Halloween

by John Passarella

  “Followed by music, punch—spiked if we’re lucky—” Cameron began.

  “Don’t sweat the punch,” Oscar interrupted mysteriously.

  “—snacks—” Cameron continued, ticking points off on his fingers.

  “And maybe a little dancing?” Allyson said.

  “Sure,” Cameron shrugged. “If there’s time.”

  “We’ll make time,” Allyson said. “I can’t go to a dance and not dance.”

  “I see who wears the pants in your relationship,” Oscar snarked.

  “Har har,” Allyson said. “Do you have your cellphone, or do you need to borrow mine?”

  “Yeah, dude,” Cameron said. “Make like paparazzi already.”

  “Fine, fine,” Oscar grumbled, but took out an old-fashioned flash camera rather than a cellphone. “Special occasion, so I brought my old-school camera. Now, vogue for me, bitches!”

  Because even prop guns were banned from school grounds, she and Cameron stood back to back, posing with finger guns held up to their faces in profile while Oscar snapped photos with his camera. Oscar took shots of them with their arms around each other’s shoulders, fake dancing between the skeletons, then fake dancing with the skeletons, as if the skeletons had asked to cut in, along with a few solo shots. Allyson stood with her legs shoulder-width apart, arms akimbo, head turned to the side in what she hoped was a manly pose. Cameron turned sideways, lifted the hem of the pencil skirt above his knee—exposing even more hairy leg—and gave the camera a sultry look. When he tried to twirl in the skirt, he stumbled and almost fell. Allyson and Oscar laughed as Cameron pretended to tap dance in his black-buckled loafers. Allyson moved beside him, hands on her hips, and attempted to do an Irish step dance, but it had been a while since she’d seen Riverdance. Probably looked as lame as it felt, but she laughed at herself even though both guys struggled to maintain a straight face while egging her on.

  Allyson switched places with Oscar, taking photos of him and Cameron with her cellphone. Cameron stood behind Oscar, putting an index finger on each of Oscar’s curved horns, as if completing an electrical circuit, and pretended to have a seizure. Whether alone or with Cameron, Oscar couldn’t help vamping with his cape, holding it open with both arms, raising one cape-wrapped forearm in front of his face so only his eyes showed. He also twirled, with more success than Cameron.

  “Did you forget about your horns?” Cameron asked. “You’re a devil. Not a vampire.”

  “Cape keeps throwing me off,” Oscar said. “I need a… a pitchfork or something. Cloven hooves… or a barbed tail.”

  “Settle for the barbed tongue and let’s get on with it,” Cameron said.

  “Okay, serious,” Oscar said. “One last shot of you two together. No goofing.”

  Cameron looked at Allyson.

  “Sure,” she said, smiling. “One for my mother to frame and hang on the wall.”

  They stood together, side by side, as Oscar lined up the shot with his camera. “You guys!” Oscar said. “Daaayum, you look good. Okay, now on ‘three.’ Ready?”

  They nodded, stood up straight. Allyson reached out, interlaced her fingers with Cameron’s.

  “One… two…” Oscar began.

  Allyson smiled, happy in the moment.

  “Three!”

  The flash flared—but not before Cameron leaned forward and stuck out his tongue.

  “Cameron!” she yelled, jabbing him with her elbow. “You’re such a jerk!”

  “Ow,” Cameron laughed, flinching away from her. “It was just a goof! C’mon, do over.”

  “Forget it,” Allyson said. “Let’s just go inside before we miss everything.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry,” Cameron said, reaching out to catch her arm before she slipped away. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

  “Let’s go,” Oscar said. “Time to make my grand entrance and watch the ladies swoon.”

  “Barf, you mean,” Cameron said, taking a swipe at Oscar’s horns. “I forgot. Are you supposed to be a devil—or a horndog?”

  “Why not both?” Oscar said. “Hey, I got a six pack of beer stashed by the bleachers and gin in this flask. Who wants to party with Oscar?”

  Oscar slipped Cameron a metal flask. Cameron nodded, impressed, and tucked the flask into the front pocket of his pencil skirt, then smoothed out the material.

  Cameron laughed, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. “We’re gonna have a good time, right?”

  Determined to enjoy herself, even without her best friend around, Allyson suppressed any misgivings she had, chalking the worrisome feelings up to nerves, and smiled up at Cameron. They handed over their tickets at the folding table at the gymnasium entrance and joined the crowd.

  Allyson stopped, trying to take everything in before the loud music, roving lights, spooky decorations and the large crowd overwhelmed her. And before the smile on her face could falter, Oscar grabbed Cameron by the arm and tugged him away from her. As they were swallowed by the mass of moving bodies, Allyson heard Oscar say something about taking Cameron to his stash.

  23

  Allyson had been inside the decorated gymnasium for a grand total of ten seconds before wishing Vicky had ditched her babysitting commitment to come to the dance. Oscar had wasted no time dragging Cameron off to provide a distraction while Oscar retrieved his stashed beer. Instead of enjoying the school dance with her boyfriend—if she could even call him that yet—she felt as self-conscious as if she’d wandered in off the street, certain everyone was staring at her while making unflattering or pitying comments. Hard to live in the moment, she thought, when the current moment sucks.

  To take her mind off her temporary solitary status, she decided to take in her surroundings and hope Cameron returned sooner rather than later. She wasn’t sure how long she wanted to gut it out alone. Avoiding the dancers in the center of the gymnasium, gyrating over a large pentagram decal applied to the hardwood floor, she made a circuit of the perimeter, bobbing her head in time with the loud music.

  They’d entered the gym under an archway made of black and orange balloons. Strings of alternating blue and yellow balloons—their school colors—rose from the floor to crisscross the ceiling before coming down on the other side, giving the effect of giant spider legs. As if immune to the laws of gravity, no less than five skeletons hung suspended from the ceiling in various vertigo-inducing poses.

  In the corner to the right of the balloon archway stood another skeleton, strung with orange lights bordered by bales of hay, also strung with lights and covered in fake cobwebs. A spotlight shone down on the skeleton, which was also the focus of a floor strobe light.

  As Allyson reached the midpoint of the gym, several cheerleaders rushed onto the dance floor and performed a choreographed cheer routine before the DJ stage at the far end of the gym. Roving spotlights, strobe lights and large speakers hung from a light truss framework over the DJ’s two-tiered stage. An oversized Frankenstein’s monster made of papier mâché lay prone on a table before the DJ, several candles burning next to the head. Headphones draped around his neck, the DJ wore a rubber mask, a ghoulishly wrinkled face framed by wild white hair, which reminded Allyson of no Dr Frankenstein she’d ever seen. Behind the DJ and his equipment, he’d set up a fake horror movie electrical panel and two glowing towers designed to look as if they would produce a Jacob’s ladder electrical effect. Beside the DJ, two girls danced, one costumed as a belly dancer, complete with pink lei around her neck, the other in a skimpy red latex outfit, possibly one of the many variations of the sexy devil costume.

  As the cheerleaders departed the dance floor together, Allyson checked out some of the costumes her classmates wore. She spotted a few in black with skeleton masks, a pirate, one girl dressed as a Kabuki dancer, a wizard hanging around with a magician who, like Oscar, wore a cape, but with a string tie closure. Someone had dressed as a rapper with what she imagined was costume jewelry as his bling. A guy wearing the black-and-white stripes of a referee tal
ked with another guy wearing snorkel gear over an orange life jacket. A cowgirl danced with a rodeo clown. Someone wearing a rubber wolfman mask stood near Kim, the girl Allyson remembered giving her a strange look when Cameron broke the news to Oscar that he’d opted out of their Tango and Cash plans. Kim had come to the dance as a tigress, wearing cat ears and what looked like a black leather bustier over a black chiffon skirt, showing an awful lot of skin. Orange body paint with black painted horizontal stripes covered her throat, cleavage, arms, and legs.

  Allyson grudgingly admired the girl’s confidence but wouldn’t want to change places with her. And yet she wondered if her own choice had been timid. Cameron had gone bold, costumed in drag. Without him standing next to her to complete the joke, she just looked like a girl who’d dressed as a dude.

  Allyson walked toward the far end of the gym and looked over the refreshment pass-through counter, laid out between red velvet curtains with a poster-sized tarot card affixed to each curtain and decorated with a matching red table skirt. Large glass bowls held potato and tortilla chips, with a separate bowl for nacho cheese dip, and cheese puffs. Next to a stack of napkins and paper plates, ceramic monster-head containers held pretzels beside smaller jars with assorted candies. The back edge of the table was lined with tall black candles.

  Adjacent to the snack counter, another table held a punch bowl and stacks of orange plastic cups. Next to the cups, someone had laid out trays of homemade cupcakes decorated as jack-o’-lanterns and eyeballs, along with chocolate-chip and orange-frosted sugar cookies. Allyson thought about sampling a chocolate-chip cookie, but she’d hardly worked up an appetite walking from one side of the gym to the other.

  She didn’t check to see if anyone had spiked the punch. But a moment later, she saw that Cameron and Oscar had taken matters into their own hands. Both seemed a little looser and louder than they had before they snuck off in pursuit of Oscar’s contraband.

  Cameron sidled up to her, placing an arm around her shoulder. “Miss me, Clyde?”

  “Hardly knew you were gone, Bonnie,” Allyson replied.

  “Should I leave again?” Cameron asked.

  She grabbed his forearm. “Better not, bub.”

  “Bub?” he asked, pointing at his chest.

  “Short for bubbly,” Allyson said, smiling.

  “I am that,” Cameron said, “although I doubt Oscar smuggled in any champagne.”

  “You owe me a dance,” Allyson said.

  “Yes, it is time,” Oscar said. He reached into his pocket and donned his red-framed sunglasses. Next, he shoved the plastic vampire teeth in his mouth. “Time to perform the dance of nocturnal seduction.”

  “Yeah,” Allyson said flatly. “Good luck with that.”

  Cameron laughed.

  Undaunted, Oscar raised one side of his cape with his free hand and danced in half-circle swooping motions, spiraling out toward the dance floor. After he stumbled into one pair of slow dancers, others gave him a wide berth.

  “So, he’s no longer a devil?” Allyson asked Cameron.

  “Can’t stop with the vampire gestures,” Cameron said. “He’s confusing everyone, including himself. Just go with it.”

  “I was about to tell you the same thing,” Allyson said, grabbing both of his hands in hers and pulling him toward the dance floor.

  After a couple dances, including a slow number, Allyson removed her double-breasted jacket and realized she’d been smiling for almost ten minutes straight. After her initial disappointment at Cameron running off with Oscar, her mood had turned around completely. Feeling a bit giddy, she exchanged pleasantries with her classmates on the dance floor, other couples and groups of girls dancing with each other in small circles. Some of them she knew from various classes, recognizing them in costume, but others seemed mysteriously anonymous, wearing masks or elaborate makeup or zombie facial appliances that disguised their identity. They had the dance and the music in common, as well as the sense of freedom that came from letting down the guard of one’s daily identity. With so many people dancing in the confined area, under a barrage of hot spotlights, Allyson could feel her face flush. But she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.

  Oscar, riding a mild buzz, darted around the dancers with his flowing cape, snapping pictures, telling each subject he’d captured their soul, punctuating the statement with a theatrically evil laugh. More importantly, Oscar’s antics gave Allyson some quality alone time with Cameron. After a while, they decided to take a breather and returned to the refreshment area.

  As Cameron turned his back to the dancers and took a sip from the metal flask, Allyson felt her cellphone buzz. She checked the display: Vicky. Checking in, Allyson thought. Making sure I’m not miserable.

  There was zero chance she’d hear a word Vicky said with the music blasting from the ginormous speakers, so she’d have to step out to take the call.

  Cameron noticed the phone in her hand and gave her a look.

  She held up an index finger to indicate she’d be back in a minute, then hurried out to the gym.

  * * *

  Even in the hallway Allyson had a hard time hearing Vicky, but she refused to put the call on speaker. Some girls stood nearby, making minor adjustments to their costumes and checking how each other’s makeup was holding up. She tried to tune them out, pressing the phone against her right ear and her palm over her left.

  “I’m sad you’re not here,” Allyson said. “It’s ridiculous. It’s actually a lot easier for me to talk to people in costume. Better when I can’t tell who they are.”

  “See,” Vicky said, excited for her. “I told you. How’s Cameron? Looking hot in my skirt?”

  Allyson laughed. “We’re having a really good time. I think he’s really sweet,” she added, feeling one lingering reservation about him fading away. “It’s like my dad has plagued my subconscious about his family.”

  Some of the girls decided to touch up their makeup after all and drifted by her toward the restrooms. Allyson turned away, about to say more to Vicky, but as she faced the doorway into the gymnasium, Oscar pushed through the doors, saw her and made his swooping cape maneuver, camera extended in his free hand. At first, she wondered if Cameron had sent him to eavesdrop on her conversation, but figured the simpler explanation was that he needed a restroom break himself.

  As he neared her, he mimed holding her face between his hands and flicked his tongue up and down while grinding his pelvis toward her. The disgusted face she flashed him proved insufficient as a deterrent because he moved even closer, on the verge of turning a mock sexual assault into the real thing.

  Jeez, how much has he had to drink? she wondered, quick to shove him away before he did something he’d regret and for which she might press charges. She mouthed the word “gross” and held out her hand to keep him at a distance.

  “Allyson?” Vicky said over the tinny speaker. “You there?”

  Keeping her eyes on Oscar, she said, “Yeah. Just a sec.”

  With a comical pout and an exaggerated shrug, he took a wide berth around her to complete his journey to the restroom. She waited, worried he might circle back and surprise her, when she felt her phone vibrate.

  Glancing down, she checked the call waiting—Grandmother—and sent it to voicemail.

  24

  Cellphone to her left ear, Vicky ditched her red tennis shoes and sat with her legs curled up under her on the Morriseys’ wing chair, nibbling on the popcorn she’d made for nine-year-old Julian and set on the coffee table in a metal colander. He would have been happy stuffing himself with Halloween candy, but his mother had instructed Vicky to let him pick three snack-sized items and save the rest for later. Overall, Julian was a good kid, so babysitting him provided Vicky with a stress-free evening.

  There was no way she wasn’t more comfortable in her white raglan shirt with yellow sleeves and navy jeans than practically anyone in costume at the school dance. One upside of choosing the babysitting gig over an after-schoo
l social life. In addition to her sweet thrice rate.

  While Vicky talked to Allyson on the phone, Julian sat on the far corner of the adjacent pale-blue sofa watching Repo Man on the flat-screen TV. Barefoot, Julian was equally comfortable in his volcano t-shirt and T-Rex pajama pants. More importantly, he was dressed for bed. Once the little guy nodded off and Dave arrived, Vicky expected her evening to get interesting.

  She raised her glass of cider and took a sip. “You guys should come over here when it’s done,” she said to Allyson. Listening to the muffled dance music in the background, Vicky felt a twinge of regret for missing out on the party atmosphere. She lowered her voice and cupped her hand over her mouth, because tiny ears could have big mouths. “Dave’s on his way. He’s bringing some ‘Alakazam.’ Julian’s parents aren’t gonna be home till super late. Catch my drift, Clyde.”

  The pause before Allyson’s reply was telling. “School night though.”

  Like the girl was genetically incapable of having fun, of letting go and saying, for once in her life, ‘What the hell? Why not?’ Vicky had to practically twist her arm to get her to go to the dance. And she’d almost bailed when Vicky backed out to watch Julian.

  “Listen here, young lady,” Vicky said. “Am I or am I not your life coach?”

  “Life coach? I wouldn’t go that f—”

  “Too much?” Vicky asked. “Okay, then, who is your social specialist? Guy guru? Party pundit?”

  “You, Vicky,” Allyson said, laughing. “You are all those things—and so much more.”

  “You bet I am,” Vicky said, “but… we do need to nip the girl crush in the bud.”

  “That was a—”

  “I know, babe,” Vicky interrupted, smiling. “I’m simply irresistible.”

  “That’s not what I m—”

  “Sorry, Al, just jerking your chain,” Vicky said. “So, you’ll do what I say?”

  “Within reason.”

  “No hedging,” Vicky said. “This is for your own good.”

  “Fine,” Allyson said. “So…?”