Open Invitation

“ — a pink wig, black dress, white apron, fake blood—”

“Wait, what do you need the blood for?” Dad asked with a bewildered laugh. “I thought you were going as one of the ponies?”

“I am.” We were shopping for my Halloween costume, so Dad had let me have the responsibility of pushing the cart through K-Mart. We had already found some striped tights and were currently making our way through the rest of the seasonal selection, surrounded by black and orange packaging. “I told you, she bakes her friends into cupcakes.”

“In the My Little Pony show?”

“No.”

Dad raised an eyebrow.

I said, “In the show, it’s only implied.” I stopped the cart, pointing. “Ooo, that one!”

Dad grabbed my choice— a straight-haired, hot pink wig— and tossed it into the cart like a basketball. I laughed, forgetting for a moment.

Though I was trying not to dwell on it, I kept on getting little flashes of sadness leading up to my favorite holiday. I had always spent it trick or treating with Diana and Eleanor (before she had gotten too cool for it, that was). 

One year, Eleanor had worn a mask so scary that it made Diana burst into tears at the sight of it. So, Eleanor had spent most of the night carrying it in her treat bag, the only indication she was in costume her shredded flannel. But sometimes, when Diana’s back was turned, I’d signal Eleanor. She’d whip on the monster mask and I would call, “Di, check it out!”.

I remembered so vividly the nights afterwards, falling asleep with her head buried in my shoulder from the scary movie marathon, scratchy blankets that smelled like cinnamon across our legs. The chocolate coating my teeth, suppers left uneaten on her desk, and the sick stumble to the bathroom before our parents dragged us to church in the morning.

Even once Eleanor started high school and spent the night at wild parties instead, I stayed with Diana. I’d known she was too much of a scaredy-cat to survive the night on her own.

I didn’t know what I was going to do this year. The kind thing would be to swallow my pride and go to Diana’s anyways. But then I thought about our confrontation in the library— the way, whether I said it or not, I’d decided to stop being her friend. I imagined having to spend a whole night with her side-by-side in the dark, silent. It made me want to yartz.

Eris wasn’t going to care about it, either way. She was so grown-up, so above it all, that this would seem impossibly silly to her. Still, it troubled me. One night, when she was touching up my roots, I confessed some version of my thoughts to her. 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do for Halloween,” I said. She tugged on my scalp. “I can’t— I’m not some kind of baby.” I stuck out my tongue to demonstrate. “So no way am I gonna trick or treat.” 

The gel was cold against my scalp. In the tiny bathroom, Eris had only been humming along to my ramblings as she brushed on the dye, looking like a Renaissance painter in black and red. Now, she stepped backward and put her tools on the sink. She raised her fingers, looking through them to frame me. I wiggled on top of the toilet seat, cold porcelain against my thighs; I was only wearing one of Dad’s old shirts. I began to pick at a scab on my neck. “. . . Eris?”

“I have to stuff you in a plastic bag, my love.”

I laughed. 

She wrapped a shopping bag around my hair, knotting it at the base of my neck. While there, she lingered and pressed her thumbs into the back of my collarbone. Her fingernails left little half-moons between my acne. I held my breath. 

She said, “You’ll be coming with me.”

“Where?” I tried to twist around to look at her, but she danced out of the way, grinning.

“A party.”

“What kind of party?” I gave up, feeling dizzy. 

Eris was looking down at me with a vulpine grin. She leaned down to tap the tip of my nose. “A big one.” 

A sea monster emerged from the pool, splashing bright blue water across the concrete. His webbed claws writhed in the air. “Grrragh— ah! ah!”

The monster leaned over the edge and started coughing. He tore off the rubber mask. I looked away before he lost his lunch.

“Chad! What the fuck!” Cleopatra ran over to the dying man, tripping on the edge of her polyester robe.

Strands from my cheap wig were sticking to my cheek, static cling. Stumbling on my chunky heels, I wandered back inside.

The party was being thrown from someone’s home— but I wasn’t certain I could call it that. It was a mansion. From its castle turret-like outcropping to the black trim around the bay windows, everything about it screamed ostentatious wealth of a bygone age. 

When we’d arrived, the azalea bushes out front were already covered in orange silly string,  a skeleton in a vampire cape guarding the front door. Even with the sun just barely setting, baby trick or treaters still toddling around the neighborhood, teenagers were sprawled across the front lawn like corpses. 

I didn’t know anyone there— how could I? — and no one there knew me. When we’d first arrived, Eris had been surrounded by a throng of lanky teens all talking at once. I drew a lot of attention. I’d like to think it was because of my cool costume, but more likely it was because they thought I was a little kid— even though I was certainly more mature than any person there. 

We were in the parlor, which had been cleared of everything but the fireplace and an Oriental rug to make way for dancing. There was a lava lamp on the mantel and a disco ball planted in the chandelier. Music blasted as Eris indulged their curiosity. She dug her fingers into my shoulder.

“This is Ophelia,” she said. “My girlfriend.” 

I was too taken aback by the second part to correct the first. It— well, I supposed it had to be true, but I’d never thought I’d hear it out loud. 

I lost Eris after that. Rather than face any further questions, I ran into the bathroom. The sight of myself in the mirror— the pink hair, the thick makeup, the floofy dress underneath my bloody apron— something about it made me sick. I was sick, and I hadn’t even been there for half an hour.

Now, I was hungry. I stalked through the party, half-leaning and silent, weaving between the increasingly drunk revelers. Eventually I found the kitchen, all white and wooden, and stole a handful of pretzels. I sat on the counter and kicked my feet. 

Among the array of snacks, the bowls of chips and M&Ms and stacks of crackers, someone had plated a severed plastic arm. There was a head in the soda cooler, eyeballs floating in the punch.

Eris found me there. She tapped me on the arm, prompting shivers. When I turned, there was a Red Solo cup in my face. 

“Here,” she said.

I took it, some distant part of me noticing that my hand was shaking. Flecks of cinnamon floated in the amber liquid like glitter. “Is it. . .?”

“Apple cider.” She leaned against the counter. I had joined her in buying her costume the night before; it was one of those generic “sexy” costumes, an angel. The skirt was so short she couldn’t sit down, edged in tacky feathers. She’d put her hair up in pigtails, the halo headband bobbing with every move. She adjusted the elastic strap of her white wings. “You smell dehydrated.”

“Just tired.” I took a sip. It was what she said it was, though a part of me still worried that it had been spiked. 

“Are you not having fun?” Eris tilted her head. Her voice rose an octave, like she was speaking to a dog.

“No!” My jittery hand spilled some of the cider. “No, thank you for bringing me. Please don’t worry about it, Eris.”

She put a hand on my knee and leaned in for a quick kiss. As she withdrew, she whispered into my ear, “Don’t drink the punch.”

And then she was gone again, swept away laughing with her peers. I looked down at my cup, letting it swirl in my hand.

I finished my drink, but I didn’t leave. I stayed on the counter, invisible, keeping track of the costumes as they passed me by. Skeletons and toilet paper mummies, superheroes, a squad of cowgirls in mini skirts and go-go boots. A gorilla and criminal, complete with plastic ball and chain, were the first ones to break into the wine cellar. They bellowed up the stairs, bottles in both hands. That was when I slipped out through the back door.

Past the pool and the croquet field was a black mass of trees, curving around the property lines like hands cupping water. I settled down next to the koi pond. Orange string lights blinked around a wrought iron fence. The pounding music softened, whoops and hollers but a memory. I started nodding off— or maybe I blacked out again? — and only came to at the sound of laughter. 

Across the pond, a group of girls had congregated. They were sitting in a circle, passing around a blunt. One of them, a Black girl with stitches painted along her throat, was wearing what looked to be her actual cheerleading uniform. The girl in the middle was a freckly blonde in a teal flapper dress, bouncing her feather boa with one hand and her cup with the other. The third was one of the cowgirls, a redhead keeled over laughing. Her hat had fallen off, sitting between them.

My gaze kept on slipping back to the cheerleader. She looked so familiar to me, though I couldn’t place the source. They were so busy being high that they hadn’t noticed me, lurking in the shadows. 

I gnawed on my lip, considering what to do. Their conversation drifted to me in slow snippets. The weed smell was strong enough that I had to put a hand over my mouth. 

The cowgirl said, “We should sneak into th’ graveyard, y’aalll.”

“And say hi to all our friends.” Flapper Girl giggled.

The cheerleader, compared to the rest of them, seemed positively sober. “That’s not funny, guys.”

The others laughed at her.

“People died,” the cheerleader emphasized, over the sound of her friends’ giggles.

“It’s Halloween!”

They were talking about Chelsea Wright, I assumed. There was at least one cheerleader in the circle, after all. But then, where had I seen that girl before? I knew I knew her from somewhere. But my mind was running slow— it had been all night, all summer, all year. I stood to get a closer look, and still they did not see me. I lurked in the spot of the yard the fairy lights did not touch, and racked my brain.

“That’s not an excuse,” she said. “You guys, of all people— we treated her like a punching bag when she was still alive. Do we really have to do this now?”

“Hah? What are you talkin’ about?” The cowgirl hiccuped. “Yeehaw.”

“Yeah, Jae,” the flapper said, “we, like, loved Chels. Everyone did!”

“I wasn’t talking about her,” the cheerleader muttered darkly.

It clicked.

 “You knew Eleanor!” I waddled my way into the light.

The girls went quiet, staring up at me. “Who brought the kid?”

“I dunno,” the cowgirl said, looking at her friend again. “Maybe Sean’s little sis?”

“He’s an only child,” the cheerleader said. 

“Aw, really? He’d be a really good brother.”

“No, he wouldn’t! He’s so dumb,” the blonde snapped.

They started bickering amongst one another. The cheerleader didn’t join in; she had a thousand yard stare, a slight crinkle between her eyes, as she hugged her legs and refused to make eye contact.

I stood in disbelief, my hands curling into fists. 

“Excuse me,” I said. “I asked you a question!”

The flapper rolled her eyes. “Ja-shanna, take her awaay!”

Underneath her thick spooky makeup, the cheerleader’s face rippled in annoyance. She stood up and put her hand on my shoulder. We walked out of the gate, and stood in the middle of the croquet field, dotted with Styrofoam headstones. When I looked up, though, the aggravation was gone. She was only resigned. 

“Sorry,” she said. “They don’t like downers at parties.”

“So I was right?”

“Yeah,” Jashanna said, looking down. “We knew her.”

“Then you have to help me.” I broke out of her grip and swung around to face her. She was already tall, and wearing heels too, so I had to look up when speaking. A cold breeze rustled the nearby bushes, making goosebumps roll up my bare arms. “Who else was Eleanor friends with?”

Her brow furrowed. “Kid, who are you?”

“I’m Lauren.”

“Why are you here, Lauren?”

“Eris brought me,” I said. “I’m her date.”

Jashanna’s face went slack. “What?” She looked me up and down. “How old are you?”

“I’m thirteen.” I straightened up, trying to stand tall. 

She blinked. “Did she snatch you out of the cradle or something?”

“Hey!”

“Nope.” Jashanna whirled around, and began to march away. She waved her manicured hands in the air. “I am not getting involved with this. Nope, nope.”

“Wait!” I hurried behind. “What about Eleanor?”

“You’re too young for jealousy, kid,” she said, not turning around.

I tripped in surprise. I pinwheeled my arms in an attempt to keep upright. “What? I’m not—” 

I hit the grass with a faint oof. Jashanna stopped, rubbing her forehead.

We had drifted away from any sign of the party, through the gates and on the green, the great old house looming overhead. No one paid us any mind. 

Jashanna sighed. “Did she touch you?”

“Eleanor?”

“Eris.”

I didn’t say anything. I stared at the girl in dead silence, letting the damp grass sink into my scratchy petticoat.

Jashanna scowled, her face looking eerie in the moonlight. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Wait!” I stumbled to my feet, but Jashanna had already disappeared into the house. I looked with trepidation at all the partyers now clogging up the back door. All of a sudden, they seemed to loom larger than life, their shadows eating the lawn. The shouts and splashes from the pool echoed like screams in my head. Acid sloshed in my stomach and my jaw chattered. What was I going to do? 

I squeezed my eyes shut and dove into the glut. My wig caught on belts, knotted around fingers. When I at last emerged into a ransacked kitchen, I spit hairs from my mouth and then tore the damn thing straight off. 

“Yo! Hannah Montana!” A lanky shirtless kid waved a beer in my direction.

I stared at him. “Where’s Eris?”

“Uhh. . .” His mouth hung open. “Dancing?”

“Thanks.” I threw the wig into his lap. He whooped in surprise.

In the parlor, Duran Duran was rattling the windows. The only lights were the lava lamp, a red spotlight, and a strobe. Smoke swirled along the floor, the room little more than a writhing mass of bodies. I swallowed down my panic and began to creep around them.

Eris and Jashanna were in the center of the dance floor. I couldn’t hear them, but I had a clear view. Jashanna was furious, I could tell by the way she threw her hands— she was screaming. Eris, meanwhile, was taking it all with otherworldly calm, swaying to the music.

 They were both too occupied to notice me. But so was everyone on the dance floor. A tall kid’s elbow smashed against my head and sent me reeling.

When I looked back, Eris was holding Jashanna by the jaw. The anger hadn’t gone; the lighting made the whites of Jashanna’s eyes look red. Her mouth smushed closed by Eris’s fingers, all she could was snarl. Eris’s teeth were red in the light, too. Her fingertips were smeared with the girl’s face paint, mottled gray. Whatever she was saying, it was calming Jashanna down. Her sneer faded, her eyes grew glazed. In a motion that felt all too familiar to me, Eris pulled their faces close. 

Jashanna was the one who kissed first. The tension in her body fell, like snipping a marionette’s strings. Her hands swung limp at her sides. 

I blinked rapidly, almost in time with the strobe. As Jashanna moved to take hold of Eris’s waist, I turned away with tears down my cheeks.

“You’re toooo young to be jealous,” I mimicked Jashanna’s voice, hugging my knees underneath the snack table. My makeup was ruined, and I’d devoured most of the remaining Reese’s Cups. I now couldn’t know if it was the sugar or the betrayal that was making my stomach dance in figure-eights. “‘I’m gonna kill her’ — kiss her, you mean! Stupid.”

I bumped my head against the bottom of the table. 

“I’m such a crybaby!” I buried my face away again. I’d thought I had no tears left, but I started sobbing again, anyways. 

I should’ve gone to Diana’s. I should’ve known better than to stray so far out of my comfort zone. I was just a freak nobody wanted around. 

This time last year, I had been out in Diana’s backyard around the fire. Halloween had been canceled due to a freak snowstorm, and Dad and I had lost power. Eleanor was leaning back in a camping chair, texting someone. Mrs. Colón and Dad were chatting about adult stuff, taxes or whatever, drinking coffee with blankets around their shoulders. 

I had sidled up to Diana while we were toasting marshmallows, ostensibly to get out of the smoke. She looked up at me and smiled, her eyes glittering in the firelight. I smiled back, and pulled down my hockey mask. 

“Lauren, stop! That’s — eep!— it’s d-dangerous!”

We ran in circles around the yard. I held my marshmallow stick out in front me, pointing the flame as close to Diana as I could. Through the holes of my mask, the trim on her fairy dress sparkled from the scrap of light. I grinned, and rushed forward.

Diana screamed, and dove out of the way. She fell to the ground, snow and mud on her elbows. She rolled over to stare at me, breathing heavy, sweat sticking baby hairs to her forehead.

I lowered my voice. “There’s no escape now, little gir— ah!” 

I’d moved the stick too fast, and the marshmallow dripped straight off. It landed on a clear patch of grass, still on fire. Diana shrieked for real. She jumped, half-standing and skittering backwards. “If you burn down my house, Lauren, I swear—!”

I stomped down. Warmth licked my sole, then died. When I lifted my boot, the marshmallow stuck to it, thin and white, the texture of snot. I shook it off and stared at where it lay on the ground, exploded from its blackened shell and crushed like a baby bird fallen from the nest. It might’ve felt a bit like how I felt then.

Abruptly, the music shut off.

 I raised my head, forgetting the table again. I hissed in pain. From the parlor, someone was speaking. The words themselves were muffled, but I recognized Eris’s voice. 

The floor was tacky with spilled soda as I crawled out into the light. Chips crunched under my knees. I slipped beneath everyone’s notice; the few people I passed were frozen in place, turned to the dance floor and the speech being given. Whatever she was saying, it must’ve been really compelling. 

Once I reached the doorway, I rose to my feet. There was a pang in my heart. I held steady to the molded door frame.

Eris was sitting in Jashanna’s lap, lounged over a velvet upholstered armchair. The red spotlight was directly on her, now loose hair running across her pale shoulders. She was waving a plastic cup in the air, the contents— something thick and dark— sloshing around. I caught her mid-sentence.

“. . . just sooo grateful to all my cool fuckin’ friends,” she said.

The room was silent. The air was tense between her pauses— I could hear the crowd breathe. Jashanna nodded, but she looked almost asleep. Her eyes were hooded, her upper body leaning.

I looked around, barely moving, holding my breath. Through the milling bodies, teenagers’ eyes flashed in the watery light.

Eris elbowed Jashanna’s head back into place. “Yah. Like, you guys give me the power to keep going! Right?”

As if flicking a switch, people reacted. The movement was so sudden, I jumped in surprise. A dozen kids across the room, and likely more behind me, suddenly raised their Red Solo cups and shouted, “Yeah!”

Something soft and warm pressed my stomach further into the molding. Over my shoulder, the doorway was beginning to get crowded, like a scene from a zombie movie, as more and more bodies attempted to squeeze their way in. I held in a squeak as I was squished further down. 

“You said it, girl!”

“Y’know. . .'' Eris swayed, her eyes now half-lidded, “back in th’day, it was never this easy. I tried to do an-ee-thing and it was just, like, torches and pitchforks time. How lame!” 

She giggled, a move Jashanna mirrored. Eris sighed, and looked down at her. She picked up one of the girl’s braids and wound it around her finger.

Dammit. She must’ve been— drunk? That had to be it. They were all drunk. I felt, all of a sudden, very small and vulnerable. If someone wanted to. . . do anything. . . I couldn’t count on Eris rescuing me at all.

“Yeah. . .” Eris smiled. “I love it here. Anyone can be anyone, with a little bit of money and a good face. It never used to be like, like that. It was all feudal land and birthright and— and silly fights over Daddy in heaven or whatever.”

“We love you too!”

The toast was bigger this time— almost everyone joined in, spilling drinks across the dance floor.

Jashanna craned her face up, going for another kiss. But Eris was still talking.

“Like, you guys don’t criticize me,” Eris said. “You’re so open-minded. You don’t talk shit about how I dress, who I love—”

“Woo!”

“ — or what I eat!” She laughed.

I wanted her to stop. This was embarrassing. I was hurting. Didn’t she realize she was hurting me? I wanted to call out, to reach my hand into the crowd and know that, somehow, she’d take it. 

She wouldn’t notice. Something was deeply wrong with this scene, but some innate terror rising within prevented me from doing anything about it. I was frozen in place. 

The guys around me had eyes that glittered, as if wet, wide open and pinned to Eris at the front of the room. Like she was the only person in the world.

“. . . And if not. . .” Eris turned to Jashanna, pushing her face up with two fingers. “I know you’ll come around, eventually.”

They kissed again, melting into it until it seemed like their faces would never separate. Again, I began to cry. I looked away, but the room was exploding with reactions— ooos and gasps, cheers and sighs. It made my ears ring. I clawed at my hair and began to sob, a high-pitched weeping that underscored the scene.

But the noise died, and my voice didn’t. 

Eris’s head shot up, her mouth still slick with saliva, and whipped towards the doorway. Her eyes were on fire. As soon as she made eye contact, a burst of terror shot down my spine. All faculties left me. My legs shook, and it was a miracle I didn’t piss myself.

The floor creaked as Eris stood. The partyers in-between turned to stare at me; high school girls jeered, showing off their white teeth. Eris opened her mouth to speak, but I was already running. I ran, and the crowd parted for me.

Something in the air had changed. It was too heavy, like my recurring nightmare. But I had no escape route; no amount of pain was going to wake me. I collapsed on the back steps and, as my senses returned, whimpered again.

Everybody was still inside. Silhouettes stood sentinel in the kitchen windows. The pool was empty, too, a lone jack-o’-lantern floating in chunks across it. The only sounds were the crickets and a distant owl hooting.

I gagged a couple times, vomited a little of the earlier junk food— but not enough— and rose to my feet. I stared at the black mass of trees within walking distance, and shivered.

Before I could move any further, warm hands grabbed me by the shoulders. I stiffened, but did not turn around. I stared at the trees. Coated in shadow, so distant that details were impossible to see, someone was heading into the forest. 

“I was wrong, Ophelia,” Jashanna said. 

I did not relax, but there was a comfort in the sudden stewing anger I felt. It was hard to be pissed and scared at the same time. I said nothing, rolling my fingers across my thumbs, taut with anger.

She continued, “It was inappropriate for me to try and interfere with your relationship.”

“It was.” I jutted out my chin. 

“And I assumed wrong as well,” she said. “Eris would never hurt you. You two were made for each other.”

I folded my arms loosely, trying to keep warm. “Is that why you made out?”

Jashanna didn’t miss a beat in her flat rhythm, and began to rub my shoulders. “I’m nothing. Do not blame your girlfriend for the very same things she’s forgiven you for.”

Now the cold didn’t have anything to do with the weather. I jerked away from her.

Jashanna lowered her hands. She didn’t look hurt, or surprised, or anything. She only stared out in front of her— like she was looking through me.

“S-stay away from me.” I began to back away, step by shaking step. “A-and Eris, too. You— you freak!”

Jashanna didn’t register the threat— or maybe she did? Because she turned around without another word, back into the mansion.

I ran into the woods. 

The moon was nearly full, hanging high above the treetops. The brush was soft, all dead leaves and wet pine needles, sinking like I was pressing into a beanbag with my feet. I slowed once the outside world disappeared and I was hidden among the trees. I should’ve been scared. But after all that had happened, getting lost in the deep dark woods didn’t seem so bad.  

It was so quiet that I could hear the thinner trees creak and sway against the wind, a low constant push and pull. They spit their remaining leaves at me; one of them caught in my hair. I pulled it out, crushing the red maple in my fist. There was no sign of anyone else passing through before me. 

I wandered along aimlessly. The way was so clear and flat that it must’ve been a trail at some point, but no one had taken care of it in a long time. I clambered over a fallen tree, finally ripping my tights in the process. 

Lying on the forest floor, staring at my skinned knee, I was brought to the brink of tears. There was no way I was sleeping, now, no matter what.

But I still wanted to think so. Because sometimes, when I moved my head too fast, the sky through the trees looked red.

I continued on. When I reached a stream, I knelt down and dipped my fingers into the cold water. My bloody knee seemed to melt, staining my stocking pink. I fluffed up my skirt and crossed the water, chunky boots teetering over the rocks. 

In my apron pocket, my phone began buzzing. My hand whipped around to reach it, but I stopped. I let it zzzz on, made a fist, and marched forward. 

That was when I found the graveyard. 

There was no fence. I wandered into a clearing and caught sight of something in the corner of my eye. I spun to face it— but it was only a headstone, leaning from its lack of base. 

My hand clasped to my heart, I looked further and found myself surrounded by grave markers. Some were so squat as to nearly be swallowed by the wet leaves and moss. Others, like the one that had scared me, were nearly as tall as a man. Moonlight covered them all in an eerie sheen, like they were made of silver underneath all the dirt.

I approached one and leaned over. My fingers picked at the lichen crusted between the letters. It stuck underneath my nails. There was an inscription, but it was too faded to read. 

Weird. . .

How had something like this fallen to ruin? Weren’t burial sites protected by the government or something? These things were obviously super old. . . but there were still people down there, right?

Crunch!

My breath caught.

Out of the corner of my eye, a shadowy figure skirted between the trees. I whipped around to follow its path, but it was nowhere in sight. 

I could hear it, though. Footsteps brushing through accumulated leaves. Swish, swish.

He didn’t see me. . . I sunk down, pressing my back against a headstone. As the stranger drew closer, I began to make out a voice, almost as soft as the wind through the leaves. 

“No, no. . .”

A sound, like someone tapping a window, or a desk. Then, more leaves brushed away, but more deliberately. Like, with a hand. Was he looking for something under the graves?

“. . . no.” Tap. “C’mon, talk to— no, okay. . .” Tap, tap, crunch, crunch, crunch. “. . . what?”

Click.

Though I hadn’t moved, a flashlight beam, cold and blue, swung to face the back of my hiding place. I stared out at the dark woods stretching before me, the easy escape route, as those heavy boots began to approach my headstone. The light was lowered to the ground. I began to inch to my feet, my back dragging against the coarse rock. 

A hand pushed me down.

I tried to scream, but the stranger grabbed me in a bear hug and clamped a gloved hand over my mouth. They dragged me up and away from my cover. Something sharp pressed into my back. 

“Be quiet! You’re going to wake something up.”

My fear was washed away by a tide of confusion. “D-Diana?”

She stiffened. Her voice was curt, right in my ear. “Yes.”

“Please let me go,” I said. “I promise I won’t scream.”

Slowly, the hands around me loosened. I stepped out of her hold, and she backed up as well. When I turned around, I could see her from head to toe. 

I would’ve been able to recognize Diana in any context, of course. But it still took a second for the pieces to align, for my brain to reconcile my (former?) best friend with the person before me. 

Her hair was pulled out of her face, and she was dressed in all dark, muted colors. Navy jeans, a black turtleneck, ashy gray puffer coat. A gold cross glittered just above her collarbone. Even only half-standing, her stance was confident, her eyes flinty. She readjusted her backpack strap under my scrutiny, key chain hand sanitizer swinging.

“What,” I said, “is that?”

Diana followed my gaze to her right hand. She was holding a bunch of sharpened #2 pencils, held together with liberal duct tape. 

“It’s my stake.”

She stuffed it into her jacket pocket and swung on the backpack. Staunchly, she picked her phone up off the ground and began to pace through the graves. She swung the flashlight beam over them slowly, her eyes narrowed.

“Hey, wait a minute.” I rushed after her. 

Diana pursed her lips and ignored me. She lowered herself to a crouch before one of them, terracotta colored and topped with a winged skull. She ran her fingers over the surface, mouthing words.

I poked her in the shoulder. Then, I poked her again. A few times more, and she finally looked at me. 

She said, “You should go.”

“Why?”

“It’s dangerous.” She stood up again, brushing dirt off her legs. 

I glared at her back. “Then, shouldn’t you leave?”

Diana looked at me over her shoulder. There was the Diana I knew, that soft dewy-eyed baby animal. “You’re staying?”

I nodded.

She grabbed my hand, ice-cold between her fingerless glove, and walked on. “Stay close.”

Back to business, I guessed. Whatever that was. My arm stretched between us, limp and pathetic. She tugged me forward and I mutely followed along. For a bit.

“Diana, seriously, what the heck are you doing? Why are you snooping around old graves? Why do you have a stake?”

She kicked at more brush, night air chirping. She was looking down. “You’re just going to make fun of me.”

“Wha— When have I ever done that?”

Diana sighed. “The werewolf mask.”

“That was Eleanor, not me.”

“When I told you I didn’t know what ‘screwed’ meant.” She folded her arms, letting my hand go.

“That— but it was funny!” 

She began counting on her fingers. “You laughed when you gave me a black eye in softball, when you tripped me into the dinosaur exhibit on our sixth grade field trip, when you dropped my Polly Pocket in the grate—”

“But— those were all accidents!”

“They still hurt!” She kept her back to me. “And you put gum in my CD player.”

“I. . .” Didn’t remember that one. “Did that?”

She glanced coolly over her shoulder. 

I deflated. “Sounds like something I’d do.”

She huffed. Twigs snapped underfoot as she began marching away.

“Diana, please.” I grabbed her shoulder, halting us both. “I’m your best friend.”

There was a pause, something held tight in the air. We were held together by a line that was far too tenuous, my arm all the way out, barely touching— a line I’d thought I’d cut.

But Diana still gave in. “You can’t laugh.”

She turned around, standing in a patch of moonlight, like a spotlight through the trees. Her hair twirled in the wind, dancing with the leaves. She looked at me, wholly, unmasked and without shyness. She was almost feral. 

“I told you how, after the funeral, Eleanor began sending me messages? About the river?”

That wasn’t how I remembered it. Still, I nodded.

“She found other ways, too.” Diana’s voice was an awed hush, for a moment. She jumped, struck by something, and reached into the pocket of her coat. 

“Here!” In her hand, glinting pearly pink in the moonlight, was her beat-up Nintendo DS. “She talks to me in chat! She was just here a moment ago, see—?” She flipped it open. Then, “Er, not right now, I guess.”

I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. I felt more saddened than anything.

“Di. . .”

“You don’t understand!” She took a step forward. “She gave me clues, she’s told me things no one else could have known. She sent me the messages, and I put them all together. I know what’s happening to you, Lauren!”

I stiffened. “Then, tell me.”

“Eleanor wasn’t sick.” She took a deep breath. “Not just sick— not a human disease. That was just what it looked like. But she was rotting away from the inside. Her body was necrotic while she was alive. There were. . . they found maggots in there.”

My stomach twisted at the image. Creepy, but just words. “Okay.”

“You think I’m making this up?”

Ashamed, a bit stunned, I nodded.

Diana put a hand on her hip. “Then how do you explain the others? Chelsea Wright? She died from blood loss, you know. But. . .” She took a step towards me. Her stray curl flapped over wild eyes. “No one knows where it went.”

“What?”

“Her room was filled with blood. . . not enough that it would kill her. But her parents found her dead, and drained.”

“Like it just. . . vanished?”

“Yes,” Diana stressed the word. “Or someone took it.”

I started to laugh, but Diana cut me off. “You knew one of them, Lauren.”

“Oh, brother.”

“If you count, if you know where to look. . . there’s a pattern of disappearances, of mysterious deaths around town, since March. Homeless women, prostitutes. All bled dry. And, when the number finally began to go down, you were off camping, and your friend. . .”

“She wasn’t my friend,” I snapped. “And Chloe was killed by wolves. Obviously.”

Diana ignored me. “When you look at it all, there’s only one explanation.”

I backed away from her until I tripped over a grave. “Giant mosquito?”

“This isn’t a joke, Lauren.”

“Sorry. Bloodsucking aliens?”

Diana still didn’t find it funny.

“A vampire,” she said. “It’s a vampire.”

I leaned over, rubbing the shin I’d hit on the rock. “O-kay, Di. What’s it matter?”

She stared at me for a moment, her mouth agape. Then, she took a deep breath and drew close to me again. I could reach out and touch her. She could reach out and grab me. I had nowhere to run. 

“Eris is a vampire, Lauren.” She took my hand, her voice soft as downy feathers. “And she’s turning you into one, too.”

A cloud passed over the moon. Diana’s face slipped from view, my world cold and gray– and, finally, I let go. My hands ripped from hers; she reacted instinctively, trying to hold on. Her nails dug in, leaving white trails like airplanes in the sky, but still we separated.

“Shut up!” 

“I want to help. . .”

“Well, you’re being stupid!” I snarled. My hands curled into fists. “Of course Eris isn’t a monster! And even if— even if— why would some big, special vampire want anything to do with me?” I was nobody. There was nothing in me worth pursuing. 

“I don’t know,” Diana said, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“Well, why don’t you mind your business?” I said. “Not that you need to know— but Eris loves me, and I love her. Why would you try and ruin that?”

“I’m not trying to. . .”

“You’re calling her a monster! A murderer!” I waved my arm in the air. “And either I’m too stupid to notice, or I’m an accomplice. Huh? Huh?”

Diana looked very small again. “Lauren, I— I just want to protect you. . .”

“From what?”

“I already told you.” Diana was blushing in passion. “You’re being taken advantage of.” 

“You know what I think it is?” I stalked forward. Diana remained rooted in place, following me with wide eyes. “I think you’re jealous.” 

“Wha—? No, no, I—” she stuttered. 

“Because I happen to have someone who loves me, and you have nobody.”

I jabbed a finger at her chest. 

She drew back, cupping a gentle hand over her necklace. “Eleanor. . .”

“Eleanor’s dead!” The wind picked up, howling between the trees. My hair scratched at my face. Diana contracted further into herself. “She’s dead, and she’s not coming back. She’s just become your— your imaginary friend!”

“Stop.” Diana squeezed her eyes shut. 

But I wasn’t done. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed,” I said. “The minute I drop you, you start hanging out with Sydney?” 

Her head whipped up. Her cheeks were glistening, but shock had halted the tears. “It’s— it’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” I folded my arms. “You want her money?”

Diana looked down. “No.”

“You think sucking up will keep you safe?”

“No.”

“You’re fucking gay? For Sydney?”

Something struck a chord. Diana began yelling. 

“It’s because you hate her!” She stomped at the ground. “And you talk about how much you hate her all the time.”

I huffed. “So what?”

“Do you even—?” She froze, her arm outstretched. Her words died, replaced with a facepalm. “You can figure it out.”

“Oh, but Di, I’ve just loved hearing you explain my life to me.” I glared at her.

Diana’s hand slid down her face. She glared right back. Only then did I feel unsettled. That kind of venom shouldn’t exist on a face so sweet.

“I guess I’ll be going,” she said.

“Me first.” I began to turn around, stopping half way through. “Don’t talk to me again.”

Diana muttered something under her breath. 

“What was that, BFF?” I cupped my ear.

She was looking at the ground, again. Framed by the returning moonlight, her expression unreadable between the shadow of swaying branches. “Fuck you, Lauren.” 

I didn’t go back to the party. I took off my boots, feet aching, and let them swing from my fist as I walked straight home.

It was so late that even the most hardcore of Halloween celebrations had ended. The wind snuffed out the remaining jack-o’-lanterns. Plastic bones rattled from stripped tree branches. Shopping bags rolled down the sidewalk like wandering ghosts. 

I felt nothing. At home, the TV was playing static. Dad’s head was silhouetted, still as a statue, from his spot on the couch.

My voice hardly rose loud enough to break through the eerie crackle. “Sorry I’m late. . .”

He didn’t hear me, so he didn’t move. I dropped my shoes near the door and crept closer. The living room looked like a black and white film, all shadows and hard lines.

“Hey Dad,” I said. “I did it. Like you said. I tore the Band-aid off. You were right. . . it hurt. But I. . ."

I bit my tongue, and leaned over the back of the couch. His eyes were open, glazed.

“I’m a monster. So it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, squeezing as tight as I could, to no reaction. I pressed my mouth into the crook of his shoulder. "Dad. . . what do I do when—”

I thought I heard something from upstairs. My voice stopped with my heart, for less than a second. Breathing hard, I strained my ears, but heard no more.

I laid my lips flat against his ear. “— when someone gives me something that I don’t. . .?”

 I swore I saw red, flitting in the shadows around us, reflected in the black television. But Dad was gone— sleeping with his eyes open. I was on my own.

As I plodded up the stairs, I felt the floorboards creak. Eris was standing in the hallway, wearing only a bathrobe. Beads of water dripped from her hair, leaving dark splatters all along the floor.

I stopped, looking down, at the top of the staircase. 

She caught me in soft hands. “Where did you go, my love?”

“. . . It’s nothing.” I couldn’t look at her, not directly. I stared at a sliver of white thigh skin, like the moon, from between the black fabric. “I’ll tell you in the morning.”

Eris ran a fingernail up my neck, digging into my cheek. With the last of my energy, I pushed away from her and towards my room. 

She turned, huffing. “I’m only worried, Ophelia.”

“I know,” I said. I laid my hand on the doorknob. “I just want to sleep.”

Eris’s hands moved. She began loosening the bathrobe. I caught a glimpse of her breasts before I looked away.

“I love you,” I breathed, and closed the door.

Out of her sight, something in me buckled. I slid down to the floor with my hand still on the knob. My head was throbbing with my heartbeat, my palms ashy. 

The whole house shifted with her movements. Between my shoulder blades, the doorframe seemed to press, urging me to get up, get up. Her shadow stretched and curled over my legs. She was so close; there was no space she wouldn’t cross to get to me. But I only wanted sleep.

Eris said, “Let me in.”

I did as I was told.