Chapter 9
Anna’s house that Saturday is a halloween fever dream.
Huge fake spiders adorn the windows, porch, and trees on her front walkway, synthetic webs stretching everywhere, light-up plastic jack-o’-lanterns hanging from branches, and the crowning touch, an animatronic witch sitting on the porch swing who cackles when you get close to her.
You’d think after all these years, I’d be used to it, but she still startles me when I step up to the front door.
It swings open before I can knock. “Welcome to our haunted mansion,” Anna intones, and gives me a horrormovie grin.
I come inside and kick my shoes off in the hallway. “Your dad really went all out this year.”
“He did. He’s already got his costume locked down too.”
“Which Hollywood monster is it this time?”
“Freddy Krueger.” She leads me into the kitchen, a large room with honey-colored wooden cabinets and a freestanding island, and opens the fridge. “The original Nightmare on Elm Street version, of course.”
“Of course.” I set my backpack down on the island and slide into one of the chairs.
Jayden and Makayla are joining us for a movie night after my study session with Anna, and I’m looking forward to it.
Between homework and extracurriculars—Makayla has guitar lessons, Jayden’s playing volleyball—and the lead-up to the Coming Out Day party, we haven’t all hung out as a group outside of school since the year started.
“It’s weirdly quiet here,” I say, swiveling back and forth in the chair.
“My brother is spending the night at a friend’s house,” she says, setting an open bottle of ginger ale in front of me, and popping the top off hers. We drink in silence for a moment, then head into the dining room, where we spread out across their huge table.
“What did you think of the party?” she asks, setting up her laptop on its pink stand.
“Um.” I pull up Ms. Lundahl’s assignment from the online portal. “It was . . . really fun, actually.”
“Right? Those cupcakes, oh my god.” Her eyes roll back in appreciation. “And there was a great turnout. How are things with you and Forrest?”
I shrug. “I mean, not to jinx anything, but . . . I think we might not be mortal enemies anymore?”
Her eyes widen. “So, just regular enemies?”
I laugh. “Maybe not even that. I don’t know. He’s not terrible.”
“The bar is on the floor,” she says dryly.
“It’s not like we’re friends or anything,” I say. “But we’re collaborating, and it’s working.”
“Well, good,” she says.
I look at her over the top of my laptop. Her eyes are on her screen, fingers tapping as she scans whatever is in front of her. “Are you working on the Lundahl assignment?”
“Yeeeeeeeah.” She grimaces. “She did not fuck around.”
We brainstorm arguments together, coming up with a list of ideas for analysis.
Anna latches on to one right away, so I delete that one from my list, and work on formulating my own thesis.
It’s hard to focus, though. Anna is typing away, clearly having no problem writing her outline.
The sound blends with the rain pouring down outside, and my phone vibrates, pulling my attention.
For a moment I wonder if it’s Forrest, but it’s not.
Was scrolling through old Facebook photos and found this, Dad says.
It’s the three of us at Mom’s family Christmas, six months before they told me they were getting divorced.
In the photo, we’re all wearing matching reindeer sweaters, a gift from Grandma that year; I’m smiling, and so is Mom, but with her lips closed.
Dad is in the middle with his arms around us, one hand making bunny ears over Mom’s head.
I remember the day as soon as I see our faces.
It’s not obvious in the photo, except for his red nose and cheeks, but Dad was drunk, and had been since we’d woken up that morning.
The day started with presents at our place while he sipped spiked coffee; he’d spent too much money on everything, and I could tell Mom was angry even though she tried to hide it.
When it was time to go, I waited in the car for fifteen minutes while they fought over whether Dad was sober enough to drive.
Eventually, he threw the keys at Mom’s feet and got into the passenger seat, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the whole car.
Miss Christmases with you, he says. We gotta take a new photo without your mom. I’m not good enough with Photoshop to take her out.
And a goofy-face emoji. Like he’s joking. Let’s erase Mom from the photo! Won’t that be funny!
I text him back, before I can think: Why would you Photoshop her out? You’re the one who broke up our family.
My heart is pounding; I can’t believe I just said that.
The response is swift. Are you fucking kidding me? It’s just a joke. I should never have had you. You’re the reason I started drinking in the first place.
“Sidney?”
I look up at Anna, then down at my phone. There’s nothing there, just Dad’s initial text, and the photo. I didn’t reply. It was an anxiety movie. None of it actually happened.
It felt so real, though. My hands are shaking, chest fluttering, pressure rising behind my eyes. I shift my gaze back to Anna.
“You OK?” She frowns. “You seem . . . upset.”
“I’m . . . I’m fine.” I set my phone face down on the table and scrub my hands against my face. “It’s just . . . Dad stuff. Anxiety.”
She clicks her tongue. “Oh yeah. I feel that. Did you talk to your mom about a diagnosis yet?”
I wrinkle my nose. “No. I just . . . last year sucked, and I don’t want to give her another reason to do her Helicopter Mom thing.”
Anna watches me, her mouth screwed up in a skeptical grimace.
“I’m fine! Really. It’s not that bad.”
“OK,” she says, but I can’t tell if she’s convinced.
The doorbell rings then and her face lights up. “They’re here!”
I look at my laptop screen as she heads to the front door to let in Jayden and Makayla. I have a thesis formed, sort of. It needs to be fleshed out. But it’s fine. It’s good enough for now. I can finish my outline later this weekend.
“Sidneeeeeeeeeeey!” Jayden gallops into the room, wrapping his arms around me, still in my chair.
“Hello to you too,” I say into his elbow. He pulls back and I straighten my glasses, grinning up at him.
“What are we watching tonight?” Makayla asks. “Can we play Betrayal first?”
““Absolutely,” Anna and I say at the same time, and high-five each other. Betrayal at House on the Hill, or Betrayal for short, is one of our favorite board games, a horror-themed one where you play as different characters trying to navigate a haunted mansion. One player turns rogue eventually, and then you have to fight the monster in your midst to get out alive. It’s just the right amount of rules and chance, with a touch of role-playing.
“’Tis the season,” Jayden says, wiggling his eyebrows at us, and zooms ahead down the stairs into the basement.
“A wild teenager appears!” I hear Anna’s dad say, and when the rest of us reach the basement, he widens his eyes. “Several wild teenagers!”
“You’re sooooo corny,” Anna says.
“I’m corny but I’m free,” he says cheerfully, and vacates the couch with an elaborate bow. “Enjoy your coven meeting.”
“We will!” Makayla says as he leaves, then turns to us. “We should totally form a coven, though.”
“That could be our group Halloween costume.” I plop down on the couch and glance at Jayden, who’s trying to do the worm on the carpet. “What do you think, Jayden?”
“About what?” he says, breathing hard as he rocks back and forth on his stomach.
“Halloween. Group costume. Coven of witches.”
“Oh!” He rolls over onto his back. “That could work. Witches are kind of . . . basic though.”
“We could be creative witches,” Anna says, rummaging through the game cabinet. “Like a sea witch. I call that one. And a fire witch.”
“The witches of the four elements!” Makayla says.
“I don’t really want to be a witch,” Jayden says, pulling a face. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK!” Anna says quickly. “We could do something else.”
“I . . .” Jayden closes his eyes. “Idon’tthinkIwannadoagroupcostumethisyear,” he says really fast, then opens his eyes, looking at all of us, mouth stretched into a grimace.
Silence reigns, expanding like a too-big balloon in the space left by his words. I make eye contact with Anna, and she holds my gaze. A phrase flashes into my mind, a fragment of conversation from one of our study dates: Jayden has been ... evasive.
We’ve coordinated our costumes the past two years. I know logically it’s not that long a time, but it feels like longer. I got used to it. And now it’s not happening, I guess.
“Why not?” Anna asks. Her voice is mom-friend calm.
Jayden shrugs. “I just want to do my own thing this year.”
“OK,” she says. Her face is pleasantly neutral; she’s good at that face. It’s hard to tell what she’s really thinking sometimes. I don’t even really know how I feel either.
“Are you all mad at me?” Jayden asks.
“No!” Anna says, at the same time Makayla says, “Kind of?” They look at each other, and Anna gestures for Makayla to talk.
“I’m not mad mad,” Makayla says. “It’s just like . . . two weeks out from Halloween, and we’ve done it the past few years, and you could have told us earlier.”
“I’m sorry,” Jayden says.
“It’s OK.”
Makayla looks at me and Anna. “The three of us can do something still.”
I nod, even though it feels weird to do it without Jayden. “We can text about it.”
“Perfect,” Anna says, and she sounds relieved. “Betrayal?”
“Fuck yeah!” Jayden claps his hands and sits upright, and we all gather around the coffee table to set up the game.
As Anna passes me one of the character figurines, she catches my eye, and this time, I can read what she’s asking without a word.
I smile back, reassuring her that we’re good, all of us, our whole little group.
I know she doesn’t like conflict. She wants everything to be all right, and it sounds like Makayla’s basically fine.
So I am too.