New Skin

In the mirror, I pulled my tie so tight that I couldn’t breathe. The knot was at the base of my throat, my thumb curled underneath. The nail bit into soft flesh. I swallowed and felt the skin roll underneath, swell and retreat. 

I pulled it loose again. 

Underneath the cotton shirt, my skin was burning. An ugly red scab was forming down my collarbone. I let the collar fall open and yanked off the rosary, too.

Maybe this was a bad choice. 

The day after the Christmas party, Eris was gone. I searched the house, but the only sign of her was a box wrapped in a shiny red bow, waiting on my bed. Inside was one of the dresses she’d helped me try on— I guessed, anyways. I didn’t really remember.

It sparkled across my covers. Black velvet and glittery lace, sleeveless with a swishy skirt. It came with all the accessories— the clutch, the white gloves, a little velvet choker— and makeup, too. Concealer, eyeliner, and red lipstick. Even the shoes, with their cute little bows, were on my desk chair. 

I spent too long rolling the necklace between my fingers, stretching out the elastic. Eris had clearly spent a lot of time and money on it all, not to mention keeping it a surprise. Just for me. 

Just for Ophelia.

My fingers were spread over the scratchy surface, but in my head, I was still with Diana. That night in the snow, I’d told her everything, and she’d accepted me out of hand. None of it felt real— the way her tears froze on my face, her arm dragging my arm all the way to the house, the final hug in the shadows of my front yard— but it must’ve been.

Halfway through the Christmas movie, when most kids had separated out to play cards, she’d approached me in her jingling red sweater, her expression dead serious. Over my crumb-riddled desk she set down a folded piece of notebook paper. Our fingers brushed as I dragged it over. 

Let’s save each other. 

I’d leapt off my bed, tossing the dress away. The hanger clattered against the wall. My skin was hot and prickling, like I’d been burnt. I clutched my hands together, trying to still my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my teeth. I hung my head. 

Downstairs, the sink turned on. 

Dad was in the kitchen in his apron and slippers. He was scrubbing at the dirty dishes while humming “Angels We Have Heard on High”. The steam fogged up his glasses, so I couldn’t properly read his face. I watched him for several minutes, something hard and painful squeezing my heart. 

“H-hey, Dad,” I said. I clutched the doorframe. 

“Hm?” His head tilted up. “What is it, Sweetie?”

I stared up at him, blinking. My eyes skirted the kitchen, grasping at straws. I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had a full conversation, just the two of us. 

“It’s almost Christmas. . .” I said, “and we haven’t baked any cookies yet.”

Dad smiled. “Do you want to fix that?”

We used a bagged sugar cookie mix. I laid out all the ingredients on the counter while Dad ventured into the pantry. He emerged covered in a faint layer of flour, the tin of cookie cutters in his arms. I laughed. He patted my cheek, leaving dust puffing into the air. 

There was no music, so it was all silent as I painstakingly cracked the eggs against the edge of the bowl. I raised my arms to pry the sides of the shell open. The yolk oozed out and landed in the dry mix with a plop.

I said, “Is this going to be supper?”

“If you want.”

A nervous laugh escaped me as I began to stir. “You shouldn’t say that! It’s not healthy.”

He was standing behind me, so I couldn’t see what he was doing. He was silent, though. The wooden spoon grated against my palm. 

I looked out through the frosty window, where thin flakes of snow were being thrown into the wind. The pain in my chest returned. 

“Dad. . .” My hand slowed. I tucked the bowl under my arms, like I was cradling an infant. “I need your help.”

The windowpane rattled. When I turned around, Dad was standing silent, his limp knuckles fallen onto the kitchen table. He stared at the door and said, “Eris is on her way.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.” I ducked my head and resumed folding. 

A heavy shiver went down Dad’s spine; I watched him shake from head to toe. When it receded, he almost seemed normal again. “What do you mean?”

“I think Eris should leave.”

“. . .What?”

I swallowed. “I mean, we’re not a charity. If her mom’s not going to get any better, it might be more uh. . . prudent for her to live on her own.”

“Sweetie. . . why are you being so cruel?”

“I’m not! I’m just being— realistic.”

Talking like an adult just made me feel all that much smaller. The cookie dough was already well-mixed, nearly liquid. I shoved the bowl back onto the counter.

“She’s really mean, Dad.” I was facing away from him again, gripping the edge of the countertop. “She. . . makes me do things I don’t want to do.” 

His hand fell onto my shoulder. “Like what?”

My face grew hot. “Just— trust me.”

His grip got tighter.

I said, “Do you. . .?”

“Eris is a nice girl.”

I folded my hands together, pressed the fists into my chest. The wind halted, and for a moment all the shadows in the house grew deep and black, stretching towards the front door.

“Eris, she. . .” I couldn’t say it— maybe I didn’t believe it either, not yet. “Ra— ra. . .” 

The door opened, and Dad forgot all about me.

He bounded over to the living room, tripping over chairs in his haste. When I followed, he was crouched towards the floor, pulling off Eris’s coat.

She was emerging from her black trench coat in a red corset and velvet pants. She peeled off her leather gloves, playfully whipped them against the top of Dad's head. She smirked at me across the dim room.

“Like what I’ve done with the place?”

I was frozen, staring at Dad’s dopey back as he crawled over to the coat rack. I was so slow.

“Does it wear off?”

Eris shrugged. “If I’m dead.”

As it turned out, I was more alone than I ever could’ve imagined. Eris had done the same to Dad as she’d done to the entire school. If I let anything slip— clued him into that hardening conviction rattling around in my heart— he would be forced to tell Eris, and it would all be over. 

That night, while Dad watched mindless television and Eris went out to do something I didn’t want to think about, I snuck into the downstairs bedroom to search for Dad’s old Confirmation suit.

It was in his closet, wrapped in a foggy plastic bag. When I touched it, wrapped my fingers around the thin surface, my hands came back covered in dust. 

I dragged it upstairs and into the back of my own closet. For a long while I sat on the floor, covered in clutter, and clutched my head. By the time Eris swept into the room, I had forced myself to forget. I forced myself to be grateful for everything she had given me. I stayed on the floor and I bowed, touched the crown of my head to the hard ground. Of course I loved the dress. Of course I wanted to dance with her. Of course I couldn’t wait to spend eternity together.

When night came, I woke with a start to find Eris rolled to the other side of the bed. I held my breath and raked my eyes over her. She didn’t move when she slept— like the dead woman she really was. Her hair was growing back at the roots, black and streaky like dark mold over the top of her head. Through the waterfall of hair, her thin shoulders surfaced like white sharks in the water. No matter how long I looked, I couldn’t see a monster. I loved her.

Yet somehow, I still rose from the bed and crept to my room. I stuffed the dress underneath the door and flicked on my desk lamp. Dad’s tie was dark red, thick and textured. From under the desk I pulled out my bin of art supplies, my bottle of black acrylic paint and scratchy brush. I put Pinkie on a precarious spot of my headboard, so that any movement outside would knock her over and warn me in time. Then, I leaned over my desk, my nose nearly in the tie, and painted it with shaky black stripes. 

And now I was staring into the mirror with the cheap paint flaking off in my sweaty hands, my face pockmarked and black eyeliner dripping down my cheeks. My nails were bitten down to the nub, alternating red and black. Tonight was the night.

Somewhere, Diana must’ve been looking into her own mirror and thinking the same thing. By the end of the night, Eris would be dead.

That, or—

I put a turtleneck on underneath the shirt. That did the trick. It still hurt— a dull, itchy pain— but now it was manageable. Like I was pinching myself to stay awake. I held onto the rosary for as long as my hands would allow, tugging on it like a lifeline.

“Sweetie? Are you ready yet?”

Dad’s suit was too big— of course it was. I rolled up the jacket sleeves to pull my Converse on and slipped my phone into my pocket. It weighed down the pants enough that I had to cinch the belt extra tight.

When I came down the stairs, nails digging into the banister, in that ill-fitting suit, the tie I’d tied all on my own, I didn’t feel like the belle of the ball. I just felt like myself. 

Dad looked up at me with a smile and nothing behind his eyes. Shame welled up within me, again. I tried to remind myself that it wasn’t his fault. That no matter what, I was going to free him tonight.

When I reached the bottom, I hooked my arm around his.

He said, “You look. . . wonderful, Sweetie.”

I said, “Let’s go.”

A string of cars lined the sidewalk around the Social Center, beams of light bouncing off the kids as they trailed inside. While Dad waited for a space to pull up, I watched Bianca’s mother squish her daughter’s cheeks and push up her glasses before pulling out her phone. Bianca stayed smiling, tugging at the skirt of her navy dress. It was only just after 4, but it was the longest night of the year. The sky was already black, not to mention the bitter cold. 

That was when I saw Diana.

Her mother was helping her out of the car with a firm hand. She looked like a princess. Her hair was left natural, decorated with silver butterflies. Hoop earrings brushed her round shoulders. Her dress must’ve been intended for a quinceañera— it was magenta with a purple gradient, sweetheart neckline and floor length ruffled skirt. She shivered and looked around as her mom stuffed the gray puffer coat into her arms. Even in the harsh car headlights, she was soft and sparkling, like a rose covered in dew.

I rolled down the car window and waved. She turned to me, perfectly frozen even as the world roiled around us. For those few precious seconds, it felt as if we were the only two people alive. She patted her dangling purse. I gave a thumbs up.

 We had this!

The guy behind us laid on the horn. Without asking, I popped open the car door and ran between the headlights over to her. Cold air filled my baggy clothes and more horns blared as I rolled over a convertible’s hood and onto the curb. 

We weren’t really saving each other, no matter what the note said. I had nothing to give her, and I had told her as such via Skype, late one night when the Sword of Damocles had gotten to be too much.

Diana let out a shout when I landed before her. I couldn't help but take her hands, both of us chilled to the bone. Her face was beaming, brushed with glitter. We held on so tight it hurt.

“Well, don’t you look handsome?” Mrs. Colón scoffed. She put a hand to the small of my back, pushing me out of the way.

“Don’t think you can get out of it that easy!”

Dad pushed between the other parents, the car left wide open in the street, with his camera out. 

Diana clung to my arm and said, “Lauren, I’m cold.”

“Can’t we do the pictures inside?” I asked Dad.

“And miss out on this perfect lighting?” He popped up the flash. 

Automatically, me and Diana straightened our posture. Mrs. Colón snatched away Diana’s coat. She didn’t know what to do with her other hand (no pockets), so she wrapped it around my waist. 

Before the camera flash was done dazzling my eyes, I ran. Diana’s hand dragged along my studded belt. If she held tight, she could’ve ground me to a stop right then. But she didn’t. She picked up her step, and in a minute we were rushing through the double doors, past the cops, past the trophy case, kicking up the white balloons that were sticking with static cling to the entryway’s carpet. 

I took Diana by the hand and swung around to face her. We stood in front of the gym entrance, heaters hissing over our heads.

“Lauren. . .” Diana tugged on my arm, bringing me closer. I was nearly leaning over her, like a stalk in the sun. Her eyes were glistening and her mouth parted slowly. 

Dad slapped my shoulder. Me and Diana broke apart with frightened leaps.

“Well,” he said. “I can tell when I’m not wanted!”

“. . . yeah.”

Mrs. Colón, at Diana’s shoulder, shot me a look. But Dad wasn’t hurt— he couldn’t be. 

“Have fun, dear.”

Mrs. Colón kissed Diana on the cheek and whispered something in Spanish.

As I watched them leave, fear flooded in again. My words came out weak and watery. “Love you, too. . .”

Diana squeezed my shoulder, indenting my huge shoulder pads. 

I turned to her. “What were you going to say, before?”

“N-nothing!” She pulled back and snatched up her purse chain. The bag swung back and forth from her fist. “I’ve got everything we need.”

“And you’re okay?”

“You’re my best friend.”

The heater was making warmth bloom inside me— that had to be it. I adjusted my jacket, buttoning up the front. “Ditto.” 

In the gym, paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling on fishing line. A big disco ball spun slowly from the rafters, next to one of the stuck basketballs. Diana put her arm in mine and, once together, we couldn’t pull apart. 

Several of the local parochial schools had pooled their budgets to throw the dance, and as a result I didn’t know most of the kids gawking at us. And they were gawking.

We stopped at the snack table. It was running down an entire wall, staffed by volunteer parents. It was all blue-frosting snowman cookies and Triscuits and thin slices of pepper jack cheese. My stomach was turning too much to actually eat anything, even to keep up appearances. Diana was evidently in the same place. Our eyes went to the same spot— the end of the table, where a cop guarded the bowl of red punch. 

Diana shot me a look. Even in the dark, loud gym, I understood.

“Watch this.”

I slipped away from her, smoothing down my hair. I wrung my hands and walked up to the guard.

“E— excuse me, sir?”

I shuffled up to him. He stared down at me, chin jutted uncomfortably and eyes on my forehead pimple. “Yes?”

“I just went to the b-bathroom, and when I came out, the boy’s room smelled really bad. I think a skunk’s gotten in!”

The cop winced. “Shit.”

As he ran off, I turned to Diana and gave a thumb’s up. I scooted around, blocking the parents’ view as she uncapped her hand sanitizer bottle and poured the contents into the punch bowl.

Hope we’re right.

We tripped over each other’s feet on our way to the dance floor. We stood across from each other and tried to dance, but I kept breaking up the rhythm to complain about the pop music. I didn’t even care— not really. My hand kept on drifting. In the middle of the dance floor, between the white kids flailing to Usher, I pressed the flat of my hand to my pants pocket and waited.

The song changed, and so did the lights. They turned pink, whirling in faster circles over our heads. It was a Ke$ha song. A spike of misplaced sadness struck me. Sydney would’ve been so mad at the school for allowing such a raunchy song at our Christian Snowflake Dance. 

“I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums

Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone. . .”

And then Eris texted me, and I stopped thinking about anything else. 

I shoved Diana in the arm. “She’s here.”

Diana stumbled back, jostling Josh and Alicia from their scandalous hand-holding. 

I said, “I’ll meet you in the bathroom.”

“But I want to help!” Diana yelled over the music.

“She’s just going to—” I mimed a gun to my head. “ — your brain. Come on!” 

I pushed her again. This time, she took off across the dance floor to one of the side doors. I watched her leave. Squared my shoulders. Held my breath. 

The song went on. At the bridge, the crowd began to split, leaving me alone in the middle. My hands shook, so I stuffed them in my pockets. Blood was rushing in my ears so loud I couldn’t hear the music. I planted my feet, and turned around.

Eris was framed in the main entrance by cool light, her hip cocked, a perfect S-curve. She had gone all out. She wore a shiny leather dress, laced at the front, skin-tight save for where her skirt pooled at her feet. Only the studded heels of her boots were visible. Her hair was done up in twin buns, strands spitting out into the electric air.

The thudding in my chest went away, replaced by something ice cold and slow in my veins. The song ended, and nothing replaced it. Eris approached me, heels clicking against the impossibly shiny gym floor. The rest of the dancers stood silent, watching, but I had almost forgotten they were there. I reached out, as if she were intangible, and she mirrored the move. Her fingers slipped between mine.

“Hello, Ophelia.” She grinned at me with teeth— fangs. Her black lipstick had smudged, staining her white smile. Then, it disappeared. “What are you wearing?”

The anvil in my stomach hit suddenly, without warning. It took all I could to not pull away from her.

I said, “Your gift— it, uh. . . ripped. Last minute. I had to throw something together.”

“You look like a boy.”

“Well, I’m, uhh. . .” I floundered, shrugging my shoulders. “Sorry.”

Finally, Eris’s expression softened.

“Well,” she said. “You won’t be wearing it for long.”

I blushed furiously, covering my mouth. Eris squeezed my shoulder, then straightened up, staring over my head. Our right hands were still intertwined. The music came back on. 

It was a swelling waltz, dipping in and out. I thought of the night Eris confessed to me— when she’d shared the story of what I now realized was her becoming a vampire. All the beautiful girls in their gowns. . .

Eris started to dance. I was too short, and I didn’t know the steps, but her guidance was confident. It was all too easy to slip into her orbit, let myself be led. The dance hall broke into couples, brushing at the edge of my vision. 

In the rosy light, her face tilted down, Eris looked like a different girl— demure and blushing. All her harsh words were gone, the anger was gone, replaced by butterflies and a gentle arm and the waltz’s soft strings.

Long nails sunk into my back, keeping me stable. We swung, and the gym floor was gone. The other dancers were gone. Eris was the only person who mattered— who existed— underneath the gold ceiling. And how lucky was I, that she wanted to spend this gorgeous night with me?

There was a moment in the middle of the dance where I considered not fighting at all. I wanted to let Eris turn me inside-out, empty my head of anything but her, and spend the rest of eternity dancing together. Surely there was nothing else out there that felt like this— my light head and blushing body, like I was floating inches off the ground. 

She lifted me off my feet into a bridal carry. I laughed, dizzy, and threw my arms across her shoulders. I bit into her ear like she’d done to me so many times before, and closed my eyes. 

When I opened them, I saw a ghost.

In the side door, crisp and glowing against the near-black hallway was someone in white jeans and flannel, long black curls fading into the darkness. I could almost hear her throaty laughter, wrenching me out of the dream.

But it wasn’t Eleanor, because Eleanor was dead. When we swung around again, the only person in the doorway was Diana, her puffer coat zipped and stake clutched desperately between her hands. 

The sickly sweet taste in my mouth died. The warmth leaked from me, and all that was left was a desperate resolution. I remembered who I was fighting for. 

“Eris, I’m hungry.”

She breathed out, long and loud, in my ear. “Me too.”

“No,” I said, squeezing her shoulders. “I really need to eat something.”

Eris slowed us to a stop, still holding me.

I grinned, tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Can we go get snacks?”

The crowd parted on our walk to the table. Eris finally set me down. The DJ put on a stupid pop song, back to business as usual. The glamour was gone. This was definitely a school gym. 

I was so dizzy, I stumbled into the table. Eris caught me by the shoulder. I muttered a thanks, my head down. Plate in hand, I circled the options, piling it high with cheese and cookies. I had to play at starvation, but in reality, the contents of my stomach were sloshing around, anxious and acidic.

At the punch bowl, I too eagerly ladled it into a paper cup. Some of it dripped down my fingers. It burned like someone had put hot pepper juice in my eye. 

I set the cup down and begin to fill a second. Eris gave me an odd look.

“Here.” I handed her the second cup. She stared down the red liquid, bewildered. 

“What are you doing?”

“A friend of mine made the punch. I promised that I’d try it.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. I blushed.

I said, “It’s sad to drink alone.”

“I literally can’t, darling.”

“Can you, or won’t you?” I pushed harder, but I didn’t think it was working. Eris looked bored and confused, examining the nails on her other hand. My heart thudded in my ears. “Will you just do this for me. . . my love?”

A light bloomed behind Eris’s eyes. Underneath the thick makeup, she looked younger and brighter in the span of a second. She beamed.

“Always,” Eris said. With a playful wink, she kicked her head back.

I followed suit, but the punch never touched my lips. Both cups hit the floor, instead. Eris’s hands writhed as she let escape a bloodcurdling scream.

I fell backwards, knocking over the snack table for real. Eris’s throat was melting from the inside. Black pustules formed down her esophagus, popping and oozing bright red down her cleavage.

My hand throbbed from where I had touched the punch, but that was nothing. It was nothing like this.

I’m a murderer, I thought.

Eris lowered her face, whimpering and pawing at her neck as Hot Chelle Rae blared on and on. In her eyes, I saw the fear and anger of a thousand lifetimes—

And then I was in the Social Center bathroom.

Fuck.

The back of my head was pressed against the wall, between two sinks at eye level. My breath hitched as dull pain struck me. There were tears in my jacket, long gashes like an animal’s claws. My nails sunk into the grout between the yellowed tile. Across from me, I stared into the open maw of the doorway, dust bouncing to the distant bass.

To my side, it sounded like someone was stirring a pot of macaroni. The air smelled salty. I held tight to the wall and pushed myself to my feet. The fluorescent lights flickered.

Blood was pooling out from the handicapped stall. Through the bottom gap, I could just barely make out a hulking, furry black mass. Thin, human hands scooped up the blood.

This was where Diana was supposed to be hiding. My heartbeat, which had stopped without my realizing, picked up again. Before I could truly panic, though, something moved in the corner of my eye.

Diana was standing in the doorway, her mouth ajar in clear horror. 

I didn’t speak. I just waved my arms, frantically, insistently. Go, go!

She must’ve not been thinking clearly yet, because she did, fleeing back down the hallway. Thank goodness.

The fleshy mashing had slowed. I crept over to the stall door, hardly cognizant of when I stepped in the blood, letting it seep into my soles. I pressed my ear to the cold metal.

“Eris, sweetie?”

The slurping stopped. Claws scrambled across the floor, clicking on the tile. I drew back as the padlock scraped against metal, and the door swung open.

Eris stood with her shoulders pulled back, panting. Her chin and neck were covered in blood. It flowed down the front of her dress, where it beaded and dripped off, repelled by the fabric. Her arms were red up to the elbows.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said. 

I nodded. My eyes slid down to the victim. Only the tangled legs and navy skirt were visible behind the toilet. I thought it might’ve been Bianca, but I couldn’t think too hard about it. I pointed Eris to the sink.

“Someone is trying to kill us.” She swept past me, flicking the faucet on high. White foam turned pink. “They put holy water in the punch.”

“Oh no. . .” I turned away from the body, pushed it to the back of my mind.

Eris shook her hair out in the mirror. She picked out a strand that had caught between her teeth with a hooked, freshly-washed finger. 

I stepped towards her. A pair of glasses crunched underneath my foot. I winced.

The blood was diluting, filling the sink. Eris stroked her face with wet fingers, letting it drip down her collarbone. Her fangs bit into her bottom lip. 

“Your ‘friend’ made the punch, hm?”

My head felt fuzzy. “Yeah.”

“Who is it?”

“Ddd—” I bit my tongue, prompting a shock of pain. I fell backwards, slipped in the puddle. I grabbed onto the stall door to keep from falling. “Well, uh— it could’ve been anyone. That put the water in. It’s a Catholic school, you know?”

Eris wasn’t moved. “Give me a name.”

“Uh—uh—” I was stuttering. My brain couldn’t quite align with my mouth.  I stood half-bent, my fingers digging into my knees. 

“Ophelia. . .” Eris turned around. She was blazing with an ephemeral light, and her eyes were red. Her body shimmered like a wave of heat over the sidewalk. “Did you know about this?”

“Yes.” My voice was flat, but tears welled up in my eyes. 

Eris’s nails clicked against the sink. I pulled up from the mental grip she had on me, gasping for air. I hyperventilated, my hands pressed over my mouth. 

From her left hand, she gestured with my phone. She clicked the center button, pulling up a text from Diana. 

“I’m not upset at you, sweetheart,” she said. “I’m upset that someone would so cruelly manipulate you against me.”

“Uh-huh—uh—” I tried to back into the stall. Eris strode forward, her hips swaying. 

“And I’m upset that it will take so long to break this little illusion she’s made. I’ll do whatever it takes, Ophelia, to repair your precious trust.” Her hands gripped my hair, pulling painful at my roots. “Tomorrow.”

Eris threw me into the mirror. 

“Ahhh. . . !”

I collapsed on my back. The glass rained down onto the floor, sounding like wind chimes in a furious storm. My eyes flared in pain, and the fluorescent lights wavered.

Eris stepped over me, her legs straddling either side. Her eyes raked over my body, a cool glare.

“I love you. This is for your own good,” she said. “Don’t follow me.”

She raised her foot and stomped.

One time, when I was still a child, I tried to climb a tree. In my backyard, with no one around, just before sunset, I slipped off my shoes and grabbed a low branch. I pressed my anxious face to the bark, biting softly into it. Dusk turned everything around me gold. When I fell, I was almost at the top, so it was sudden and bloody. I barely remembered the fall. All I caught was a face through the window, watching with arms folded. Then everything went white.

And when I came to, still screaming, Dad was standing over me, trying to comfort me with tears in his own eyes. But I wouldn’t let him touch me. It didn’t matter who he was, that he was trying to help. The pain had overtaken my personhood. I screamed and screamed then, same as I screamed when Eris broke my leg.

My throat was raw. The light behind my eyelids, squeezed tight shut, shifted— as if someone was standing over me again. But when my breath returned and I opened my eyes, I was all alone on the bathroom floor.

There was no glass in my hair, and no blood on my sneakers. I pulled myself up, hissing— but my leg was unbroken, too.

I went into the gym. Overhead, the disco ball was frozen mid-spin. The lights buzzed acidic green. Through the thin windows, above the folded bleachers, the night sky was red.

Maybe I was finally dead. I drifted— not like a ghost, still on my own two feet— over to the snack tables, food scattered over the floor. I picked a potato chip off the ground and stuck it between my teeth. I felt nothing, tasted nothing.

Definitely dead.

My feet dragged through the Social Center carpet. I was scared, yes, over what was happening— what my being dead meant for Diana, for my dad, for everyone— but it was as if my brain was stuffed with cotton, packed in tight to keep it from rattling around. Something primal was calling me, tugging forward so hard it made my chest ache with phantom bruises. So, I did as I was asked.

The sky was clear and red like a flashlight shining through strawberry Jello. Impossible snow fluttered from invisible clouds over the parking lot. I raised both palms towards it as a high-pitched plea, a noise that sounded like light, sang to me.

Don’t be scared.

Around the school, where there should’ve been old cobblestone streets and competing bodegas, the parking lot stretched out into an endless highway, dusted in snow. No car tracks dared mar the surface. There wasn’t any sign of them, not a whiff of burning oil or rubber to be found.

I hiked up my pant legs and walked over to the barrier. The grass there was dark green and unfrozen, dandelions flattened by others who’d come before. I climbed over the metal barricade and began walking. The grass went from a short, freshly trimmed meadow to overgrown wilds, reaching up to my thighs. Downwards I sunk further and further into the gloom and the hay. When at last I looked up, I was deep in the woods.

Great black trees loomed above, their trunks creaking. The shadows of birds flitted through the treetops, but their song didn’t reach me. I obviously had yet to reach my destination. The voice was still there, only just settling back. 

Time was beginning to escape me. When I looked down, sunlight was dawning, milky pink. 

“Hello?” I twirled in one spot, to no avail. I raked a hand across a mossy trunk and continued to walk. What I once thought was the rustling of leaves turned out to be water— there was a river in the woods. More of a stream, really. Quick enough to foam white around the rocks, but easily crossable. I knelt over it, and dunked my hand in. Despite it being apparently clean, my skin made the waters run red. I huffed, and shook out my now wet hand, splattering drops across the leafy brush. I kept on walking.

In the middle of the stream, hardly distinguishable from a large white stone, was a person curled up into a fetal position. I stopped and stared, suddenly frozen. When I tried to approach the figure, it was like trying to put together two opposite poles of a magnet.

Distorted by the clear rushing waters, the streaky face of my younger self was calm and at rest. Her hands curled around her upturned knees, her hair danced with the river rocks. She seemed to have no fear at all— not of drowning, of vampires, of things that went bump in the night. I sank to my knees and attempted to crawl towards her— but again I ended up on the shore. 

My hands shook from the ice water. I planted my face in the brush with a great sigh. When I rolled over, I watched orange salamanders crawl along the brown leaves. In the back of my ear, children were making that sound they make— something between shrieking and laughter. 

All of a sudden, the air was warm and humid. My arms were covered in Silly Bandz and sticky Play-Doh, and my clothes smelled of wood fire. I stood and whirled around, waiting to see Chloe there.

Wrong way, the voice said.

I moved away from the river, painfully, and deeper into the woods. Summer flowers shriveled and died. In the dead of night, something fast and pale swirled around me. 

I laughed, hefting up my skirts. Through the trees, Eris was dancing naked. Her hair was coal black, seamless with the starry sky. She smiled still with green eyes that flashed red. She was speaking in a language I didn’t consciously understand, but someone inside of me did. I laughed and laughed as she swayed nearer and nearer, until I was pinned to a tree. Until she was pulling down my kerchief and untying my braid. Until her cold breath curled around my neck.

Are you hearing me, kid?

Eris disappeared in a flash. I was still against the tree, panting. My fingers were scratched from pressing into the bark.

“Yes.” My voice sunk flat in the crimson air.

Go back to Halloween.

But that was one of the worst nights of my life! I hugged myself, striding forward again on wobbly heels. Thin frost coated the fallen leaves, cracking like the mirror against my head. I shivered as the thought summoned a stream of blood leaking down the back of my neck.

Through the trees was the graveyard. And there, crouched on top of a headstone like an elaborate decorative statue, Eleanor was waiting.

“Hey.”

Behind Eleanor, the cemetery now stretched on and on, valleys dipping down filled with naked branches, black trunks and mausoleums and yet more headstones. She sat all in white save for her Nirvana tee, her baseball cap turned backwards, her smile pointed and coy.

She looked alive, as if she had never been gone at all. Through the black trees and the faint flurry of snow, it seemed as if light was emanating from her, leaving nothing uncovered. 

I stood in front of her, gawping like an idiot. Part of me, under the light, in this strange half-dream, felt as if I were now a subject before judgment.

Eleanor tilted her head, hair bouncing in the silent wind. “You okay?”

It was like she had smacked me in the mouth. I stumbled backwards in shock. In my memory, her face had been overtaken by her waxy corpse, and every positive memory we’d shared had been overshadowed by her condescending teenage glare. And yet, she still dared to show sympathy. To appear to me at all.

Here I was, talking to Eleanor again, covered in wounds that I couldn't feel, irrevocably damaged from the child that she had known, prey to an evil vampire and then dead without warning.

I keeled over, then fell to the snowy ground.

“Aw, kid.” Eleanor clicked her tongue.

She crawled down to kneel in front of me, wiping away the tears. It was like the opposite of Eris’s touch— too hot, as if the light inside her was trying to burn me. It took all of my strength to not pull away.

 I met her eyes with my chin half-tucked, my jaw shivering.

“You’re dead,” I said.

She sighed. “Yeah.”

“I’m dead?”

“Not yet.” 

“Oh.” I sniffled. “Then. . . why are you here?”

Eleanor’s face was unnaturally calm. I almost wished she was angry. It would be familiar, at least. But all she did was roll her eyes to high heaven.

“You do realize what happened to me, right?”

I swallowed down my other questions and gave a weak nod. “You and Eris were dating. . . or something.”

“Yes.”

“But then you died.” I paused, thinking hard. “Wait— did she kill you?”

Eleanor rapped the side of my head. I groaned.

“We don’t have long,” she said. “But I’m going to start at the beginning, okay brat?”

She grinned at me, like she was teasing, but no part of me was able to express anything but fear or dread. I just shivered, and hummed yes.

Eleanor told her story.