Sheba wasn’t invited to the Halloween birthday party. Nor were the neighborhood babies. The cut-off age was five. Melanie’s brother Brad didn’t get to attend. The status that exclusivity granted to Melanie more than made up for her inadequate costume.

The grownups wore regular clothes to the party. Dabney’s mama had chosen an orange shirtwaist dress, and “Halloween’d” it with a shiny black belt, black high heels, and black gloves. Her hair cascaded in waves around her shoulders, reflecting glints of lantern light and apparently matching her dress. She had sparkly earrings on that were mostly hidden by her hair, but her bracelets – several on each wrist and at least one heavy with charms – made tinkling music and more light when they flashed with her movements. Dabney’s mama seemed to be in constant motion, bringing platters to tables or her own ice-heavy glass to her orange lips, furthering the impression of glint, sparkle, music.

The food was good. The hot dogs tasted like home but Melanie only had one because she promised her mother she wouldn’t eat more. The beans were different and delicious, chewy and almost sweet, and her mother hadn’t issued any instructions about them, so Melanie kept serving herself from the big dish at the center of her table. The bowls of candy would have been like heaven except Melanie had just acquired her annual sack of Halloween goodies the night before. It was the birthday cakes that impressed her.

Each table had its own cake. Each cake was such dark chocolate inside that it looked black in the party light, and bore orange icing decorated with a jack o’ lantern face. Baked into the cake was a silver charm. The guests were told that the person at the table who got the charm would receive a prize.

A silver charm. Not plastic, not pot metal like a Monopoly token: real silver. Melanie’s next door neighbor was the lucky one at her table. As usual he ate so slowly that everyone else had already finished their cake and pushed the plate toward the table center. Barry was on about his third bite from last when he “yowch’d” and brought his left hand to his jaw. He cupped his palm beneath his own chin and spat out metal. The cleaned-off charm was a dainty little horse.

He had to give the charm to Dabney’s mama but he got a package of Sea-Monkeys for his prize. As did the winner at Dabney’s table, a boy who didn’t live in the neighborhood. Freddie’s father was the winner at the grownup table, and it looked to Melanie like his prize was a bottle of something.

Melanie didn’t care about not winning Sea-Monkeys but she would have loved to have the charm. She’d asked her parents for a charm bracelet for her last birthday but they told her that kind of jewelry lacked class. She didn’t understand the term – it meant school to her – but she gathered that her parents wanted her to wear simple, small ornaments, if any. She opted to go without, but she still liked charms.

The party ended soon after the cake ceremony. The grownup table got a little noisy and then Dabney’s father gently pushed her mama off his lap, stood up, and started the goodbyes. Melanie would have enjoyed the adventure of taking the backyard route home, climbing the low fence in the dark, but she behaved herself and went out through the Swanson house. She got to pet Sheba on the way. She was careful to keep her hands free of dog slobber. Behind her Freddie threw his arms around Sheba’s neck and kissed the dog’s ear. Freddie seemed to always have green snot in his left nostril. It reminded Melanie of a pistachio half. It was gross.