October 31st, 1995

When I was thirteen years old, there was an old abandoned house on the block that everyone considered "haunted". It had been unoccupied and uncared for since my family moved into the neighborhood and nobody really remembered who used to live there or why it was haunted. It just was.
So it was a natural place for me and my friends to hang out come Halloween. I think it was my older brother who suggested it. And while everyone thought it was the greatest idea ever under the light of day, you could tell that as the day wore on toward night, more than a couple people were getting cold feet.
My buddy Patrick was the first to bail. He sat on my porch in a Ninja outfit with a flour sack in his hand pouting.
"Man, if we go we're gonna miss out on all the candy."
I told him I didn't care.
"That's because you get candy all the time," he whined. "I hardly ever get candy or soda or junk food. You know my mom."
I did. She was a health nut and wouldn't let Pat have any of the candy he collected if she knew about it. I kind of felt bad for him. But at the same time, I could tell he wasn't really concerned about losing out on a few suckers, some bubblegum and a stale popcorn ball or two. He was chicken.
I told him to go on and trick or treat like a baby. I was going to the haunted house with the older kids. He got up and stalked off alone.
My older brother's best friend Robert bitched about my tagging along. Robert lived in the trailer park a few blocks over. If you looked up the definition of poor white trash in the dictionary, his face would be there. He was short, thin, had a mess of dirty blonde hair and wore a perpetual shit eating grin on his face. He claimed to be a direct descendent of Pat Garrett, the famous lawman that shot Billy the Kid. I thought it was funny how poor white trash always claimed to be Cherokee Indian or related to some famous outlaw like Pat Garrett. Robert claimed both.
My brother ignored Robert as usual and asked him if he'd managed to get the "stuff". The stuff being pot and beer. Robert's face drooped and we both knew the answer was no. My brother sighed in exasperation and told Robert he was about a good for nothing son of a bitch, and they left to go and score some stuff for the party. Meanwhile, my brother told me to go on ahead to the haunted house and wait for him. He'd be there as soon as he could and I should tell anybody walking around there to wait up, he'd make it worth the while. I said sure. Robert snorted, "He don't got the balls to go there alone." My brother tussled my hair. "He's got bigger balls than you got Garrett, let's go."
Robert shot me a look that fairly screamed "I'd kick your ass if your brother wasn't around" so I just grinned at him and watched them leave.
Heading back outside I noticed it had gotten a lot darker since I'd last been on the porch listening to Patrick weasle his way out of going. I stared down the end of the block at the haunted house and swallowed. I couldn't see a single light on in the house. I did see dozens of kids walking up and down the street dressed as skeletons and witches and pirates and yep... a ninja. For a moment I wavered. Then I remembered Robert calling me chickenshit. Screw that dirty trailer trash, I thought and started walking.
I guess the house had a name. All big old houses seemed to. But I never knew it. It was just the haunted house. It was three stories high and the exterior featured Corinthian cornices, corbels, scrolls, fans, string courses and elaborate chimneys that suggested a French Renaissance influence. It must have been beautiful once. But that was in the past. Now it was weather beaten, black with age and filth and broken from vandals. Most of the windows were borded up, graffiti was sprayed on the outside walls and the yard was overgrown and home to a small army of feral cats.
I mounted the creaking steps, my courage buouyed by the weight of the knife in my jeans pocket and the flash light in my left hand. I stood in front of the door and listened. I thought maybe I heard something scurrying around inside. A rat?? The thought grossed me out a little. I reached for the doorknob...
"GOTCHA!"
I damn near pissed myself.
I spun around, heart hammering away and stared at Margaret. She was Robert's girlfriend. She lived at the trailer park too, but I couldn't bring myself to call her trashy, even though she was. I had a crush on her. She was fifteen, red haired and had the biggest boobs of any girl her age I knew. I hated that she was HIS girlfriend. I sighed.
"Sorry." she laughed.
The front door wouldn't budge, so we went around back and found a broken window to crawl through.
"Where is everybody??"
I shrugged. "Its just us for now I spoze."
The interior of the house was pitch black and smelled musty. There was old furniture here and there and leftover evidence of squatters. "Let's go upstairs."
She followed me to the second floor where we settled down in a room with a big double window facing the street, so we could see anybody coming that way by foot.
We sat and talked.
"I'm surprised you aren't out there snatching little kids candy bags."
"That's baby stuff," I replied.
Margaret grinned. "Yeah your right. You ain't so little anymore."
I grinned. "I'm playing football this year."
"Flag??"
"Hel l no," I replied, slighted. "Tackle."
Margaret seemed impressed. "Nice. I didn't know they let middle schoolers play tackle. My brother Jared would have played this year but he's in the youth authority detention center again."
"What for this time??"
"Same as always," she laughed. "Breaking into houses."
Jared had broken into my house once. My mom caught him stealing her jewlery and screamed for my older brother who had escorted Jared outside by a fistful of hair. All the while Jared claiming he wasn't stealing, he just wanted to look at the jewlery. He never did explain climbing through the bedroom window. Mom wanted to call the cops but my brother talked her out of it.
"Your better than they are," I said suddenly.
Margaret looked at me. "What??"
"Your better than they are," I said, knees pulled up to my chest, arms wrapped around them. "Your brother and Robert are bums. Neither one of them are ever gonna amount to anything. But your better than that."
"Their trashy," she laughed. "I'm trashy too."
"No you aren't," I muttered.
She smiled. "You don't know me that well."
I sighed. "I don't know why you date a guy like that."
"Robert ain't so bad," she said. "I've dated worse."
I found that impossible to believe. I said so. She laughed.
"You got an idea of who I should date instead??"
I sure as hell did but I wasn't about to say so. I might have walked into the haunted house but I wasn't that brave.
"You're cute," she said. "I like when a guy worries about me."
"I worry about you a lot," I said.
"Why??"
I didn't know what to tell her, so I sat there a long moment. Finally I shrugged. "Just do."
Margaret got up and looked out the window, then came back and sat beside me, shoulder to shoulder.
"You make me wish I was a couple of years younger."
"I'm only a year and a half younger than you," I said. "We're closer together than you and Robert. He's nineteen."
"He has a car and a job," she said.
"He has a junkheap with 4 wheels and he bags groceries for minimum," I countered.
Margaret laughed. "You hate him don't you??"
"If I was a little bit bigger I'd put a foot in his ass and take you away from him," I blurted out.
"Take me away huh??" She giggled. "Wow. I kind of like that."
"You should wait for me," I told her. "I won't be 13 forever. Give me a couple of years and I'll have a car and a job too."
"Aww," she leaned into me. "I just might. Something tells me you'd be an awesome boyfriend."
"I would be," I said. "If you'd give me a chance."
She looked at me, smiling and leaned over and kissed me. I kissed her back.
"Let's keep that between us," Margaret said. "Robert's crazy jealous."
"He touches me, my brother would kill him."
"I know," she laughed. "He's scared shitless of your brother."
I leaned over and tried to kiss her again, she leaned away.
"We shouldn't."
"Why not??"
"I'm dating Robert."
"He's a shitbag."
"Regardless," she said. "I'm not a cheat."
"He is," I muttered.
"What??"
I told her about conversations I'd overheard between Robert and my brother. About dates and girls one town over. Trips to the lake. Margaret got mad and accused me of lying, of saying anything just to make Robert look bad. Then I told her an excuse Robert had used to get out of seeing her a week earlier. It was something only she and he wouldhave known.
"That lousy no good motherfucker." She fumed.
"Sorry."
"Don't be," she said. "He will be though. I guarantee it."
She had jumped up and started pacing, now she sat back down. We were quiet a long moment, then as if making up her mind about something she said "You still a virgin??"
"No!" I snapped, embarrassed.
"Liar," she laughed. "Want to lose your cherry??"
"With you??" I asked, eyes widening.
"Sure," she said. "Right here. Right now."
Margaret and I made out and then had sex in that dark, dirty musty second floor bedroom. When we were done I sat there practically glowing in the dark, a huge grin on my face. She sat and smoked a Marlboro and waited to unleash hell on Robert when he showed up.
"You weren't too bad for a virgin," she said. "You must watch a lot of porn."
I laughed. I did actually.
We heard movement downstairs and Robert screech "Boooo haha who wants to parteeeee??"
Margaret blew out smoke. "You better go home. I'll see you later."
I split, thumping down the stairs past my brother and Robert and three cretins they brought along with them.
That night after my brother got home he came to my room and sat on the edge of my bed.
"Dude," he said, grinning then held out his hand. I shook it.
"Stay away from Robert for a few days," he said. "I had to hit him to stop him from smacking Margaret for what she... for what you two did. He knows I'll squash him if he touches you, but he's a rat. You can't trust a rat."
I nodded.
He tussled my hair. "Margaret huh?? Not bad little bro."
I watched him walk out of my room and then fell asleep, feeling like the king of the world.