Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (8)
Sometimes I’d jolt if something banged upstairs, Mr. or Mrs. Moore dropping a pot or something. It may as well have been an intruder. To my body and mind, every bump in the night was him. While most girls my age were excited to have turned twenty-one and were planning their careers while bar hopping and looking cute, I rolled my inevitable murder around my thoughts. Over and over, I envisioned it. Would Mr. Moore find me at the beginning of the month when he came to collect rent? Depending on what time of the month I died, the smell may alert them sooner. Would my stepfather come in through the upstairs? Would he harm my landlords too? That reality scared me most. The awareness that I was putting a sweet old couple in danger just to claw at some level of peace I would never be afforded. It was selfish and cruel of me to endanger people like that. I was truly a monster. If I had any nerve at all, I’d stop running. I’d let him find me, preferably somewhere secluded, and let him end me. Or maybe I should just end my life myself and let him show up disappointed.
My option, either way, was only death. The only question was, how much longer would I be a runaway coward recklessly putting innocent people at risk because of the demons that haunted my every move?
But for now, for this brief moment, I had October. I had this new thing . . . This strange Halloween-crazed town with its peculiar residents and unnerving vibe. Hallows Fest. Where I could wear a mask and show myself for the first time from the comforts of obscurity. If this were the last month of my life, this was where I wanted to spend it, dancing with the ghouls to my early grave.
A small part of me, a girlish, desperate, stupid, naive piece of me, hoped that maybe I’d find someone to dance with. Maybe even a kiss too? Man or woman, it didn’t matter to me. If only for a night. For one night, I could pretend to be a normal twenty-one-year old. I guessed that was what you’d call a dying wish. It was probably a lame wish. Climbing Everest or soaring above the world in a hot air balloon were better goals. But I’d always been subpar. Muted. And out of all the better things one could hope for before their last breath, dancing with a stranger was mine. And maybe finding a decent slice of pizza.
As I pulled out of the driveway, Mr. Moore raised a withered hand and I stopped, rolling down my window. “Young lady, how are ya getting settled in down there?”
“Oh, um,” I stammered, gripping the steering wheel. “Just fine, sir, thank you.”
“Well, you’re quiet as mouse down there, just checking on you. My wife Betsy and I wanted to invite you for dinner. How’s that sound?”
Dinner with my landlord . . . and his wife. Questions about my life, about me, conversing with adults . . . sounded horrible. But I couldn’t exactly say no. They knew where I lived and all. “Sure, that sounds great. I work every weekend, but maybe a week night?”
“We’ll plan a nice supper. You drive safe and try not to blow any leaves onto the road I just swept.” He smiled a toothy grin and backed away, clutching his straw broomstick he may as well have stolen from a witch with how ancient it looked.
I gave an anxious laugh. “Yes, sir.”
Don’t blow leaves onto the road? This town was nuts. Nuts, but gorgeous in an odd sort of way. The drive into downtown was crisp and fragrant with the aroma of earth and warm spice. The brick and cobblestone walkways rumbled in every direction, propping up jagged buildings. Actual fire lanterns lined the streets, held by black iron lamps. I wondered if someone came to snuff them out each morning. This place somehow seemed frozen in time. Almost like a horse and buggy appearing wouldn’t feel out of place in the slightest. Now that October was coming tomorrow, even more pumpkins, hay bales, and plastic crows had appeared even since I was in town last week—like the town even needed a stitch of decor to look holiday ready. Ash Grove looked straight out of a horror film on any ordinary day. But somehow, I liked it. Somehow, I felt safer here than I had in more traditional towns.
I thought I may have liked to stay here, if I could settle somewhere and stop running, or if I would live long enough.
Clicking my car lock five times, I arrived outside the shop that caught my eye earlier. I’d gotten my first paycheck last week. It was meager but enough to pay my low rent and stock the plastic bin under my bed with non-perishable foods and snacks. Things I could grab and throw in my car in a hurry if needed. With what cash was leftover, I could splurge, just this once, on a costume.
The moment the door swung open, I startled at the mechanical laughter that greeted me. My heart sped up but waned as I realized it was a stupid hooded-skeleton prop. “Hi there! Sorry about that. I hate that stupid thing but my abuela owns the shop and insists he stays there. He’s supposed to scare away the evil spirits.” A beautiful woman with long, thick brown hair giggled. “Can I help you find anything?”
I fidgeted nervously with the braid over my shoulder. “I’m new in town so I’m not totally sure what exactly I need . . . but I was hoping to find an affordable costume for—”
“Hallows Fest virgin!?” She squealed and I jolted. “So exciting. We never get fest virgins anymore. Not after . . . well,” she trailed off. “Anyway, I’m Yesenia and I’m the girl to help pop your Hallows cherry.”
Wow, she had a lot of energy. But she radiated kindness and warmth, things I wasn’t accustomed to anymore.
“Thank you. I’m Blythe. So, I read you have to be unrecognizable to enter?”