He paused. “You have a disease or something?”
My heart started beating hard. I felt dizzy. The trees seemed to lean too far in. I shouldn’t have had that beer.
“It’s just...I used to be kind of a bitch years ago, in middle school. I was mean to a few people.” I spoke quickly, the words gushing out.
“Okay…”
“It’s fine if you don’t want to be out here with me now. I’d understand.” I felt clearer then, less dizzy. The trees leaned away.
“It’s cool, that was probably like a decade ago.”
“Seven years.”
He shrugged and moved his face towards mine. He smelled like vodka.
I turned away. “I actually started calling this really nice guy ‘The Creeper’ just because he was real quiet and drew skulls in class.”
“Wait, Brendan Forrester?”
I flinched and turned back. “You know him?”
“I went to school with him at Southstone Middle.” Jonah shook his head and squinted at me. “Shit, that’s where I know you. You were a year behind me. You were that popular girl! Right?”
I stared at him too and realized he was right. We’d gone to school together.
I blushed. “Sorry, it’s okay if you don’t want to hook up with someone like me.”
He shook his head and put a hand on my thigh. “Totally doesn’t bug me. That was like a hundred years ago. Can’t believe you started that nickname, though.” He laughed. I could tell he was as buzzed as me, maybe worse. “You know, I heard he has some big movie website. Somebody invited me to this big party he’s helping put together on Halloween.”
I took a deep breath.
Jonah reached over to cup my chin.
I wiggled out of his hold. “But, what if you were him. What if you were Brendan. How much would you hate me? Like on a scale of one to ten.”
“I don’t know, six maybe?”
“Like six in a scale of like to hate, or hate to really hate?”
He burrowed his head and nuzzled my neck. “Let’s not talk anymore about the Creeper—”
“Brendan.”
And just saying his name, I knew two things. First, even if I wasn’t technically doing anything wrong, I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to kiss this guy. Because I didn’t want to kiss anyone else. I had feelings for Brendan, and it was from more than his biceps and cute smile.
“Whatever,” Jonah said. “I mean, not to be a dick here, but are we going to hook up?”
The second thing was that I’d told someone else the ugly truth and it’d been okay. First I’d told Elle, and now a stranger, and the earth was still turning. Maybe I could find a way to tell Brendan—maybe I could do it at his party, when I could pull him aside, alone—and maybe it wouldn’t be the catastrophe I’d feared. Maybe it’d be okay.
I had to try at least.
I stood up. “No, we're not going to hook up.”
Chapter Nine
Devil’s Night. The infamous night before Halloween. Even the air felt different that evening.
As I walked to the Haunted Shack, the wind blew in big, startling gusts, like a playful giant was breathing bouts of cold wind on the corpse of our Indian summer. The air was full of change and possibility, with forces frolicking unseen. It was as if one of those big gusts could sweep me up in the air to skip around the moon.
As a particularly strong breeze teased my skirt, I gathered up my long black dress and giggled.
Now that I’d decided to tell Brendan at his party, I couldn’t wait to see him. To let him heckle me and to try to scare him. To play and tease until I could return home and text him all night like we’d done before.
So what will it be tonight? he’d written as I’d left class that afternoon. Zombie nurse, vampire, or a surprise?
Surprise. I’ve got to keep the visitors on their toes.
At the Shack I grabbed a black pointy hat from the closet. Besides a little lip gloss, I left my face free of makeup. Instead I would wear a gnarled witch’s mask, the features knobby and grotesque. I twirled the mask on my finger.
You might have trouble recognizing me, I texted him. You might have to look at my legs again. Strictly for identification purposes.
Strictly for identification purposes. What, have I done something else before? I’m a complete professional.
“Nora,” Tim bellowed when he saw me, his arms wide. “My pretty little witch.”
“Your pretty scary little witch.”
“There’s the spirit! Only two more nights. Can you feel it?” Tim wore a goofy grin through his thick white-and-red makeup, the effect both happy and sad. “If only we could stop the clock.”
We crammed together for a quick monster meetup near the front, but everyone working knew the drill—scare, rinse, repeat—and soon I donned my pointy black hat and walked toward my place in the Shack.
The witch’s booth was right after the dolls, so I had to walk past them. I barely looked at them through my peripheral vision—just enough to make sure they weren’t suddenly going to follow me.
You make such a pretty witch, Nora.
I quickened my step.
Remember to put on your mask, Nora.
In the hallway after, a row of glowing skeleton heads grinned at me from the wall. Then I passed through a doorway that had an actual door we could shut—rare in the house—and a nearby buzzer I skillfully evaded.
A single, swaying lightbulb hung over my booth, casting a shaky spot of light on the counter in front. Off to one side, it held tiny little dishes of peeled grapes, blood-red noodles, and purplish gelatin made to look like body parts. Probably the grossest part was the number of people who would be touching them tonight and spreading germs. Shelves in back were heavy with jars filled with thick yellow liquid and mysterious shapes that may or may not have been more of Tim’s failed cooking experiments. There were also a big black cauldron on the counter that seeped fog, a ladle inside. That is where I stood, stirring.
The wind gusted again outside, followed by the cheer of the crowd surge at opening. I put on the mask. I grabbed the small pair of scissors I’d smuggled in and gave my black dress a long slit up the side.
I scared the wits out of the first person to come through, a middle-aged man in a heavy flannel coat, when I jumped out with a bloodcurdling scream and wiped red gelatin down my neck. He shuddered and ran away from me.
I threw a handful of peeled grapes at some teenage boys and bubbled with mirth as they ran, too. Cowards.
I wondered where Brendan was just then—was he at another house?—and when he’d arrive. My body tingled at the thought that he could be the next person emerging from the doorway.
Twenty-seven and a half hours until Halloween was over. Not that I was counting.
But somehow, even though I’d been thinking about him constantly, when I suddenly saw him appear under the light bulb, I was at first too stunned to move or speak. It was a shock how perfect he looked under the light, the shadows accentuating the curl of his black hair over his ears and his river-water eyes.
I tried for a cruel witch’s scream, but what came out was more of a tiny squeal, nothing that would scare even a small child.
He studied me for a moment, and before his scrutiny even reached my legs, he was smiling.
“So Bigfoot tomorrow then?”
I bowed my head down and stirred the pot, letting a sinister silence fill the room while I gathered my wits.
“Hey, what are you cooking there? Soup?”
Silence.
“I love a woman who can cook beyond a hot pot. I’m totally into it. I bet you have a house made of candy, too.”
I broke the silence then, my voice low and quavering. “Do you want to know what’s in the soup?”
His eyes widened. “Creepy mask. And really super creepy voice.”
“Do you?”
He paused. “I feel like the smart thing would be to say no here, but I’m going to go with ye
s.”
I dipped the ladle into the steaming pot and pulled out a small, greenish ball. “This is for you.”
“It is?” He took the squishy tissue gingerly with his fingers.
“It’s your mother’s eyeball.”
He recoiled for a second and then grinned. “Wow, no girl has ever given me an eyeball before.”
“She was still alive when I scooped it out.”
Through the eyeholes of the mask, I saw him take a tissue out his pocket and wrap the eyeball inside. “I'm going to keep this, just so I can remember this moment,” he said as he pocketed it. “And my mom too, of course.”
“Tomorrow you're going to wake up without a tongue.” I dropped the ladle and tilted my head up to watch him. “I put a spell on you.”
He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, a serious expression on his face. “That you have.”
He turned around then. And pulled the door shut to the room.
I inhaled sharply. When I spoke, my witch’s voice wavered. “What are you...”
“Giving us a few minutes. Those people behind me will have to play with the dolls for a second.”
I shuddered.
He placed his hands on the counter in front of me and sprang lightly up to sit on it.
I stepped away. What was he doing?
Swinging his legs around, he landed in front of me.
“Hey.” He smiled, but still held that serious look in his eyes.
He clasped my hands, and I froze, completely undone by how warm and strong they felt, how much I could no longer be a witch in that moment, how much I could not be anyone but myself.
Brendan’s eyes were bright and a little wild.
“Hey,” he said again.
“You already said that.” My voice was wobbling, landing somewhere between a witch and my own tone.
“You’re a witch.”
“I know.”
He smiled. “Twenty-seven and a half hours until Halloween is over.”
“Twenty-seven hours and twenty minutes.”
“You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “Can I tell you something?”
I nodded silently.
“It might freak you out.”
“Okay,” I said, though it was more of a squawk, my mouth gone paper-dry.
“Okay. I just wanted to say I—I feel like I’m falling for you and I don’t even know your name. I don’t even know what you look like.”
My heart started racing as I comprehended what he said, my entire being so completely charmed by the words falling for you, that I didn’t realize what he was about to do until he’d done it. He reached over and pulled off my mask. And then he kissed me on the lips.
Chapter Ten
Our lips met. My eyes fluttered, closed. The mask hit the floor.
I was so stunned by what he did, but then I gave myself over to the kiss, to the beautiful and terrifying thing that was happening between us.
You have to understand: as much as I’d tried to ignore it, from the moment I saw Brendan again an hourglass was flipped, and it was only a matter of time before it would all be over, and there were the last few grains of sand falling through the hourglass and I was going to enjoy them because they were all I had left—tiny bits of sand raining down like specks of powdered magic, my heart full and real and beating hard, my head ignoring for a moment that he’d caught a quick glimpse of the real me before we kissed and any moment he’d—
Brendan pulled away from me sharply. Grabbed my shoulders. Looked at me.
“What?” he gasped. “N-Nora Travers?”
I couldn’t speak.
He let go of my shoulders and took a step back, colliding into the counter. The metal dish clattered down, and then the slimy cold noodles and peeled grapes dripped to the floor in a wet gush.
“Is this—is this a joke? Are you fucking with me?”
His eyes were wild, the irises sharp and shiny as nails.
I took a quick step towards him. “Wait, it’s not what you think—”
“What I think? Where’s…” He looked around him then, and it was a knife to my gut to realize he was looking for his naughty nurse or sexy vamp to appear. For it to be anyone other than me.
“No, it’s not a joke! I swear!” I took another step towards him. Touched his arm.
He drew away, his features forming into a mask of disgust.
“I like you,” I said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen like it did. Can’t we just—”
“Like me? Like me? Has this been you all along?”
I nodded.
He raised his voice. “Do you remember what you did to me in middle school? I hated you!”
“I’m a different person now. I’m not like that. I haven’t been like that for a while.”
His eyes bore into mine. “You treated me like shit. You acted like I wasn’t even a person.”
“I know, I know! I did. But I don’t anymore. Listen to me—”
“No. No! I’m fucking out of here.” He leapt over the counter and made for the corridor.
“Wait!”
He kept moving, disappearing into the dark.
I followed him.
In the dark hall, he hit a loud buzzer and swore. Turned and kept going.
On his heels, I saw him swerve around Elle’s arm as she clawed at him from behind bars.
“Grab him!” I shouted at her desperately.
But she missed and he moved past her. She gave me a confused look as I passed by, but she pulled up the bars to follow me. I plunged into the next hall.
“Stop, Brendan! Let me talk to you!”
As light entered the hall, I saw him squeeze around a woman in a pink fleece who startled and shrieked, thinking he was part of the house. He dove into the zombie room.
“Braaaaiiins!” they squealed—but as I reached the room, he was almost out the other side.
“Hold him!” I screamed. I had to stop him. I had to make him listen.
One of the zombies, bless her dead little heart, lunged for him. But he was too fast.
He hit the narrow hallway then, the air reeking of mildew, and I knew it better so I started to close the gap between us. Footsteps behind me pounded in time with my heart. Elle and maybe one of the zombie girls were on my tail.
“Slow down, Brendan!”
He was almost within reach when we stumbled into the mad scientist’s lab, both of us gasping for air.
The mad scientist was there wearing a glowing white lab coat and crazy smile. The air was alive with the hot magnetic smell of his electrodes. He zapped them for good measure as we entered. He was blocking the exit.
“Stop him!” I shouted—not thinking, just wanting it all to stop, stop, please stop.
The good doctor blocked Brendan’s path, his crazy smile gone megawatt. I’m scaring Brendan Forrester, he must have thought, and I’ve got to give it my all.
“Good evening. Would you like to be part of my…experiment?”
“Get out of my way, man.” Brendan’s voice struggled out of his throat.
“Don’t go!”
Elle and the zombie dumped out into the room.
The scientist, maybe inspired by my behavior earlier in the week, pointed his electrodes at Brendan and backed him into the corner.
I tried again. “Brendan, if you’ll just—”
“Let me out of here!” Brendan’s face was contorting wildly as he looked around the room at all of us. Unpredictable people, unknown faces in disguise.
I rushed in front of the scientist, to reach him, and the others followed behind: four monsters blocking a terrified visitor into the corner.
There I was again: the tormenter and her victim.
“Brendan, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I said. “It got out of hand, and I was going to tell you—I should’ve told you—but I—”
His dark eyes focused on me. “Should’ve told me what? That you were pretending to be someone else all week? T
hat you were lying to me? That you were making me, making me…” He stopped and swallowed hard. “Get away from me—all of you.”
The others, starting to realize it wasn’t make-believe, backed up and Brendan moved toward the exit.
“Wait a second, please.” I was trying not to cry but my throat felt like I’d swallowed poison. “I’m—”
For a moment he jerked around and just stared at me, his blue irises filled with rage. “What?”
“I…I didn’t…”
He turned around and walked away.
A minute later, the chainsaw sounded in the distance.
I leaned towards Elle and whispered, “Tell Tim I’m sick.”
I ran through the Shack then—backwards, away from him and the pain I’d caused. Into the narrow hall, through the zombie room with a perplexed undead girl, past some startled visitors, around the empty cell. Near the spot where a witch once kissed a beautiful boy. I was crying and disoriented, hitting the buzzers I’d usually miss, fake cobwebs catching in my hair.
I was so distracted I forgot about them until it was too late.
The dolls.
There were tears in my eyes, and as I ran past blindly, I tripped over something and fell. But something came down with me. Something caught on my head.
On the floor I saw what it saw. The doll. The big one with the missing jaw.
We were lying on our sides facing one another, nestled close like lovers.
I started screaming.
Happy Devil’s Night, Nora.
“Get off me! Get off me!” I screamed. But her little plastic hand was tangled in my hair. Though her mouth was gone, she had a knowing look in her eye.
You belong with us, Nora.
I started shrieking and crying as I pried her evil little hand from my hair.
I jumped up and ran for the nearest hidden exit. I looked back one time to see the doll lying there. There was a long strand of my brown hair in her hand. She’d fixed her beady eye on me.
He was never going to want the real you anyway, Nora.
***
At home I wrenched off my dress, my shoes. I lay in bed in my underwear and pulled the covers over my head.
I couldn’t believe I ever thought for one second that it could’ve turned out differently. What had I done to him? I pressed my face into my pillow and felt it grow wet and cold from my tears.
I wouldn’t text him. Not again. He didn’t want to hear from me. His behavior and words said as much.
I opened up Twitter on my phone under the cave of my comforter. Not my Naughty Nurse handle, but my actual Nora Travers one.