Harrison Avenue // H.S.

"I think you're very ghoul"

                  

[Ellison]

Red sticky punch swirls in a bowl with plastic eyeballs peeking through as I move the large spoon to scoop the drink into my Halloween themed cup. The table is fit with a dark purple cloth and those fake spider webs that you can buy at the store, showing just a sliver of Mo's enthusiasm and dedication to this party she's been talking about for weeks.

Mo loves Halloween. I mean she loves it, enough to squish all of her friends, plus some, into her apartment with fog machines and strobe lights, and a strict requirement that all guests wear a costume of sorts to clear the entry that's playing Monster Mash on repeat.

I've always had a love hate relationship with parties. They used to be an excuse to escape, or more an excuse to drink and make stupid decisions. So in a lot of ways it felt like a party took something out of me... but it isn't like I didn't think they were fun and I did meet Harry at a party, so there's obviously good in that. Plus parties like this are far better, because I can use more than one hand to count the number of actual friends I have here unlike before. It also helps that our friends love this kind of thing because unlike most of them Harry and I are too young to go out to the bars.

So yes, the punch is spiked. And yes, Harry's wearing a costume... a Bob Ross one to be exact. We spent extra time perfecting a fro with his already curly hair... a lot of hair spray was involved.

"Boo!" I hear the familiar raspy voice, his hands gripping at my waist in an attempt to startle me.

It's loud in the room. The music is thumping and there are plenty of half-drunk conversations surrounding us, but his voice still stands out to me. His voice is still enough to grab my attention.

I shake my head slowly, a slight roll to my eyes before taking a sip from the cup in my hand and turning around to meet him. He has a fake beard, a light blue button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and one of my old paint palettes tucked under his armpit. While the beard is new and a little strange, Harry is anything but scary, especially when he stares at me with eyes filled with joy and a smile so big I feel like it'd hurt.

"You're not very scary, Harold," I shake my head again, staring up at him with the cup still pressed to my bottom lip. His hands aren't on my waist anymore, instead holding out the palette in one and putting his other hand on his hip as he pops his knee to the side to let out a puff air, clearly not enthused with my statement. "You look like my childhood hero, not going to get a scream out of me."

"Dammit," he gives me a disappointed look. "I've been working on that all night."

"You'll need to work harder then, buddy," I smile, patting him on the side of the arm. "Not an easy girl to scare here."

"Oh, I know," he draws the words out, acting as though it's obvious. "Been trying all my tricks today and so far the best I've got is, Harry, I can see you behind the door... go put a shirt on," he tries to mimic my voice, which makes me really hope that I don't sound like what he just attempted. "Don't know why you'd want me to put on a shirt," he mumbles, looking down to his feet with a bashful expression.

"Because if you didn't we would have been even more late than we were, and Mo would have put us on candy duty."

"I like candy," he nods, smiling for a second.

"That would have been the problem," I continue, laughing a little as I take a step closer to him. "You would have eaten too much... but in a sneaky way. And then you'd get a stomachache and argue that it wasn't the bowl of candy you just inhaled because you didn't eat any of it, and then we'd have to go home and Mo would think I was a terrible friend."