“Holy hell,” Barrett says.
Students in costumes are everywhere. An assortment of vampires and skeletons walk past us carrying plastic cups. Someone dressed as a giant pumpkin weaves drunkenly through the crowd.
Mercer points at the pumpkin. “I’m fighting that guy later.”
“No, you’re not,” Russo says.
We reach the entrance and push inside with the rest of the crowd.
A heavy spooky dance track vibrates through the packed room while colored lights flash across the ceiling. The whole place smells like sugar and cheap alcohol.
Mercer disappears toward the bar and most of the other guys follow at a slower pace.
I hang back a little, scanning the room automatically.
Because even here - surrounded by half the campus - I still find myself looking for a very specific person. Which is ridiculous. Shaw doesn’t come to things like this.
My eyes move through the crowd anyway.
Someone dressed like a pirate is attempting what appears to be a backflip.
“Blake!” Mercer shouts from the bar, waving two drinks in the air. “Come celebrate!”
I head toward them, weaving through the crowd.
Halfway across the room someone bumps my shoulder and apologizes in a terrible Dracula accent. A pair of witches push past me laughing so hard one of them spills her drink.
Mercer shoves a plastic cup into my hand. “To winning,” he says.
“To winning,” Russo agrees.
We drink.
The alcohol burns pleasantly after the cold air outside.
For a few minutes the conversation drifts back to hockey - replaying moments from the game, arguing about whether Mercer actually meant to pass the puck during the third period or just got lucky.
“Lucky,” Russo says.
“Strategic,” Mercer insists.
“Lucky.”
“Strategic.”
I lean against the edge of the bar, only half listening.
The crowd has thickened even more now. Costumes blur together under the colored lights - glitter, masks, fake blood, wings.
And then something catches my attention across the room.
A flash of bright red and blue moving through the crowd. It’s a girl weaving easily between groups of people, laughing at something one of her friends says.
She has blonde hair in high pigtails and a red and blue jacket hanging loosely off her shoulders.
Harley Quinn.
I watch her cross the room.
