“Those are ominous words.”
Katie pats the empty chair in front of the mirror. “Sit.”
And for the next hour, the room becomes its own little world.
Katie does my makeup with the calm focus of a Renaissance painter, leaning in to sharpen the eyeliner until my eyes look bigger, darker and more dangerous than usual. The three of us keep passing the bottle of white wine between us. The whole evening feels dipped in warmth and laughter.
I do Willow’s lipstick while she sits unnaturally still for once.
The playlist shifts from eerie instrumentals to Halloween anthems.
By the time I finally stand in front of the mirror fully dressed, even I have to pause.
The blonde wig falls in soft pigtails over my shoulders, the ends tinted pink and blue. My mouth is painted a deep, messy red, the lipstick blurred just enough to look intentional rather than careless. Dark makeup rims my eyes, dramatic enough to turn my usual face into something bolder, almost feral. The red-and-blue satin jacket hangs off my shoulders exactly the way I’d hoped it would, and the tiny details like my boots and the smudged glitter at my collarbone elevate the whole outfit. I even borrowed a baseball bat from another student so I could sling it over my shoulder to complete the look.
“Holy shit,” Willow says from behind me.
Katie nods once, approving.
“You look amazing.”
I turn slightly, studying myself from another angle.
There’s a kind of thrill in it.
For weeks now I’ve been living inside a disguise - the helmet, baggy clothes and lowered voice - and the careful physical distance of being Lee Shaw. But this is different. This disguise is obvious and unapologetic. Not about hiding in plain sight exactly. More about throwing myself into the spirit of the celebration.
Willow appears beside me in the mirror, now fully transformed into some celestial creature.
“You know,” she says, reaching for her glass again, “if a certain dark-haired hockey player sees you tonight, he’s going to lose his mind.”
I snort. “He won’t know it’s me.”
“That,” Katie says, fastening one of her earrings, “does not actually disprove Willow’s point.”
I turn away before either of them can see the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
Because maybe that possibility has crossed my mind. More than once.
Not that I’d ever admit it out loud.
Outside, the music from somewhere across campus grows louder, the bass carrying through the night like a pulse.
The party is in full flow.
And in the mirror above my desk, Harley Quinn smiles back at me, reckless.
Maybe that’s exactly what tonight needs.
ZANE
We’re all still wrecked from the game but there’s an energy in the group that wasn’t there a month ago as we walk across campus to check out the party.
Most of the team are still wearing their Giants hoodies or jackets instead of bothering with costumes. But the closer we get to the center of campus, the clearer it becomes that hockey isn’t the main event tonight.
Halloween has taken over Blackwood College.
The quad is lit up with strings of orange lights draped between trees and lampposts. Fake gravestones have been hammered into the grass, and someone has rigged a fog machine that spills thin clouds across the walkway like we’re walking into a low-budget horror movie. Music pulses from the student center - loud enough that the bass vibrates faintly through the pavement under our feet.
