Chapter 16
Arthur
I’m immediately starting to regret my choice of outfit as Sam and I walk up the street towards Charlton. We’ve had about 5 wolf whistles and cheers from some random students, and I’m genuinely struggling to cope with the attention already. Even as a kid, I never dressed up for Halloween. Dad always encouraged Libby and me to go out trick-or-treating, but Mum was always quite overprotective, worrying that we’d somehow be abducted in plain sight by the strangers whose doors we knocked on. Alas, we tended to stay at home and make a yearly tradition of watching Hocus Pocus instead. Super cool, I know. Halloween was one of those holidays where its whole purpose seemed to revolve around wearing outrageous costumes, pretending to be someone you weren’t, and gaining lots of attention in the process. So tonight, as you can imagine, I felt completely and utterly outside of my comfort zone. In what felt like hours, we finally make it to the front of the building and thankfully, Poppy is already there, sporting an impressive Mia Wallace costume and holding the door open for us.
“Ahh you both look amazing!,” she shouts, before wrapping her arms around Sam and planting a kiss on his lips.
I couldn’t help but let out a laugh as I watched the encounter. Sam was dressed as Vincent Vega from Pulp Fiction, sporting a Black suit and a Black wig tied into a low ponytail. It was safe to say, I don’t think Sam should dye his hair or grow it out any time soon. He’d told me that he and Poppy were planning to do a couple’s costume and to be honest, usually that sort of thing would cringe me out, but when they said they were doing Vincent and Mia from Pulp Fiction, I had to admit, it was a pretty great idea. They did look quite convincing as they hugged and gushed over one another’s costumes, you know if Vincent and Mia weren’t toxic and all that. Poppy lets us in and starts walking over to the lift of Block A, I know I’m going to sound like an idiot, but I have to tell them.
“Guys, I can’t go in the lift I’m sorry,” I mumble, feeling the heat beginning to rise.
Poppy gives me a sympathetic smile, “No problem, just take the stairs to floor 3 and we’ll meet you up there”, she points to the staircase. “I’d say we’d come with you, but honestly, my legs can’t hack it.”
I could tell Sam desperately wanted to make a joke, but decided to contain himself as he flashed me a thumbs up and turned into the lift.
As I made my way up the stairs, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror. I looked like a twat. I could feel the beads of sweat start to form underneath my wig and drip down my face. Why didn’t I just do something generic for my costume, like ghost face paint or a vampire? I would have if it wasn’t for Sam’s persistence. He insisted that because it was my first ever Halloween costume, I had to go hard or go home. But as I look at myself through a grimace, I’m starting to think that I would definitely have preferred to go home. However, I know I can’t let Ember down, she was kind enough to invite me and it would look awful if I just upped and left her now, especially at such short notice. Sucking in as much air as possible, I continue up the flight of stairs and swing the door open to the landing of floor three. Poppy and Sam are both standing there with their arms crossed.
“We thought you’d managed to fall down the stairs or something,” Sam laughs. “Come on slowcoach,” he says, gesturing me to their flat.
In fairness, they’d done such a good job with the Halloween decorations. You could tell that they’d put so much effort in.
“Did you buy all of this stuff?!,” Sam asks in shock as he scans the room.
Poppy nods, “Yeah, only from Poundland though, so it didn’t cost an arm and leg.” I chuckle, the pun wasn’t missed on me as she waves a severed arm and leg in the air.
“We didn’t spend a penny on ours, the students who lived in our flat before us left a ton in our ceiling panel in the kitchen. Maintenance obviously didn’t realise,” Sam smirked, as he’d one-upped her.
“Poppy, we didn’t check the ceiling panel for secret Halloween decorations! I’m looking now!,” a flaming-red head dressed as Catwoman with a thick Scottish accent, who I’m presuming is Amy, pulls out a stool and balances on it, trying to pry open one of the panels in the kitchen.
“Nothing!,” she pouts, my pulse thundering whilst thinking she’s about to lose balance from her stiletto heels and fall off the stool.
My panic is suddenly interrupted by the girl walking through the door. No way.
She flashes me a look of confusion before letting out a guttural laugh as she points to my costume, “No way!,” she shouts, mimicking my thoughts. “You’re Austin Powers!”
The sweat beads from earlier felt like child’s play compared to the level of drenched I was now, as the realisation dawned that Ember and I had inadvertently worn a couples costume.
Amy, Poppy, and Sam are all smirking as they watch the interaction unfold.
“Great minds must think alike,” Ember laughs, breaking the tension. “Or we both just have exceptional taste in films,” she says, offering me a drink.
I smile awkwardly, re-positioning my fake glasses, before taking a sip of god-knows-what.
“I’m Amy by the way,” the red-headed cat woman chimes in, offering me her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” her face morphs into a knowing grin. She was definitely akin to how Ember described her.
Ember, fully immersing herself into her new role of Halloween hostess, offers everyone else a drink and some snacks from the weird and wonderful concoction on the breakfast bar, before proudly showing off her DIY apple-bobbing setup. “Who fancies taking me on?,” she smiles.
“Oh, I think I know someone who might,” Amy smirks, popping a pickled onion toe in her mouth and pointing her eyes in my direction. What is she implying?
“Go on Arth!,” Sam says, encouragingly.
I’d never actually played before, but I had a general idea of how to do it. I’m pretty sure it was just picking up as many apples as you could with your mouth, how hard could it be?
◆◆◆
“Ember QUICK!,” Poppy and Amy shriek at the top of their lungs as Ember practically dunks her head in the tub of water. She’s managed to get two apples out of ten so far, but watching her desperation with each spit of water as her wig slowly slips its way further and further down her forehead, makes me full-on belly laugh. In an act of urgency, she grabs her beehive wig and rips it off her head in one full sweep, replaced now by the long and wild Brunette curls flowing down her back.
“5…4…3…2…1…stop now!”, Sam shouts, tapping the timer on his phone. “You’re up,” he winks, nudging my shoulder.
Ember coughs, before wiping her wet mouth with the back of her hand. “Good luck,” she smiles.
Sam starts the timer and all systems are a go. The adrenaline starts pumping rapidly as everyone cheers and shouts. I squeeze my eyes shut, hold my breath, and dunk my head in, using every ounce of strength I have to bite into as many apples as I can.
“That’s one!,” Sam shrieks competitively. I go again.
“That’s two!,” he continues eagerly.
Eventually, by the time I hear the grating sound of his Apple iPhone timer, I’m shocked to see that I’ve managed to secure all ten apples that are lying in a messy, soaked, heap on the table.
“Nooo!,” Amy and Poppy shout in unison. Ember completely ignores them though, her eyes fixed firmly on mine as I take off the now-sopping Austin Powers glasses. I can’t read her expression, the only way I can describe it is that it looks as if she’s daydreaming.
I gently click my fingers in her direction, “are you okay?”
She opens her eyes widely, breaking the spell. “Nope. Just going to go and drown in my sorrows.” She heads over to the drink selection and pours herself a generous paper cup of wine.
“Could always do a bonus round?,” I smile.
“Don’t pity me,” she laughs, taking a sip, her throat humming with the sensation.
The rest of the night is filled with more apple bobbing, or should I say apple lobbing. It turns out Amy is much more of a sore loser than anyone thought, and after losing four rounds against every one of us, she started throwing the apples around the room in a fit of rage. To be honest, no one was too mad, as the splattered apples added character to the kitchen horror attire. Quickly deciding that perhaps apple bobbing should come to a halt, Ember suggested that we dial it down and just watch a Halloween movie with a few drinks and what was left of the snacks. Everyone agreed, but couldn’t for love nor money decide on a film.
“I’m not watching a horror film though,” Poppy insisted. “I value my sleep.”
Sam hooked an arm around her before teasing, “Pops, it’s Halloween. We can’t watch a rom-com.”
She shakes her head, “I mean it if you put one on, I’ll have to leave. I can’t cope.”
Ember puts a reassuring hand out, “Don’t panic, I won’t put a horror film on.,” the top of her lip curls into a smile. “There is something else we could watch instead though which I think you’ll all agree to…”
We spend the next hour and a half, watching Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. Poppy and Sam are squeezed on the tub sofa, sharing a large bowl of popcorn, (very romantic for a guy who swore against romcoms only a short while ago), whilst, Amy, Ember, and I are sitting uncomfortably on the floor. Ember did bring in blankets to try and make it more bearable, but there was only so much discomfort of a hardwood floor that a person could stand. Thankfully, this didn’t stop us all from having a good time, with everyone breaking into hysterical laughter every five minutes. The drinks were flowing, and although I swore to myself that I wouldn’t have more than one because my parents were coming up to visit tomorrow, it was hard to resist when Ember was happily thrusting re-filled rum and coke’s in my hand, you could tell that she enjoyed playing hostess and I didn’t want to rain on her parade. It got to about midnight and I was staunchly aware that my eyes were beginning to blur and my head was hazy. I’d only had about four drinks in total, but when you weren’t an avid social drinker, I guess your tolerance wore pretty thin. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t losing rationality, I was still fully aware of who I was, where I was, and who I was with. But the remaining nerves that had been swimming around in the shallows of my stomach started to disperse with every drop of alcohol, and the next thing I knew, everyone was on their feet, myself included all busting out moves to the scene on the screen that Ember had rewound.
“I want my baby back, baby back, baby back, RIBS!,” Ember sang manically, tears of drunk laughter streaming down her face as she mimicked the character of Fat Bastard.
I can feel myself smiling wildly as I watch her having that much fun and to my surprise, join in, shrieking, “I want my baby back, baby back, baby back, ribs!”
She lets out a huge snort, immediately covering her nose in embarrassment. She didn’t need to though, it was hilarious and if anything, made her even more alluring.
Alluring?! Okay, I’d definitely had one too many.
It was then that I knew I needed to call it a night. Heading over to the tap, I quickly down a few cups of cold water, praying that it would somehow protect me from the inevitable headache I’d get in the morning. The last thing I needed was for Dad to spot my hangover because as much as he’d love the idea of his son partying, he’d start asking questions. Questions he had no business in knowing the answers to. He’d ask how much I’d drank and berate me when he found out I’d only drank four rums, or ask how many people were at the party, only to scoff when he found out there were five and ask why I didn’t have ‘enough’ friends.
“Sam-Uh- I think I’m going to head off now,” I say, trying to raise my voice enough for him to hear me. Though, I doubt he could hear anything over the sound of him practically eating Poppy’s face.
Ember abruptly cranes her neck, “Wait you’re going?!,” the smell of wine permeating off her.
I nod guiltily, “my parents are coming down tomorrow, so I need to get some sleep.”
Her mouth agape, she points to Amy and whips out her phone, “Take a photo of us.”
I’m just as confused as Amy looks right now as she takes Ember’s phone. “Of the two of you?”
“Duh!,” Ember sings sarcastically.
She wastes no time grabbing my arm and placing it around her, my stomach fluttering at the sensation. I presume it’s just the alcohol sloshing around in there, yes. That was it.
Amy smirks, pointing the phone at us before saying, “Say, Shagadelic baby!”
“Shagadelic baby!,” Ember beams, quoting the film.
The flash goes off, temporarily blinding me in a thick white light and curing my tipsiness.
“Perfect,” Amy grins, showing us the photo.
Oh Christ, I really did look like a twat.
I fumble about towards the door, “well, thanks for tonight. It was great.”
Incessantly waving, Ember shouts, “Thank you for coming! See you soon for some psycho…psycho…”
She meant Psychology, but the sentiment was there.
Trying to hold back a smile, I give a brief wave and head out the door.
◆◆◆
By the time I got back to the flat, undressed out of my costume and changed into something a lot more me, aka, my underwear. I take a final swig of water from the litre bottle next to my bed, clearly, me from 6 hours ago had foresight. I’m about to turn off my mood light, ready to crash out as soon as my head hits the pillow, when suddenly my phone buzzes and illuminates the room. I always have this inner paranoia that if someone messages me past midnight, there must be a serious problem, so I instantly flip back over and reach it, anxious for the outcome. Opening my messages, I see it’s from Ember.
Did I leave something at her flat?
Did Sam get even more wasted and need me to come and retrieve him?
I was doing it again. Stop overthinking man.
Biting the bullet and tapping on the notification, I’m shocked to see the full-screen photo of Ember and me that Amy had taken earlier. We’re both wide-eyed, flashing our full sets of teeth. We look happy. I look happy. Before I can reply, a surprisingly legible message pings through to accompany it.
Ember: thankYOu AgaiN Austin P! x
Breathing out a chuckle, I type back.
Me: It’s groovy baby :)
Whatever the repercussions of that message, at least I could blame it on the alcohol and the lightweight that I so obviously was. Putting my phone back down on the nightstand, I turn over, switch off the light, and engulf myself in the duvet. As I lie in the pitch-black room, I can’t help but feel grateful. I put myself out there again today, I did the uncomfortable thing and it wasn’t catastrophic. I had fun. I could have bailed, but I didn’t. Fidgeting further into the covers, I pray to myself for two things tomorrow. Not only a clear head but also a brave one.