,
I can come up with Halloween costumes for dogs but I still have nothing to wear.
She clipped Fitzy’s leash to her rhinestone collar and took the loving couple downstairs. Two handymen were arranging a cornucopia of gourds and witches’ brooms on the table in front of the elevator. They smiled at Veronica.

“Almost time for Halloween!” one of them said. Oh brother. You couldn’t hide from your troubles if your life depended on it. Veronica tried to smile.

Fitzy and Cadbury made a beeline for a tree. But they rarely took care of business right away. First they squatted, stood up, and paced back and forth before deciding where exactly, on a one-foot-by-one-foot patch of dirt, they were going to leave their mark. This was a ritual they had to perform. Why did they do that? There was obviously a lot she didn’t know about being a dog.

When the dogs did actually poop, Veronica realized that she had forgotten the poop bags at the Fergusons’. She hunted near the benches, frantic for something to clean up with. A nice lady gave her the business section of her newspaper to use.

“It’s very impressive,” she told Veronica, “the way you clean up after them. Good for you.” Veronica’s mood lifted a little in spite of herself.

She let the dogs lead her around while they sniffed the trunks of trees, identifying other dogs’ scents and lord knows what else. Cadbury liked to smell trees like this: he followed a scent from the ground up and then back down again, sometimes lingering over a particular spot as if he were sniffing a fine bottle of wine, enjoying a good piece of music, or reading a book and pausing to reread a particularly beautiful sentence. Veronica stood behind him, beaming like a proud mother. He found an old piece of cardboard, which he appreciated like an expensive cut of beef. Cadbury would eat anything if you let him. He’d probably eat all her Halloween candy if she wasn’t careful.

She had to admit she loved the candy part of Halloween. But coming up with good costumes, year after year, was too much.
Maybe I’ll just dress up as a girl who hates Halloween,
she thought.

“Cadbury, do you think I could just go as a surly eleven-year-old? Fitzy, what if I did that? Would people close the door in my face and not give me any candy because they didn’t think I put enough effort into my costume?”

Her companions were not the least bit interested. No one understood the predicament she was in! Athena had actually mentioned trick-or-treating, but only once, and Veronica was afraid she would forget. Athena and Sarah-Lisa talked about all kinds of things, like Veronica belonging to the A Team, but nothing official ever happened. She was sure it would be the same with Halloween. Melody had talked about trick-or-treating too, but her mother had a million problems with everything.

The dogs pooped again. This time Veronica had to rip down a parade flyer to clean up with. The little drawings of children’s costumes reminded her of her first Toddler Halloween Parade. She’d been a cat. Her mother had used a glue gun and even though she’d burned herself repeatedly, Marion Morgan had created a masterpiece out of orange and white feather boas. The costume was so stiff and heavy from the gallons of dried glue that it didn’t bend at all. Mary held the neck open and both her parents lowered her in. Veronica could barely walk down Fifth Avenue. But it was the best costume she’d ever had. Her mother had never done anything like it before or since. Veronica hated growing up and being responsible for her own costumes. She’d won first prize that year.

She threw the poopy poster in a garbage can on the corner of 103rd Street. Ugh. Halloween had pretty much gone downhill ever since.

Things Are Really Looking Up

Veronica brought the dogs back from the park thoroughly frustrated by the pressures put upon the human race by organized holidays. Mary was set up in front of the little TV getting ingredients together for dinner. That was a relief since the Morgan family had had Chinese three times this week and it was only Wednesday.

Veronica sighed loudly.

“I thought candy and trick-or-treating were good things,” Mary said. “Why the long face? Help me with these beans.”

“I have no one to go trick-or-treating with.”

“I thought the Athena person asked you.”

“She did,” Veronica said.

Mary looked at her, clearly exasperated. “Open windows. How many times I have to say that?
Open windows.
”

“Mary, when my glass is full, I will carry it through the first open window I see. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“But since I have nothing to wear, my glass is not full. And therefore, I cannot go through any windows,” Veronica declared.

“
Mien Gott
, there are nine days till Halloween. We have nothing but time! It is not like you are stuck between a rock and the deep blue sea.” Mary could make mincemeat out of the English language while expressing herself perfectly. But Veronica had her heart set on having a miserable Halloween and she wasn’t budging.

She snapped her beans and put the little ends in a pile for her mother’s bag of vegetable trimmings in the freezer. Mrs. Morgan brought this bag of garbage to the compost stall at the farmers’ market on Saturdays. It was so embarrassing.

“Maybe I can be a bucket of compost,” Veronica said absently.

“Two months, two months,” Mary said just as absently.

“What are you muttering about?” Veronica said.

“Two months I give this hillbilly Hollywood couple,” Mary said. She scoffed into her string beans.

“What Hollywood couple? What do you mean?”

“It is crazy the way these people with more money than God pretend to be humble and poor. Ach. I wash my hands. Two months till the divorce.”

Veronica looked up at the little white TV. Mary was very attached to shows about celebrities. The bride Mary was upset about today was a blond judge from a reality singing show. Her wedding outfit was cutoff shorts and a ponytail. The groom wore a top hat and no shirt. They were in Las Vegas at a fake chapel getting married by an Elvis Presley impersonator.

Mary slid the bowl of beans closer to Veronica, who took a new handful. “So,” Mary continued, “what are your friends going as for Halloween?”

“I don’t have any friends,” Veronica said.

“What about the Melody person and the Athena person?”

“They aren’t real friends.”

“Wait. Let me get my little violin and play you a sad song. You know why you have no friends? Cadbury. He is a real-life friend but he is a dog. You should also have real-life friends who are girls, who are at least humans. Melody doesn’t seem so terrible. Maybe a little boring, but not the worst person in the world. What is your complaint against the other one?”

“Nothing’s wrong with Athena. Except that she doesn’t need anyone whose name isn’t Sarah-Lisa.”

“Look! Again they show that crazy marriage. Look, look, look, they get married like on a shtetl even though they live in Beverly Hills. I bet that Elvis Presley isn’t even certified. What is so wrong with a priest? Or a rabbi or a justice of the peace? Nothing is sacred.”

When Veronica had imagined Cadbury and Fitzy’s wedding it was very old-fashioned. It would be something Mary would approve of. She looked up from her beans. “Mary, you’re a genius! I’m going to marry Fitzy and Cadbury for Halloween,” Veronica said. “I’ll be the priest.”

“Now you’re talking, my baby.” Mary kissed Veronica on the head three times.

They spent the rest of the afternoon gathering what they could find to make Veronica’s costume. Mary pulled an old black shirt from the donation pile.

“You wear this buttoned in the back and we make a white collar?”

“Yes!” Veronica said. They cut a collar out of the cardboard from one of Mr. Morgan’s freshly laundered shirts. Mary found an old white mesh sack she used for washing delicates.

“A veil,” she said. “For Fitzy!”

Mary claimed to be scared of dogs, but she sure seemed to care a lot about Fitzy’s costume and Veronica had caught her cooking chicken livers for Cadbury more than once. In the rag bin under the sink, Veronica found an old black T-shirt.

“Mary, could we turn this into a jacket for Cadbury? Like, we cut it down the middle maybe and put some buttons or something on it to make it fancy?”

“Perfect,” Mary said. “Come, let’s look in the button box.”

Mary’s cardboard button box was a wondrous thing. It was long and thin and instead of having flaps for a top, it slid open. Inside were hundreds of buttons of all different sizes, shapes, and colors. Mary had been collecting them her whole life. When Veronica was little they had spent hours playing games with the buttons. The gold ones had always been Veronica’s favorite.

Mary sifted through the contents and handed Veronica five very special gold buttons with raised towers embossed on them.

“Here, my baby, will these work?”

Veronica threw her arms around Mary. “Yes!” she said.

Double Booked

Veronica took one of the gold buttons to school the next day because making little outfits for dogs was so fun that she didn’t want to stop thinking about it. Plus she could scratch her itchy finger with the raised tower.

While Ms. Padgett demonstrated the magic of cross multiplication, Veronica thought about what color carnation to pin on Cadbury’s jacket and the best way to attach Fitzy’s veil.

As soon as the bell rang, Athena asked about the button.

“It’s for my Halloween costume.”

“Ooh, it’s pretty!” Athena said. “Is it antique?”

“Probably,” Veronica said. “It is from my babysitter’s collection.” Veronica always felt weird referring to Mary as her babysitter. She was so much more than that.

“Are you making your costume? I was going to ask you if you wanted to make costumes.”

“You and me?” Veronica said.

“And Sarah-Lisa, silly. But it seems like you already made yours,” Athena said.

“It’s not finished yet,” Veronica said.

“Oh well, next year. Won’t that be fun? We should make superhero costumes with the letter
A
on them. You’re coming trick-or-treating with us, right?”

Sarah-Lisa appeared from behind her locker door.

“What are you talking about?” Sarah-Lisa wanted to know. She kicked her locker shut, and Veronica jumped.

“Halloween,” Athena said. “The three of us are trick-or-treating together, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Sarah-Lisa said. “That’ll be fun. Athena, we have to go.”

“Slavery is no longer legal,” Sylvie announced from a few lockers away. She closed her door for punctuation. “Athena is a free person. You don’t own her, you know.”

Sylvie headed off to French as if the aftermath of her little speech was of no interest whatsoever.

“What was that?” Sarah-Lisa said. “Wake up on the wrong side of the morning much?” She grabbed Athena and they walked away.

It was true! Sarah-Lisa acted like she owned Athena. If only Veronica and Athena could go trick-or-treating without Sarah-Lisa. If only there was a way to kick Sarah-Lisa off the A Team.