Page 100 of Shadowed With Fear

Dahlia

“Happy Halloween!”

The street is crawling with dozens of kids laughing and screaming dressed up in their costumes and running from house to house.

The school bus had come through dropping them off half an hour ago, but they’re playing, trying to scare each other, enjoying the fact it’s a Friday. October 30th. Devil’s Night.

I’m sitting on my porch, not Grayson’s, and it feels…strange being here instead of there with him. He had a job to do though, but he’s making it up by meeting me at the big Halloween party in the park. Free horror movie on a huge screen, costumes, cheap food, it sounds like a glorious time after the week we’ve all had.

I’m finally doing something useful for the guys. Every day at school I’ve been tasked with keeping tabs on Ethan—who talks to, what he does, where he goes, all of it. I’m essentially a generic Grayson, but it’s a lot easier for me to do this than him. I’ve been staying at Brahm’s since Grays has been doing a lot more work after we made our little discovery.

But tonight is the first night we’re taking a break. I insisted we put all the crazy vigilante, makeshift detective work to the side and just have some good, spooky fun. The guys all agreed. Even Brahm, which was a surprise to all of us.

So, right now, I’m sitting out on the porch with Frank, handing out candy to any kids brave enough to come up, and stand near my scarecrow friend to get a treat, but mostly just enjoying the carefree atmosphere. The day is cool, and the sun is bright. Wind is blowing briskly through the trees, rustling the leaves, blowing them across the pavement between the feet of the kids running around.

My favorite so far has been the little fairy. She couldn’t have been more than five and she toddled right up to me, hand out with a big gap-toothed grin. The fairy took her candy and looked over Frank with a stern expression before turning to me, in a very serious tone and said, “I like him, but he needs a bigger coat. He shouldn’t get cold.” Then walked away.

Amused isn’t the word for how I felt as I watched her skip away back to her mom who had a hand covering the smile on her face.

I chuckle to myself, checking the time, seeing I have about three hours before I have to start getting ready. It’s going to be a great night. Better than last year.

* * *

I’ve got my costume on, a big ass bucket of popcorn, and icy, cold Dr. Pepper in hand sitting on a spread out blanket in the grass of the park.

I got here earlier than everyone else. Brahm, Henry, Alex, and Adam, all said it would be a little bit before they got here, something about their meeting lasting longer than they thought. Personally, I think it’s because someone fucked up their costume, but that’s just me.

Liz is on her way with Issac, and I haven’t heard from Grayson.

The credits begin to slowly roll across the wide screen set up on the park lawn. It’s a double feature night, one is starting now, with an intermission before the second starts at midnight kicking off Halloween here in East End.

First up, the classic in all its horrifying glory, George A. Romero’s masterpiece, Night of the Living Dead.

Everyone knows this movie, or at least does subconsciously. The line, “They’re coming to get you, Barbra,” is pop culture literacy, and honestly the funniest fucking line ever. It’s so campy and perfect.

It’s a great fucking night, honestly.

“Ah, okay, okay. I’m here. I’m here!” Liz rushes up from behind me, still tugging pieces of her costume on, but she grins happily as she flops onto the blanket, stealing a handful of my popcorn.

“Hello, ma’am. How was work?” I sip from my cup, handing it out to her. She takes a long drink, thanking me.

“It was actually pretty good. The last few minutes were a little crazy before we closed early cause people were trying to get in before,” she waves around, “all of this. But it was fun. I got to see so many cute little kids dressed up.”

“I know, right? They’re like extra cute this year. Had a badass little fairy come up to me earlier, completely gave me shit for Frank not having a coat good enough for him,” I laugh. Liz gapes at me.

“Oh, my god. Seriously?”

“Cross my heart. It took everything I had not to burst out laughing. Her mom did too.”

We giggle together, munching on our popcorn, taking turns sipping the Dr. Pepper.

“That’s so fucking funny. I love her. She’s my hero.” I burst out laughing.

Liz pulls at the apron tied around her waist. She decided to embrace the whole waitress vibe by going full vintage, 1950’s malt shop. She’s got a checker pattern skirt, white apron, and a light blue button up tucked in. Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, a few strands are clipped to the side making fake bangs. The cherry on top is the lipstick she wore of the same color.

“You look so cute. Very big Betty Cooper energy.”

She gasps, eyes alight. “Really? Don’t lie right now, I’ll cry.”