KarmaKitty's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

KarmaKitty counted three doors closed in her face before she understood the problem was her costume. The black fur swallowed the porch light. The black ears vanished against the railings. Her purple pail glowed at her hip like a small lit pumpkin, but nobody looked down that far before the door clicked shut. She had a whole neighborhood to hunt and a pail still two-thirds empty. She wanted it full tonight. Not full of ordinary candy. Full of the rare kind, the kind a boy at school swore had grown him wings for an hour. She had learned to read the porch lights the way other kids read street signs. Dim yellow meant a bowl of taffy. Purple or green meant the house was trying. Those were the houses worth knocking at, and tonight the street had two of them lit, tall wrought iron lanterns burning a cold purple at the curb. The first purple-lit house was the worst kind. A tall Victorian leaned over its own yard, and the porch sat so deep under the eaves that the door looked like the back of a closet. KarmaKitty climbed the steps. A woman opened the door, scanned the walk, saw nothing, and closed it. KarmaKitty had been standing two feet away. She heard the deadbolt slide. She sat down on the bottom step and thought. The pail glowed against her knee. A line of younger kids passed on the sidewalk in bright costumes, a sheet ghost, a blue monster in a red cape, a small witch with stars on her hat. They were loud and easy to see. Their plastic bags clattered. Doors opened for them before they finished knocking. A black cat slid out from under the porch and sat by KarmaKitty's boot. It had green eyes and one white spot on its chest. It looked at the parade, then at her, then at the pail. KarmaKitty stood up. She lifted the pail off her wrist and held it in front of her chest like a lantern. The jack-o'-lantern face threw orange light up onto her chin and her black ears. She walked back up the steps. The cat followed. She knocked, then took one step back so the pail sat square in the door's sightline. The door opened. The woman looked at the glowing face first, then up at the girl behind it. "Oh," she said. "There you are. I almost missed you twice." She reached into a bowl and dropped something into the pail that landed heavier than candy should. It was wrapped in black foil with a small green seal. KarmaKitty did not know what it was yet. She knew the seal matched the porch lights, and she knew the rest of the street had houses she had not tried. She went down the steps with the cat at her heel and the pail held out in front of her like a headlight.