I explained about the pumpkins. Johnny seemed happy enough to delay it and carve pumpkins first. He sat next to me. Beverley was across from us. I was elated by his nearness yet I felt shy.

"Yuck!" Beverley stuck her tongue out and made a face, but dug her hand into the pumpkin's webby innards and pulled up another handful of gelatinous goo and slick seeds. "It's so cold and slimy! I like it and hate it all at once!" She giggled.

I knew exactly how she felt.

"Ready to scoop it out?" I asked.

"Uh-huh."

I held the bucket while she had fun scraping out the sticky stuff. "We'll dump this in the cornfield for the deer when we're done." I let her play with the stuff in the bucket while I used a big spoon to smooth out the interior of her pumpkin, then mine. Beverley preferred to squeeze the goo through her fingers in the bucket.

Johnny spooned all the seeds loose inside his pumpkin's hull, then, upon approaching the bucket, announced he felt sick and acted like he was throwing up as he dumped the innards into the bucket and on her hands. Beverley thought it was hilarious.

Their faces were both lit with joy. It was a great moment, a memory to keep. After the first handfuls of pumpkin goo were flung at each other, though, I wondered why I hadn't seen it coming.

"Now, kiddies," I protested.

Johnny splattered goo across the front of my white V-neck shirt.

"Hey!" I said loudly, standing. I'd managed to keep my shirt and jeans clean until then.

They went stock still, busted little kids, the both of them. I stepped over and grabbed the bucket from him.

"If you're going to include me in your mess-making, I have to have some ammunition too!" I held the bucket with my knees and grabbed handfuls out to throw at them. Shrieking with laughter, Beverley grabbed the bucket back and a bucket-stealing goo-fight began in earnest.

Beverley threw a handful and it landed in my hair. I gave a squeal and turned away, right into Johnny's arms. In a perfect cartoon-hero voice, he said, "Don't worry, Princess, I'll protect you from the seed-spitting dragon!" In my ear he added, "But the one-eyed, seed-spitting monster you'll have to take care of yourself."

Orange goo splatted across Johnny's cheek.

"That's it!" he said, letting me go. Grinning, he chased her around the garage. Beverley screamed and laughed. When he caught her, he tickled her until he got the bucket away from her. He threw a handful at me. It splattered against my collarbone and slid down into my shirt, cold in my cleavage.

"No, no!" Beverley laughed. "The prince doesn't turn into the seed-goo-dragon! He just saved the princess from it. Now she has to kiss him as a reward!"

Johnny quickly turned and offered her a high-five. "That's a great idea," he said, setting the bucket down to come to me. "You heard her."

"Um… but—"

"Oh stop." Johnny leaned in and tapped his unsplattered cheek. "Plant it right there."

I made it a quick peck. "It still counts," I announced quietly, "as one of the hundred."

He winked. "Eighty-five to go."

"Eighty-one," I corrected.

He feigned confusion. "No, I'm sure I have eighty-five left."

"Are you trying to steal them or are they just not memorable anymore?"

"I cherish each one, which is why they're worth stealing." He moved in like he might steal another.

Then goo hit him in the chest. Beverley had reclaimed the bucket.

Minutes later, saddened by how quickly the innards of three big pumpkins could run out, we heard, "You three are a fright." Nana stood in the doorway, a spot of seeds centered on her cabbage-rose shirt and a deep scowl on her face.

"That's perfect because it'll be Hallowe'en soon," Beverley said, giggling.

"It's going to be dinner long before it's Hallowe'en," she retorted. "And all of you will have to get cleaned up first."

"Aw, but we haven't carved faces yet," Johnny said.

"Tomorrow," Nana said firmly. "Come on, Beverley."

"Okay." She trudged across the garage, but grinned at us from the doorway. "That was wicked awesome!" She darted inside. Nana shut the door.

Pumpkin seeds hung from my hair, spotted my jeans and shoes. Johnny was no better. "Kid's got a good arm, good aim," he said, picking seeds from his hair and trying unsuccessfully to flick them from his fingers into the bucket.

The goo in my cleavage was uncomfortable, so while he wasn't watching, I started digging it out in a very un-ladylike manner. "Seeing her laughing just feels so good." I thought of Lorrie; she would have approved of a pumpkin goo-fight. My eyes got a little moist, but I didn't have a clean hand to wipe them with.

"Yeah," he said, turning to me. Then, "What are you doing?"

"The goo got in my shirt. I'm just getting it out."

"Can I help?"

"You wish."

"Duh." He waited. "You're a mess."

"You should talk."

He brought the bucket over and started picking seeds out of my hair.

"Ow! You're pulling!"

"Sorry." He tried again. "It might just be easier if we took a shower and then cleaned up the drain."

We?

I stared hard at Johnny's chest and began picking seeds from his shirt and acted like I hadn't heard the statement.

"You're biting your lip," he said.

I was. I stopped. "If we get cleaned up there'll still be time to do a training evaluation, right?"

"Oh," he said in a high, condescending tone. "So you have to start clean if you're going to fight?"

"No."

He put up his arms, hands lightly fisted, and bent his knees into a ready stance. "C'mon, then."

I dropped my hands and shook my head as I said, "Johnny, I can't just—" I lashed out quickly, knowing he wouldn't expect it, and kicked him, following with a left-right-left that had him backpedaling across the garage. I dropped into a ready stance. "I protected new waeres from hostile waereophobes."

He grinned. "Yeah. But how often did you fight waeres?" Johnny came at me.

I kicked, ducked, and stepped past him. He went the opposite direction, grabbed the water hose from its coil hanging on the wall, unreeling it from the bracket, and turned the handle to the faucet it was connected to.

"No," I said.

I heard the rush of water into the hose, but he hadn't turned the attached spray nozzle on.

"Oh yeah. I said you were a mess. I'm just helping," he said innocently.

"No," I said more firmly.

He lowered the nozzle, snorted, and raised it again. "You've got a white shirt on. That's almost a dare. I can't help myself." Water shot across the garage.

I lunged at him, squealing and laughing, hands out to block, and slipped past him to shut it off at the source. He blasted me from the back until the hose ran out of water. I unscrewed the hose from the spigot. Enough of that. It was cold.

"No fair," he whined and let the nozzle and hose sag in front of his crotch suggestively.

I turned and faced him. My wet white shirt clung translucently to every curve I had. His jaw dropped. I let his distraction work against him and sucker-punched his mouth, pulling it at the last moment so I didn't actually bloody his lip.

Though I'd slipped past his defenses, I wasn't getting back out of range. He grabbed my arm and twisted me into a restraining hold, pinning my arms behind my back.

"Never pull your punches with me! You can't hurt me," he said. "If you train holding back, you'll do the same in a real situation." He rubbed his body against mine. "I expect a full effort," he whispered. "Every time."

Taking his words to heart, I lifted my knees to my chest. He couldn't hold me curled up in the air indefinitely. However, this position strained my arms and abs, and I wouldn't be able to sustain it for long either. Johnny gave first, and bent forward. As he did, I pushed my legs down and threw my head back. My cranium caught him in his adorably cleft chin. I thought the blow would make him release me. Not so. He laughed and reminded me, "Waeres aren't as fragile as humans."