Chapter 30
I can hear voices and smell the slightly acrid tang of a fog machine as we make our way down the carpeted stairs into Eddie’s
basement. The smell of the smoke reminds me of sitting in a dark school auditorium to see a play, which is cozy and nostalgic
in a very specific way.
When I see what Evie’s done, my jaw drops.
“Holy shit, Evie,” I say. “It looks amazing.”
The last time I was here helping, it looked good, but in a casual way. There’s nothing casual about the way the basement looks
right now. It looks professionally done. The space is entirely transformed.
The beam of the projector is illuminated by the fog as Halloween plays on the screen. Cobwebs fall with spooky realism from the ceiling and from the undersides and corners of furniture. LED
candles glow and flicker from plaster skulls. The snacks are arranged in tiers on a folding table that’s covered in black
lace and candelabras. Her “witch’s brew” cauldron is in the corner, with a big black ladle and black Solo cups stacked next
to it.
“How much money did you spend on this?” I ask, looking around.
Evie waves me away. “Don’t worry about it.”
Victor and Eddie are the only two people here. Victor is dressed as Bert from Sesame Street, with a thick black unibrow drawn across his forehead and his black hair gelled into one big spiky tuft in the middle of
his head. Both Evie and I laugh when we see him.
“Babe, do you wanna make the brew?” Eddie asks. He’s in costume, too, and his shoulders look twice as broad from the shoulder
pads. “I got everything you asked for ingredient-wise, but I didn’t want to fuck with trying to make it in case I messed up.”
He feigns fear and makes the sign of the cross in front of himself. She swats his hands away, and he reaches out to lightly
pinch her waist, which makes her swat him again, this time with a smile.
“You look good, by the way,” he says, eyeing her up and down, before he steals a kiss.
Victor nods hello at me and Evie, and then says to Luke, “Hey, man. I’m Victor.”
“Jason,” Luke says. “Jason Voorhees. I’m Claire’s boyfriend. I go to Choate.”
I nearly choke. First, he used the name of the serial killer he was supposed to dress up as, but more because . . . my boyfriend?
I guess we never agreed on a final storyline, but . . . boyfriend?
Frankly, I’m torn between being exhilarated and aggravated. This is one drop-in night for Luke, one anonymously attended party, and then he’s gone. For me, this is my life. His fun little cover story is yet another layer of fiction I’ll have to add, to carry through.
Eddie raises his eyebrows at us, or at least I think he does, because his green Frankenstein cap is covering them. Luke only smiles and slips a hand around my waist.
“Boyfriend?” Victor says in surprise. “Damn, Claire. Okay.”
I can feel Evie staring at me from where she stands, but I don’t look over at her. I can barely meet Victor’s eyes. Victor
is one of Ben’s closest friends, which means if Ben has mentioned anything to anyone about him taking me out, about us kissing,
then it was probably Victor. I bet Victor might even be wondering if I cheated on Luke—Jason—with Ben that night.
“So, Bert, huh?” Luke asks, nodding at Victor’s costume. “Big Sesame Street fan?”
“Nah, not really.” Victor plucks at his striped shirt. “Our friend Ben found it at a thrift store for, like, ten bucks. He’s
going as Ernie.”
“You know they were lovers, right?” Evie calls out over her shoulder from across the room as she pours cupfuls of fruit punch
into the plastic cauldron.
“What? Bert and Ernie?” Victor says. “No. They were best friends.”
“They lived together and shared a bedroom,” Evie says. “Of course they were lovers.”
“Huh. Learn something new every day.” Victor glances at me. “At least my girl Claire here can vouch that real-life Ernie isn’t gay.”
His eyes don’t match his teasing tone. The dig is pointed, and I deserve it.
“Claire and—Lu—Jason,” Evie says, catching herself. “Will you please come taste test this?”
“Sure.” I’m relieved by the opportunity to walk away from Victor. As we go over, a group of people arrives, and Victor goes
over to greet them. Eddie starts the playlist, which I know he and Evie went through and polished many times over.
“Was that okay? The cover story?” Luke asks. He sounds worried enough that my annoyance lessens.
“A heads-up would have been nice.”
“Yeah, I’m seeing that now. I just thought we could do better than ‘cousin.’ Unless I’m way off and you have a real boyfriend
you haven’t mentioned to me yet,” he adds.
“No,” I tell him quickly. “No real boyfriend.”
Luke smiles. “Okay. Good.”
“Hello,” Evie calls out. “I’m over here.”
We make our way over to her. Smoke is drifting from the black cauldron. I peer inside. The liquid is a shimmering, churning
black. “How is it that disturbing color?”
“Food coloring.” Evie hands me a cup with an inch of liquid, and one for Luke with a bigger pour. It tastes like fruit punch.
“Is there alcohol in this?”
“Yes. A lot.”
“You can’t taste it,” Luke says. His mask juts out enough that he has to tip back his head to drink. I stare at the curve of his neck as he swallows. “The most dangerous kind of drink.”
“Should we add a sign?” Evie asks, chewing her lip. “Like a warning?”
“Probably,” he says. “And I wouldn’t make another batch.”
“In that case—” I hold out my black Solo cup for a refill.
Evie ladles the brew for me. “What happened to not drinking?”
“I’m not driving. And this is good.”
And I’m absolutely freaking out about being in the same room as both Ben and Luke all night, with Luke masquerading as my secret
boyfriend.
Evie looks at Luke. “Make sure to keep an eye on your girlfriend for me. The last party she drank at she got freaky.”
Luke grins and holds out his cup for Evie to refill him, too. “Now that I’d like to see.”
I hold the cup against my cheek. “I’m only going to have one.”
An hour later, the basement is packed, the music is loud, and I’ve finished my drink. That drink was strong strong, and it went straight to my head. I won’t be having any more. I’ve introduced my boyfriend, “Jason,” to several vaguely
surprised people, but I still haven’t seen Ben. Every time I see a flash of telltale Sesame Street stripes, my heart skips, but it’s always just Victor.
Luke leans down. His lips are so close to my ear that for a moment they brush against my skin. “You good? You seem like you’re looking for someone.”
I shake my head and put my now-empty cup down on the coffee table.
Luke finishes his own drink and sets his cup down. “Do you want to play beer pong?”
“Do you know how to play?”
He makes an affronted face. “Of course I do. Who doesn’t know how to play beer pong?”
“Someone who didn’t go to high school or college?”
“While I may be barely able to read, it luckily hasn’t affected my hand-eye coordination.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” I nudge him in the side. “I meant traditional high school or college. Anyway, you know my take. Not only do I think you can read books, I think you should be writing them.
‘Waspman’ needs an audience.”
Luke laughs. “‘Waspman’ needs something, but I don’t think it’s an audience.”
We have to wait ten minutes before we get on the table. Luke fills half the cups with Diet Coke so I can play without having
to drink beer, and so the other team doesn’t call foul.
We’re the first on the table. We’re filling our cups when I glance up to see not one striped Sesame Street shirt, but two.
Victor and Ben. I thought we were playing Eddie and Genevieve.
From across the table, Ben locks eyes with me and smiles.
It’s easy and genuine, which makes me feel like Victor must not have mentioned anything about my “boyfriend” yet.
Or maybe he did, and Ben simply doesn’t care because we’re not a thing, which means I’ve been overthinking this entire situation. Which is more possible.
“You look great, Hopper,” Ben calls out across the table as he and Victor arrange their cups. His eyes go to Luke, and he
must then register that he’s the Big Bad Wolf. That we’re basically in a couple’s costume. Confusion flashes momentarily across
his face, but then it’s gone. “Hey, man,” Ben calls out. “I’m Ben. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Jason,” Luke calls back. “Jason Voorhees. I go to Choate.”
Ben continues to arrange the cups on their end. “Jason Voorhees, serial killer from Friday the 13th Jason Voorhees?”
Oop. There it is.
“Yeah. My parents aren’t big cinephiles. They had no idea.”
Ben doesn’t look like he buys it. “Don’t know how thrilled I would be to be named after a serial killer if I were you.”
“Yeah, well.” Luke slings an arm around my shoulders. “I’ve done okay for myself.”
Ben looks like he’s about to ask how we know each other, why we’re in matching costumes, so I say, “Okay, let’s play!” as
brightly as I can. Just to avoid that moment.
As it turns out, Luke is not good at beer pong, and neither am I. People are dancing now, and the music is too loud for us
to be able to talk much with Victor and Ben, which I’m grateful for. I’m also grateful that they’re making such swift work
of us because they’re down to their last cup and we still have seven on the table. Luke throws; misses. I throw and, astonishingly,
I make it.
Luke presses his hand against the small of my back and leans down to say “nice shot” in my ear.
If Ben notices, he pretends not to. It’s his shot next; he’s completely stone-faced in concentration as he sinks the Ping-Pong
ball into the frothy cup of beer.
We miss our last two shots, and the game is officially over. Thank God.
“Good game,” Ben calls out.
I laugh. “On your half of the table, maybe.”
Now Genevieve and Eddie are at the table, taking over our side.
Ben glances at Luke, then back at me. “I’ll find you later?”
“Yeah, sure. Good luck!” I say, motioning at the table.
As we maneuver away from the table, Luke says, “So. You and Ernie. Are you guys, like . . .”
“No,” I say. “We’re not anything.”