40 OPHELIA CLARK
October 31
I stood outside and stared at the doorbell. I hadn’t prepared for what I would say, but I knew I would burst if I didn’t talk to her. The outdoor lights were on, and I could see the flickering glow of candles through the window. An uncarved pumpkin sat on the porch. Aside from that, there were no holiday decorations even though Halloween was in full swing. The sun had gone down and all of Monroe’s little ghosts, fairy princesses, and superheroes were knocking on doors to collect candy. A small group of kids walked up Isra’s porch steps. As anxious as I was, I couldn’t help but smile at their outfits.
“What’s your costume?” a boy (aged around seven and dressed as a dairy cow) asked me.
“Um. Well, I guess I’m dressed as a teenager,” I said, smoothing out my je
