Chapter One
Denis
I GLARE DOWN MY nose at the house across the street. Fake cobwebs cling to the corners and eaves of the frat house. Pumpkins line a porch railing normally littered with empty beer cans and cigarette butts. A huddle of guys cluster on the untended lawn, banging stakes into the ground to hold an enormous inflatable spider in place.
The whole thing is hideous and disgraceful.
I spin away, a shudder running down my spine. At what point did such a gaudy display of sacrilege become acceptable at this university? It’s borderline devil worship, especially considering what will no doubt go on inside that fraternity house come nightfall.
I shake my head at the whole thing. I’ve lived across the street from the frat house for two out of my four years at Arpor Sacred Sacrament University, and I’ve had entirely enough of their antics. The Halloween party last year was a raucous and sinful affair, one that had no place on the campus of a prestigious Catholic university. I am not enduring that again. No chance.
I turn reluctantly back to the debauchery unfolding before the frat house. The guys have managed to stake down the inflatable spider, and now they’re celebrating with beers. In the middle of the afternoon. How utterly typical. As I watch, a guy in an outrageous crop top that exposes his whole midriff cracks open a beer and throws his head back to chug it. His throat works obscenely, beer spilling from the corner of his mouthand running down his neck to make his tan skin glisten in the Southern California sunlight.
I spin away again, this time so rapidly I nearly lose my balance. Does he really need to be likethatall the time? As far as I can tell, the fraternity isn’t specifically for those living a homosexual lifestyle. Rather, one member just so happens to be of that persuasion. That wouldn’t be so terrible if Emmanuel didn’t flaunt it all the time. Would being a bit quieter about his proclivities really be so awful? It is possible to control oneself in the name of decency. Why, I’ve nearly got my degree and I haven’t sinned.
I try to brush the whole thing off, but the image of a thick drop of liquid carving along the stubbled path of Emmanuel’s throat lingers in my mind and leaves my mouth dry. It takes more focus than it should to look up the campus police phone number. I rush to clear my throat and sound normal before they pick up.
“Hello, I’d like to report a violation of the student code of conduct.”
Chapter Two
Many
“HOW CAN THEY SHUT down a party that hasn’t even happened yet?” I whine miserably.
The sun is still up, and way too many campus police hogs are wandering around the frat house and lawn. One unstakes the giant spider and pulls out the plug. It deflates into a sad heap of plasticy black fabric that the cop swiftly bundles up and adds to the heap of other Halloween decorations going straight into the bin.
“Because this university sucks,” Gavin, standing beside me on the lawn, says.
I can’t disagree. If nearly three and a half years at A.S.S. Uni. has taught me anything, it’s that this place truly lives up to its reputation as a Catholic school. Apparently, Halloween decorations violate the student code of conduct. Something about sinful influences or whatever, as though half the holidays modern Christians celebrate don’t have pagan influences. Where do they think Christmas trees and Easter eggs come from? Never read about either of those in the Bible.
There is truly nothing we can do, though. In fact, we’re lucky the cops are stopping at merely confiscating our decorations. They could write us all up, but as the party hasn’t actually occurred, they’re showing us a bit of leniency.
Of course, our party is still ruined, as is any other party that might have taken place on this street. Whichever jerk tipped off campus police ensured they can’t ignore so much as a pumpkinon a railing anywhere along Greek Row. The campus popo are often content to turn a blind eye and pretend they don’t see what goes on here, but once someone tells them there’s a party raging, they’re obliged to act.
Whoever did it deserves a thousand spiders in his bed, or maybe an angry spirit haunting his dick.
“I am not letting this ruin Halloween for me,” I say as the anger bubbles up.
Beside me, Gavin sighs. “Yeah, I wish, but there’s not really anything we can do about it. It’s gone. Look at this. I guess we could still throw a party, but you know campus police are going to be crawling all over this street.”
He’s right, and it only makes me angrier.
“We cannot let whoever this was ruin the holiday for everyone,” I say.
Gavin shrugs. “I think they already did.”
“No way. I’m not letting that happen.”
I look around like the answer might spring up out of the grass we never mow. I want to know who would do this, who has such a boner for destroying fun that he’d go out of his way to kill a party that didn’t even happen, but the answer lodges itself in my throat before I manage to drag my eyes up to the window across the street. A pale, slight figure darts away from the glass the moment I spot him, but I’d know Denis McMillan from a mile away, that little bespectacled asshole. He’s been killing the vibe for the past year and a half, always looking down his pointy nose at us from his high tower. I cannot imagine a more annoying twat on this entire campus, nor someone more likely to report a party before it’s begun. It wasdefinitelyhim, and that only adds fuel to the indignant fire burning in my belly.
“We’re going out,” I declare.
“Huh? Where?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say, “but tomorrow night, we’re goingout. Round up some of the guys, whoever feels like coming along. We are not letting that prick ruin Halloween. There’s gotta be a haunted house or something nearby.”
Gavin groans. “A haunted house? Seriously? Aren’t those for kids?”
