A Hacked-Up Holiday Massacre: Halloween Is Going to Be Jealous by ed. Shane McKenzie Page A

path. There was a sapling under one arm, twirling like a tornado in its plastic pot with each step, and Matt was certain the poor thing would be toast before his family decided to put it in the ground. They’d already killed one by forgetting to water it, and had to buy a new one on the way. He watched his sister trailing the fingers of her free hand along the vegetation growing at the side of the path, yanking handfuls of leaves out every few steps, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He’d never understand kids.
    His mom Jenn and Tucker were walking with Dallas a little behind Brooklyn. Jenn had a leather backpack hanging low on her back, stuffed with goodies for a picnic. Tucker swung a small spade, he liked to call a shovel, from his hand, pointing out the birds in the trees to two-year-old Dallas.
    Chirp-chirp. Digging around in his pocket, Matt pulled out his phone.
    How’s Fucker?
    Reading the message from his best friend Jacob, Matt couldn’t help but smirk as he slid his gaze toward Tucker.
    He’s wearing loafers. Who wears loafers to go hiking?
    He really is a fucker.
    “Matt, you are not going to be on that phone all day. Tell Jacob you’ll talk to him later.”
    Hearing his mom’s voice, Matt’s fingers flew over the keypad.
    Yeah. Let you know how it goes later. Mom’s cutting me off.
    He snapped the phone shut without waiting for a reply. Looking up, he saw Jenn staring at him over the top of Dallas’s head. The toddler was balanced on one hip, wiggling to get down. Setting the girl on her feet, Jenn kept her gaze on her son, silently reminding him of the conversation they’d had the day before . Don’t mess up the day. Tucker had gone to a lot of trouble planning it; it was important to him. Matt nodded his understanding and shoved the phone deep into his pocket. Quickening his steps, he hurried to Dallas, who was bent down, pushing in an anthill. The bugs struggled out of the collapsed earth, spinning in confused circles as Dallas poked again and again at the soft dirt.
    “Come on, Dally. Walk with Bubby.”
    Dallas looked up at him, one finger poised to thrust downward again, her hair pulled in two tight pigtails, a brown, “I *Heart* Recycling” t-shirt stretched over her belly. The heart was made with pink recycling arrows.
    “Hi, Bubby. Look. Bugs.” A toothy grin spread across her face. Pulling Dallas to standing, Matt pushed more soil on top of the swarming ants with the toe of his sneaker. Their antennae waved angrily as they scrambled up and over the shifting dirt.
    “Yep, sweetie, bugs.”
    He walked a few feet behind the rest of his family, Dallas jerking on his arm with her tottering steps. His mom went over and put her arm around Tucker, leaning her head on his shoulder, and Matt could hear the cadence of their conversation, as slow and steady as breathing. Brooklyn twirled around them at a dizzying speed only young children can keep up, her higher voice interjecting among his parents’ lower tones. The sight should’ve been reassuring, a happy family, something he knew wasn’t common, but it only made Matt realize how much he didn’t fit in.
    His mom had him at sixteen years old. She’d never told him much about his real dad, other than he was a huge loser who couldn’t handle having a baby. They’d lived with his grandparents the first five years of his life. Then Jenn managed to scrape enough money together between her two jobs to pay for a lousy, one bedroom apartment and a couple of night classes at the community college. It’d only been about six months after moving in when Jenn met Tucker. The relationship moved quickly, and before Matt was seven, he had a stepfather and his own bedroom in the suburbs. Brooklyn had been born when he was twelve, and Dallas when he was fifteen; his mom finally had the perfect family. Her only reminder that life had ever been unsavory was Matt.
    She liked to tell him he was her surprise; something she didn’t know she wanted