Chapter 14
Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to say Halloween.
Linden and I had to call it Samhain, or the end of summer. We were allowed to dress up on Samhain Eve. We could go trick-or-treating but only if we did it to remember the earth was going to sleep.
We did not celebrate Halloween. There were no carved pumpkins or ghosts or witches on brooms.
Instead, we would celebrate the quiet season.
In our house we would write the things we wanted to change onto sticks and throw them into the fire outside.
Grandee’s friends would come over, women who wore flowy dresses and layered necklaces that matched large earrings and clinking bracelets.
Their hair was always wild and long and their faces free of makeup.
I thought they looked like angels.
But the kids at my school called them witches.
Halloween was how I learned that I was different. And not everyone thought different was okay.
There’s something odd about Halloween this year. Not just that I don’t live with Grandee for the first time since I can remember, but this is also the first time I haven’t thought about what I’m going to throw into the fire.
I place a jack-o’-lantern on top of the truck bed next to a bale of hay. The very first one I’ve ever carved.
“You look proud.” Benji stands behind me, holding a pumpkin with eyes and a mouth drawn on the surface and a knife sticking out of the top.
I make a face.
“Don’t worry. It’s just the handle and not an actual knife.”
I wasn’t thinking that. “But you didn’t carve it?”
Now he makes a face. “Carving pumpkins is gross. The insides are all slimy, and they taste like shit. It’s a racket set up by Big Greeting Card to sell you crap you don’t need wrapped in the promise of nostalgia.”
“Big Greeting Card? Are there Halloween greeting cards?”
He sighs like I’m exhausting him. “You know so little.”
He hands me a garland of paper ghosts, and we finish decorating the truck that will carry people from the front of the pumpkin patch to the hedge maze. Benji and I walk back toward where the party will be.
“Do you think people will freak out that it’s dark in there?” he asks.
“I hope so,” I say with a smile. “But no. Everyone will be fine. It’s spooky and fun.”
In the dead ends of the maze are skeletons and dummies with plastic chainsaws and battery-operated ghosts that make noise. On a bench, two zombie mannequins kiss. And at the center is a bar with tables and chairs scattered throughout.
The sun is starting to set, so Linden and I head to the employee bathroom at the pumpkin patch to get ready.
The theme is good versus evil. Very original.
Her dress is red and she wears devil horns in her hair, and mine is white with gold feathers covering my shoulders and upper arms like very soft armor.
“You’re beautiful,” she tells me as she applies glitter to my cheeks. It makes me think about Max calling me pretty. My hair curls down my back, and my makeup is heavy on the shimmer and gemstones.
“It’s not over the top?” I don’t know why I feel so self-conscious. Carter and I dressed as scarecrows last time, and it was cute, but it wasn’t … whatever this is.
“Halloween is when you’re supposed to go over the top. If you can’t do it now, when can you?”
“You’re sure?”
Linden gives me a patient look. “I can’t even see any cleavage. And sure, the dress is short, but you’re wearing white fishnets. That’s basically pants.”
I roll my eyes but feel better. The feathers that trail down my arms seem powerful. In control. Even though it’s the last thing I actually am.
By the time we finish in the bathroom, the lanterns along the route to the maze cast a warm light against the ground. The bite of fall in the air feels more like a promise of mischief than the turning of a season.
Max sits in the driver’s seat of my grandmother’s truck. When he sees Linden and me, his face doesn’t change, but his eyes narrow.
“Can we ride up here?” Linden asks him as she watches people climbing into the back and settling on the blankets covering the bales of hay.
Max nods, and Linden holds the door for me to get in. It would be weird if I said I didn’t want to sit in the middle, and to be fair, I am the youngest. My entire life has been sitting in the spots in a car Linden doesn’t want to.
I slide across the bench seat with only a few inches separating Max and me, but Linden motions for me to move over farther, until Max and I are touching.
Our legs, our hips, our arms.
His hand tightens on the steering wheel. The one with purple yarn he’s still wearing.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
He doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders straighten.
“’Kay,” Linden says, shutting the door. “I’m ready!”
“Great. We need to wait for everyone else to get on, though,” Max tells her, still looking straight ahead. “Benji has to give the signal.”
Linden leans over me to look at Max. “And he just did.” She says it slowly as if Max is an idiot.
He clears his throat and starts the truck. It lurches forward with a jolt, sending Linden and me into the dash. Max reaches out and puts his hand on my leg as if on instinct. It tightens on the top of my thigh next to the edge of my skirt.
Thank god I’m wearing these “pants.”
He lifts his hand and puts it back on the gearshift as we move slowly toward the maze. It feels excruciatingly long. And silent. None of us speak as the hedges come into view.
The dark green leaves look almost black in the night, and there are tables selling hot toddies and mulled wine. Bistro lights are strung around the maze’s entrance, making it look like a magical portal. Inside is the promise of baked goods and a fire. And more alcohol.
“Thanks for the ride!” Linden says, jumping out of the truck and running over to the drinks.
Without scooting toward the door, I ask, “Do you have to drive all night?”
“Not the whole night.” He looks straight ahead.
“So … I’ll see you in there?” I don’t know why I’m talking to him like this, with a lump in my throat. Or why I haven’t moved from the spot I’m in even though Linden is gone.
“Yep.” It’s all he says.
I hop out, feeling ridiculous. Silly. This is Max. Why am I making polite conversation with him?
Was that even what I was doing?
Linden brings me a cup of mulled wine.
Next, there are the games. Bobbing for apples, but instead of apples, there are tiny bottles of liquor.
A ring toss that gets you a coupon for a drink inside.
And you can put your hand in a series of boxes and try to guess what gross thing you’re touching.
I laugh when Linden agrees but changes her mind after one try.
We find Benji already with his friends from the theater department. Damian and Ava stand there, arms crossed as they give judgmental looks to the people who pass them.
Damian, apparently in this timeline, too, is one of those people who can’t say anything nice about anyone but pretends he’s just being observant.
I make my way toward the giant pin-the-tail-on-the-devil game. Eventually, Linden tells me she wants to head inside the maze. We get refills on our wine, and she points to the lights and smoke that come from the center. Muffled music makes its way toward us.
Carter is somewhere in there, bartending.
I close my eyes and think of the last time we were in the maze together.
Carter’s hand on my thigh, pulling it around his waist, his lips on my skin.
A moan escapes me and—
“Shhhh,” he whispers against my breast before moving up to my ear. “Can you be quiet for me?”
No, I want to tell him, but his fingers find my center and I lose all thought.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Let’s go.”
At the entrance, a girl dressed as a vampire is taking payments.
“You can keep your phone, but don’t turn on the light unless it’s an emergency.
Like one of the zombies tries to eat you or something.
” We laugh, and the two of us head into the maze.
Pretty quickly, the light disappears. It’s so dark back here that I have trouble seeing in front of me.
Somewhere over the wall, I can hear people laughing or shrieking. Linden picks up her pace.
“I think it’s this way,” she says. “I remember from before. A bunch of lefts.”
“I think it’s actually this way.” When I turn around, she’s disappeared. It feels like I’m spinning in a circle.
“Linden?” I call.
“Nieve?”
“Where did you go?”
“Go straight!” she shouts to me in the darkness.
“I can’t. There’s a wall.”
She groans somewhere close enough for me to hear it but far enough that it sounds muffled. “Go straight toward my voice.”
The hedge in front of me must be at least eight feet tall. “I am…” I can’t tell where I’m supposed to be going. “I’m just gonna pull out my flashlight—”
“No!” Linden yells. “Don’t you dare. Just … meet me in the center.”
I stare up at the sky. “Ugh. ’Kay!”
The wine in my hand starts to cool as I wander the maze. When I find a bench with a dummy that looks like Ghostface, I decide a rest sounds nice.
But as I’m sitting down, it moves.
I scream, spilling the rest of my wine everywhere.
I’m being assaulted.
“Nieve.”
I keep screaming. “Motherfucker!” I should have punched this person. This is one of those moments where I can turn on my flashlight.
“Nieve.”
I know the voice before he pulls off the mask, so I’m not surprised when I see Max staring back at me.
His green eyes are bright, and I realize his gloved hands hold my arms. “You spilled your wine.”
Is he serious? I toss my empty cup at him as I step backward. “I thought you were driving!”
“I finished.” He’s sitting so casually in a long black robe and holding a mask. He should look ridiculous, but somehow he doesn’t.
“What are you doing lurking in the maze?”
“My job.” He’s giving me that annoyed look he wears when I say something he thinks is ridiculous. “I’m supposed to be scaring people.”
“Well, congrats.” I look down at my dress to see if any of the wine spilled on it or my wings.
“It’s not on you. You’re good,” he tells me.
My cheeks flush as I think about Max checking me over. “They just forced you to sit here?”
“It’s actually pretty peaceful.”
And it seems like it is. Now that my heart isn’t beating out of my chest, I can hear the low thrum of music and the muffled voices around us. But here, in the dark, it almost feels like we’re in a bubble. Hidden.
He holds up a thermos and offers it to me. “Since you spilled yours?”
I sit down on the bench next to him and take a drink. It’s much better when it’s warm.
The moon is bright in the sky and hangs low over the hedges. A halo surrounds it, making the whole sky feel moody and magical.
We hand the wine back and forth in the quiet, and our hands brush against each other with each pass.
“It’s supposed to be good luck,” he tells me. “The moon, when it has that circle around it.”
I take another sip. “Grandee always said it was the moon trying to give you what you want.”
He laughs. “Sounds like something she would say.”
My face breaks into a small smile before I realize what’s just happened.
I don’t like that. I don’t like him knowing Grandee well enough to know things like that about her.
I take another sip.
“Did you always live with her?” he asks.
“Yep. My mom went to school, and we lived there. Grandee said not living with your family was a lot weirder than living all alone because someone in the government wants to sell houses. She traveled to Europe a lot.”
“When did your mom travel to Europe?”
I frown because … here, she’s been gone years, and I haven’t seen her. Or she might be an addict? I’m having a hard time keeping track of these things. Which version of her is the one everyone else knows.
But at least she’s not missing. Or dead.
“I’m not sure.” I hand him back the mulled wine.
“Yeah, I get it.”
“Get what?”
“Missing someone who didn’t choose you.”
My mom did choose me. She always chose me in her own way, but this version of her is almost a stranger, and what Max is saying feels so personal.
“How come you’re so nice this time?” It slips out before I can stop it. The wine has made my tongue loose.
“This time?”
I try to save it and wave my hands around my head. “You know…”
He plucks the thermos from my hands. “I’ve always been this way, Nieve.”
Before I can muster up the words to respond, a couple rounds the corner and stops abruptly. They stare at us, waiting for someone to speak.
Until Max says, “Boo.”
The couple gives him a disappointed look. “It’s not this way,” the taller one says before they turn around and walk off.
Max inhales, and I know he feels it, too.
The bubble has burst.
“I should go and try to find the center before Linden comes after me.” I stand.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Don’t you have to stay here?”
He shrugs. I follow him out into the narrow rows as he walks in front of me, leading the way. His dark cloak blends into the night; the moon shines above him in a foggy haze.
I trip and stumble but don’t fall. Max turns to me and puts his hand on my arm. “You okay?” The light is soft against him, and I can’t help but think that maybe he’s the moon.
“Yeah.” When I speak, it sounds a little breathless, and I worry that he thinks I’m scared.
Max makes a noise that sounds like he understands, but he takes my hand and walks with me. When we reach the center, Max releases it. I make a fist, once. Twice. Something feels like it’s missing.
“Get over here!” It’s Carter’s voice that yells over the crowd. He’s exactly where I thought he would be. At the bar. Except instead of standing behind it, he’s standing on it, reaching down for someone. A girl with dark hair and a beautiful flowy white dress.
It takes me a second to recognize her as the girl from the funeral. The one sitting with the family. He holds out his hand, but when she pushes it away, he looks hurt.
Something intense passes between the two of them that makes me feel like I’m intruding on a personal moment.
But then she’s moving through the crowd.
It only takes Carter a second to recover, and soon he’s calling for Linden, who’s in front of him only seconds later, laughing as he pours her a shot. She throws it back, and he makes an impressed sound and pulls her up.
The girl from the funeral shakes her head and disappears back into the maze. I need to talk to her. I need to find out who she is. Find out … find out if the dark thoughts in my mind are correct.
I run after her into the darkness of the hedges.
“Alex!” I yell the name I remember seeing on Carter’s phone and hope that’s right.
But she’s already gone.