Page 35 of Touch of Class

“Long story short.” Brooke cut her off. “Road trip, lake effect snow, we all lived to tell the parts of the tale fit for public consumption.”

Gillian held her breath, afraid the subpar explanation wouldn’t hold. Not that she didn’t still have a few burning questions of her own, but this was neither the time nor the place, nor the company in which she wanted to ask them.

Still, Daphne stared at Brooke waiting for more, and even Gillian had to admit she may’ve faltered having those dark eyes on her with such earnest interest. She was beautiful. There was no two ways about it, and the ethereal attire only added to her naturally soft figure, all curvy and cozy with her dark curls creating a kind of halo effect in the dimming light. She’d always been the kind of person who pulled people in, and Gillian couldn’t blame anyone for being lulled into a false sense of security. She’d been tempted one time, too.

Brooke, on the other hand, either had superhuman boundaries, or she didn’t notice Daphne’s hypnotic power because she saw only Tegan in every room. Gillian suspected the latter was true as her best friend turned and kissed her love sweetly on the cheek, making their Buttercup and Farmboy costumes from The Princess Bride even more adorable than they had been all night.

Then, as if to further transition away from the topic, Brooke turned to Gillian and asked, “What are the preliminary findings of your research?”

Gillian could’ve kissed her for the segue. “In a surprise to apparently no one here, the traditional candy is most popular across the board, but two subsets have emerged as statistically significant outliers.”

“God, I love it when you talk all academic and shit,” Robin said. “Tell us more.”

“Children dressed as teachers, historical figures, politicians, or book characters are more likely to choose the fruit snacks than the general population.”

“Aw, G-Thang, you found your people.” Robin bumped her shoulder with her own. “Who picks the potatoes?”

“Shockingly, there’s enough data to suggest a correlation there, too.” Gillian shook her head. “I can’t believe any child would choose a potato over chocolate, but this is why we study data over our own assumptions.”

“Do we?” Sawyer muttered.

“Obviously, it’s no double-blind study.” Gillian tried not to be too sad about that. “But I’ve kept a running list of kids who pick potatoes, and they’re often dressed as abstract or absurd things, or sometimes as cartoon-type villains.”

“Oh yeah, the kid dressed as a bed did pick a potato,” Tegan said.

“And so did the little Mad Hatter,” Brooke added. “What about the kid dressed as a toilet?”

“Also potato,” Gillian confirmed, checking to confirm more than half the bag was gone.

“But the little Jane Goodall went for the fruit snacks?” Daphne doubled-checked.

“A woman after my own heart,” Gillian confirmed. “Hey, here comes a George Washington. Let’s sit back and observe.”

Everyone did a rather conspicuous job of trying to act casual as the kid stepped up to their table, powdered wig and tricorn hat slightly askew as he surveyed his options.

“Take whatever you like best,” Gillian coached in a soothing voice.

The kid’s eyes landed on the small stack of potatoes and went wide. “Cool.”

“Donnavan,” his mother warned gently.

“It’s hilarious.” He dropped one in his bag, causing his parents to frown, and Gillian had to school her own expression, though likely for different reasons.

“He’s been picking up absurd things all night,” his father explained sheepishly. “He’s got two rocks and three vegetables. He doesn’t even like vegetables.”

Gillian inspected his costume once more, from the open Revolutionary War jacket to the faux riding boots. Maybe she needed to adjust her findings.

As if reading her mind, Sawyer stepped forward, crouching to make themself eye-level with the kid. “Hey Donnavan, I love this for you. Keep bringing those chaotic neutral vibes, but in the meantime, will you tell me what you really wanted to be for Halloween?”

The kid’s eyes lit up. “I wanted to be The Joker from Batman, the grown-up one with the messed up makeup. They made me wear my brother’s boring old costume!”

Sawyer grinned. “I thought so.”

“We don’t do violent movies,” his mother explained quickly. “He hasn’t even seen the adult Batman movies. He’s only seven.”

“Totally understandable,” Gillian said.

“I’ve heard sometimes you can shoot potatoes out of special guns,” Donnavan said to Sawyer.