“That Fateful Halloween” Worthington glanced back at him again, puzzled. “Are you sure, Sir?” “Yes,” Brent answered with reassurance. “I’ll be fine. But don’t park too close. Keep the car hidden.” Worthington did as instructed and steered the car the extra few blocks to the Patterson House, a large, old manor with an ornate porch that sat well off the street. The children of Lakeview Heights knew this house well, and it had been a ritual for as long as anyone could remember for all “Trick-or-Treaters” to visit it each Halloween. One by one they would each step up on the porch and stare into the smudged window on the front door to see if they could spot a ghost. Brent wondered if the children still did this. He quickly got his answer. As soon as they came into view of the house, he could see them lined up. And there in the middle of the group was the tallest child and ringleader, Julius Kennelly. Only this was Julius III, the son of his own youthful nemesis. Some things never change, he thought, as the memories of his own terrible initiation rushed straight back to him. Julius Kennelly II, then all of fourteen, looked at them, eye to eye, one at a time. Pointing at each one with his pirate sword, he asked, “So, who’s brave enough to go up there and look?” Young Brent, barely ten at the time, immediately knew that he wasn’t. He stepped quickly back behind the others so as not to be noticed. He hoped deep in his heart that someone else would decline, too, so that he would not be the only one. Julius was the first to look, of course, showing himself to be the bravest. One by one the other children followed and peered into the dark windows of the front door. Brent assumed that none of them saw anything, because they all turned away, giggling nervously. Still, that wasn’t enough to give him courage enough to do
45
it himself. His heart sank as the other two young children, Billy Wentworth and his little sister Abigail, perhaps more afraid of Julius than whatever ghost lurked inside that old house, stepped up on the porch and looked in as well. At last, it was down to just young Brent. He hoped that no one had noticed that he was the only one who had yet to look. But they did. “Well?” Julius asked him and tapped his sword in his hand. “You gonna do it or not?” Brent wanted nothing more than to race down the street, back to where Bernard waited for him by the car. He stared wide-eyed back at Julius. His pulse pounded. His lip quivered. The other kids stared at him, too, waiting. If he chickened out, he’d never hear the end of it. “Come on, you little baby!” shouted Julius. “Get up there!” Brent stood frozen in fear. He wanted to move. He wanted to do something. But he did not want to go up on that porch. He looked around for sympathy. There was none. “Come on, let’s leave the little baby by himself,” laughed Julius. “He needs to go home to his Mommy.” Julius started off, leading the other kids away. “Wait!” called Brent. Julius turned back around. This was Brent’s final chance. He looked up at the porch. He did everything he could to steel his courage and started down the walk. He gripped the tiny handles of his toy pistols. He knew they wouldn’t do any good, but it still made him feel better. He could barely feel his feet touch the cold sidewalk before he found himself take the first step of the creaking old porch. Before him, inescapable, was the large front door. The bottom half was solid wood, but the top half was split into two large windows of equal size. There would be no quick peek. He