Under the Influence

Chapter Eight: It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Crawford

The next few days flew by in a flash. Days then turned into weeks, and before I knew it, Halloween was just around the corner and I was left wondering where all the time had gone.

   I hadn’t made any preparations for Halloween yet because I was so focused on my newfound friendship (if that was what it was) with Hunter and our failed attempts at setting our siblings up.

   Scott was getting better. Every time someone mentioned Tiffany, his eyes would start to water and in a wavering voice he’d abruptly excuse himself and take a few minutes to get himself together again. But other than that, he appeared to be getting better. He didn’t hold back on laughing or smiling anymore, and he was really making an effort—if not for himself, then for me—to return back to the way he was before it all happened. Occasionally he’d have these moments where he’d suddenly break down and with no explanation as to why. But I thought it was normal, considering everything he’d been through. Though, he still couldn’t talk about Tiffany without bursting out in tears, punching a wall, or slinking away to be by himself. Mostly the latter.

   Both Scott and I—Scott, more so—had been so absorbed in our personal problems that we hadn’t even thought about the upcoming holidays. The only indication in our house that Halloween was coming up were the jumbo boxes of candy and chocolates Scott had bought a few nights ago when he couldn’t sleep and had nothing better to do. We still had to buy costumes, carve jack-o-lanterns, and, oh man, we had to set up for the big bash at we were having at the comic book store. That could take hours! And it was happening tomorrow! Plus, I didn’t like to think about this, but it might be our last Halloween at the comic book store. If we were going out, we’d have to go out with a bang.

   Scott and I had a busy day ahead of us.

   “Charlie,” Scott said, concern evident in his tone. He repeatedly snapped his fingers in front of my face, causing me to blink out of my thoughts and back into reality. The first thing I noticed when I glanced at my brother was the ever-present coffee cup in his hand.

   “Hmm?”

   “Well,” my brother drawled out as he situated himself on the counter beside the cash register, his legs dangling over the edge, “I was thinking about it, and maybe we should change the date of the Halloween party to today.” He tentatively took a sip of his coffee, stuck his tongue out, blew on his drink in an attempt to cool it down, and then repeated the process.

   “What’s wrong with today?”

   “Nothing, nothing,” Scott replied quickly. “It’s just that tomorrow’s actually Halloween and I don’t want to miss giving kids candy.” Scott—for some reason completely unfathomable to me—liked handing candy out to the children every Halloween. I thought it was boring and tedious work, having to get up every five seconds when the doorbell rang to give chocolate to snot-nosed rugrats. Which was exactly the reason why Scott received the important duty of handing out candy. Plus, it gave people a reason not to egg our house.

   Every year we held a Halloween party at Crawford Comics. Scott made sure it never occurred on the 31st just for that reason. The party always landed a few days to a week before the actual holiday, and since Halloween was tomorrow, the only other option was today.

   “Fine,” I acceded, “but only if you agree to never say that again. It makes you sound like a pedophile.”

   “Wow, Charlie, you sure know how to make a guy feel special,” he retorted, grinning at my jest. “So is that a yes?”

   I rolled my eyes. “Yes, it’s a yes.”

   He punched his fist in the air victoriously.