Page 81 of The Headmaster’s Rule

I sigh. As ridiculous as I feel already, I know she won’t intentionally make me look stupid. It seems she wants this thing with Eleanor to work as badly as I do.

It’s a relief when my daughter is done. I stand, wanting to catch a look at myself, but she reaches into her bag again.

“Here. I found these in theater storage.”

She holds out a pair of fingerless leather gloves with fur and faux claws on the back. I hesitate, then take them. Without the gloves I’m just a guy in ripped clothing and makeup.

“Oh, and these.” She presents a set of plastic fangs, but I shake my head. That’s one step too far.

“No, thanks.”

Her eyes twinkle. “Eleanor will like them,” she taunts me gently, and I grumble again, swiping them from her.

“Fine.” At least she isn’t making me wear ears. “But I’m not going to howl.”

“Hey, what you two get up to is your business.”

I glare at my daughter. Jesus.

She laughs, stepping back to examine her handiwork, lips twisted to one side. Then she rolls my sleeves back to the elbows, adding a red scar to one forearm.

“That’s better.” She laughs, shaking her head as she studies me. “Poor Eleanor will probably forget how to breathe.”

I roll my eyes, stepping past her to inspect myself in the mirror of my bathroom. I don’t even recognize myself. Gone is the clean order of my suit, and in its place, utter chaos. My hair is a mess, face dark and dangerous thanks to the makeup, clothing and boots a disgrace. Adding the gloves and fangs, I look positively beastly.

“This is going to terrify the kids,” I say as I slip back into my office.

Juliana laughs. “Maybe. They’ll wonder who you are and what you’ve done with their headmaster.” She straightens, reaching for her bags. “Right. Let’s go.”

My pulse scatters at the thought of going out there, looking like this. It’s too much. I need to change.

She senses my hesitation, softening. “You look great, Dad. I promise. Stop taking life so seriously, and have a little fun.” Then she tugs me by the arm to the door, and I let her.

I can only hope Eleanor doesn’t think I look as ridiculous as I feel.

The haunted hallway is on the first floor in the long central corridor between the main office and the auditorium, and the decorations are far better than I expected. Even though the school has run this event for years, I’ve always left it to Danny to handle. But as I look around at what the volunteers have pulled together this evening, I wish I hadn’t been so quick to dismiss it in the past.

Draped black sheets create a dark, tunnel-like effect. Lit by the occasional flash of ghoulish images from a projector stationed somewhere, the corridor looks menacing. A fog machine near the entrance spews mist, and flickering lanterns line the hall. Pride rushes through me when I spot mine among those created by Eleanor’s class.

I step past the open lockers with glowing eyes in their dark depths, around the overturned desks covered in cobwebs, one with a skeleton slumped inside. Batting away spiderwebs and the plethora of paper mâché bats that hang from the ceiling, I look for my spot near the end of the hall, where Danny assigned me. He said I’m supposed to be the “final scare” for the evening, and I have no doubt my costume will do exactly that.

“Woah, Theo!” Danny steps out of the shadows, making me jump. I didn’t hear him approach over the sounds of ghosts, evil witch cackles, and howling wind that play from a speaker.

“The place looks great,” I admit. “Well done.”

He grins, leaning against a fake tombstone. “They’ve outdone themselves this year. It was Nora’s idea to have more faculty volunteers to oversee everything, and make sure none of the little ones get overwhelmed.”

I fiddle with my gloves, avoiding his gaze. If I don’t, he’ll see the pure admiration in my eyes. No, he’ll see more. He’ll see something I can barely acknowledge myself.

I glance around, looking for Eleanor. I was hoping to see her before this thing starts, but there’s no sign of her. She’s probably helping someone get into costume, or setting up last minute decorations somewhere.

A couple of teachers wander past, faltering when they see me in costume. One of them actually gawks. I’m tempted to growl in their direction, and not because I’m a werewolf.

Danny chuckles, pushing a bowl of candy into my hands. Or rather, paws.

“Don’t worry about what people are saying. Just have fun.”

My brows come down. “What are people saying?”