Page 140 of Hockey Halloween
I revert to my normal voice. “You’ve got slim black dress pants, right? Or suit pants? We can tuck them into your boots and they’ll look like breeches.” I lift one of the high black boots.
My roommates stare like I’ve sprouted another head.
“How do you know all this shit, Swanny?” Bergy asks.
“In high school, I played Willoughby inSense and Sensibility.” At their blank faces, I add, “You know, Jane Austen?” Obviously, they’re unfamiliar with the story of two recently impoverished sisters searching for love.
Mats follows my directions and changes into his own pants. As he dresses, he points to the bed. “What’s that white bandage for?”
“That’s your cravat. I’ll tie it up for you.” I finger the fabric, remembering the costume I wore. Our first dress rehearsal made the play feel more real, more epic, our English accents suddenly proper rather than silly. I pull up Mats’s collar, wind the cravat around his throat, and tie it. I hold out his brocade vest, and he slips his arms in.
“Finally, your tailcoat.” I hold up the black tailored jacket. Lana has a great eye for detail and a big wallet. This costume is much nicer than the homemade ones we had in high school.
“All those layers. You’re going to boil.” Bergy shakes his head.
Mats sighs. “Last year I was a ninja. It took me five minutes to get ready.”
I look enviously at his unruly dark hair—perfect pirate hair. “Maybe put some product in your hair and smooth it back a bit.”
He nods. “Thanks, Swanny. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Are we ready to go?” Jack Sinclair looms in the doorway, probably because he can’t come in. He’s wearing an enormous shark costume that takes his height from 6’2” to well over seven feet. Sinc is obsessed with sharks, so this costume isn’t a huge surprise. It seems his secret desire is to be a five-year-old. But I respect the effort; his costume took some serious engineering. He’s wearing the entire body of a shark with his face emerging from the mouth.
“Aren’t sharks grey? Why are you pale yellow?” Bergy asks. “You look like an unripe banana.”
“I’m a lemon shark,” Sinc explains. “It’s my favourite shark. They’re very social and hang out in groups.”
Nobody asks another question since once Sinc starts talking about sharks, we could be here for hours.
“Let’s get going. The sooner Lana sees me, the sooner I can shed some layers.” Mats is in a much better mood now that I’ve fixed his costume.
We hurry through the chilly Minnesota night to the big frat house where the party is taking place. It’s an annual tradition and one of the biggest blowouts of the year.
“So…all kinds of students will be there, right?” Sinc asks.
“Time to forget that wench, matey,” I reply, getting back into character. Sinc has a crush on some woman that he met a couple of weeks ago. But when he asked her out, she turned him down flat.
Bergy agrees. “Yeah, move on. Like Socrates said, if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.”
Mats rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Bergy, those are song lyrics. Also it’ssoc-cra-teesnotsew-crates.”
Sinc shrugs. Obviously someone who disguises his good looks under a lemon shark costume doesn’t care about attracting the maximum number of women. “It’s tough to find someone you really like.”
Well, I can’t argue with that. I date, but it’s been a while since I’ve gotten serious about anyone.
We arrive at the frat house, which used to be a small hotel when tourists spent summers in the lakeside town of St. Viola. Luckily a couple of our teammates belong to this fraternity or we might nothave even been invited. If a frat throws a party, they’ve got enough men already. It’s women who are always welcome.
The place is decorated with glowing skeletons, giant cobwebs, and orange string lights. These guys go all out. We survey the packed living room. Apparently, everyone’s not-so-secret desire is to hook up. There are sexy witches, sexy nurses, and even sexy aliens.
Bergy whistles. “So many hot women here. Maybe I can put a few fires.” He plunges into the dancing masses.
Lana appears, looking like a Regency babe with a high wig and a low-cut ballgown. She extends her gloved hand. “My duke has arrived.”
Mats lifts her hand and kisses it. “You look radiant, my lady.”
So fucking smooth. He winks at us as she leads him away. Lana is gorgeous, but I prefer women who are less…princess-y. Sinc and I head over to a bar set up on the other side of the room.
“I don’t see Andy here,” he complains as we make our way across the room to where the drinks are. He’s craning his head around like a lifeguard at a shark-infested beach to find his big crush.
