And I wasn’t any less busy than them either. I was taking oneof the more niche courses at Aldercrest University. Whilst the reduced fees had really sold me on the university, the course they had started up a few years ago,Ancient History & Occult Sciences,had really called out to me.
Had I considered what I would do when I finished university?No.Had I simply been drawn in by a course that screamed of everything mysterious and old and wonderfully weird?Abso-fucking-lutely.
Getting into Aldercrest University had been a dream come true. I got to go to school with my two best friends and take an exciting new course. What I hadn’t envisioned for the mood board of my life (the one with my five-year plan that mostly involved me coming out of my shell and getting a cool job somewhere at a rare museum) was my professor taking such a strong disliking to me. One essay that went against his opinion later, and he had made it his life’s mission to make mine a living hell. And he had done so every day since.
Quincey: Parties just aren’t my thing
Ezzy: But it’s Halloweeeeen
Quincey: So?
Ezzy: So, it’s spooky season.
Ezzy: And spooky is definitely your thing.
Quincey: Spooky is not *my* thing
Ezzy: Tell that to your course. Either way, you’re not getting out of this. I’m cashing in my one *Quincey social obligation* for the month
Quincey: I want you to know I’m audibly groaning
Ezzy: Withpleasure? ;)
Quincey: I really do hate you
Ezzy: I love you too !! Isaac will pick you up at 8, okay? Ask Hugh if he has something costumey.
Quincey: ….How do you know where I am?
Ezzy: I have you on Place My Pals. Plus you have a half day on Fridays. Pretty easy to put two and two together.
Note to self, turn off location so I can shop in peace.With the decision to attend a sorority Halloween party well and truly made, I trudged downstairs to where the clothing was usually kept. I had around four hours and zero ideas to put a costume together. One that didn’t screamI had four hours and zero ideas to put together this stupid costume.I could already feel the lingering tendrils of anxiety, weaving up from that dark hole within me.
The thoughts always started off small. Easy enough to ignore. But the more I thought about the party, the more my mind began to whir. It wasn’t that I really cared about anyone at the party, nor their opinions about me; it was the way my mind seemed to grip me, take hold of me until I simply couldn’t think straight. Every negative comment, every possible bad interaction barrelled into the forefront of my mind as I began to chip at my nail polish and pull at the skin on my fingers, trying to find some comfort in the repetitive action.
Who are you again?
You look like you got dressed in the dark.
Sorry, I don’t think you were invited.
You’re friends with Esme and Isaac? Huh, weird.
Did your grandfather pull that outfit off a dead body?
I shook my head, trying to shake off the thoughts. As they got worse, they always got more far-fetched, too. My grandfather had retired several years ago, and other than a few otherpeople from our high school who had come to Aldercrest, no one knew me well enough to know that was his profession. I took deep, steadying breaths, trying to slow my heart, which had taken on a life of its own, pummelling against my chest in a chaotic frenzy.
It's going to be fine. It’s going to be fun.
A sorority Halloween party most likely meant booze, free food in the shape of ghosts, spiders, and my two favourite people in the world. I let out another shaky breath, hoping that all my anxious thoughts went with it as I resolved to go and make the most of it. Which loosely translates to drinking myself silly and then not getting up until noon the next day.
Trying to find a suitable outfit by looking through the vintage clothing rails at Hugh’s was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. But the needle didn’t exist, and the haystack was just a mound of hideously patterned sweaters, stained trousers, and nightgowns that were likely last worn by the person who had died in them. I sighed as I rifled through rail after rail, the sound of the metal hanger against the bar both mocking and taunting.
Nothing, and I mean nothing, was jumping out as even remotely appropriate. I’d come across a crushed red velvet slip that looked like it would be perfect for a makeshift sexy-devil costume or some kind of off-brand, knock-off Jessica Rabbit (given that I had absolutely no tits or red hair). Holding the dress up to my body was as disappointing as it was sobering. Whilst velvet felt nice on the skin, I had no intention of swimming in the dress about five sizes too big.
“For fuck’s sake. I mean, there has to be something in here, right?” I mumbled to myself before rifling through yet another rail of nightgowns. Ones that looked right at home in my grandmother’s wardrobe.
Shit.Maura.
