Finally, at the point the southern girl had walked off into the sunrise, I pivoted around to face Brendan.
He was sitting on the edge of his seat staring at me. His hood was down, his hair a little messy, and he was staring at me with an intense look in his dark blue eyes. And maybe it was all that axe-swinging I’d done, but I felt a little faint at the sight of him.
His mouth parted like he was about to speak.
But I was done being someone else. Done performing.
“I'll be out in the hallway,” I said to him. “Come there if you want to talk to me. The real me.”
The crowd parted for me as I walked straight to a side door. Then I stepped out into the hallway and didn’t look back.
Chapter Thirteen
The hallway outside the party was dim and lined with classrooms.
I rested my back against one wall beside a classroom door and started counting in my head.
One, two, three...
I vowed to give him five minutes, and then I’d take the next bus back to Sadville.
Someone at the party flipped back on the music—“What’s This?” from The Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack.
Forty-five, forty-six...
And then the door opened and out he walked. His hood was still down around his shoulders, and he was carrying his reclaimed axe. I stepped away from the wall.
He walked right up to me and we just stared at each other a long beat. In the murky hallway his eyes seemed to be simmering with something in their river depths, but I couldn’t figure out what exactly.
“What do you want, Nora?” he asked a third time, his voice low.
You.
“I want to...I need to apologize.” I took a deep breath. What I was about to do made the little performance I’d just done feel like child’s play.
“I’m sorry I was such a bitch to you in middle school. I’m sorry I made fun of you and said you were lurking all the time. I’m sorry I got everyone calling you ‘The Creeper.’” I lowered my head. “My mom and dad were fighting all the time, and it felt good in a sick way to be mean, to you and a couple others. I was so angry. Not that it’s an excuse—you didn’t act that way.”
When I looked up, his gaze had softened.
My words came out in a torrent. “I got in a car accident after all that, after middle school, and I got this scar and everybody could see it and I realized how messed up it’d been, teasing you like that.” I exhaled. “But I’m sorry I didn’t show you who I was the first time I met you, or said I was sorry then, or tried to make you like me despite all that.”
His face was still, his expression hard to read.
I stood up straight then. “I’ve been trying to be people I’m not all week so that you might like me. But this is who I am. I’ve made mistakes and I’ve hurt people. I’ve hurt you, and it kills me to remember that. But I can’t change the past. This is me.”
He still didn’t respond.
I started to turn away, tears pricking my eyes.
But then he started speaking—quickly. “Why now? Why apologize now? Because I’ve got friends now? Because I’m not some skinny kid anymore? Because I’ve got a bunch of website followers and I’m not just some geek in your class?”
I turned back around. My voice had gone all wobbly. “No, it’s not that. This is the right thing to do. It would be anyway, but I—I like you. I like how you asked me questions when we texted the other night, silly questions and deep questions about what I want to do and how I feel about things. I like the funny stuff you write. I like how sometimes just your left eyebrow raises. I like the way your voice speeds up when you’re excited. And, yeah, you’re not some skinny kid anymore, you’re, like, scary hot, and I like that too, because…” I gestured up and down his body and sniffed a little. “I mean, come on, well done with that.”
It was dark in the hallway, but I swore I saw the corner of his mouth turn up for a millisecond.
“I saw what you wrote on my website,” he said, carefully watching my face.
“What?”
“The comments. The ‘I’m sorry’ and the Frankenstein stuff on that one post. But then they mysteriously disappeared.”
“I deleted them. I thought you didn’t want to hear from me.”
“I thought I didn’t, either. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.” He sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. “I’m sorry I called you that name in the post. I should never have done that.”
“It was accurate. I was a witch.”
He shook his head. “You know, sometimes I forget how long it’s been, since all that happened. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I’m not in middle school anymore, and you know, act accordingly.”
I breathed out. “We’re not in middle school anymore…thank God.”
“Yeah.” He smiled a little. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Frankenstein.”
“Who says it didn’t?”
“You did. You said you lied about fucking him. I’m sorry that didn’t work out.”
I smiled and shrugged. “It’s his loss. Because, just between you and me and half of Transylvania, I’m fantastic.”
He smiled then, really smiled, and it made my heart soar up to the ceiling.
His eyes dancing, he reached a hand out to my neck. “You've got some...” His fingertips grazed my flesh and a ripple of excitement passed through my body, neck to knees.
He glanced down at the white smear on his thumb.
I laughed nervously. “Makeup. It happens. It’s hard to get it all off without showering.”
He wiped his thumb on his cloak. “Let me guess: ghost?”
“Yes.”
A group of students stumbled out into the hallway then, drunk and laughing. Out of the big room came wild laughter, some shouting, and a creepily-hypnotic techno beat. As we stood there awkwardly—looking at each other, smiling, looking away—the students lingered in the hallway, telling stories in overly-loud voices and gesticulating wildly.
“Let’s go in here to talk.” Brendan indicated a doorway close by.
“Okay.”
It was a small student lounge, filled with a few round tables and chairs, an armchair, and a loveseat. It was dim in there too, but quieter, and through a row of windows on the side we saw the sharp silver blade of the moon and the stars splattered across the night sky.
He walked to the loveseat and sat down.
“That was a good show you put on back there.”
“Thanks.” I perched on the opposite arm of the loveseat, unsure if he’d want me any closer.
“It was pretty incredible. The acting, your voice—you sounded just like her. You’re really talented, you know that?” He was doing the fast-talking thing again. “I should put you in touch with this guy I know. He’s directing this horror movie. It’s pretty low budget, but they are paying. I bet you could get a role—I mean, if you wanted.”
I was nodding my head before he even finished. “Yeah, please give him my name. I’d love that. Definitely.” Maybe I wouldn’t have to quit school yet. And maybe I’d get to act in the way I wanted.
“Okay, I’ll let him know. Anyway, you’re just…very talented.” He raised an eyebrow. “Back there…I almost wanted to save you. From an invisible homicidal maniac. But, you know, somebody had stolen my hatchet, so.”
“I was doing fine all by myself.”
He laughed. “I got that.” He stared out the window a moment, then back at me. “Nora Travers,” he said with wonder as his gaze tickled my hair, my eyes, my nose. He shook himself. “This is going to take some getting used to.”
I swallowed. “It’s okay, take all the time you need.” I looked into his dark blue eyes, feeling as though if I didn’t kiss him that night, I would likely go mad.
“I just have to say—nevermind.” He shook his head, laughing.
“What?”
“It’s just—you had the wrong hand, though. Back there. She used her l
eft hand to swing the hatchet, not her right.”
The corners of my mouth lifted up. “Wow, you really are a geek. Only like one-hundredth of one percent of people on the planet would have noticed that. I don’t think even my boss Tim would know that, and that’s saying something. He’s such a big horror geek that he owns an entire collection of creepy dolls and keeps them on his living room mantle in the off-season.”
Then my breath stopped and my eyes went wide. Had I just called him a geek like we were back in middle school? Oh, God, why couldn’t I stop traumatizing the guy?
But he started laughing. “I know, I am such a geek. I would totally put a bunch of creepy dolls on my mantle. And have some hanging by their necks on the wall.” He set his axe down on the floor and relaxed back into the couch, stretching his legs out.
I exhaled and smiled.
“You know, you’re kind of a geek too,” he said. “You did just spontaneously reenact a scene word-for-word from Cleaver Man IV in front of a bunch of strangers.”
I sighed tragically. “I suppose I am.”
He cleared his throat. “So, this ghost. Did she have a voice to go with the costume?”
“Sometimes…” I stood up from my perch, then dropped to the floor to kneel a few feet away. “But a lot of times I just did this...” I made my face go slack, then my eyes widened, putting on a soulless dead expression, my head tilting side to side as I crawled towards him.
He watched me, fascinated. “Yeah, that would’ve creeped me out.”
I dropped the expression and climbed up on the couch. Right next to him.
He didn’t move.
“I mean,” he continued, “Bigfoot would’ve been sexier, though.”
I laughed aloud. “You’re a piece of work. It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
“Cute? Not dark and brooding? Handsome and mysterious? What happened to scary hot?”
“No.” I smiled and shook my head. “Just cute right now.”
“Damn. I guess I’ll just have to accept that, given that you’re closer to the hatchet right now. And I’m afraid of girls.”
I was only a foot or two from where he sat on the couch, and with my legs curled underneath me, my knees were only inches away from his thigh. Almost touching.
He still hadn’t moved away.
He cleared his throat. “So, uh, this week, when you hadn’t told me your name or anything… Well, I talked to my friend, and he was like, ‘She probably has a boyfriend.’”
I bit back a smile.
“And, not that we ever talked about this, and, whatever, it’s okay either way, but—”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Really? You’re not still an item with that guy from eighth grade?”
“Nope.”
His shoulders dropped and the look on his face was so relieved then, I almost hated to ruin it. Almost.
“I do have a fiancé, though.”
His eyebrows lowered. “W-what?”
“His name is Charles. He left me at the altar back in 1902. That’s why I had to sew rocks in my dress and walk into a pond to drown myself.” I sighed and looked wistfully up at the dark ceiling. “It was all very tragic.”
Brendan turned towards me on the couch, closer, and our knees touched. Just that little bit of friction between us sent nerves awakening throughout my body. And my heart pounding.
“Some guys just can’t handle strong women,” he said, his eyes bright. “I’m glad he’s dead. He’s dead, right? I hope he’s dead.”
“As far as I know, he’s dead.” I noticed the clock behind him on the wall. “Oh, I should let you get back to your party.”
“Why? This early?”
Laughing, I said, “It’s almost one.”
“What, you have a pond you’re supposed to be at?”
“No, it’s just, you know, the bus stops running at two. That’s my ride.”
He paused for a second, carefully watching my face. “I can take you home.”
My eyes widened.
“As long as you promise to not suck out my bone marrow,” he said. “At least not while I’m driving. You don’t have to be home at a certain time, do you?”
I shook my head. “But you shouldn’t miss out on the party.”
“Yeah, because I was having such a good time before, sitting there all depressed, trying not to hack myself to bits, having a nice conversation with Jonah from—”
“Oh, no.” I flashed to the tall blond boy, the woods, the beer. The almost hookup.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” A shadow passed over Brendan’s face but he pushed it back and mumbled, “Speaking of people I’d like dead.”
Impulsively, I reached out and touched his hand. “Nothing happened.”
He looked down at my hand, then back at me, shaking his head. “That’s what he said. But even if something did happen, it doesn’t matter, you didn’t need to not kiss—”
“Nothing happened,” I repeated, taking his hand, interlocking our fingers. His palm was warm, smooth. “I didn't want to kiss him.”
“No?”
“No.” I smiled tentatively. “He wasn’t you.”
“Oh.” He squeezed my hand and scooted a little closer. “You’re pretty warm for a ghost.”
I inhaled, suddenly feeling like I couldn’t catch my breath. Whenever his strong fingers touched me, I felt flutters down my arm and beyond. Seeking to fill the silence, I said, “Sorry I didn’t come in an appropriate costume for your Cleaver Man party.”
He took in my dress and boots. Reached out with his free hand and tugged one of my boot laces. “I don’t know, I kind of like this outfit.”
“I’m not even fully dressed. I had a bow in my hair, white makeup all over my face. I’m like post-costumed right now.”
“Well, I think it’s kind of, um, really beautiful. You, I mean,” he said. “You’re really beautiful.”
My heart swelled.
“And funny and smart and talented and sometimes scary and with lots of really well-thought-out ideas about sporks.”
I moved closer to him, both of our legs touching. He had that look in his eyes, the one I’d seen in the slanted room and right before he’d kissed me in the witch’s lair. Eyes vivid, blazing. Intent.
We stared at each other, knowing what was going to happen, but, suddenly shy, we glanced away and laughed softly.
He rubbed his head a second, then looked at me again, his gaze slipping down to my lips. He moved in.
“You want to know what emotion I’m feeling right now?” I whispered.
“What?” His face was inches away from mine and I could smell him, like cool air and candle wax.
“Teager.”
“Hmm?”
“Terrified and eager.”
“Which one is winning out?”
Without waiting for my answer, he kissed me. Sweet and strong, our mouths a little open, his hand on the back of my head.
“You’d better say eager now,” he said when we pulled apart.
I laughed and he touched my face, tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
My voice was breathless. “I’m still a little teager, but it’s fading.”
“Here, let me help.”
We kissed again, firmer, our mouths finding a rhythm. His hand trailed down my hair, along the starchy bodice of my dress, until he found my hip.
“Better?”
“Almost.”
Grabbing me, he drew me up onto his lap and we kept kissing, our mouths growing wet and warm, breathless.
“Perfect.”
He was hard underneath his cloak, and it made me writhe against him. My hands squeezed his shoulders as his hand slid under my skirt.
Minutes passed, and the moon swung down the sky, and the night bled out.
“What if two dark beings such as ourselves united? What would happen?” Brendan asked, trying to catch his breath.
I smiled against his mouth. “Chaos and world destru
ction.” My mouth found his neck and I bit down gently.
He gasped and added, “Evil turkeys and hands exploding out of pies.”
Then he pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair. “Nora…”
“Yes?”
“Nora, Nora, Nora…”
He was calling my real name. Not some avatar or character, not some monster. Just me.
***
Day broke as I woke curled in Brendan’s lap on the couch. We were entwined around each other, cramped and sleepy and happy. I yawned, snuggling against him and smelling his clean midnight smell.
“Happy November,” he said, stretching out his legs underneath me. “Want to go get some omelets?”
Outside the air was crisp and cool. The sun was pale yellow, the sky starting to turn blue as Brendan’s eyes in the daylight. Bits of broken pumpkins, orange and brown candy wrappers, and dead leaves were strewn across the campus green.
Halloween was over, but traces of it were left, would always be left—in the wrappers and brittle things of fall, in the darkness of December, in the melting muddy rot of March that would sprout little purple crocuses. It was there in the death all around us, the fears, the parade of torment and excitement.
But as we walked across campus in the hush after the holiday, we were just a girl and a guy holding hands on the morning of All Saints’ Day.
The End
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