Mischief Makers, Booty Cakers

Mattie and Holden snuck downstairs in matching plaid pajamas. The midnight air felt electric. Mattie had taught her little brother to walk only on his toes, but he insisted on whispering "tip-toe" as he did. Holden was only four and often missed the point of things.

The tiny delinquents approached the refrigerator. When they opened the door, their kitchen took on a fluorescent glow. Mattie felt as though she'd found a portal to another dimension. 

There it was - in the center of the top shelf, illuminated by a halo of tiny bulbs.

Their father had called it a Devil's Food Cake.

The frosting was sticky and thick. Their mother had used so much sugar that tiny crystals glistened in the light. This gave it the appearance of a cartoon cake. 

That suited Mattie just fine. Her plan would work better if it wasn't real to her. That way, she could pretend she and Holden were cartoons too. Fictional characters could accomplish anything.

Mattie felt a physical pang of guilt as she used both hands to remove the cake from the refrigerator. She held it carefully - a glossy glass treasure. Gently, she set it down on the kitchen table.

Together, the Wood children lifted the lid. They worked quickly and gingerly, as though they were diffusing a confectionery bomb. The scent of cocoa filled the air. 

Success!

Mattie summoned every ounce of courage. Holden looked on, awestruck by his sister's heroism. With a sharp inhale, she closed her eyes and pressed one finger through. She felt the thin crust of icing break. 

What a rush! 

Mattie sank her finger deep into the goopy paste below, stopping only when she felt actual cake. Her tongue poked at the corner of her mouth as she formed her best B. 

As she printed the rest of her letters, Mattie's caution gave way to righteous indignation. 

Who threw a Halloween party only for adults? Who wouldn't want children at a party? More to the point - what kind of a mother would dare to bake a cake for such a party?

Even more offensive was the fact that this party would be taking place at Aunt Zinnia's house. Aunt Zinnia was a shrill, bony armed woman who always spoke to children as though they were idiots. Her house smelled like feet and tobacco.

While the Wood parents attended, Mattie and Holden were to go trick-or-treating with the Browns again. They were a nice enough family. Last year, though, they had insisted on being home before dark.

How come only adults got to have fun on Halloween?

Mattie felt betrayed. 

She finished her Y with a flourish, adding an explanation point in a fit of enthusiasm.

Pleased with her work, Mattie grinned at her brother. She was missing one front tooth, and he was jealous. Both children let their gaze drift to the cake. They were shocked at their own audacity. 

Mattie read the vandalized dessert to her brother:

"Booty!"

Instantly, Holden was writhing on the floor with laughter. Mattie thought he looked like a jiggly little round-bellied snake. 

"Booty! Boo! Like a ghost! Like a butt! Like a ghost butt!" He wheezed. 

It was high comedy.

Mattie held an urgent finger to her lips. Shh!! She held in her own laughter until her face turned red and it emerged in a great and powerful bark.

It was involuntary, just like the time she'd thrown up on her desk in kindergarten.

Both children froze as they heard the floorboards creak above their heads. They listened, still as statues. Two sets of clumsy adult feet descended the staircase.

Joyce Wood gasped as she turned on the lights. She looked from the cake to her children and back again. She wanted to let her knees give way and drown herself in merlot and her own tears.

Instead, she took a deep breath. That's what grown ups do.

Joyce turned to her husband, her eyes helpless. "We can't serve this tomorrow."

Norman laced his thick, hairy knuckled fingers though his wife's tiny, polished ones. 

"It's easier to build strong children than to repair broken adults," he whispered, resting his head in her hair. She smelled like honey.

Joyce watched Holden grasp his sister's sticky hand with his own clean, pudgy one. Now both children would have chocolate fingerprints.

Joyce took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She counted to ten. Then, she put on her best stern face.

"I guess you two will have to help me make a new one in the morning. No more trip to the Halloween carnival." She looked into their wide eyes as the bomb landed. 

"As long as we're all up, though..."

She looked over her shoulder. Norman was already cutting a slice for each member of the Wood family.

"It was a good joke, dear," he whispered to her later in secret. "Booty - like a ghost." 

Even Joyce had to smile about it. She was riding the first real sugar high she'd had in years.