Our newly adopted friends huddled around a cluster of carved wooden benches beneath a stone archway that they’d claimed as their own. One thing that hadn’t changed was their territorial nature. If any outsiders accidentally strayed into our area, they didn’t linger long. The glaring looks of disapproval that flew in their direction were usually enough to drive them away. Gray clouds rolled ominously overhead, but the girls never went inside unless there was absolutely no alternative. As usual they sat with their hair perfectly coiffed and their skirts hitched up, soaking up the weak rays of sunlight that dipped and wavered behind the clouds, washing the courtyard in a soft, dappled light. Any opportunity to work on their tans could not be missed.
The Halloween party on Friday had served to lift everyone’s spirits and generate a lot of excitement. It was being held at an abandoned estate just out of town that belonged to the family of one of the seniors, Austin Knox. His great-grandfather Thomas Knox had built the house in 1868, several years after the Civil War ended. He was one of the town’s original founders and although the Knox family hadn’t visited the place in years, historical landmark laws protected it from demolition. So it had remained vacant and uninhabited over the years. It was a run-down, old country homestead with deep porches on every side, surrounded by nothing but fields and a deserted highway. The locals called it the Boo Radley House — nobody ever went in or out — and Austin claimed he’d even seen his great-grandfather’s ghost standing at one of the upstairs windows. According to Molly, it was perfect party material; nobody ever passed that way except for people who’d taken a wrong turn on a road trip or the occasional trucker. Plus, it was well enough away from town that nobody could complain about the noise. It had originally started out as a small gathering, but word had somehow gotten out and now the whole school was talking about it. Even some of the better-connected sophomores had managed to score an invite.
I sat next to Molly, whose titian curls were wound on top of her head in a loose bun. Without makeup she had the face of a china doll with wide sky blue eyes and rosebud lips. She couldn’t resist a slick of lip gloss, but aside from that, she’d pared everything back in her attempt to win favor with Gabriel. I’d expected by now she’d be over the hopeless crush she had on my brother, but so far her feelings for him only seemed to have intensified.
I preferred Molly without makeup; I liked the way she looked her age rather than someone ten years older.
“I’m going as a naughty schoolgirl,” Abigail announced.
“In other words you’re going as yourself?” Molly said with a snort.
“Let’s hear your great idea then ….”
“I’m going as Tinker Bell.”
“As who?”
“The fairy from Peter Pan.”
“This isn’t fair,” Madison whined. “We made a pact to all go as Playboy Bunnies!”
“Bunnies are old.” Molly tossed her head. “Not to mention trashy.”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, “but aren’t the costumes supposed to be scary?”
“Oh, Bethie,” Savannah said with a sigh. “Have we taught you nothing?”
I smiled sheepishly. “Refresh my memory?”
“Basically the whole thing is just one massive—,” Hallie began.
“Let’s just say it’s an opportunity for us to mingle with the opposite sex,” Molly cut in, shooting Hallie a sharp look. “Your costume needs to be scary and sexy.”
“Did you know Halloween used to be about Samhain?” I said. “People were really scared of it.”
“Who’s Sam Hen?” Hallie looked baffled.
“Not who … what,” I said. “It’s different in every culture. But essentially, people believe it’s the one night of the year when the world of the dead meets the world of the living; when the dead can walk among us and possess our bodies. People would dress up to trick them into staying away.”
The group stared at me with newfound respect.
“Oh my God, Bethie.” Savannah shivered. “Way to freak us all out.”
“Do you remember when we had that séance in seventh grade?” Abigail asked. The others nodded enthusiastically as they recalled the event.
“You had a what!” I spluttered, barely able to disguise my disbelief.
“A séance, it’s when you …”
“I know what it is,” I said. “But you shouldn’t mess around with that stuff.”
“I told you, Abby!” Hallie exclaimed. “I told you it was dangerous. Remember how the door slammed shut?”
“Yeah, only because your mom shut it,” Madison hit back.
“She couldn’t have. She was in bed asleep the whole time.”
“Whatever. I’m thinking we should try it again on Friday.”
Abigail waggled her eyebrows mischievously. “What do you say, girls? Who’s in?”
“Not me,” I said resolutely. “I’m not getting mixed up in that.”
The looks they exchanged suggested they were unconvinced by my refusal.
“THEY’RE so childish,” I complained to Xavier as we walked to French class together. Doors slammed, announcements rang over the loudspeaker, and chatter flowed freely around us, but Xavier and I were locked in our own world. “They want to hold a séance and go dressed as bunnies.”
“What kind of bunnies?” he asked suspiciously.
“Playboy, I think. Whatever that means.”
“That sounds about right.” Xavier laughed. “But don’t let them talk you into anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”
“They’re my friends.”
“So what?” He shrugged. “If your friends walked off a cliff, would you do it too?”
“Why would they walk off a cliff?” I asked in alarm. “Is someone having problems at home?”
Xavier laughed. “It’s just an expression.”
“It’s silly,” I told him. “Do you think I should go as an angel? Like in the film version of Romeo and Juliet?”
“There would be a certain irony in that,” Xavier said, smirking. “An angel posing as a human posing as an angel. I like it.”
Mr. Collins glared at us as we arrived and took our seats. He seemed to resent our closeness and I couldn’t help but wonder whether his history of three failed marriages had left him a little jaded about love.
“I hope the two of you will descend from your love bubble long enough to learn something today,” he sniped cuttingly and the other kids snickered. Embarrassed, I ducked my head to avoid eye contact with them.
“It’s all right, sir,” Xavier replied. “The bubble’s been engineered to allow us to learn from within it.”
“You’re very amusing, Woods,” Mr. Collins said. “But the classroom is not the place for romance. When it all ends in heartbreak, your grades will pay the price. L’amour est comme un sablier, avec le cœur remplir le vide du cerveau.”
I recognized the quote from the French writer Jules Renard. Translated it meant: “Love is like an hourglass, with the heart filling up as the brain empties.” I hated his smug certainty, as if he knew for a fact our relationship was doomed. I opened my mouth to protest, but Xavier touched my hand under the table and leaned across to whisper in my ear.
“It’s probably not the best idea to get fresh with the teachers who’ll be grading our final papers.”