Julie and Romeo Get Lucky by Jeanne Ray

on her head. “There. You’re a vision. Go show Romeo.”
    Sarah trudged through the hallway, her girth seeming sadly deflated. She lacked a certain puffiness, and I wondered for a minute if we should stuff her full of pillows. It would keep her warm, but it also might render her completely immobile. If only she had her own little team of Oompah-Loompah’s to roll her from house to house.
    â€œMy bluebell!” Romeo said, lifting his head up off the pillow. “My star sapphire! My little robin’s egg!”
    â€œI’m a blueberry,” Sarah corrected.
    â€œI was getting to that one.”
    I felt sorry for Little Tony, who was suddenly too tall for costumes and candy. He seemed unfairly banished to adulthood, when I knew that all he really wanted was to tie a bandana on his head and put a paper patch over one eye and wear Sarah’s old stuffed parrot on his shoulder. It was decided that he would take his little sister trick-or-treating, the logic being that most people would take pity on a too-tall boy and give him a couple of pieces of candy just for being a good sport.
    â€œYou’d think somebody would give out lottery tickets,” Sarah said. “Even scratch tickets. It’s always candy, candy, candy.”
    Sandy put a hand on either of Sarah’s shoulders and looked her daughter in the face. “Sarah, you’ve got to snap out of this. We’re going to have to start sending you to Gamblers Anonymous.”
    â€œI hear it’s a great place to meet other third graders,” I said.
    â€œThere’s a drawing tonight,” she said, as if she had ever given us the chance to forget. Then she tilted her head to one side, and gave a very knowing sort of nod. There was something about her blue skin that made her look less like a blueberry and more like a very wise alien. “I’m feeling very lucky.”
    â€œI don’t know how you’d be feeling lucky, when I’ve told everyone to stop buying you tickets,” Sandy said, tying a blue scarf around Sarah’s neck. “Now go out into the night and beg strangers for candy.”
    Sarah waddled down the stairs and out the door into the cold wind, carrying an ambitiously oversized plastic bag from CVS. Little Tony trailed sullenly behind her, wearing jeans and a parka, his hands stuffed into his pockets. Big Tony followed them both at a discreet distance with a flashlight. They passed two ghosts and a blond toddler dressed as My Little Pony coming up the sidewalk. I gave out packages of M&Ms.
    The plan was that Nora and Alex were coming over to help us hand out candy. They had never had a single child show up at their Back Bay condo, and while this had always been considered a plus in years past, now that Nora was pregnant she thought it was a tragedy. “I want to see what everybody’s wearing,” she had said. They were supposed to come before Sarah left so they could take pictures, but now it was well past dark, and they were still no-shows.
    â€œShe probably got busy at work,” Sandy said. “She probably had to sell some mogul a house. Nora doesn’t know a thing about making a promise to a child and keeping it.”
    The doorbell rang, and we doled out candy to a fireman and a kangaroo. I thought of Tony and slipped a little packet of candy to a young father who was lingering at the bottom of the stairs.
    Sandy had stayed on the bitter side ever since receiving the news of her sister’s pregnancy. It was as if Sandy had been the one who was pregnant, and Nora had somehow stolen it away from her.
    â€œIt could just be that she’s late, you know,” I told her.
    â€œYou can’t be late when you have children,” Sandy said.
    I looked at her with deep incredulity, wanting to tick off every time she’d been late in the past week alone. “Sure you can.”
    Sandy stuck her hands deep into her curls and turned her head from side to