I swallow against the tightness in my throat, my voice rough when I finally manage to speak. “I’m happy.”
Pressing her mouth into a hard line, Kendra cocks her head and gives me the look. The one that says I’d better not lie to her again, or else.
On the other side of me, Tate grabs my hand and squeezes it, her expression overflowing with compassion.
Even though I haven’t known these girls for years, they’re still my people. They know me. They get me. They care about me. The only other people I can say that about are my parents, but that’s different.
Even with all my oddities, they chose me as their family. And that thought pushes me over the edge, making my eyes fill.
“Come out with us,” Tate asks again, rubbing circles on my back. “I really think it will do you some good.”
“If we get there and you aren’t feeling it, we’ll leave,” Kendra adds, mistaking my hesitation for social anxiety, one of my go-to excuses for dodging events in the past. “We’ll come back and have our own little celebration. Right here in casa bonita,” she says, waving her hand in the air as if to showcase Tate’s light pink room with cracks in the wall as if it’s a palace rather than a rundown dump.
I want to go. I really do.
I’ve never actually been to a party. It feels like something I’d enjoy. But my parents’ warnings ring in my head: never put myself in a situation that might get out of control where I’ll accidentally use my magic. One of the keys to staying hidden in plain sight is to not let anyone know I have powers. Humans or creatures. We learned early on that stressful and chaotic situations sometimes cause me to lose control, so for years I’ve avoided them. And a college party feels like a recipe for exactly that.
But even so . . .
“I don’t even have anything to wear,” I say, my voice a bit wobbly.
Kendra hoots and jumps to her feet. “That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear.”
She bolts from the room and returns seconds later brandishing an opaque garment bag. Her grin is a wicked mix of maniacal glee and Cheshire-cat mischief. My brain screams to abort mission, but I tell it to shut up because my heart is already all-in.
If I don’t die tonight, my parents are probably going to kill me. But it might be worth it.
Walking into the party is like getting assaulted by a tsunami of sound, scent, and movement—but in the best way possible.
I crinkle my nose. Except for maybe the scent. My senses are more heightened than humans’, and I could absolutely do without the stench of sweat and cheap beer filling the air, but other than that I’m already entranced by the spectacle unfolding around me.
Dancing bodies, flashing lights, blaring music. There’s an energy in the air, a crackle of fevered excitement I’ve never felt before, and without even taking a drink I feel almost drunk on it all.
“I’m so sorry,” Tate yells into my ear to be heard over the noise. “I really didn’t think it would be quite this crazy.”
Tate looks perfect in her Evil Queen costume. Statuesque and curvy, the floor-length dress with a high and exaggerated collar fits her to perfection. Her long black hair is pulled up into a twist, with a plastic crown sitting atop her head. Her makeup is severe and dramatic, making her eyes pop and her lips look impossibly full. She’s been getting appreciative looks since before we even stepped into the house.
Kendra looks equally amazing in her wolf costume. She’s styled her braids into two space buns that are more triangular than round, making them look like ears. She’s wearing brown faux fur arm and leg warmers, and a tight bodycon dress in the same color. She’s painted whiskers on her face with liquid eyeliner to complete the look.
I think part of the reason she was so excited about my coming is that with my short apron dress and distinctive red hooded cape, our costumes are perfectly coordinated. Dressed as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, we make a fairy-tale power duo: me in the cape, her ready to huff, and puff, and blow the party down.
“No. I think it’s great,” I shout back to Tate, but she shakes her head and taps her ear, unable to hear me. I grin and give her a thumbs-up to let her know I’m okay.
The frat house is massive, and as we weave our way through the foyer and deeper inside, the crowd gets denser and the floor gets stickier. We pass through a room that’s decorated like a graveyard, with life-size coffins and foam tombstones with funny sayings on them like, “Here Lies Barry M. Deep” and “BRB.”
The next room looks like a deranged circus, with dummies dressed up like blood-splattered clowns, and a strobe light that makes it hard to see and walk in a straight line.
They must have set up interconnected speakers throughout the house, because the same music thumps in every room, making conversation difficult. But I don’t mind. I’m too busy taking it all in to talk anyway.
As we move from room to room, everyone seems to be having a great time, laughing, dancing, conversing, at least as much as possible with the bass loud enough to shake the house down. I don’t know where Tate and Kendra are leading me until we eventually end up on the back porch outside.
There are speakers set up out here as well, but without the walls to contain the music, it’s easier to have a conversation. It’s also where two kegs are set up, so there’s a winding line of partygoers waiting their turns with red Solo cups in hand. Small groups are also scattered over the back lawn, snippets of their boisterous conversations reaching my ears.
“Okay, this is extra,” Kendra says, fanning her face.
With the number of bodies crammed into each room, it’s muggy in the house. With her faux fur arm and leg warmers, she must be feeling it. In my floor-length cape, I certainly am.
It’s been uncharacteristically warm in West Virginia for this time of year, but there’s still enough nip in the air to feel good. I pull my hood off to let the slight breeze run through my hair.
