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Ivy lifts her frazzled head and looks at me over a teetering stack of books and papers. I’m not sure when she showered last. She’s been watching classes online and submitting everything electronically. “Hey.”
“We should do something,” I say. “Are you willing to play wingman? Woman? Whatever?”
Her eyes trace the piles surrounding her, burying her, and land on a whole red bell pepper sitting near the edge of the table. She picks it up and bites it like it’s an apple. The crunch is a little disturbing. She wipes a dribble of red juice from the corner of her mouth on her sleeve.
“You need a change of scene, my friend. I won’t expect you to have fun, but can we just get out for a bit?”
“And do what?”
“Uhh...”
An insistent knock at the door buys me some time to come up with an idea. It’s Tiffany, our energetic young neighbor.
“Hey, guys!” she says as I open the door, her perfectly straightened hair shimmering golden in the afternoon sunlight.
Ivy squints against the glare and takes another chomp out of her pepper, seeds scattering among the papers. I offer my own hello, but Tiffany silences me with a verbal barrage.
“A bunch of us are going to the Halloween party at the student center tonight and thought it would be so fun to be the Seven Dwarfs, but Brittney and Amanda got asked out, so now we only have five, and I was wondering if you two would come and round us out since we’re not going all-out, just T-shirts and beanies and if you have a pair of black jeans or something, but we really need a couple extras. Can you come?”
Finally, she draws a breath. I do not love Halloween, and I’m formulating my excuses when Ivy speaks from the table of gloom.
“Only if I can be Grumpy.”
I’m so shocked that Ivy volunteered for this that we arrive at the party before I can lodge any of my own complaints. First of all, I’ve drawn the short straw of having to wear a bright-orange T-shirt that is at least one size too small, not to mention it has the wordBASHFULblazoned across the most, um, prominent area. I am a walking oxymoron, bashfully, brazenly here to coax my dear friend from her doldrums by watching her embrace her Grumpy-ness in the presence of several hundred crazed collegians. The music is loud enough to render conversation difficult at best, and the other five Dwarfs have long since abandoned our group for the mosh pit in the middle of the student center parking lot. Safely positioned near the outer rim of hay bales that endeavors to contain the milling crowd, Grumpy is steady at my side but so immersed in her character that I have no expectation of breaking her out. At least it’s a dry campus. At least we’re out of the house.
I revise my earlier assessment of not loving Halloween to a deep loathing.
The only saving grace—no pun intended—is that they let me wear my favorite shorts and socks and hiking boots. Apparently, my hiking attire is Disney animation approved, though they did loan me some suspenders and a beanie in addition to the lovely shirt. And, if I’m entirely honest with myself, I must say I’m quite pleased with the way Tiffany fixed my hair, taming my unruly curls into some amazing waves flowing out from under the beanie with that deceptively effortless look I can never produce.
Thankfully, the party is outside and the night is absolutely splendid, with a clear sky and a bright first-quarter moon approaching its zenith. I draw the cool air into my lungs, hold it for a moment while I admire the lunar seas, and nearly succeed in blocking out the too-loud music until someone bumps into me.
I turn to find Amy—Noah’s hiking buddy—giggling through an apology and clinging to Noah’s arm. I tell her it’s all good and throw an eyebrow Noah’s way. I never would have pegged him as one who enjoys a giggler, but here they are together, again. He meets my brow raise with a tight smile, and I bite back a laugh. So maybe he isn’t a fan.
“It’s so funny that we’d meet you here!” Amy is saying, her high voice reaching new heights to be heard over the music. “I didn’t think you were a”—her eyes drop to my BASHFULness and widen before jumping back to my face and hair—“partykind of girl, but you never know, right, Noah?”
“Nnnope,” he says, straight-faced and drawing out then.
Amy squeezes his arm and grins as if he’s paid her the highest of compliments. I use the break in conversation to introduce Ivy, who offers a grumpy look and a slight head bob in response.
Amy leans in so she can marginally reduce her shouting. “She’s really into this, isn’t she?”
I nod enthusiastically, adopting Amy’s tone as my own. “She’s very into theater, so Halloween is, like, her favorite holiday.”
In my peripheral vision Noah looks away and coughs into his hand.
“Oh! Right! That’s so great!” Amy gestures to the matching blackHappy Halloweenshirts she and Noah are wearing. “I wanted to dress up, but I couldn’t come up with anything Noah would agree to, so we just went with these.” She leans in again. “Actually, I’m surprised I even talked him into this. I don’t think he really likes dressing up.”
Noah has found something very interesting on the other side of the parking lot.
“But I love your costumes! Where did you get them?” Amy glances again at BASHFUL, and I’m tempted to clock her. Or myself. I’m suddenly grateful for whatever Noah is interested in over there. Why, why did I allow myself to be talked into this?
Ivy throws some Grumpy-ness our way, saving me from responding. “Our neighbors needed someone to fill out their seven.”
“If only it had beenThe Magnificent Seven,” I mutter. I would much rather be dressed for the Wild West than in this awful shirt.
“Denzel Washington or Yul Brynner?” Noah asks, his attention suddenly back on me.
Interesting. I wouldn’t have pegged him as a fan of Westerns.
