“I think I’m more Glinda than you are,” I inform her.
“Normally I would agree with you. I’m definitely witchier. But I totally relate to Wicked Glinda right now and a Wicked Halloween was my idea. Once we’re done getting candy and watching the movie, just think—Mateo can help you wash all that green paint off in the shower you’ll undoubtedly take together.”
Raising my eyebrows, I give her a nod of consideration. “That’s true.”
“See, all the perks. I’m basically doing you a favor by calling Glinda.”
When Meg first learned that Mateo has never let Isabella go trick-or-treating, she was mildly horrified. He didn’t care. Being as paranoid as he is already, giving people the opportunity to slip his kids poisoned candy is low on the list of things he’s interested in doing. She’s been working on him ever since, though, and this year she had a brilliant idea. Since the kids aren’t allowed to go trick-or-treating, we can bring trick-or-treating to them.
The upside of having a house four times as large as anyone could ever need a house to be? We have lots of useless rooms. We also have a bevy of people we can force to dress up and man those rooms so our little ones can go trick or treating.
“Come on, Elphie.” She grabs my hand and hauls me out of the bathroom so we can go find our little people and see if they’re all ready to go.
Thankfully, Rosalie’s big sisters got her all dolled up in her little Dorothy costume, complete with a picnic basket and a little Toto popping out of it. I tweak one of her pigtails and she holds up her basket to show me.
“I have a doggie!”
“I see that. Do you know his name?”
“Princess Sparkles.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Your dog is named Princess Sparkles? I thought it was Toto.”
“Toes aren’t cute. Princess Sparkles is better.”
“Toes?”
Meg grins. “Don’t try to reason with her. We have other things to do tonight.”
Lily/Hermione jumps in front of Meg, aiming a slightly crooked wand at her. “Stay back, muggle!”
“Hey, I’m not a muggle, you filthy little Mudblood,” Meg tosses back. “We’re both witches, and I’m the pretty one.”
Isabella is dressed up in the iconic black dress from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Her dark hair is in a cute bun, and she even has a fake cigarette holder, which she now holds between her fingers as she appraises Meg, then me. “Tell that to Mia’s dress.”
While I’m wearing a long black dress befitting a witch, instead of the puritanical up-to-the-neck black dress Elphaba rocked, I went with a slightly sexier off-the-shoulder style that shows some (currently green) cleavage.
“Your dad had final call on my dress,” I inform her. “Take it up with him.”
“Hey, we had a hard enough time selling him on this idea; I use whatever I must to get the job done.”
“You’re my pimp,” I tell her.
“Damn straight.”
“What’s a pimp?” Rosalie inquires.
Bella shakes her head and takes Rosalie’s free hand. “Come on, Dorothy, it’s time to go get candy.”
“You need to take the dog out of the basket,” Lily informs her, following along in her flowing robes. “You won’t have anywhere to put the candy.”
“He likes it in here,” Rosalie objects, scowling as she follows them out. “Be nice to my doggie. He likes candy.”
“I wasn’t being mean to your dog,” Lily mutters, rolling her eyes.
“So, it’s a boy and his name is Princess Sparkles?” Bella questions.
“Yep,” Rosalie says, firmly.
“Not Prince Sparkles? Boys are princes, not princesses.”
“He is a princess,” she states. “And he likes candy, and you be nice to him.”
Bella looks back at me, rolling her eyes as if quite put upon. I give her a little wink of encouragement.
We all head toward the media room where Mateo is supposed to be waiting for us. We’ll start there and end up there. Once we go through the whole house trick-or-treating, we’re going to the media room for a spooky viewing of Hocus Pocus.
“Now, make sure you say trick or treat,” Lily tells Rosalie. “Otherwise they won’t give you candy.”
“And make sure you tell them thank you after,” Bella adds.
“I’m so glad we have junior parents to do all the heavy lifting,” Meg tells me. “We can just kick back with some margaritas and let them do everything.”
“We should definitely have margaritas while we watch Hocus Pocus,” I tell her.
“No, I’m going to make us something else. Ruby slippers. Get it? ‘Cause we’re witches from Oz, and Dorothy, and—”
“Yes, Captain Obvious, I understand the connection.”
Meg’s steps slow and she grabs my arm, tugging me close. “Oh, shit. Speaking of captains, you’re gonna want to brace yourself for what you’re about to see.”
“Huh?” I turn to look in the direction she’s looking, but she shoves her hand in front of my eyes, as if shielding me from some horrifying sight.