A Year Down Yonder

by Richard Peck

She was like a big, bushy-tailed squirrel in an apron, gathering against the long winter.

To Grandma, Halloween wasn’t so much trick-or-treat as it was vittles and vengeance. Though she’d have called it justice.

If you’re going to read minds, start with a simple one.

“Grandma, how old is she?” “Oh, I don’t know,” Grandma said. “You’d have to cut off her head and count the rings in her neck.”