Page 14 of No Bones About It

While the other members crowd around her form on the floor, the quiet man with the round glasses still sitting at the end speaks up. “Well, I guess that’s that.”

He throws me a quick wink, and a smile spreads across my face.

Dawn sweeps me into a hug and squeals into my ear, “Tori! You are a Spooky Bitch!”

We laugh and hug and then I let the crowd sweep me out along with them and back to my house. The way back is full of laughs and cheers. So many strangers-turned-friends want a fist bump or a high five. People are asking about the photo shoots with him and if I set up a Go Fund Me yet.

And although the smile stays plastered to my face and I answer their questions enthusiastically, a small piece inside of me is just a little sad that it isn’t just the two of us anymore. Now it’s me and BJ and the HOA and the Spooky Bitches and and and….

Although I want to be selfish and keep him to myself, I’m also still grateful for this incredible outpouring of support. So when we reach the house, I open the gate, and my yard is filled with an impromptu party. I guess the sunglasses and mardi gras style beads had been the right choice for BJ today, because now they fit right in.

Before too long, someone rolls a keg into the yard, and boxes of pizza show up. I keep my protective spot standing between BJ’s feet as people bring me food and red solo cups full of warm beer.

My mind is still reeling at the whiplash from standing alone at my kitchen sink to partying with a few hundred new friends. Just as I’m trying to think of how I can get some alone time and convince everyone it’s time to go home, flashing lights announce the return of the cops.

The same two officers from earlier peer over the gate, shining their flashlights at the crowd. Before things can get out of hand, I walk over to intercept them.

“Evening officers. What can I do for you?” I say.

They both look relieved to see me instead of Dawn. The older one says, “Ma’am. It’s ten at night, and your neighborhood does have a noise ordinance.”

I give him a grateful smile. “No problem, officer. We were just wrapping up.”

He tips his hat at me and leaves.

I spin around and spy Dawn in the crowd. I wave her over and say, “Hey, I hate to be a party pooper but it's time to wrap things up.”

“No problem, spooky sister.” Raising the bullhorn she announces, “Come on people. Next stop, 128 Orchard Lane!”

She leads them out like the pied piper, and outside of a few solo cups, I’m impressed at how little the crowd leaves behind. I walk over to BJ and slide my back down his leg to sit between his feet.

“Finally, now that we’re alone, I can tell you what happened,” I say with a jaw-splitting yawn. I lie down so I can look up at him with the starry sky behind him. “What a view.”

I tell him everything that transpired over the past few hours, my yawns coming more often while my blinks are slower. And even though the crowd is gone and it’s just me and Mr. Bonejangles, I don’t feel alone at all.

Chapter

Seven

The breaking light of dawn has my eyes fluttering open. My first thought is that the world is a strange color. I blink a few times before I realize the unusual hue is a result of the giant sunglasses that I am wearing.

I pull them off and then shift my gaze to BJ. I have no recollection of taking them off of him and putting them on me. Not only was I not drunk to where I wouldn’t have remembered that, but I also would have had to go to the garage and get the ladder. And there’s no way I could have done that while sleeping. Plus, I’ve never sleepwalked in my life.

I look down at the sunglasses and then back up to Mr. Bonejangles.

“Did you put these on me?” I ask, blinking up at him in the morning light. Of course no answer comes. At least not verbally.

And then the LED eyes shift down to look at me instead of staring straight ahead. I drop the sunglasses, my hand darting up to cover my mouth. But when his giant skull angles down toward me, I walk backwards until my back hits the fence. I blink hard, sure this is just a trick of the light or maybe my overactive imagination.

That night in the kitchen I thought he was watching me, but when I looked again his eyes were dark, just as they should have been. Sure, I thought he had saved me from falling, and then again I thought he had comforted me when I was crying, but that was easy enough to convince myself I was imagining it all. A lonely woman’s mind, manufacturing comfort and kindness in the face of loneliness and need.

I blink, hard. But there is no doubt, his eyes remain locked on mine, head angled down. I am not imagining this. This is the first time I saw him move.

“Oh, shit,” I squeal, and cringe backwards.

His eyes change to a wide, panic-stricken look, and then to my ultimate shock, Mr. Bonejangles moves not just his eyes, not just his head, but his whole skeletal frame. He walks forward right off the metal base until the electrical cord goes taut and then pops right off.

Even without power, his eyes remain lit, and he keeps moving until he reaches me. His knees bend and hips flex until he kneels down in front of me, staring with pleading eyes. His arms stretch out towards me as if he wants to come to me, but is approaching me like a scared pup.