“Sure, thanks, Pi. Harry’ll have a lager and I’ll have a white wine. Cheers,” I say.
As Pi leaves, his face cracks into the biggest smile ever. He spares one over-the-shoulder look at his friend, who’s still shell-shocked.
“When did you take those?” he whispers after a few moments have passed. He finally remembers he’s holding a matching red clutch bag and tucks his phone away.
I lean in close, making sure my lips just about brush his ear. “Whilst you were off having a wank.”
His breath stutters. I don’t think it’s normal for a guy to tease his friend like this and take so much pleasure from it, but what would I know? I’ve never had a proper guy friend before.
“I’ve got a question,” I say, suddenly very curious. “Have you ever thought about doing what we do with Pi?” I ask.
“Ew, god no,” Harry says, slipping out of his stupor.
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
“Guys! The costumes!” Daisy says, running up to us. Or, well . . . some weird plantlike semblance of running. Scuttling? “Have you voted yet? They’re going to announce the winners soon.”
“Yeah, we voted when we arrived.” Harry’s cheeks are still bright pink from earlier, but if anything, it suits the costume.
“We voted for you guys,” Serasi says.
“Aw, thanks, Steve Martin,” I reply. “We voted for us too.”
Serasi rolls her eyes. Under her crunchy little mask, I imagine Daisy doing the same.
The Halloween music stops, and everyone turns to face the person who’s standing in front of the bar.
“Alright, everybody!” Owen says into a microphone. It echoes about the place through the speakers. “Thanks for coming this evening. This might be the best turn out yet. You’ll all be pleased to know that we’ve raised over three thousand pounds for charity tonight, and there’s still time to raise more money. Every drink sold will put another quid in the pot.”
Someone dressed as a clown hands him a piece of paper. I think it’s Vivian.
“Right,” Owen continues. “It’s time to announce the awards.”
Cheering fills the pub. This is what we all came for.
“First up. Best individual costume is . . .”
Someone starts a drumroll on the bar top. It gets echoed throughout the pub across slapped thighs and foot stamping.
“Finn Eggington as . . . Diglett? Does that say Diglett? What’s that? Oh, a Pokémon? Okay, sure, everyone welcome Finn to the front.”
The crowd applauds.
“Eggo!” Harry booms in his deep, put-on sports voice.
“Eggo! Eggo! Eggo!” people chant.
Next to Finn, Mathias looks overdressed. It appears Harry’s other teammate has decided that leaving the house wearing only a massive brown helmet that falls to his shoulders and a pair of brown skintight underpants was a fun, family-friendly idea for a costume.
It’s a choice, for sure.
“Congratulations,” Owen says, as all the other Cents lads holler and rhythmically punch the air with their fists. “Your prize is waiting for you at the bar. Unlimited drinks all evening!”
There’s more cheering. Eggo bows, but has to hold on to his headpiece.
