‘But I thought you were coming as a witch?’
‘I am a witch. A very discreet one.’
‘Wait here,’ she says, zipping out of the room.
She returns ten seconds later with a witch’s hat and cloak. ‘Borrowed from our little witchy friend on the landing,’ she says, grinning.
‘I’m fine like this,’ I say, taking a step backwards. I’m not remotely in the mood for dressing up.
‘But you’ll literally be the only person not in costume.’
She makes a point. The last thing I want to do tonight is stand out.
‘OK, fine,’ I say with an impatient sigh. ‘Witch me up.’
Tanvi grins and fastens the cloak around my neck, while I force the too-small hat on over my frizzy hair.
‘Much better!’ she declares.
I glance in the mirror. My stern face glares back at me. I need to snap out of it, but I don’t know how.
‘Do you think Emerson is already here?’ Tanvi asks as we head out onto the landing.
‘Who am I? A mind-reader?’ I snap. Tanvi’s eyes widen. ‘Sorry,’ I mutter. ‘It was just a dumb question.’
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Tanvi asks, tilting her head to one side.
Cue a whoosh of impatience. ‘Oh my God, I told you I was, didn’t I?’
Tanvi takes a tiny step backwards. ‘OK, OK,’ she says, holding up her hands in surrender. ‘I was just asking.’
I tug at the cape. Tanvi has tied it too tightly around my neck.
‘Come on, let’s get a drink,’ she says, taking my hand and gently leading me down the stairs.
‘What can I get you?’ Jack’s mum asks as we enter the kitchen. Dressed as Morticia Adams in a slinky black dress and long black wig, she’s standing guard over the alcohol supply. ‘Beer? Cider? Fruity wine? Just one each now.’
‘Do you have any Coke or lemonade or anything?’ Tanvi asks.
‘Of course,’ Jack’s mum replies, pointing to a selection of soft drinks further along the counter. ‘Help yourself.’
As Tanvi reaches for a bottle of lemonade, I pick up a can of cider.
‘I didn’t know you drank,’ Tanvi says, pouring a glug of lemonade into a flimsy plastic cup.
‘You don’t know everything about me,’ I say, opening my can.
‘OK,’ Tanvi says uncertainly. ‘Um, cheers then. To Halloween.’
‘To Halloween,’ I echo, pressing my can against Tanvi’s cup and taking a sip. It’s fizzier than I was anticipating, the bubbles tickling my nostrils.
Tanvi sneezes again, lemonade sloshing over the rim of her cup.
‘Bless me,’ she says, wiping her wet hand on her leggings. ‘C’mon, let’s go explore.’
I take another sip of cider and follow.
We’ve barely taken two steps when Tanvi is accosted by Georgia and Zahra. Like Tanvi, they’re dressed as cats, but of the ‘sexy’ variety, their ears and tails teamed with fishnet tights and high heels that make them totter on the spot.
‘Tanvi!’ Georgia cries. ‘You look sooooooo cute!’
Thanks!’ Tanvi says happily.
She’s stopped a further three times before we even reach the living room. Everyone seems delighted to see Tanvi, dishing out compliments for her costume and hair and make-up and telling her how ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ she looks, like she’s their plucky little mascot, to be praised and preened and patted on the head. And in return she grins and giggles and makes easy small talk. She manages to make it look so easy. The whole time, I keep waiting for her to sneak a conspiratorial eye roll in my direction, but I may as well be invisible for all the attention she’s paying me. I take another gulp of cider. The first few mouthfuls were kind of gross, but I’m starting to get used to it now, the can quickly growing lighter in my hand.
We’re about to enter the living room when Marissa bursts through the front door dressed as a zombie cheerleader, shrieking Tanvi’s name at the top of her voice.
‘I’m going to go to the loo,’ I say, stepping aside just in time for Marissa to throw herself into Tanvi’s arms.
I duck into the downstairs toilet and lock the door behind me. Sitting on the lowered toilet seat, I finish off my can of cider, and wonder how long I can realistically hide out here before anyone notices I’m missing. It’s not like Tanvi needs me or anything – the past ten minutes have made that quite clear. I felt more like her grumpy bodyguard than her friend just now. I check the time. Still over three hours until my lift home.
The door handle starts to rattle.
‘Hang on!’ I call, standing up.
I leave the bathroom and head back to the kitchen. Jack’s mum doesn’t seem to recognize me, letting me help myself to a second can, no questions asked. I open it and go into the living room to look for Tanvi. ‘Thriller’ by Michael Jackson is blasting from the speakers and even though it’s still early, almost everyone is dancing.
I make my way around the edge of the room, holding my cider close to my chest as I try to spot Tanvi in the crowd.
I clamber up on a chair for a better view. From my new vantage point, I zone in on Tanvi almost immediately. She’s right in the middle of the throng, perfectly executing the dance moves from the ‘Thriller’ video, every step crisp and sharp. I suddenly understood why Tanvi had been so keen to play Just Dance on the PlayStation at the Diwali party – she’s a really, really good dancer. A circle begins to form around her as people attempt to mirror her moves with varying degrees of success.
When the song comes to an end, the crowd bursts into wild applause. Someone starts chanting ‘Go, Tanvi, go, Tanvi!’ and within seconds the whole room has joined in. Tanvi laps it up, launching into the running man, pumping her arms and legs in time with the chanting, the noise building to a crescendo.
Tanvi spots me and waves. ‘Come dance!’ she yells over the delighted roar of the crowd as the introduction to ‘Disturbia’ by Rihanna kicks in.
I shake my head furiously. I don’t dance and have no intention of starting now.
Tanvi presses her hands together in prayer position and flutters her eyelashes. The chorus saves me, kicking in before I can respond. I watch as Tanvi gets lost in the music, grinding and writhing in a way that manages to look both alien and totally natural at the exact same time. Various boys take it in turns to dance near her, their clumsy attempts to replicate her moves only emphasizing just how good a dancer she is.
I notice Emerson hovering by the fireplace, his eyes fixed on Tanvi. He puts down his drink and edges towards her, his face nervous yet determined. When he taps her on the shoulder, Tanvi whirls round and breaks into a smile so dazzling it could probably power the national grid.
Tanvi is the undisputed star of the party. She doesn’t need a wingwoman; she doesn’t need me to be here one bit.
As Tanvi and Emerson begin to dance, someone bangs into the chair I’m standing on. I choose to jump before I fall but misjudge the distance, my legs somehow managing to get tangled in the legs of the chair. I end up sprawled on the carpet, the chair wrapped round my ankles, my can of cider rolling out of reach, golden liquid fizzing on the carpet.
‘You OK?’
I look up. Jamie’s upside-down face is peering down at me, a blood-splattered surgical mask covering his mouth. He reaches out his hand. Reluctantly, I take it and let him pull me to my feet, dropping it the moment I’m vertical.
‘I’ll get you a new drink,’ he says. ‘Be right back.’
I wait until he’s left the room before darting into the hallway. I try the door to the downstairs loo but it’s locked and the main bathroom upstairs has been designated ‘out of bounds’.
Out of hiding places, I huddle on the stairs, watching through the bannisters as the party unfolds below. Tanvi and Emerson have migrated to the sofa where they’re deep in animated conversation.
God, I wish Noah was here. I wonder if he’s having an OK time with his dad. I texted him earlier to ask how they were getting on, but he hasn’t r
eplied yet. I take out my phone and am in the middle of composing a message when a voice makes me jump.
‘There you are.’ Jamie is standing at the bottom of the stairs holding a drink in each fist. I swallow as he comes and sits down next to me, pressing one of the plastic cups into my hand.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
He lowers his mask. ‘Voddy and coke,’ he replies. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ I murmur.
Jamie downs his drink in one gulp. I sniff mine before taking a sip. It’s horrible, like Coke gone rotten.
‘I’m sorry, by the way,’ Jamie says, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
‘Sorry?’ I repeat.
‘Yeah,’ Jamie says, crushing his cup with his fist. ‘The last time we talked, I think I acted like a bit of a dickhead.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say. Because what else can I say? The last thing I want is for him to think it was a big deal.
‘Honestly?’ Jamie asks.
I’m surprised by how earnest he looks. ‘Jamie, it was ages ago,’ I say. ‘I can’t believe you even remember it.’
I’m shocked over how cool I sound. It’s like I’ve been body-snatched.
‘Oh, OK,’ Jamie says. ‘Well, that’s good then.’
There’s a pause. The fake blood on Jamie’s hospital scrubs smells sweet and sugary. It makes me want to gag a little.
‘You come on your own?’ he asks.
‘No, with Tanvi.’
‘That girl who was dancing just now?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Why weren’t you dancing too?’
‘I don’t dance.’
‘What, ever?’
‘Nope.’
‘Not even if your life depended on it?’
‘Even then.’
‘Hardcore.’
We’re interrupted by Ethan Beard yelling Jamie’s name. ‘You coming or what?’ he calls from the bottom of the stairs.
‘Just getting my stuff,’ Jamie calls back, standing up.
‘OK. Well, we’ll be outside.’
‘You want to come?’ Jamie asks, standing up.
‘Where?’ I ask, taking another sip of my drink. Unlike the cider, it’s not growing on me one bit and I have to force it down.
‘Trick or treating,’ Jamie replies.
‘Isn’t that for little kids?’
‘Not the way we do it.’
‘Nah, you’re all right, thanks.’
‘Oh, go on, it’ll be a laugh. I mean, what you gonna do otherwise?’ he says, nudging my calf with foot.
I glance through the bannisters. Tanvi and Emerson are still on the sofa. Tanvi’s legs are draped over Emerson’s and he’s stroking her bare ankle. What was it she said? I had to come tonight because ‘we’re a team’? Some team. I could probably set myself on fire right now and Tanvi wouldn’t notice.
I pick up my drink, down it in one and turn back to Jamie.
‘Go on then.’
After all, what have I got to lose?
31
Five minutes later, Jamie and I join Ethan and six other kids from our year on the driveway – Ryan Attah, Max O’Brien, Jacob Shapiro, Andrew Seal, Sienna Blake and Cassie Harris.
Popular kids. The sort I usually go out of my way to avoid.
I’m surprised at how wobbly I feel. It can’t be the drink, can it? All I’ve had is a bit of cider and that tiny cup of something and Coke.
‘What’s she doing here?’ Ethan demands.
‘I said she could come along,’ Jamie says, puffing out his chest.
Ethan’s eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. ‘Fine,’ he says. ‘She’ll have to share your supplies though.’
‘No problem,’ Jamie agrees.
‘Supplies?’ I ask.
Sienna makes a big show of rolling her eyes.
‘Yeah,’ Jamie says. ‘You know, loo roll, flour, eggs …’
‘Oh, right,’ I murmur, trying to style it out. ‘Course.’ I’ve never been trick or treating before – yet another childhood rite of passage I missed out on.
‘Right,’ Ethan says. ‘So, here’s the plan.’
We huddle around him.
‘We’re gonna start at Bagshot’s house—’
‘Are you sure he’s out?’ Sienna interrupts. ‘Because I’m not going anywhere near the place if there’s a chance he’s gonna be at home.’
‘I told you,’ Ethan says. ‘He plays bridge on Friday nights. My gran belongs to the same club and she reckons he’s not missed a session in like twenty years.’
‘You better be right,’ Sienna says darkly.
‘Where after that?’ Andrew asks.
‘Paige’s house,’ Sienna says.
I frown. Paige is at the party. I saw her dancing a bit ago, dressed as an angel complete with white feathery wings and a silver tinsel halo. Why would Sienna want to egg and flour her house? They’re mates.
‘What did she do again?’ Max asks.
‘Are you joking me?’ Sienna demands, her hands on her hips. ‘She got off with Theo while I was at my great-nana’s funeral.’
‘And she tried to deny it,’ Cassie chimes in. ‘Even though half the year saw her sucking his face off at the ice rink.’
‘Who’s after that?’ Andrew asks.
‘Who do you think?’ Sienna says. ‘Theo, of course.’
Everyone creases up laughing. Apart from me. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what’s going on.
‘OK, everyone take one of these. I’ll tell you when to put them on,’ Ethan says, distributing a stack of cardboard masks. They’re all of different celebrities – Simon Cowell and Prince Harry and Beyoncé. I’m given a Meghan Markle one.
We set off through the dark streets.
‘Call me crazy,’ I say, falling into step with Jamie. ‘But this doesn’t seem like traditional trick or treating. It sounds like we’re just trashing people’s houses.’
I hate how nervous I sound, the cool girl from earlier nowhere to be seen.
‘Nah,’ Jamie replies. ‘It’s just a bit of fun. And it’s not like they don’t deserve it. That’s the whole point. Payback.’
‘Oh, right,’ I murmur, trying to block out the growing sense of unease in my belly.
‘Here,’ Jamie says, producing a two-litre plastic bottle from his backpack and passing it to me. ‘You’ll feel a bit better once you’ve had some of this.’
‘What’s in it?’ I ask, peering at the brownish liquid sloshing around in the bottle, its label (Sprite Zero) bearing no resemblance to the sludgy contents.
‘All the good stuff,’ Jamie replies.
Desperate to let my inner cool girl out again, I murmur, ‘Cool, my favourite,’ and take a massive swig.
Mr Bagshot’s is a large detached house near the leisure centre. We congregate on the pavement opposite and put on our masks. Mine is too big and keeps slipping down my face.
‘The lights just came on!’ Sienna shrieks, pointing up at the windows.
She’s right. Mr Bagshot’s house is suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree.
Ethan checks his watch. ‘Nine o’clock, bang on,’ he says. ‘I bet the lights are on a timer.’
Sienna frowns.
Ethan sighs and grips her by the shoulders. ‘Trust me, Senn,’ he says.
‘If you’re wrong, I will literally kill you,’ Sienna replies.
‘Everyone know what they’ve got to do?’ Ethan asks as I try to adjust the elastic on my mask.
The others nod.
‘OK then. Let’s do this. Time for ’ol Bagashit to finally get what’s been coming to him.’
Five minutes later, we’re running down the middle of the street, the soles of our shoes slapping against the tarmac. Ethan is hammering his fists against his chest like Tarzan, Jacob is riding on Jamie’s shoulders, and Sienna and Cassie are skipping hand-in-hand, squealing at the tops of their voices. Everyone is hollering and whooping and laughing.
Including me.
I
was hesitant at first, hanging back as the rest of the group started their assault on Mr Bagshot’s house.
It was Jamie who intervened. ‘Come on, Ro Snow,’ he said. ‘What you waiting for?’
The egg left my hand before I had time to think, smashing hard against Mr Bagshot’s living-room window. As it exploded, instead of fear or nerves or guilt, I felt a weird rush of satisfaction I hadn’t been expecting.
The same thing happens at Paige’s house. I’ve spent so long feeling scared, of hiding myself away – being on the other side for once feels good.
More than good.
It feels kind of great.
‘Where next?’ Ethan asks as Jamie’s bottle is passed around the group. ‘I reckon we’ve got enough supplies for one more house. We need to end on a high.’
I check the time. It’s flown. Tanvi’s dad is due to pick us up in just forty minutes.
‘I thought we were doing Theo’s?’ Max says.
‘Too far,’ Ethan says. ‘And way too obvious.’
‘Ms Cameron’s place?’ Andrew suggests.
‘Nah. If she recognized any of us we’d get crucified,’ Cassie says. ‘You know what she’s like.’
A few more names are thrown into the mix, but every one is dismissed as being either too far away or too risky or not deserving enough to be the grand finale of the night.
‘Hey, you,’ Ethan says. ‘Quiet girl. Any ideas?’
It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking to me.
For a split second, I consider offering up Dad’s house.
‘No, sorry,’ I say, swaying slightly and knocking into Sienna.
‘Uh-oh, someone’s wasted!’ she says in a singsong voice.
Wait, is she talking about me?
‘Maybe we should just quit while we’re ahead,’ Cassie says. ‘My boots are killing me.’
As everyone begins to talk at once, I realize I desperately don’t want to go back. Not yet. That’s why I’m relieved when Jamie shouts, ‘Hey, hey, I’ve got the perfect place.’
‘Where?’ Sienna demands.
He grins. ‘Just you wait and see.’
‘Are we nearly there yet?’ Cassie whines roughly ten minutes later.
‘Yeah, we’ve been walking for ages, Jamie,’ Max adds.
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