“Wait up!” I pause to adjust the wire spectacles on my nose before scurrying after my brother again. It’s hard to keep up with him; I keep tripping on the hem of my long dress. “Why aren’t you wearing your costume?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks faster. “Fifth graders don’t celebrate Halloween at school.”

“Oh.” I allow myself a moment of pity for my brother and all the other poor fifth graders. Fifth grade doesn’t sound very fun. Luckily it will be years before I have to sit in some stuffy fifth grade classroom, not celebrating Halloween.

Other kids are already at the bus stop. None of them are dressed up, and I start to feel sorry for them, too. Kindergarten is special, because we get to have a Halloween party. Our teacher hasn’t talked about the party, but I know there will be one. I bet it will even have a costume contest, just like in nursery school. Maybe I will win!

Then Carolyn Plant arrives. She is the only other kindergartner at my bus stop. She is also the meanest kid in my class. Last summer she ran over my caterpillar farm with her bike. On purpose. Carolyn is not wearing a costume. Her eyes narrow when she looks at me. “Why are you dressed like an old woman?”

I smooth my white apron. “I’m the grandmother.” Her expression doesn’t change. “From Little Red Riding Hood? It’s for the Halloween party.”

Carolyn blinks. “What Halloween party?”

“The one at school today. Duh.”

She smirks. “There’s no Halloween party at school.”

Now I smirk. She doesn’t know anything. “Don’t you remember? On the first day of school I raised my hand and asked if we were having a Halloween party, and Mrs. Jordan said, ‘Wait ‘til Halloween.’ And today is Halloween, so duh on you!” I put my hands on my hips to emphasize my absolute rightness and her absolute wrongness. She will be so embarrassed.

But Carolyn is not embarrassed. Carolyn starts laughing. What’s so funny?

It’s not until I walk into my classroom that I see that there are no party decorations. No one else is wearing a costume. I find my teacher and tug on her skirt. “Mrs. Jordan, what about the Halloween party today?”

Mrs. Jordan’s forehead wrinkles. “Honey, I told you we aren’t having a Halloween party.” Her wrinkles deepen. “Why are you dressed like an old woman?”

I look at the rug and start to cry. I wish I could go back to nursery school.