Page 2 of A Very Gay Halloween
It's hard to imagine what he must have thought. One second we were friends, the next, I was acting like he killed my puppy.
He did ask why. Twice. After that, he gave up, keeping his distance, throwing confused glances my way.
On Saturday, I received two bids—one I was ready to die for, the second, my backup plan. I waited until the last second to find out which one Cooper picked. Kappa Tau. My dream. Naturally, I went with my backup option, a rivaling frat, less prestigious, less desirable, less than. It did have one thing going for it, though—Cooper wasn't in it, and I no longer needed a reason to be openly antagonistic.
By the end of the following week, Cooper hated me too.
***
A SOFT CHIME breaks out of the speakers, interrupting my train of thought, which means one thing—showtime.
Good. The sooner we get it over with, the better.
I step deeper into my nook just as the sparse lights go out and darkness consumes everything around me. I move the heavy, black curtain so that the nook blends with the wall and blindly reach behind me to make sure my exit route is good and ready for the fifteenth time. The last thing I need is for Cooper to give me shit for not making it on time like he has twice during last night's rehearsal. He's petty enough to take this shit seriously.
Ambient sounds break out from the speakers—gushing wind, crows, and hinges squeaking. From a distance I can hear Donna's voice, explaining the rules to the first of three groups, scheduled to come in fifteen minutes apart. A show for a single group should last about an hour, which means we need to circulate, finding our posts in the dark, three different times.
I squat and go by ear. Giggles and whispers of the first group grow closer as I wait. Finally, I can hear their footsteps and move the edge of the curtain with my finger. The only source of light appears at the end of the makeshift corridor—a tiny flashlight held by whoever's walking first, doing jack shit to illuminate the space, but helping the actors know where people are.
The second the person with the light walks past me, I poke my hand out and blindly grab a random ankle, brushing against two others in the process. Chaos ensues—yelps and gasps and a single high-pitched scream, followed by a few giggles. I pull my hand back momentarily, wait two seconds until a sound of thunder breaks from the speakers, and use it as a decoy to open the door behind me and quietly close and lock it, the group already fiddling with the curtain.
One down.
I rush down the maze of hallways to my next post where I press my back against the wall, blending in. Then, I wait. They should be here in about three minutes.
I lean against the wall and immediately jump away from it as a spiderweb I forgot about brushes against my arm. It's fake, but still. Ugh.
The group emerges from around the corner, and this time giggles are replaced by panting and curses, which means Justin nailed his job. The faint light from the flashlight marks the spot, and once I establish they're about halfway, I grab my own, proper flashlight from the pocket of my apron with one hand, and a faux axe with the other. I press the flashlight to my chest, and then simultaneously jump forward, turn the light on so that it illuminates my makeup-covered face in a disturbing way, and do my best to produce the most guttural sound I can muster. A symphony of screams breaks out from the group as I make my way toward them, slowly, giving them time to back away.
Miraculously, it works, and the group scrambles backwards, screaming and laughing until they're out of my dead-end corridor.
Last one, then rinse and repeat.
I kill the light and exit the corridor once they're gone and make my way in the dark, hoping memory doesn't fail me now. Left, left, right, left—
"Fuck," I snarl as I bump into something that wasn't supposed to be there.
Another flashlight turns on, momentarily blinding me. I squint, covering my face with my arm.
"Watch it!"
I don't need to see the face to know whose voice it is.
The audacity of this guy, I swear.
I lower my hand once my eyes adjust to the blinding light he's shining directly onto my face. On purpose, I'm sure. "You're not supposed to be here," I snarl.
"You sure about that?" The light vacates my face and moves to illuminate a barred gate to our left.Shit. "Idiot."
I grip my props so hard I'm giving myself calluses. Yeah, so I fucked up. It doesn't change the fact that I want to punch him square in the jaw.
"Whatever," I mumble, walk past him, and march to the end of the hallway reaching for a handle that isn't there.
I turn on my flashlight and my eyes are met with a solid wall.
Oh, give me a fucking break.
Sighing, I roll my eyes and turn on my heel until my eyes meet Cooper's gloating face. "I'm lost, I guess," I somehow manage to speak through clenched teeth. There goes my pride.
