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Last Ride
HALLOWEEN
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
HARMONY
The bass from Blaire’s sound system vibrates through the floorboards of her parents’ enormous estate, shaking the alcohol in my cup.
Half the senior class is crammed into the living room under fake cobwebs and dim red lighting, their Solo cups sloshing with cheap vodka because, of course, her parents locked the good stuff up tight.
None of us would be caught dead at Blackwood’s wholesome, boring fall carnival downtown. That’s for middle schoolers, old people, and tourists.
Blaire, Tre, Bryan, and I decided this year, Halloween belongs entirely to us.
The four of us take over the plush velvet sofa in the corner of the living room like we own the place.
Because we do.
“Drink up, Harm. You’re lagging.” Tre laughs, throwing his heavy arm around my shoulder and tilting a bottle of the clear liquor over my glass.
“I’m pacing myself. We still have a long night ahead of us.” I lean back into the cushions as Blaire stands and walks over to adjust her sexy as hell devil costume in the hallway mirror nearby.
Bryan leans in from the footstool, a dark, wicked smirk spreading across his face. “Year three of the main event. Who’s the target victim tonight? Stranded college kid? Lost tourists?”
Blaire rejoins us, dropping onto the arm of the sofa as she swirls her drink.
“Whoever’s dumb enough to walk Blackwood Highway after midnight. I’ve got the passenger panic routine on lock. If we find a guy, I’m doing the—” She feigns a frightened expression. “— ‘my ex-boyfriend is tracking my phone’ script. Works every time.”
“Just make sure Harm doesn’t miss the logging road turn like last year.” Tre grins, shoving my shoulder playfully. “We almost didn’t scare that hitchhiker badly enough before we dumped him out in the pines.”
“I didn’t miss the turn. I was letting the tension build. You have to give them at least ten minutes of wrong turns before you make them think they’re being kidnapped.” I coolly take a sip of my drink.
We all laugh, the familiar thrill of The Last Ride warming my chest.
It’s mean, cruel, and completely ruthless—and that’s exactly why we’ve done it every Halloween for the last three years without ever getting caught.
“Harmony,” a thin, squeaky voice cuts through the thumping music.
I tilt my head back, my bored sneer slipping back into place before I even see his face.
Noah stands there in his oversized thrift-store coat, looking like a wet rat that wandered into the wrong house.
“Not now, Mouse.” I don’t bother lifting my head off the cushions. “Go find the loner’s corner.”
Tre snorts into his cup, and Bryan shoos him away with a wave of his hand. “Run along, dweeb.”
“I know your secret. I know what you’ve been doing, Harmony. I found out. I’m going to tell everyone,” Noah says, his mousy voice cracking on the last word.
That awkwardly creepy air rolls off him, making me glare at him with apathy.
He steps closer, his knuckles turning white as he clutches his phone tight against his chest.
I push off the sofa and step right into his space, towering over him in my heels.
Blaire walks up behind me, keeping her voice sweet and poison-laced. “Whatever you think you have… no one will believe you, Mouse. You’re a nobody. Now walk away before I throw you out.”
I pivot, walking back to the couch.
