

Self-Help 101 or:

How to Select a Costume to Help You Deal With People

By L.G. Keltner
Self-Help 101 or: How to Select a Costume to Help You Deal With People

Copyright 2016 by L.G. Keltner

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by L.G. Keltner. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover Art by L.G. Keltner and Jamon Walker

-1st edition

Table of Contents

Disclaimer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Afterward

About the Author
**Disclaimer:**

One of these days I may have fame and fortune, but this is not that day. Nor will tomorrow be that day by the look of things. I have an internet troll as well as a personal one, as you'll soon learn, so that might be considered some modest measure of success. You can have the trolls if you want, but you won't have any luck gaining monetary compensation from me. Any negative outcomes that result from applying my advice to your daily life are therefore your problem. Do so at your own risk. I am, after all, a teenager with limited life experience. I may frequently be right, but not always.
Chapter 1

In which I deal with a persistent boyfriend and the unpleasant reality of internet comments.

As I stared at the laptop screen, I fought off a powerful urge to head-butt it and set it aflame. Such an action would only leave me with a bump on the head and a sad bank account.

"It's not the computer's fault," I whispered to myself. "The computer isn't responsible for the stupidity of people. It just helps you see it."

My name is Dani Finklemeier, and I'm writing this book because I think we could all use a little help in learning how to deal with people from time to time. I certainly needed it at that particular moment.

"Ah, but you don't need a computer to see stupid people."

I jumped a little. I'd almost forgotten that my roommate Ruby was in our tiny kitchenette eating a bowl of cereal. She never bothered to sit down while she did this, opting instead to stand at the counter. I shot her a look over my shoulder. "That's true, but the internet comments sections do a great job of bringing the stupid people together."

Ruby snorted. "Hopefully you're not looking at your blog right now."

"No. Most of the comments on my blog are relatively nice. I've only got the one troll. Oh, and I've been told three times in the last two days that I can make $87 an hour from just sitting in front of my computer. Judging from the state of my wallet, I don't think it's working."

"If you do figure it out, let me know. I'm all for benefitting from being lazy," Ruby said around a mouthful of chocolatey cereal. She crunched away thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. "You could always try doing vlogs instead. They're more popular since most people prefer watching a video to reading a post."

"As a writer, I find that rather depressing. Probably true, but definitely depressing. Besides, doing a vlog means getting dressed."

Ruby shook her head. "That may not be entirely true. A lot of them could be recording without pants on, and no one would ever know."

I shuddered. "Gross. Thanks for the mental imagery."

A knock at the door pulled my attention away from those disturbing thoughts. "It's open!" I called out.

The front door of our student apartment swung open to admit our visitor. "The door wasn't open," Seth said as he crossed the room to stand behind me. "It was unlocked. There's a difference."

"Oh, bite me," I muttered.

He placed his hands on my shoulders. "Okay. That sounds fun." He leaned close, and I shivered as his teeth softly scraped against the sensitive skin of my neck.

"Now _that's_ gross," Ruby said. That proclamation was followed by the clatter of an empty cereal bowl and spoon being dropped into the sink. "I need to get out of here before my blood sugar spikes."

"I think your choice of snack might have more to do with that," I replied.

"Cereal has never betrayed me!" Ruby declared before retreating to her bedroom.

Seth's head dropped onto my shoulder, his whole body shaking with laughter. "Dani, you've got an interesting roommate. She reminds me of you in a lot of ways."

I nodded. "Except she hates coffee, so I can't bring myself to fully trust her."

"Blasphemy!"

I rested my head against his as I clicked back to my blog. After getting a brief glimpse of my newest comments, I sighed.

"Your troll is back." Seth's tone had darkened.

"I know. Whoever it is, their spelling hasn't improved." I closed my eyes to block out the offensive grammatical and spelling errors.

Note #1

On the internet, you can present yourself however you like. You can don any metaphorical costume you want. Any personality. However, if you decide to go the route I did and put yourself out there in an honest way, you need to be prepared for the assholes. If you can't take it, don't do it.

Note #2

Don't waste your time worrying about the opinions of an angry person who can't even be bothered to articulate that opinion coherently. It'll only cause you more stress than it's worth.

Seth was silent for several moments as he read the despicable comment. "I wish I could punch whoever wrote that," he finally said. He was seething. The prospect of Seth rushing off to defend my honor was both laughable, because the guy may be many things but a fighter is not one of them, and sweet, albeit in a somewhat barbaric way. Not that I'm any better. I know I'm not. If anyone gave Seth too much of a hard time, I'd be right there plotting revenge.

"You shouldn't bother yourself too much over this comment," I said lightly. "This person's suggestions, while intriguing, would involve violating several known laws of physics."

I could have deleted the comment. I'd been tempted to go that route on multiple occasions, but I kept deciding against it. If the nasty comments were going to keep coming anyway, I'd rather wear them as a badge of honor. The fact that someone took the time to write such vile drivel meant that I had a growing audience with which I'd struck a chord. That couldn't be all bad.

"They also violate all known rules against excessive dickishness."

I stood up, forcing Seth to back away slightly, but I immediately snagged him and squeezed him in a big hug. "True, but that's their problem, not mine." Then I laughed. "Besides, if I ever figured out who this person was, they'd have to deal with me themselves, and that would be a big problem for them. I might even end up pitying them."

"I might too. You're terrifying when you're angry."

I started to reply, but Seth cut me off by kissing me. Maybe I should have been irritated by the interruption, but I was far too preoccupied to care. I wrapped my arms around him, sliding his backpack off his shoulders and setting it on the floor so I could hug him properly.

"I missed you," he said when he pulled back.

"I know you did." Then I tapped his shoulder with the back of my hand. "Even though I just saw you this morning at breakfast."

He shrugged. "What can I say? I think you have me under some kind of mind control."

"If only. You wouldn't leave your socks on the floor when you stay over if I did."

"That reminds me. Can I stay here tonight? Isaac is having some old friends from high school over, and the apartment might be a bit crowded."

Isaac was Seth's roommate, and they lived a couple of floors up from us. The guy is tiny, coming up to my shoulder, and scrawny. Even so, the dude has a startlingly loud voice, as do most of his friends. I couldn't blame Seth for wanting to get away from that for the night.

That being said, I didn't believe for a second that was his primary motivation. I'm not that stupid.

Note #3

Significant others may adopt a mask of false innocence when trying to get something they want. Don't let yourself be fooled. Conversely, when you try to use the tactic yourself, remember that you're unlikely to get away with it because this person knows you too well for that.

"I suppose that can be arranged," I said with a grin. Then I pulled him in for another kiss. Was I supposed to say no? Seth may have been making excuses, but I found it funny.

"Ew! Knock it off!"

I turned to see Ruby emerging from her room with her laptop bag and a binder.

"And yes, I heard. I know you're staying the night," she said to Seth. "Just try to keep it down, okay?" Despite the words, she was smiling.

"I'll do my best," Seth replied, and he topped it off with a salute.

Ruby saluted in return, but her salute was of the middle-finger variety. "Anyway, I'll be gone for a while. I have the feeling you won't miss me."

I glanced at the kitchen clock. "You have your physics lab today. I almost forgot."

She nodded. "Yeah. Three hours of nonstop fun." With one final wave, she made her way to the front door.

That same front door had barely closed when Seth started kissing my neck. "Hmm. I thought you came over so we could do homework together."

"But we're alone!"

I couldn't refute that point, nor could I deny that Seth's preferred method of using that alone time sounded a lot more appealing than homework. "Yes, we are, but I have stuff due tomorrow. Plus, we have that Halloween party tomorrow night, and if we're still going to go, we need to get ahead on the homework front." I grinned. "Besides, you're staying the night. That should give you plenty of opportunities for what you have in mind."

Seth sighed. "I know, but I don't see a problem with taking advantage of both opportunities."

"You just don't want to do your homework," I said with a laugh as I stepped away from him.

Before you say "Seth is an eighteen-year-old guy, so of course he wants what he's saying he wants" I'll say this. You're right. I know that. I also wasn't entirely against the idea myself, but I had to prioritize. Letting him get too far in his line of thinking would only tempt me to put homework off, and I couldn't afford that. I'm only human, and thwarting temptation is often the best way to handle it.

"I'll admit I don't want to do my homework," he said. Then he sighed and scooped up his backpack. "Since you're so insistent that we get it done, I suppose we should get started."

"What do you have for tonight, anyway?" I asked.

"A one-page paper for my composition class. I have to write about what I think the color blue would smell like."

I gave him a sideways look to see if he was joking. Judging by the scrunched up look of distaste I saw there, he wasn't. I shook my head. "Oh my. That should be an interesting one."

"Interesting. Impossible. One of those." Seth dropped onto the sofa with an audible sigh and began to pull things out of his bag.

I settled in beside him and pulled the rickety coffee table closer for easy access. "I might have some scented markers somewhere you could use for inspiration. They might just get you high, though."

He snorted. "I might need to get high to be able to write this damn paper." He opened his laptop and turned it on. "If I do get high, I won't be able to study for my biology test, and I kind of need to do well on that considering it's one of my majors."

"Professors generally prefer to have you do well in all your classes," I said.

"True. I'm just not sure if I'm insane enough to do what my composition professor expects out of me. Maybe I should worry more about the classes that make sense." Seth tapped his chin thoughtfully, and a moment later, he snickered. "You know, human anatomy is a branch of biology, and I can think of one way you could help me study. I know you want me to do well."

Note #4

If you're going to press an issue in the hopes of getting your way, it's best to use humor while you do it. You should, however, try to ensure that your humor is original in some way.

"That is one of the oldest and lamest lines ever. Just for that, I'm not going to help you with your paper." I picked up the reader for my short story class. It was nothing more than a binder with a bunch of photocopied short stories in it, but it cost me $20. I had to read two short stories and write a brief response paper about each by the following morning.

Ah, response papers. At least mine wouldn't require me to get stoned and smell the rainbow.

"Come on! I was joking! Please help me!"

I shook my head. "You're beyond help."

"Now you're just underestimating your ability to help hopeless cases."

Suck up. Maybe I should have held out for a bit longer, but flattery, even when inspired by an ulterior motive, can be quite effective. "If it'll get you to stop pestering me, I might be able to help you out a little. Now, the color blue." I bit my lower lip as I thought for a moment. "There was the blueberry sherbet we used to eat as kids. Or the time when we were fifteen and I helped you paint your room blue. We got covered in paint that day. Or you could go for something more generic and talk about the smells of a summer day under a bright blue sky, yadda yadda yadda." I shrugged. "You have options."

Seth stared at me for several long moments, his mouth hanging open. "You're either insane or a genius," he finally said.

"Probably both," I said with a satisfied smile.

After that we actually did our homework. I made a pot of coffee when I started yawning halfway through the first story, though I attributed most of that to legitimate tiredness rather than the content of the story itself. However, I did get the sense that the author was more interested in impressing the reader with floral language than telling a story, but I could be missing something.

Note #5

The stories people write are the face they present to the world. It's obvious when people want to entertain or entice their audience. Sometimes writers want to share a deeper message and make people think. Others want to make people think they're deeper and more skilled than they really are. These are the pretentious jerks of the literary world.

Hours later, well after Seth declared that his response paper was as good as it was going to get because he'd set his computer on fire if he had to keep looking at it, he slammed his biology textbook on the table. "My brain is going to melt! I've had enough!"

I rubbed my eyes. "I know how you feel." I'd finished reading the stories and typed up the response papers in the fast and semi-thoughtful way that a majority of busy college students tend to work. Then I'd moved on to a short story I'd been struggling with for the last couple of weeks. The idea felt like a good one, but for some reason, I couldn't get it to work on paper.

Setting all of my things on the coffee table, I glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. Ruby would have been done with her physics lab at least four hours ago, which meant she was probably hanging out with her physics friends. They were a pretty fun group overall, though some of their jokes were something only a true science buff would understand.

Though I needed to get up fairly early, I could have typically stayed up working on homework for another couple of hours. However, I had a still-absent roommate, a perfectly good bedroom, and a boyfriend who'd made it clear how he wanted to spend the evening.

I stood and held my hand out to him. "What do you say we head to bed?" I asked with a meaningful arch to my eyebrow.

Seth scrambled to his feet and slipped his fingers through mine. "Yes, yes. Definitely yes."

I laughed. "Just don't scatter your dirty socks across my floor again, all right?"

"Ooh. I love your dirty sock talk."
Chapter 2

In which I look at the complexities of having an adult relationship when I barely feel like an adult in the first place.

I woke before my alarm. This tends to happen more often when Seth and I share a bed. Elbows wedged in my back tend to help the waking process along.

Sharing a bed with someone as a kid was all about ensuring there was no blanket hogging and that people kept to their respective sides. As an adult, sharing bed space still involves those same things, but the introduction of hormones throws some complications into the mix.

First of all, if one of the bed's occupants (let's call them Occupant A) cocoons themselves in a comforter for the duration of the night, two things are going to happen. Occupant B will spend the night curled up in a tight little ball, cold and building up unhealthy levels of resentment for Occupant A. While this is happening, Occupant A will be roasting in their own trapped body heat and promoting the overproduction of sweat. The sweat-soaked blanket will begin to smell, and when Occupant A wakes enough to finally offer the blanket to Occupant B, violence may ensue.

When blankets are shared properly, however, this may also result in the invasion of personal space. Don't get me wrong. I do enjoy cuddling under the appropriate conditions. Cuddling in bed can be great. It's a good way to show people how you feel about them after you've, um, showed them how you feel about them in other physical ways.

However, and I've had people tell me I'm weird for this, when it comes time to sleep, I like to have my own personal space. I find it difficult to fall asleep when I'm tangled up in limbs that could make sudden, unanticipated movements. Not to mention the added body heat, which I produce adequately on my own. Maybe I'm a bit of a pain in requiring that personal space when I sleep, but we all have some requirements in life, don't we? These are the things that make it possible for us to function like a civilized human being. For me it's coffee and proper sleeping arrangements.

Yet every time Seth and I shared a bed, there was some sort of collision. Granted, shifting around in any bed not specifically manufactured for two adults is going to be problematic. Especially when the people in question are accustomed to being intimate with one another. That kind of connection seems to leave magnets beneath the skin.

Note #6

Whether you think it should or not, being in a long-term relationship with someone changes you. You can see it in the little things. The way you unconsciously rearrange yourself when they sit next to you on the sofa. The way you take their tastes into consideration when you order takeout for the two of you. There's a certain amount of mask-wearing in the beginning because, wanting to keep them interested, you present your best self. However, this goes beyond that. This is the way people intertwine their daily lives, wanting to keep the other person there.

Of course, some of the bedtime collisions had less to do with couple-y magnetic attraction and more to do with the fact that Seth tends to flail his arms in his sleep like he's directing air traffic.

I rubbed my eyes and glanced over at Seth. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned toward me, his mouth hanging open. The pillowcase was damp with drool, and his hair stuck up in all directions. That image should have been all kinds of ridiculous, but a warm feeling spread through my chest as I watched him.

It might seem like a creepy idea to watch someone sleep, but if you're in a relationship with the person you're gawking at, it's apparently acceptable.

After a few minutes, I poked him in the shoulder. He didn't have a shirt on, having elected to sleep only in boxers when he didn't feel like searching for the t-shirt that had somehow gone missing. He mumbled something incoherent as his body shifted slightly. More determined than ever, I jammed my fingers beneath his arm and started a full-out tickle assault.

This proved to be a good motivator. His eyes popped open and he sat up, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. He was breathing hard, a combination of fright and tickling-induced asphyxia doing him in. I gave him a moment to get his breath back, a wicked smile stretching across my face.

"You . . . are going . . . to pay for that," Seth said at last, his grin matching mine.

Though I saw it coming, he managed to surprise me.

Note #7

When someone has a reasonable case for exacting vengeance against you, never assume for a moment they won't go through with it, no matter how innocent they pretend to be. That innocence may be a mask intended to lure you into complacency.

As much as the boy needs coffee to get going in the morning, Seth can still move fast when he wants to. Compared to me, at least. After several long moments of anticipation, during which his intent eyes were locked with mine, he pounced. I made a half-hearted attempt to escape, but within moments, I was hopelessly pinned to the bed.

"Vengeance will be mine!" Seth declared before unleashing a merciless tickle assault on my ribs.

I squirmed and flailed and kicked, laughing so hard I could barely breathe. This is one of those times when you cannot act as if you're unaffected by someone's actions. You can try to hold back a laugh or a smile when someone tells a joke you don't want to admit is funny, though it doesn't always work. You can feign interest in a topic someone wants to drone on about for ages even though it feels like your brain is melting and seeping out through your nose. These things are difficult, but possible. Tickling forces an honest reaction from the person on the receiving end, thereby making tickling the most socially accepted form of torture.

Try as I might, I couldn't knock Seth back enough to dislodge him from his perch. I hated to admit defeat, but lack of oxygen won out. I lifted my hands in surrender. "Please . . . stop. You . . . win." The words were so strained they were nearly inaudible.

Nevertheless, Seth understood and removed his hands from my brutalized ribcage. He sat up straight, his eyes shining. "I win." He sounded far too smug.

"For now," I said. "You'll let your guard down eventually."

He climbed off me, rolling to the side so he was lying next to me. "Around you? Never. I know better than that."

I sighed. "Now what am I going to do? You finally learned your lesson after fifteen years. I'll just have to try harder."

"That you will." Then he leaned in for a kiss.

I abruptly pulled away. Seth stuck his lower lip out in a pout, but I patted his shoulder. "Just give me a second. I'm honestly trying to spare you here."

I snatched a pack of breath mints from my bedside table and dropped a couple into my hand. They were the most potent I could find, and they got the job done. I popped one in my mouth and handed one to Seth. He took it, knowing that nothing would happen until he did.

Note #8

No matter how unguarded we are during these waking moments, there are some things that are best masked, regardless of how much we trust the person we're with. The ugly reality of morning breath is one of those things.

I'm not afraid to admit that my morning breath could probably level a forest. The devastation would stretch for miles and cause immeasurable levels of suffering. The ruffled clothes and sleep-matted hair don't bother me. Seth had seen me in worse states over the years. However, I love him too much to kiss him with toxic morning breath.

After the breath mint had partially dissolved, I swooped in to give Seth a quick kiss before swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. The need for a caffeine infusion trumped all else, and no matter how much my boyfriend enjoyed being in bed for various reasons, I knew we were on the same page. I was already wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt, but I waited for Seth to locate and pull on his own pajamas.

I pointed to the dirty clothes that he'd left piled in the corner. "Don't forget to take those with you when you leave later," I said.

"I'll try not to."

At least he didn't make a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. Seth forgot various clothing items in my apartment about fifty percent of the time. I wondered if the stress of finals in December would make that number worse.

Ruby was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a bowl of cereal. We hadn't even heard her come home the night before, so I was somewhat surprised to see her. She looked up and nodded in recognition. "Good morning, walk-of-shamers."

"I live here," I said indignantly.

"And I brought clean clothes to change into," Seth added.

"Which was presumptuous of you," I said as I elbowed him playfully in the side.

"I can't help that you want me this much."

"Ew! It's too early for this!" Ruby shoved another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

"It's too early for the copious amounts of sugar you like to eat, but that doesn't stop you." I approached the coffee pot and set about brewing some. "You don't even do caffeine in the morning. There's something wrong with you."

She laughed. "I thought you would have figured that out by now."

With the coffee brewing, I opened the fridge and browsed the contents. Just as I'd hoped, I still had some eggs and bacon in there. Not that Ruby would have ever touched it. I pulled everything out and started searching for the appropriate cookware.

I experienced a brief moment of frustration upon discovering that the pan I needed was dirty. Why can't dishes be self-cleaning? My pre-coffee self waged a battle with my stomach, and in the end, hunger won out. I quickly scrubbed the pan clean under a stream of hot water.

"Are you going to want any breakfast?" I asked as Seth stepped up beside me to grab a mug from the cupboard.

"Do you even need to ask?"

I nodded. "That's what I thought. Could you grab the bread so I can make some toast?"

"It's too early in the morning for you to demand so much of me," he said as he grabbed the bread from another cabinet and dropped it beside me.

My cooking endeavor was soon underway, and the aroma of bacon helped wake me up properly. It also helped that Seth brought me my favorite coffee mug, filled to the brim with hot, steamy goodness. I had mugs that looked fancier, but I didn't need fancy in the morning. I needed something large, and the plain blue mug in question could almost qualify as a cauldron.

Once the food was ready, I carried our plates over to the small kitchen table that actually sat in the corner of our living room. Seth and I sat down to our meal while Ruby went to watch TV.

I still hadn't become entirely accustomed to this morning ritual of preparing for the day with no adults around. I was supposed to be an adult, and therefore responsible for myself, but it was strange.

Note #9

During those first few months when you're living away from your parents or guardians for the first time, you might feel like an imposter. You go through the motions of adulthood, uncertain of how well you're pulling it off. No matter how confident you pretend to be, there are bound to be mistakes and moments of extreme self-doubt.

On the bright side, I'd learned that I wasn't a terrible cook. Though I wasn't a gourmet chef by any means, my food tasted decent and I'd yet to poison anyone. Considering the gene pool that produced me, that's kind of amazing.

Seth had finished most of his food when I'd only gotten halfway through mine, which was par for the course. I was about to make a joke about his ravenous appetite when someone knocked on the door.

All three of us exchanged looks, silently challenging each other to get up and answer it. In all fairness, Seth didn't live here, so it was unfair to expect him to do it. Still, laziness can't be considered fair or rational. When I caught Ruby's eye, I lifted my fork and pointedly stuck a piece of egg in my mouth, hoping to communicate the message "I'm eating, so I can't possibly be expected to get up."

I don't know why I thought that might work. Ruby just smirked at me and turned back toward the TV.

Shaking my head, I stood as another knock came. "I'll be there in a second!" I called out, wondering which neighbor or friend was insane enough to be out and about already. Most of my friends didn't do super early mornings, and those who did knew better than to visit me until after lunch. What can I say? I know how to instill the proper level of fear into people.

Note #10

Learn to accentuate certain aspects of your personality in a way that encourages people to treat you the way you want to be treated. If you want people to keep their distance at certain times of the day, accentuate your natural unpleasantness at those key times. If you want to keep people from demanding too much of you, accentuate your natural forgetfulness and ineptitude. Through highlighting aspects of your personality that are already there, you get what you want without lying.

When I opened the door, I didn't see an unfortunate schoolmate who was about to get a lesson in what it means to incur my wrath. Instead, I saw my parents.
Chapter 3

In which I deal with parental awkwardness, engage in some blogging philosophy, and have an unpleasant classroom experience.

As a reader, you may be wondering why I chose to insert a chapter break there. It's not as if I'd seen Hitler riding a unicycle or an assassin or a fuzzy purple unicorn with a glowing orange horn waiting for me. Any of those options would have been far more dramatic than the people who made my existence possible and had the patience to raise me. It also wasn't like we had an _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ scenario going on.

Except things change when you first start living on your own. Going from seeing your parents every day to once in a while is a strange transition. Visits are frequently arranged ahead of time, and those that aren't can be worrisome. Upon seeing my parents at my door, I started thinking about all of the things that might have gone wrong. Was something wrong with one of my grandparents? Had something happened to Tyler? As much as the dork annoyed me, I didn't actually want anything bad to happen to him. Not until I'd had the opportunity to take my revenge against him for certain transgressions, anyway.

"Hey. What brings you here so early?"

Mom smiled. "I wanted to stop by and bring you these." She held out a box that I should have noticed before jumping to crazy conclusions. It was black with white spider webs, and I recognized it as one of the Halloween-themed boxes a bakery back home used during the month of October. The bakery itself had changed names three times over the last ten years because different members of the Sullivan family kept passing it back and forth like a bizarre and expensive game of hot potato. They'd finally agreed to keep it as Sullivan's Sweets a couple of years ago, and they've held to the agreement so far. I couldn't have told you which Sullivan was running it at the time, though.

"They're a part of Halloween tradition," Mom continued. "You may not be living at home anymore, but I thought you wouldn't want to miss out on this."

Oh no. I knew what this meant. Mom missed me. She was feeling nostalgic because she wasn't used to me not being there. As much as I could annoy her while I was living at home, part of her still wanted me around.

"Thanks, Mom." In spite of my effort to sound unaffected, I swallowed a tad harder than I otherwise would have. I can be cynical, but I'm not inhuman. "You came all the way here just to bring me these?"

"I have the day off work," Dad said. "I figured your mom could get some shopping done and we could grab some lunch while we're here." Then his eyes tracked past me to the breakfast table.

I knew what my dad was seeing. My sleep-disheveled boyfriend eating breakfast in my apartment. That sight could only lead him to one obvious and accurate conclusion.

Note #11

As tempting as it may be to mask an awkward situation and make it seem like something other than what it is, there are times when you need to behave like an adult and be honest. Not only will that be the more mature way to handle things, it'll spare you the humiliation of being caught in a bad lie that no one could possibly believe anyway.

Except I didn't tell the truth. I didn't lie either. I simply chose to remain silent and allow him to come to his own conclusions.

She must have sensed the mounting tension, because my mom quickly acted to break it. "Good morning, Seth. Good morning, Ruby. How are you?"

Seth was sporting the classic deer-in-headlights look.

Ruby had a shit-eating grin on her face. "It's been a good morning so far," she said brightly. "I think it's going to be a great day."

The reasons behind her amusement were clear, and I needed to knock her down a peg. "You won't think so anymore after I tell you that you're not getting any of these cookies." I took the box from my mom and set it on the counter.

Ruby laughed. "On the contrary, friend. No one stands between me and cookies and lives to tell the tale. Surely you know that by now."

Oh yes, I did. If anyone thought _I_ was overly grumpy where my favorite snack foods were concerned, they clearly hadn't met my roommate. It didn't seem possible that someone who ate junk food at the rate she did could be so skinny. Some people defy all reason, I suppose.

"Please share, Dani," Mom said. "I'd hate to discover you were murdered in your sleep because you were rude to Ruby."

I snorted. "Yes, because _my_ rudeness would be what stands out in that particular situation."

Seth laughed. Even my dad, who was still avoiding eye contact with my boyfriend, smiled a little, and it seemed the worst was over. I wasn't letting my defenses down, though.

I was pleasantly surprised when no one made any comments directly addressing the boyfriend-obviously-slept-over thing. My parents were soon on their way, and though good-byes entailed a few strategically averted glances, it could have gone far worse.

As soon as they were gone, Seth collapsed in on himself in a relieved lump. Ruby looked disappointed, but she promptly consoled herself by snagging a spider web cookie.

Note #12

Adulthood may seem like a lie at first, a thin mask you wear because the world expects it of you. It may be shocking when your own parents, for example, the people who know many of your embarrassing secrets and have access to your unfortunate baby photos, start treating you like an adult as well. Try not to act surprised, because you don't want to risk anyone second-guessing their opinion of you.

I selected a couple of cookies and handed them to Seth. "Take those with you when you leave. If you don't, you won't be getting any of them. I guarantee it."

He looked between Ruby and me. "I have no doubt about that."

* * *

After Seth left to get ready for his composition class, I sat down to check my blog.

For some reason I'd yet to comprehend, I had a handful of regular visitors. I didn't see any new, trollish comments, so that was a good thing. Perhaps writing a new post would draw them out of the woodwork. I had an hour to kill before class, anyway.

Why It's Halloween Every Day

As I write this, I'm sure many of you are obsessing over the finer details of your Halloween costume or trying to finish last minute party preparations. Not that I blame you. I also love Halloween. It's fun to dress up as someone else for a night, get together with friends, and eat obscene amounts of junk food. Who doesn't enjoy those things?

However, I'm curious about why Halloween costumes are so popular among adults. The love that kids have for the whole ritual is obvious. Kids love dressing up and pretending to be super heroes and villains. Their imaginations run wild, and on Halloween, they get to collect large amounts of candy while doing something they enjoy anyway.

Once we become adults, though, many people expect us to be beyond these kinds of things. That clearly isn't the case for many of us. So what's the deal?

Some would say that adults pretend to be someone they're not to escape their everyday lives and tap into their childhoods. That argument does make a lot of sense, but what if that isn't really the answer? What if adults relish in Halloween because it gives them the excuse to actually be themselves?

If you think I sound ridiculous, let me explain.

In the everyday world of adulthood, we rarely act without filters. When you're in college and answering a professor's question, you tailor that answer to satisfy that professor. When you're at work, you try to behave in a professional manner. When you meet someone you're interested in, you present yourself in a way that you hope they'll find attractive. Some people do these things more naturally than others, but we all do them nonetheless.

Halloween is different. When we dress up, we have the excuse that we're pretending to be someone else to protect us from judgment, but in truth, our Halloween choices reveal who we really are. You can choose a costume from your favorite film or TV show, reveling in the geeky nature you may not always display. You can choose to dress for a profession you secretly wish you worked in.

In situations where you're expected to let go and have fun, people who may not know you outside of work or school get a chance to see a more authentic version of you. Whether or not this is a good thing is up for debate.

That's why I think most days are more like what we consider Halloween to be, and Halloween itself, through allowing you to don a literal costume, leaves your true personality open for all to see.

Does this make any sense, or am I overanalyzing things?

After double-checking for spelling errors, I posted my piece of philosophical claptrap and got ready for my first class of the day.

* * *

"Are you going to the party tonight?" Daniel asked as he dropped into the seat next to mine. His floppy brown hair was actually well-groomed that morning. This frequently wasn't the case.

"Yup." I pulled my notebook from my backpack.

The party in question was supposed to be huge. The Student Activities Council threw a big Halloween party every year, and I'd heard stories regarding the blowouts of previous years.

"Cool. I'm going too." Daniel smiled. "I considered finding a way to dress up as a gun so I could say I was Chekhov's gun, but school frowns on that sort of thing. I'd probably get expelled if I tried it."

Ah, good old Chekhov's gun. This is the idea that if you have a dramatic element in a story, such as the reveal of a gun, it must play a role later on. Throwing it in and not using it would mess with people's heads, though I can't see why messing with people is automatically bad.

"Does that mean you can't dress up as a pen either?" I asked. "Remember that proverb? 'The pen is mightier than the sword.'"

"To be fair, you can stab someone with a pen."

"You can also write something that hurts someone's feelings. That might get you into more trouble than the stabbing," I said.

Daniel and I had been filling the first few minutes before our short story class with similar chats all semester. In the course of our discussions, my own writing ventures had come up a few times. Daniel even read my first two books and said that I have "a unique ability to spotlight the absurdity of daily life." I'm still not sure whether he meant it or was simply trying to dodge my wrath.

Professor Smyth showed up five minutes late, which was downright punctual for her. She'd once strolled into class fifteen minutes late with a smile and a giant coffee in hand to find that two-thirds of the class already left. She told those of us who'd stayed that we'd be getting ten points of extra credit for being so patient, then promptly dismissed us. If only more days could be like that.

Today she wore a witch's hat, though the rest of her attire was normal: khakis with a green button-down shirt.

A couple of people snickered at the sight, but most of the group was too apathetic about the idea of class to muster any kind of reaction.

Note #13

A handful of things can make the expected social niceties difficult to execute: highly anticipated parties, mornings, lack of sleep, mornings, hangovers, mornings, illness, mornings, etc. You get the picture. Unfortunately, being an adult means forcing yourself to get through social situations without doing something that might get you sent to prison.

"Good morning," Professor Smyth said brightly. "I'm going to assume you're all as excited for today's class as I am."

This might make it sound as if there were special plans for class that day. There weren't. She seriously said this at the start of each class. I'm guessing she thinks it's funny, but I have yet to hear anyone laugh in response.

Note #14

Whether you're in high school or college, one thing remains the same. Your instructors bring a unique persona to class. Getting to know their quirks and how to interact with them is crucial to academic success.

Professor Smyth smiled as she scanned the silent room. "That's what I expected. Hopefully we'll be able to have a good discussion despite the lack of enthusiasm." She leaned against the front of her desk. "Before we go on to talk about the stories you read for today, I'd like to have a little dialogue about an intriguing question. What makes a piece of writing publishable? What standards do you think a story should meet before it goes out into the world?"

I've spent plenty of time thinking about that question myself. I wish I knew the answer. There are a few simple answers, of course. Make sure there aren't any typos. Format things so people can read what you wrote. Try to have something interesting to say, though this is somewhat subjective. I still have no idea if I've managed that last one. Though my book sales have increased a little over time, I'm not raking in much money. I've had the occasional positive reviews too, and while that's certainly been a welcome boost to my confidence, I'm not sure if those opinions could be considered representative of the general public.

Being a writer comes with a lot of uncertainty.

My classmates started cheerfully offering their answers. Professor Smyth called on a girl named Rhonda to start us off. "A worthy piece of writing says something about the human condition."

Felicity, who sat on the opposite side of the room from Rhonda, cut in. "A work doesn't have to be profound to be publishable. Sometimes people only want to be entertained, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"The most entertaining works still say something about humanity." This came from Clarke Young. He had a distinctive red Mohawk. It wasn't dyed red, either. It was his natural color. "Even if some of them do so by being so bad that we question the intelligence of the public that makes it profitable to publish such garbage in the first place."

Professor Smyth chuckled. "I think we've all felt that way from time to time, but what makes something bad? Is there an objective standard, or is it all a matter of taste?"

Rhonda immediately jumped back in. "I don't know if there's an objective standard per se, but I think some things are so bad that we can all agree they're bad."

"Then why do some people enjoy watching Ed Wood movies?" Felicity asked. "I've never heard anyone claim they're well made, but some people find them fun. If people love it, flawed though it may be, should we really be so quick to dismiss it?"

"We're not talking about films here, but yes, I think we should dismiss them." Rhonda was sitting on the edge of her seat now. Things were getting heated. "Even with gatekeepers in place, bad films get made and bad books have been published. Look what happens when the gatekeepers are removed. Those gatekeepers are supposed to make the decision about whether something is publishable or not, but with the ease of self-publishing these days, anyone can put their work out there, and there's so much garbage because of it."

I tensed in my seat and clenched my fists at my sides. No, I wasn't preparing to hit anything, but the urge was there. I had to say something, if only to vent my frustration. "There _is_ bad stuff that gets self-published, but there are plenty of writers who take it seriously. Some of them have built up a loyal following, because readers love what they have to offer."

Rhonda looked directly at me, and I didn't like her smirk. "Oh. Are you one of those?"

I hadn't mentioned my publishing endeavors to the class, but Daniel had. I'd nearly strangled him for that one. I'm not ashamed of my work, but there's something weird about bringing it up with people I know. Some are dismissive. Others might one day read what I've written, and it's more terrifying to think of someone I have to face in real life judging the books that I worked so hard to create.

"No, of course not." I tried to sound nonchalant. Guess how I did with that. "Hardly anyone has read my books, but that's not the point."

Note #15

Though you may try to maintain a calm exterior, that isn't always possible when strong emotions are involved. Some things are too personal to be hidden.

"Dani's right." Daniel's contribution was more than welcome to my ears. "It's pretty snobby to dismiss something purely because of the way it was published. A work should be judged on its own merits. We may never agree on what those merits are, but it that really a problem?"

Apparently Daniel had steered the conversation in the right direction, because it veered away from the benefits and shortfalls of self-publishing. Before we moved on to talking about the stories we'd read for class, we'd touched on how what's considered worthy of publication varies between genres, and whether some points of view have been squashed unfairly by the gatekeepers of the publishing industry.

Though the shift in focus made me feel a bit calmer, my blood pressure was still elevated by the time class let out. Nothing like a lively debate, huh?
Chapter 4

In which I am assaulted by negative criticism and something else that proves to be far worse.

"This salad has seen better days," Daniel said as he moved the wilted greens around the plate with his fork.

"I think the same could be said of any food that's about to be eaten." I looked around the dining hall. The staff were all wearing Halloween apparel of some kind, and cheesy spiders, spider webs, and pumpkins adorned the walls. No sign of Seth yet. His class had probably run a few minutes late. It wouldn't be the first time.

Daniel shook his head as he looked at my chicken sandwich. "No, I think your chicken's worst day was the day it was killed to become food."

"Yum. Slaughter. Just what I want to think about when I'm eating." I picked up my sandwich and took a big bite anyway.

"You'll never take over the world if you're disturbed by a little slaughter."

"That's why I wrote a book about it. I never intended to actually do it myself," I said. "If I had intended to do it, I would have kept my nefarious plans to myself."

"You're right. Nefarious plans probably don't work all that well if everyone knows about them. I'll remember that in case I have any nefarious plans I want to implement." Daniel loaded his fork with some of his wilted salad.

"I'll keep that in mind," Seth said.

I turned to see him approaching with a plate of pizza. He set it next to mine and pulled a chair closer to me before sitting down.

"It's always good to know who has the ability to keep those kinds of things quiet," Seth said before attacking his pizza.

I nodded. "That's true. You never know when someone might turn those abilities against you."

"I think my composition professor has some evil plans to drive students insane with nonsensical assignments," Seth grumbled.

I patted his shoulder. "If I haven't managed to drive you insane by now, I don't think your professor stands a chance."

"I've built up a resistance to you over the years."

"No you haven't. You're just a masochist who enjoys the torture."

"Yuck." Daniel dropped his fork. "This salad really is past its prime. I should have gotten something else."

"Well, if you do decide to get something else, I'd suggest avoiding the soup. It looked suspicious," I said.

Seth nodded. "I'd listen to her. She's an expert on suspicious food."

Daniel sighed. "All of us will be by graduation."

"It's not all bad." I gestured to my sandwich. "This is pretty good."

"So, how was your class?" Seth asked.

"Just lovely," I said through clenched teeth.

Seth looked at me with furrowed brows. Whether his concern was for me or for whoever he thought I might have hurt, I wasn't sure. "It went that well?"

"This girl in our class was talking about how self-publishing is destroying the literary world." Just thinking about it was making my blood pressure rise again.

"Is the girl still alive?" Seth asked. Though he was joking, he sounded a bit worried.

"For now," I said. "Her future depends on how subsequent classes go."

* * *

I should stop checking the internet when I'm already in a questionable mood. I learned this long ago, but I can't seem to kick the habit. I should have at least tried to focus on relatively neutral things.

Since I'm a masochist, I went to my blog to read the new comments. There were four of them. That's actually more than I've gotten on most of my posts.

The contents of those comments, however, was less than inspiring. One of them was nice but vague, saying "Thanks for the thought-provoking post." Another comment was nothing but a series of links without any commentary whatsoever. Another was once again telling me that I can make $87 an hour working from my computer. I still wished the promise of easy money were true.

The last comment, much as I hate to admit it, was the one that got to me.

I've never read a bigger piece of crap in my life. I wish entitled little brats like you would stop flooding the internet with your silly attempts at being insightful. There are real problems in this world, and it's obvious you've never had to deal with any of them. No one cares what you have to say about anything, so why don't you try to do something useful instead of wasting our time with this nonsense?

Do you want to know why the exclamation "Boo!" is used to terrify people? Part of it relies on the element of surprise, but I don't think that's all it is. It also stems from the other ways people use the word "boo." The booing of an audience is the last thing a performer wants to hear. It signifies failure. It carries the sharp sting of rejection. Being belittled like this on Halloween just made me want to shout "Boo!" right back.

"Wasting your time? I didn't force you to read my post and take up your precious time writing a whole paragraph about it!"

Note #16

I spoke earlier about how important it is not to take negative comments on the internet seriously. However, if you can't bring yourself to shake them off, try to get angry rather than depressed or discouraged. If you let the comments hurt you and stop you from what you're doing, the trolls win. Anger can motivate you to push past any hurt you feel and inspire you to keep going, even if it's for no other reason than spite.

I buried my face in my hands and took a deep breath. It's not as if I didn't know criticism would come my way. At least someone cared enough to read and comment, even if the comment itself was downright nasty. Maybe it wouldn't have bothered me so much if the incident with Rhonda hadn't happened.

The front door of the apartment opened, and the telltale thud of Ruby's combat boots followed. "Tough homework assignment or mean people online?" she asked.

I looked up to see Ruby removing a cheeseburger and fries from a takeout bag. She did eat non-sugary foods on occasion. "The latter, I'm afraid. Tough homework assignments, I can eventually figure out. People, on the other hand, can be too screwed up for comprehension."

"I've got to give you credit. You have more patience than I do."

I shook my head. "It's stubbornness."

"Stubbornness works too." Ruby set her food out on the counter, then reached into the fridge to grab a drink. "So, are you dedicated to torturing yourself for the rest of the afternoon, or are you up to going over to watch the Student Activities Council decorate for tonight's party?"

"Why would I want to do that?" Lots of people love decorating, but it's something I avoid, and for a simple reason. I have no sense of what would look good when confronted by a bare room. You could set books full of paint samples and carpet samples and furniture options down in front of me, and I wouldn't have a clue where to start. If someone else decorates a room, then I can say whether I think it looks good or not. That's the extent of my skills.

Ruby shrugged. "Why would you want to subject yourself to the trolls of the world?"

I sighed. "Stop making valid points. I'm not in the mood for that kind of thing."

Note #17

Irritation can bring out your defensive armor. We all handle our irritation in different ways. Some people get angry in return. Some get violent. Some get sarcastic. Some brush off the irritant, treating it as insignificant, and move on. I am not of this last sort, though I wish I were.

"Well, I don't want to go to this thing alone, so why don't you just stop being stubborn and come with me?"

I shook my head. "Then why don't you explain to me why you want to go at all? I didn't know you were into all of this decorating stuff."

Ruby laughed. "I'm not, but it isn't that bad, either. Besides, I wouldn't be going to help. My main goal would be to observe and take advantage of the free snacks they'll have set out for the volunteers. I know how much you enjoy observing people. It's good for writers to witness rituals like this, you know."

"Again with the good points," I said with a grin. "I thought I told you to knock that off." The idea of going to watch the decorating still didn't thrill me, but there is something nice about being included. As long as the person inviting you along is pleasant to be around, anyway.

Note #18

Be careful with the façade you present to the world. You don't want to be the prickly curmudgeon that no one wants to be friends with or invite to anything. At the same time, you don't want to be the pushover who gets conned into doing things you don't want to do with people you don't even like.

"I don't think I'm capable of that. It's part of who I am." Ruby gave me a smug grin. "As soon as I finish my food, we'll go."

* * *

The ballroom was huge, capable of holding several hundred people at a time. At the moment, a couple of dozen students were scattered about the space, and while decorating had been in progress for hours already, a lot remained to be done.

Streamers were draped all along one end of the room, the students in charge of hanging them standing atop some impressively tall ladders. I'm not afraid of heights by any means, but something about standing that high in the air to hang something from the ceiling strikes me as potentially unsafe. Especially since I, being the short stature that I am, would have to stretch on my tiptoes despite being at the top of one of those ladders. No thank you.

In the center of the room, a group of five was working on setting up what appeared to be a giant jack-o-lantern. Some parts of it looked kind of rough. It had been dinged in a couple of spots during the moving process, though one student was doing touch-up work with some kind of putty and orange paint. Regardless of how it looked in the daylight, I doubted any of the damage would be visible during the party when it would be considerably darker.

Boxes of purple and orange lights sat to one side of the doors, along with folded tables and chairs. A bucket of miniature pumpkins sat on the other side.

I finally spotted a small table of snacks on the opposite side of the room, and a student wrangling a life-sized skeleton stood between it and us.

"There's no covert route to the food," I said.

"They probably set it up that way on purpose. It's like a trap to lure in volunteers. You go in to get the food, and they surround you, and the next thing you know, you have twenty jobs to do and no time to enjoy your cookie." With that, Ruby started to make her way across the room.

"You got us into this. Remember, I never agreed to doing anything helpful."

She glanced at me over her shoulder. "Relax. It's easy enough to look busy without actually doing much."

That is true. I've used that strategy plenty of times in my life. In high school, it was a good way to coast through study hall when I felt like daydreaming rather than doing my homework. The problem, though, is that it's far easier to look productive when you're doing a solo activity, like doing homework. You can stick your nose in a book, or look over a half-written paper as if you're editing it. It's a different story when you're expected to produce tangible results that others will see.

Still, I was determined.

Note #19

It's always possible to appear productive with minimal effort. You just need to be creative about it.

Other tables were already being set up near the snacks, and students were spreading cheap plastic purple, orange, and black table cloths over them. I snagged the bucket of little pumpkins and hurried to catch up with my roommate.

"Ooh! Great idea! We look legit now." Ruby scooped up a couple of handfuls of pumpkins. We altered our course slightly so we could walk past all of the recently erected tables. Ruby deposited a pumpkin in the center of each one while I trailed behind her so she could reach back for more.

"Do you think anyone is going to call us out for not knowing what we're doing?" I asked.

"I know exactly what we're doing," Ruby said with a grin. "We're doing a little decorating. If anyone questions the way we're doing it, that would just be rude."

"You said we'd be watching, not participating," I said accusingly.

"We're _barely_ participating. This is the level of participation the lazy person in any group has. I wouldn't even say this rises to the level of work."

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one carrying the heavy bucket." Okay, the bucket wasn't _that_ heavy, but that wasn't the point. It was the principle of the matter.

"Well, you're the one who picked it up in the first place. You can't blame me for that."

I shook my head. "Again with the good points. Why do you insist on making good points?"

"It's part of my nature. Don't judge me too harshly for it."

By this time, we'd reached the snack table, which had already been thoroughly picked over. The bowl of potato chips was less than a third full, and only the small, broken pieces remained. A vegetable tray still had several stalks of celery and some broccoli, but everything else was decimated. A plate had a couple of sugar cookies and what looked like an oatmeal raisin cookie. The punch was gone, leaving only half a jug of water.

"This is somewhat disappointing," Ruby said as she reached for one of the cookies.

I knew my words would do nothing to faze her, but I still felt the need to point something out. "You had cookies earlier today."

She gave me a confused look and shrugged. "So? What's your point? You've been criticizing me for making good points today. How about trying to make some of your own?"

I'd never imagined meeting anyone who could best me in a snark competition, but I certainly had. Maybe I should have been annoyed, but I enjoyed the challenge of verbally sparring with Ruby.

I held my hands up in surrender. "I value my health a bit too highly to risk speaking ill of cookies in your presence."

"Good thinking." Ruby took a bite of her cookie as she looked at the mostly barren snack table. "Judging by this sad state of affairs, you'd think they'd been at work since dawn, but the amount of work they have left to do proves that isn't true."

"Not unless everyone here did the same as us and showed up to freeload off the free food." I picked a piece of broccoli off the tray.

Ruby nodded. "That's possible."

Our theory gained credence when a group of volunteers burst out laughing. I turned to see a tall, black-haired girl running rapid circles around one of the guys. I didn't get a great look at him, because with each revolution the girl completed, she further covered him with white streamers. I wasn't sure what the white streamers were intended for, but I had the feeling this wasn't it.

"Someone's trying on their Halloween costume early," I said as the newly adorned volunteer put his arms out and began to stumble around. Only a small opening had been left where his eyes were, but I had no idea how well he could actually see.

Ruby patted my shoulder. "See Dani, there's no reason to feel bad about our lack of effort. They're not taking this seriously either."

It was true, too. The people who'd done the mummifying were standing around in a circle, snickering at the spectacle. The mummy broke through the crowd, staggering around and groaning. A misstep had him almost falling forward, but he managed to regain his balance, his arms stretched out on either side of him.

"Horror movies featuring mummies should make them look clumsier," I said. "Think about it. They've got the whole rigor mortis thing going on, not to mention everything the mummification process entails. It would make sense for mummies to not only be slow, but really uncoordinated."

"I assume we're disregarding the fact that mummies coming to life makes no sense in the first place. You can't enjoy one of those movies without overlooking that particular issue."

I nodded. "Of course. I can do suspension of disbelief, but some things go too far. You need to have internal consistency, otherwise you won't have a scary movie. You'll just have one massive joke."

The guy continued to stumble away from the group, one end of the white streamer trailing along behind him. While I could see the potential hazard there, it seemed a bit too obvious to be taken seriously. It's the sort of thing that would be exploited in a cheesy comedy.

I should have known better than to dismiss it. After all, it only makes sense that the obvious hazards will occasionally lead to disastrous results. Time with my family should've taught me this. It even happened in the way I would have guessed. When I saw a girl walking backwards to get a good view of the work she'd just completed on the giant jack-o-lantern, I figured the combination of two people who couldn't see each other might be problematic. My 4th of July experiences had also taught me a thing or two about trajectories. They were on a direct collision course.

When they bumped into each other, it was the stuff spectacular slow motion shots are made of. Their shoulders collided, and the girl fell forward. Her knee came down on the loose streamer, and the mummy lost his footing. The faux bandages tore away as he fell into a nearby ladder.

If this had happened in a comedy, someone would have been standing atop that ladder at the time, and they would have gone sprawling into the giant jack-o-lantern, breaking it in the process. Fortunately, life doesn't always play out like the movies.

There wasn't anyone atop the ladder, nor did it hit the jack-o-lantern as it toppled. It did land pretty close, though. A girl holding a bucket had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit, and naturally, the bucket went into the air as she lost her grip on it.

Another girl happened to be holding a portable fan, which I presumed she was using to help dry the paint she'd just applied to the jack-o-lantern.

It wasn't until the contents of the emptied bucket went swirling through the agitated air that I realized how messy things were about to get.

Glitter has the extraordinary ability to get everywhere and adhere no matter what you do.

Note #20

Unless you're using it to make a long-term fashion statement, stay away from glitter. Once it's on you, it'll take a lot of scrubbing to remove it. And trust me, if you're trying to look moody or intimidating, glitter is not your friend.

I didn't have enough time to get out of the way. The black, orange, and purple glitter tornado swallowed me whole. When it finally settled, the whole area had been coated. The volunteers, tables, and floor were a sparkling disaster. The jack-o-lantern now had glittering patches where the wet paint had been.

Worst of all, I was covered from head to toe in sparkly little bits of crap. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Chapter 5

In which I try not to shimmer, don my costume for the evening, and encounter frightening foods.

"You look like you belong in the 80's," Seth said. I was not at all pleased with the level of amusement in his voice.

I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, desperately trying to comb as much glitter out of my hair as I could before taking a shower. This left my hair looking decidedly larger than normal, not to mention more shimmery than I'd typically like.

"I know, and that's not the look I wanted to have for tonight." I groaned as I continued to tug at my hair. "It's hopeless. There's no way I'm going to be able to get it out in time."

"What's wrong with that? I think you look cute with all that glitter." Yes, he was far too amused. I needed to think of a way to wipe that grin off his face.

"Then why don't you come closer so I can wipe some off on you?" I held my glitter-covered hands out like I was about to touch him.

His look turned serious. "The glitter wouldn't go with my costume."

"It won't go with mine either, and if I don't get it all off now, you won't be able to touch me for the rest of the night without adding a little sparkle to your look."

"You'd better get it off, then. Do you think the shower will be enough to do it?" There was a distinct note of panic in his voice now.

I shrugged. "It's the best chance I've got."

"Good luck," Ruby said.

She was standing in the doorway. She'd changed from her regular clothes to a black dress with long black boots. Silver hoop earrings dangled from her ears, and she had a necklace and bracelets to match. Her auburn hair still had copious amounts of glitter in it, and her face and arms were quite shiny in the light.

"You've decided to keep your glittery coat," I said.

Ruby nodded. "Why not? I don't feel like struggling in futility. Besides, I didn't really have a Halloween costume picked out, so it gave me something to work with."

Seth stared at her for a moment. "What _is_ that costume supposed to be?"

Ruby's smile was wicked. "That's the whole point. I want to drive people crazy trying to guess what it is. I'm curious what people will think up."

Note #21

A costume can be used to stir up and promote chaos, leaving people disoriented and confused. People don't know what to expect from you, and that makes many feel unsettled. I've noticed that some politicians seem to use this tactic, changing their tune so easily that they may as well be chameleons.

"You're evil, and I don't know if I can forgive you for this disaster," I mumbled.

"Oh, sure you can," Ruby said. "When you get to the party, you'll know firsthand why the decorations aren't done and it looks like Tinker Bell exploded in the ballroom."

I snickered. "That was pretty epic. Still not convinced it was worth the consequences, though." Running the tip of a finger around the shell of my ear, I pulled it away to reveal a large clump of glitter. "I'm going to be finding this stuff for days."

Seth shrugged. "What's Halloween without a few surprises?"

* * *

A long shower took care of the worst of it, though I did have to shampoo my hair twice. Afterwards I went back to my bedroom to get into my costume. The individual elements of it were already spread across my bed. The white shirt had a dark gray comma painted on it, courtesy of a girl in the art department who'd been looking to make a few extra dollars. (Yes, my art skills are so bad that I can't paint a comma. You can stop laughing now.) The dark gray pants, gray shoes, and gray bowler hat completed the look.

I thought the physical elements were great, but there was one aspect of the costume that had me nervous. I had no idea if I could pull off a British accent. I'd seen a lot of British TV shows over the years, but that in no way guaranteed I could put the accent into practice.

"Hello mate." I cringed. If that first attempt was any indicator of future success, there'd be no fooling anyone. Then I shrugged. If I couldn't do the accent well, maybe I could try making it truly terrible. Then my costume might have a comedic effect. If you can't do something well, you can always try to make them laugh.

I tied my hair back and pinned it to my head so the hat would cover everything. I wanted to keep it out of the way, yes, but I also wanted to hide the stray specks of glitter that had survived my lengthy shower. I could only hope it would be gone by the time I went home for Thanksgiving. Tyler would do his brotherly duty to make my life a living hell if he saw it, and that would take some of the sting out of the sweet vengeance I had planned for him in the coming months.

Once my costume was completed, I went to check myself out in the bathroom mirror. Ruby was already there fussing with her hair.

"Bloody hell, I look good," I said with a grin. Yeah, the accent still sucked.

Ruby's face twisted, and she looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "What the bloody hell are you supposed to be?"

I pointed to the comma on my shirt. "Think about it. This plus oxford gray pants, Oxford shoes, the accent, a bowler hat . . ."

Ruby was shaking her head before I trailed off. "You're an Oxford comma? Really? Can you get any dorkier than that?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I'll have to consider that while I'm planning my costume for next year."

"You're something else," Ruby muttered.

Note #22

Never be afraid to let your Halloween costume reflect the real you. You may not be the literal thing you're dressing as, but your choice works best when it highlights a central aspect of your personality. I'm obviously not an Oxford comma in real life, but I am a language geek, and that fact was made clear by my costume selection.

"Believe me, I know that." I adjusted the hat a little. "I know that all too well."

A knock on the door had me abandoning the last minute adjustments and exiting the bathroom. My boyfriend waited on the other side, and he was decked out in his own version of geeky glory. I recognized the suit jacket he'd once worn for a cousin's wedding, as well as the round, black-rimmed glasses he'd worn as a component of a completely different Halloween costume three years earlier. The red bowtie was new, though. I couldn't help but giggle at that little detail.

The best component of the costume, however, was the cardboard box with a zombified stuffed cat sticking its head through a hole in the side.

I grinned. "The mystifying question of whether Schrodinger's cat is alive or dead is now answered. It's both."

Seth nodded. "This is how the zombie apocalypse begins! With zombie cat!"

"Okay Dani, I owe you an apology." Ruby stepped up beside me, looking as if she'd been given the greatest gift ever. "I thought your costume was as dorky as it gets, but I was clearly wrong. Zombie Schrodinger's cat takes the cake."

Seth took a deep bow. "Thank you. It's always great to have your efforts recognized for what they are."

Ruby threw her hands in the air. "What can I say? You two weirdos are perfect for each other."

* * *

We needed to get dinner before moving on with the evening's activities. The main dining hall was having a Halloween-themed dinner. Though I wasn't sure what that entailed, I was intrigued enough to check it out. Ruby said she liked taking chances, but not when it came to her food, so she was eating elsewhere. I could see where she was coming from, too.

Note #23

If your food is wearing a costume, be wary. It may be a festive occasion, but a costume could still be masking some kind of unknown horror. When it comes to what you put in your body, you should exercise caution.

I explored the various food stations with Seth, who had reluctantly set his zombie cat box down at an empty table so he could carry his tray. The waffle station was doing pumpkin flavored waffles in unusual shapes and colors. The orange batter was going into a waffle iron shaped like a jack-o-lantern, while the green batter was going into a waffle iron shaped like Frankenstein's monster.

"Make a note of that," I said, pointing at the waffles. "If nothing else looks appetizing, that at least looks pretty safe."

Seth nodded. "Oh, look at the salad bar."

The salad bar had a lot of the standard stuff, but it also had cauliflower "brains' that were covered with a bright green pesto sauce. Little clementine oranges had been pre-peeled and garnished with green gumdrop "stems" to make miniature pumpkins.

The pizza station had miniature mummy pizzas with strips of cheese for bandages and black olives for eyes.

The most unsettling dishes up for offer had to be at the dessert station. There was worm pasta (made from stunningly realistic jelly worms layered over cookies that had been crushed to look like dirt) and jello brains. They looked neat, but I couldn't envision myself eating them.

Seth and I ultimately made our way back to the waffle station. I got a pumpkin-shaped waffle, along with skull and crossbones bacon and eggs. Two eggs made up the skull, the yolks positioned where the eye sockets would have been. Two pieces of bacon formed an X beneath the skull, completing the image. Seth opted for a short stack of Frankenstein's monster waffles. "To keep zombie cat company," he explained. "If zombie cat hasn't been stolen by now, that is."

Leaving costume elements unattended was certainly a risky move, but we returned to the table to find the box and stuffed monstrosity within undisturbed. Seth patted the cat's head fondly as he settled in with his food. "Hmmm. If Erwin Schrodinger had named his cat, what would that name be?" he asked thoughtfully.

"I don't know. Chance? Lucky? Unlucky? Coin Toss?"

Seth laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe he'd have chosen a name like Fluffy or Cuddles to throw everyone off."

I took a sip of my standard coffee, having been too uncertain to take a chance on any of the more unusual beverage options available. "Schrodinger sure did like to keep people guessing."

"Is anyone sitting here yet?" a gruff, somewhat muffled voice asked.

I looked over to see a werewolf waiting (maybe patiently) for an answer. How can you even tell if a werewolf is being patient? Does it count as patient or friendly as long as it is not tearing your throat out? Its posture didn't come across as particularly irritated, so I figured that was a good sign.

Note #24

If a werewolf or other fearsome beast asks you for something, it's generally a good idea to let it have what it wants. This may be especially true if you wind up in some weird scenario where you're approached by a real werewolf, but it also applies if you encounter someone in a werewolf costume. Those costumes are bulky and offer full body coverage, so you never know what kind of person waits beneath it. You don't want to risk angering someone under those circumstances.

"Someone may or may not be in that seat," Seth said with a thoughtful stroke of his chin. "Who can say? Until we know, it is both."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I can say. No, that seat isn't taken."

The werewolf nodded and sat down with a tray filled with mini mummy pizzas. The mask was amazingly detailed. The long, dark fur looked coarse and covered realistic synthetic skin. It had to be an expensive mask. It also wouldn't allow the person wearing it to eat, so it didn't come as any surprise when the werewolf removed its head.

"Oh, hey Owen," I said. "I didn't know it was you."

Owen grinned, though his face was flushed and sweaty. "That's good. I was kind of hoping to be a bit incognito tonight."

Apparently it's possible to be incognito while dressed as a werewolf. How many people would think to use such a method?

Owen is one of those inherited friends. You know how it goes. You know someone who befriends someone else, and that someone else has their own group of friends. Owen came along courtesy of Seth's roommate Isaac. Owen and Isaac were best friends all through high school, and there were lots of stories about their escapades. Not much had changed since they started college, either. There was a notorious incident from the first week of school involving lunch trays and the front steps leading up to the biology building. How they managed to keep the trays balanced on the railing the entire time without sustaining serious injuries, I'll never know.

"Going incognito doesn't seem to be part of your nature," I said.

"Keeping a low profile can have its benefits," he said with a grin, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief.

I shook my head. "By all means, don't give me any details. I'd like to have plausible deniability should anything go awry."

Owen's grin broadened. "That might be a good idea."

"It won't prevent the fallout of whatever they have planned from impacting you," Seth warned.

Isaac strolled up and sat down. He wore his normal clothes, no sign of anything Halloween-related on his body. That alone seemed odd.

"What are you supposed to be, Isaac?" I asked.

Owen's grin couldn't hold a candle to Isaac's toothy smile. He has prominent teeth anyway, and that coupled with his bubbly personality would make him a successful gameshow host if he ever decided to go that route. "I can't wear my costume to dinner. That would give it away."

Give it away? What was with enigmatic people today? First Ruby. Then Isaac. How had Seth and I ended up with the weirdest roommates ever, and how were those roommates not already the best of friends?

"Not to mention it would be unsafe," Owen said, looking down at Isaac's tomato soup with a sour cream spider web drawn on top.

Isaac elbowed Owen. "Hush!"

My mind was spinning with the possibilities. I turned to Seth, who shrugged. "He told me it's a surprise."

This left me feeling unsettled. "Are you sure he isn't dressed as a serial killer? I mean, the danger of serial killers is that they look like everyone else."

"I thought the danger of serial killers was that they killed people serially," Seth said.

Isaac waggled his eyebrows. "Maybe that's exactly what I am."

I decided to let it go and return to eating my food. There's something unsatisfying about cold eggs and waffles, after all.

"Are you guys doing the trick-or-treating thing before the party?" Owen asked as we were finishing dinner.

I nodded. "I don't know why, considering my roommate is probably going to steal all the candy I get, but it sounds like fun." It actually sounded utterly ridiculous, but who said the most ludicrous things couldn't also be enjoyable?

Note #25

Becoming an adult involves giving up certain parts of childhood and moving on to more mature things. This doesn't mean that you have to give up all childhood pastimes and become a boring stick in the mud. It's okay to be silly sometimes, as long as that silliness doesn't cross the line into becoming dangerous.

I know I spent a lot of time railing against The Fallible Four and their 4th of July antics, but they flagrantly violated the rule of not doing anything insanely dangerous.

"Don't worry. I'll protect your candy for you," Seth said, patting the box beside him. "No one will risk battle with zombie cat."

I snorted. "You apparently don't know Ruby as well as you claim to, then."
Chapter 6

In which I see many bizarre things in my quest for free candy.

Campus trick-or-treating had been a pre-Halloween party tradition for the past twelve years. Rumor has it that it all started when a bunch of frat boys went around knocking on random dorm doors year after year demanding candy. People eventually came to the conclusion that, if a group of people was going to be annoying anyway, they may as well have fun with it.

The trick-or-treating event takes place in a different student residence hall every year. The residents of the host building either hand out candy or find someone to hand out candy in their place if they didn't feel like doing it themselves. This year it was happening in one of the older dorms on campus. It housed mostly freshmen and had been recently remodeled. The rooms were considerably smaller (though cheaper) than the apartment where I lived, but they were nice enough.

As the four of us strolled through a large open area, leaves crunching beneath our feet, we saw electric jack-o-lanterns glowing eerily along the sidewalks and on either side of various doors.

"Do you think most schools go to this kind of effort for Halloween?" I asked.

Isaac, who had his hands jammed in his jeans pockets, shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm not going to complain. I love this."

"Says the man who isn't dressed as anything," I said. "Are you even going to be able to get candy without a costume?"

"I have a costume. I just can't wear it yet," Isaac said calmly.

Okay. If Isaac couldn't wear his costume for trick-or-treating, that was a bad sign.

I pulled out my phone and sent Ruby a quick text as we walked. If this was turning out to be a group activity anyway, I didn't want to leave her out of the fun.

I got a reply a few seconds later.

-I know who ur boy toy hangs out with. Y would I want to be part of that?

I shook my head as I typed out my response.

-Why would you want to risk missing out on the antics? Besides, you still owe me for the glitter bomb. Plus, there's candy! We'll be waiting for you out front.

"Who are you talking to?" Seth asked as he slipped his free arm around my shoulders.

"Ruby. I'm trying to convince her she doesn't want to miss this. I'm hoping if she gets candy of her own, she'll be less likely to steal mine." I didn't really believe that, but it was a nice thought nonetheless.

Note #26

If you're a naturally cynical person like me, it can be difficult to give people the benefit of the doubt, especially if you know them. The more realistic view of what they're capable of tends to shine through despite your intentions. However, this isn't always a bad thing. There's nothing wrong with trying to give someone the benefit of the doubt, but you shouldn't let that intention blind you to those who are taking advantage of you.

"I'm all for adding another girl into the mix," Owen said, his voice sounding a tad too enthusiastic.

"Don't say anything like that when she gets here. You might scare her off," I warned.

"Or she'll be the one to scare him off," Seth said. "I'd say that's just as likely in this case."

Owen shook his head. "Nothing scares me."

I had no doubt his bravado would fail him if he encountered one of Ruby's bad moods, but I didn't feel the need to mention this. Let him learn the hard way, if it came down to it. That would only add to the hilarity of the evening.

When we got to the dorm, a large group of people had gathered on the patio in front of the building. One girl, who was holding a plastic bottle that looked like it contained orange juice, wore a black skirt, tight black top, a cat ear headband, and high heels. She was laughing so hard that she weaved dangerously in place like one of those giant wind sock people. The high heels couldn't be helping things, but I suspected there wasn't _only_ juice in that drink of hers. The inevitable happened before I had the chance to point out the issue. She rocked back a bit too far, and when the spindly heels didn't give her enough surface area on which to regain her balance, she went toppling backwards.

You can learn a lot about a person when you see how they prioritize in an emergency situation.

Note #27

When things are happening fast and you only have a split second to react, your real self will come to light. You can pretend to be someone you're not all you want, but when you're forced to act quickly and without forethought, that mask will fall away.

This girl was surrounded by friends. Three of them were behind her, and any one of them could have caught her. One of them, a guy wearing a firefighter costume, stepped out of the way to avoid being hit. A girl dressed as a candy striper deftly caught the drink that had launched into the air when the cat girl lost her footing. The third person, a dude with sunglasses and dreadlocks, wasn't paying close enough attention and didn't react at all. The two of them collided in a tangle of limbs and went down with a sickening thud on the concrete.

Several long moments passed, and everyone in the vicinity stared at the aftermath. The girl who'd caught the drink was the first to move, and though I half expected her to claim the drink for herself, she looked at her friend who was still sprawled awkwardly on the ground. "I saved your drink for you," she said cheerfully.

The girl on the ground flashed a double thumbs-up. "Thank you!"

Dreadlocks guy, who was still being pressed into the concrete by the girl's dead weight, looked far less amused by the situation than everyone else. He glared up at the people around them. "Is anyone going to help me, or are you going to stand around like a bunch of lemons?"

Someone in a bulky Godzilla suit pushed through the crowd. Godzilla stuck out a large paw, helping the girl to her feet first, then reaching down to help the guy. Once the good deed was done, Godzilla gave a mighty snort and stomped off.

"That's not something you see every day," Ruby said as she came to stand with our group. "Isn't Godzilla the one meant to be knocking things down?"

"Anything is possible on Halloween," Owen said suggestively.

Ruby looked him up and down. Now that Owen was wearing the mask again, I couldn't see him squirm under her gaze. "I wouldn't be so sure of that. I don't know of many girls who want to spend the next few days hacking up hairballs."

Isaac bent over laughing. "Besides, she's wearing silver jewelry, dude. This relationship is never going to work."

Ruby grinned. She looked Isaac over in a similar way, but she didn't ask about his lack of costume. She probably didn't want to risk falling into the same kind of trap she'd set for others. Then she turned to me. "I could easily get lots of candy without resorting to spending time with you guys." Regardless of her words, there was no venom in her voice.

"Yeah, because I twisted your arm so hard about it," I said sarcastically.

She shrugged. "Well, I was already on my way over to check things out, and I didn't want you to annoy me too much about it. We should have gotten here sooner, though. Someone told me that a senior got busted handing out jello shots upstairs."

I sighed. "That figures. The fun never lasts, does it?"

"Nope. Not long enough for the rest of us to take advantage of it, anyway." Ruby shrugged. "Maybe someone else with be giving out something interesting."

The building had six floors. We decided to take an elevator to the top floor and work our way down. Almost all of the doors stood open, the occupants of each room wearing their own costumes. We approached a girl wearing a pair of scrubs covered in what I hoped was fake blood. She lifted some packs of ramen noodle soup from a large plastic storage container and handed one to each of us. "Happy Halloween!" she said brightly.

I nodded to myself. "That's a suitable thing to hand out to broke college students."

"She's probably handing it out so she doesn't have to eat them herself," Ruby mumbled as we walked away.

"What's wrong with ramen noodles?" Seth asked, looking genuinely baffled.

Ruby curled her lip at him. "What's wrong with _you_?"

"Now, now kids. Let's play nice." Owen's muffled voice was laced with amusement.

The next room had a clown handing out little bags of cotton candy. The painted mouth looked more like a leer, which is what I'm sure they were going for. The act was completed with a sinister little wave. I'd seen a few too many movies with evil clowns in them to feel comfortable there, so I was happy to move on.

"Woah," Isaac said as we stopped at the next room.

That was an appropriate response. I've seen _The Shining_ several times, and these twin girls had the look down perfectly. The truly creepy part, however, came when they said in eerie unison, "Come play with us, Danny."

Nope. Nope. As someone named Dani, I can say this is not cool. It's a different spelling, yes, but that hardly matters when the name is spoken aloud, does it?

Without another word, the twins each held out a bowl of candy and waited for us to help ourselves.

Note #28

Something about trick-or-treating feels counterintuitive. Growing up, you hear all about how you should never accept candy from strangers. Candy is one of the ways creepy predators lure kids into vans, never to be seen again, after all. Yet when the time comes to trick-or-treat, many of these strangers are wearing crazy costumes that would make it difficult to identify them in a police lineup.

Not everyone was wearing elaborate costumes, though. One guy just plopped a cowboy hat on his head and called it good. Unless that was his usual style, in which case he needs to rethink how it looks with a torn band t-shirt, khaki shorts, and partially shredded sneakers.

We eventually made it down to the fifth floor, this time taking the stairs since it was such a short distance. Two people were wrapped in a rather intimate embrace in one corner of the stairwell. One was dressed as Batman, the other as Superman. I couldn't tell for sure whether they were making out or trying to kill each other, because it felt too rude to intrude on such a private moment by staring. I have to say this, though. If you're going to engage in either of those activities in public, you should do it while in full costume. It makes it much harder for people to identify you.

I was at the front of the group when we exited the stairwell once again, and a knight immediately intercepted me. Instead of wielding a sword, he held a plastic butter knife, but the rest of the costume looked decent enough. "Halt, visitors," he ordered.

Entertained by the display, I complied. "Of course, good Sir."

"Before I let you pass, I must inquire. Are your intentions pure?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Absolutely not."

He bowed deeply. "Very well. You may proceed." He stepped aside to let us pass.

Seth's grin stretched from ear to ear. "This is better than trick-or-treating around the neighborhood as kids."

"Much," I agreed. "We don't have to worry about dodging Mrs. Dalby's aggressive cats or Mr. Pitt's overly friendly dog." That neighborhood dog had inspired many kids to ask questions that led to the "birds and the bees" discussion.

We collected a lot more candy, but the highlight of the fifth floor came when we were greeted by a Jedi with an illuminated blue lightsaber. He held a bowl out, and in a calm voice said, "Use wisdom, young ones, for there are dark forces at play that seek to destroy you. Be safe."

I couldn't help but giggle when I looked inside the bowl. I reached in and snagged a prize for myself, holding it up for the others to see. "Flavored condoms. Nice." Looking at the label on the square foil packet, I saw mine was banana flavored. How appropriate.

Ruby pointed toward the stairwell. "Should one of us let Batman and Superman know that someone's handing out condoms over here?"

"That might be what inspired their current activities," I replied.

Though there were other floors to be seen, we decided to head over to the party. Overall we had a decent haul, and between the two of us, Seth and I had almost drowned zombie cat in delectable, and scandalous, treats. The box was heavy enough that Seth was listing to one side as we exited the dorm.

"Do you need to drop some of that off before we go?" I asked.

Seth shook his head. "No, I'd rather keep it with me so I can be prepared. You never know what we might need out of here."

"How very Boy Scouts of you considering you were never in the Boy Scouts," I said.

"Except I doubt this box contains much that your average Boy Scout would be carrying."

I grinned. "That isn't the sort of official preparation their leaders would be talking about, anyway."

At some point during our journey I noticed that Owen had picked up a straggler. I recognized the guy from a party I'd been to a few weeks before. Keith. He'd been smoking in the corner of a crowded basement while waxing poetic, and in doing so he'd attracted quite the fan following that night. A mixture of guys and girls had gathered around to hear what he had to say about the nature of life. His long dirty blond hair made him look as if he carried some strange, hippie wisdom others didn't possess. I have to give Keith credit for one thing. Unlike some people who philosophize about trivialities, Keith is willing to engage in lively debates with anyone that might challenge him. I can't say, however, whether his arguments hold up to scrutiny in the harsh light of sobriety.

Note #29

Every college campus has people who like to speak about profound but baffling things that most people won't understand but will pretend to understand so they can look smart. And every college campus has posers who pretend to be deeper than they are, using fancy words that don't actually mean much of anything. It'll do you good to learn to tell the difference.

Keith's Halloween costume, a toga fashioned from a bedsheet, suited his personality well enough. I suspected he wasn't wearing much of anything beneath it. He was smiling and nodding at something Owen was saying. Owen had removed his mask to facilitate the conversation.

"These rituals bring us all together," Keith replied, nodding as if agreeing with his own words as he spoke them. "Holidays and traditions bolster the synergy of the whole human race, man. No matter how asinine something like a Halloween party may seem, these are the events that help determine many peoples' futures. People who may one day make babies together might meet tonight. They may even accidentally make babies after the party. Bonds, man. It's all about bonds. Holidays produce good vibes."

I almost laughed. Keith had clearly never been to a holiday gathering when any of my relatives were in attendance.

"Look at them, for example," Keith said, pointing just behind me.

I turned my head to look, and I almost tripped over my own feet in the process. Remember how I wondered earlier in the evening how Isaac and Ruby hadn't become the best of friends? At that very moment, they had their arms around each other, and their heads were huddled close together as they giggled about something private.

Owen looked at the scene with a vague air of disappointment.

I nudged Seth and whispered, "It looks like our roommates are bonding." Keith may have had a point.

Note #30

Just because you don't set all that much stock in someone's opinion due to the way they present themselves to the world, that doesn't mean they can't occasionally be right.

"Wow. Halloween must be the day when weirdos unite," Seth said.

I smiled. "There's nothing wrong with that, though. It's kind of reassuring."

Seth nodded. "Yeah. If they start hanging out more, it means we'll probably get more time alone."
Chapter 7

In which a Halloween party becomes surprisingly romantic.

The ballroom was dark except for the light provided by the strings of colored lights that had, somehow, been successfully strung about the place. The mouth and eyes of the giant jack-o-lantern glowed ominously from the center of the room. Of course, the effect was somewhat lessened since I knew it was still coated in glitter.

Someone had also set up black lights around the perimeter, and Vaseline glass skulls shone an eerie green from little display tables. It looked pretty good.

Isaac was still glued to Ruby's side. "We're at the party now," I shouted over the generic Halloween-themed music. "Are we going to be seeing that costume of yours anytime soon?"

He grinned. "Patience, Dani. Patience."

Ruby covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

It was official. Ruby was in on it now. That couldn't be a good sign.

"I might have to keep my distance from you, in that case." I glanced around to see the ballroom was half-filled with people so far. Costumes ranged from simple to elaborate, from obvious excuses to show as much skin as possible to attempts to entirely cloak one's identity and become something drastically different.

Owen, who had his mask back on, stepped further into the room. "Do whatever you like, guys. I'm going to go mingle."

Keith waved. "Good luck, man."

The crowd absorbed Owen remarkably quickly considering he wore such an eye-catching costume.

"He's relying on young women who find werewolves sexually appealing," Isaac said. "We'll see how he does."

I shook my head. "Then he should have just worn tight jeans and no shirt. Isn't that the actual portrayal of werewolves most of them want to see?"

"Maybe, but late October is too chilly for that," Isaac replied. "He's planning to save that look for later if anyone expresses an interest."

I'd seen enough skimpy costumes to know that not everyone was deterred by the cold, but that didn't seem like an important point to make. "That might work. He could always use the appeal of mystery to his advantage. You know how people need to see what's inside the mystery box? People might be as interested in playing 'what's inside the costume' instead."

"Sounds like a fun game to me," Isaac said with a wink.

"Or a dangerous one," Ruby added. "Think about it. All you have to go on is a brief impression of someone's personality, and who knows if the person is being honest or not? So you go off with this virtual stranger, and no one at the party can give an accurate description of the person you left with when your mutilated body turns up days later. Great idea all around."

"People do extreme sports and hazardous things like that all the time," Seth said. "Someone is bound to be up for the risk."

"People meet up with strangers they meet online. It can hardly be worse than that," I said.

"The possibility of love is often worth the risk," Keith observed.

Note #31

No matter the circumstances, exercise some caution when meeting someone for the first time. I'm not advocating that you avoid new people entirely. That would be paranoid and self-destructive. Simply bear in mind that people may be trying to make their best impression, and if this is the case, you can't really claim to know them yet. The crazy aspects of a person's personality may not pop up until later.

Seth shifted zombie cat's box uncomfortably. "Maybe we should find a table. I wouldn't mind putting this down for a bit."

There was nothing to be gained from saying the classic "I told you so" line. Nevertheless, I couldn't seem to stop myself from pointing out the obvious. "I _did_ ask whether you wanted to stop and drop anything off."

Seth replied by sticking his tongue out at me. This is apparently the way mature adults communicate with one another.

We found a free table and sat down. Ruby and Isaac pulled their chairs up close to one another and resumed their whispering. Or should I say conspiring?

Keith took the chair on the other side of me. Even though he'd initially joined our group via Owen, he seemed to be sticking with us despite the fact that Owen had split. He was a bit like a barnacle, really, but at least he was harmless.

"So, Keith. What do you think of the party so far?" I asked.

He leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. "I like the energy in the air. It feels like good things are going to happen."

Though I had no faith in his fortune-telling skills, I hoped he was right. After the events of the 4th of July, I wasn't in the mood for another full-scale disaster. Yet, even with the advantage of not having any familial relations in tow, I couldn't say for certain that nothing would go colossally wrong. The sheer number of college-aged revelers still left the potential for chaos quite high.

"What kind of good things should we expect?" Seth asked. His expression told me he was just as skeptical as I was.

"People are letting go and relaxing, which means the collective amount of stress in the room is low. When there's less stress, there's more room for positive things." Keith made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. "People will hook up tonight. Some of them might even fall in love. They'll be able to look back on this night with fondness and think 'this is where it all began.'"

Though I wasn't sure how many people would look back on how romantic this Halloween party was, he was right about one thing.

Note #32

Humans have a need for nostalgia. We like to tell stories about our lives, connecting the past with the present in the process. We never know when we're going to encounter a life-changing event, and when we look back on those life-changing moments years later, our imperfect memories may have glossed over some details. Memory has a costuming effect of its own, making events seem more romanticized than they actually were, without us even realizing it.

I thought back to the day Seth and I first met and bonded over the sharing of chocolate. And the night many years later when we'd shared our impulsive, alcohol-fueled first kiss. Awkward as those important moments were at the time, I had to smile about them now.

"Some of them will have life-altering experiences courtesy of tequila," Seth said. "I heard rumors about an intense after-party at one of the frat houses."

I nodded. "Ah, tequila. The elixir of poor decision-making."

"Decisions once judged as poor can often be seen as positive experiences with the passage of time. It's all about perspective." Keith nodded to himself, pleased with the way that pearl of wisdom turned out.

As much as I wanted to scoff at what Keith said, I recognized the kernel of truth hidden beneath layers of pretentiousness.

Note #33

A message buried under loads of cliché and overly romanticized crap can still have something of value. You just need to dig through the manure to find it.

"Nevertheless, I think I'll try to steer clear of some of those bad decisions," I said.

Then I noticed the general shifting of the crowd as people began abandoning their tables and making their way to the middle of the room. Upon closer inspection, I realized the majority of them were pairing off and swaying to the music.

It seemed an odd sight for a Halloween party. This hadn't been advertised as a dance, though I'd been to plenty of parties that included dancing. Listening closely, I recognized the song. "White Demon Love Song" by The Killers. Romance and horror can certainly go hand in hand, and life feels more honest when people admit this fact. Even so, I hadn't anticipated a couple-y sort-of-slow dance.

Seth looked at me meaningfully. "It looks like everyone else is dancing."

Though I knew what he was getting at, I had to be difficult. I pointed at Isaac and Ruby. "They're not."

Ruby looked at me with a glimmer in her eye. She turned back to Isaac and held a hand out to him. "Would you like to dance?"

Isaac couldn't have possibly looked more pleased with himself. "I'd love to." He took her hand and they stood to go.

"You should go too," Keith said, eyes trained on Seth and me. "I'd do it myself, but the person I'd like to dance with is already out there with someone else." Then he glanced out at the dance floor wistfully.

"You could always try asking, you know," Isaac said pointedly. "You might be surprised by the answer you get."

Keith spun around, evidently startled. Though the statement seemed generic enough to me, there was nothing generic about the way Keith tensed. Isaac must have known something Keith hadn't intended him to know, and it threw him off. He watched with a baffled expression as Isaac and Ruby joined the dancers.

Though I was clueless about the precise nature of Keith's love problems, it felt rude to pry. Instead, I found myself sympathizing with him. "It sucks when people see right through you and you're not even sure how they managed it."

Keith met my comment with a faint grin. "It wouldn't be so bad if it came from the person I wanted to see me most. If that were the case, I suspect I'd be quite happy." Then he nodded toward Seth. "And you should seriously go ahead. Dance with him. It's obvious that he wants you to, and I'm guessing you're not as against the idea as you're pretending to be."

I turned to Seth and saw the silent pleading in his face. We'd been dating for more than ten months, and in all that time, we'd never slow danced. We'd done silly things like "The Chicken Dance," but nothing that wasn't done for a good laugh. Although I'd avoided dances, thinking them a silly way to spend my time, I felt warm inside when I thought about dancing with Seth. I'd been willing to go to prom with him for that reason, though those plans had fallen through. So no, it wasn't that I didn't want to do it. I simply wasn't sure if I could do it without trampling the poor guy's toes in the process.

"It isn't the worst thing in the world to have someone who wants to dance with you," Keith said.

I sighed, defeated. He was right. "Come on. Let's dance."

Seth shook his head. "Try not to sound too excited."

"It's not that I have a problem dancing with you," I assured him as I took his hand. "I don't trust my own feet. If you can deal with the potential fallout of said untrustworthy feet, then we'll be good."

"I think I can manage," Seth said as he stood.

We found an open spot on the floor and turned to face each other. I rested my hands on his shoulders while he held on to my waist. The good thing about slow dancing is all you really need to do is stand close to each other and shuffle your feet. You don't even need to have a decent sense of rhythm to do that. This fact helped me relax somewhat. That, along with the knowledge that Seth would certainly forgive me if I accidentally trod on his toes.

"Are you sure you're okay with doing this?" Seth asked. He sounded genuinely uncertain, and I was starting to feel bad.

"Of course I am. I'm sorry. It's not that I don't want to dance with you. I'm just an awkward person. You know that."

Seth smiled, pressing his forehead against mine. "So am I. We can be awkward together."

That sounded nice. I stepped in closer, burying my face against his shoulder and breathing him in as we moved to the music.

It's strange doing something in college that you adamantly avoided for most of your life. As I get older, I find myself re-examining the reasons I had for doing or not doing certain things. It's something we all have to do.

Note #34

It's understandable that you may disguise your motives from people from time to time. One thing you should never do is disguise them from yourself. Taking the time to really think about them helps you avoid this problem. Such analysis may be painful at times, but it tends to be worth it.

"This isn't so bad," I admitted. "It's kind of good, actually."

Seth's arms tightened around me. "It is."

Maybe the cliché things in life can be good things, too. Not always, perhaps, but it might be a bad idea to dismiss them out of hand.

"Were you more disappointed about us not being able to go to prom than you let on?" I asked.

Like I said, I'd made the choice to go to prom. Having someone to go with helped, and it would have felt weird to avoid such a big event. I could have claimed that I didn't want to go on principle, but I didn't want to. Maybe going to dances hadn't seemed appealing in the past because, being the socially inept person that I am, I hadn't wanted to stand awkwardly in a corner all night. I wasn't the most popular of people in high school (you're all shocked, I know), and I doubted being seen in that light would have helped me in any way.

Looking back now, I realize I could have easily convinced Seth to go along for the ride, and even before we got together, he would have danced with me. My friend Lyla would've also been there, though she and Seth would have tried to convince me to do some kind of silly dance routine and embarrass myself. You can always count on friends for that sort of thing.

Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad. Perhaps doing an embarrassing dance with Seth and Lyla would have been fun and well worth any potential fallout. That's part of the reason why I'd decided to go to prom after all. At the same time, I didn't see the point of blowing hundreds of dollars I didn't have on one night. I got a decent looking dress at a thrift store, aware that I hadn't worn a dress for years and the sight would be shocking to my classmates.

What I didn't plan on was getting sick. Massively sick. I missed three days of school leading up to prom, spent the whole weekend in bed, and still missed another school day home sick on top of that. I ran a fever, I vomited profusely, and I forgot what it was like to breathe through my nose. It was a lovely time. And my poor boyfriend, who had been exposed to the same germs as me, fell ill too. Ah, the hazards of dating.

Instead of spending that supposedly magical night dancing, we spent it on the phone commiserating with each other. So romantic. Seth had insisted that missing it wasn't a big deal at the time, but I couldn't help but wonder how true that was.

"It sucked," he admitted. "Yes, I would have liked having that experience with you. It might have been good. Even if it was awful, we could have laughed about it afterwards. It definitely would have been better than being home sick. Still, there's nothing we could have done to change it, and it isn't as if our lives are doomed to be empty forever because we missed it."

Now I definitely felt bad for hesitating about this particular dance. If something so small could make Seth happy, then I was willing to do it. "Life sometimes conspires to be extra craptastic, that's for sure." I didn't know what else to say, so I kissed him instead.

"And sometimes life can be awesome," he said.

I noticed that Seth's hands were migrating down my back. Any further and things would be getting too inappropriate for public. "Now I can see why you wanted to dance with me so badly. You wanted to appease your wandering hands."

Seth laughed. "I wouldn't say that's the main reason, but it doesn't hurt."

The song ended, moving into a slow, mournful tune I recognized courtesy of a music class I once took that focused a lot on classical composers. The organ of Bach's "Come Sweet Death" had the right kind of macabre feel for Halloween. Though many couples left the dance floor, several also remained, taking full advantage of the opportunity to remain close.

Note #35

People may have preconceived notions of what romance looks like. Often times those notions can be flat-out wrong. Romance is frequently able to slip through the cracks in disguise, catching you unaware at unexpected times. Don't let this alarm you.

Among the dancing couples, I saw a pair of zombies, Supergirl and Wonder Woman, Bonnie and Clyde, Dracula and Mina, and (bizarrely) a pumpkin and a banana.

Despite the strange nature of the moment, I snuggled in as close as I could, holding Seth tight. Sometimes in little moments like this, I find myself feeling overwhelmed by how much I love him.

Don't you dare call me sappy. Some of you might be judging me. Just wait until you have these kinds of warm and fuzzy feelings that threaten to take you over. Then you might understand.

"Maybe next year we should dress as Gomez and Morticia Addams," I said. "Now there's a great relationship to emulate."

Seth laughed. "I'm in."

It wasn't all that difficult to envision Seth and I dancing to morbid music a year down the road. He'd been a part of my life for so long that it would have been more difficult not to.
Chapter 8

In which unpleasant confrontations abound and nerves become strained.

The tempo of the music soon picked up, and we decided to visit the snack table. I wasn't hungry yet, but there wouldn't be much left if we didn't swoop in soon. That's where we found Daniel with a girl I didn't know.

"Look at your mustache!" she cried. "Who wouldn't think you're supposed to be dressed as Hitler?"

Wow. That's a heck of a point to walk in on a conversation.

I looked at Daniel's fake mustache, curly dark wig, vest, jacket, and tie. "The mustache may look similar, but that definitely isn't Hitler's hair," I said.

The girl spun around to shoot daggers at me with her eyes. She was dressed as Harley Quinn, and the costume looked spot on. That only made the encounter feel more surreal. "Hitler had dark hair," she said triumphantly, as if that proved everything.

I grinned. "That's true, but his hair was straight and looked like it was lacquered in place. You can't try to take over the world and commit genocide with crazy hair. No one would take you seriously." Since I had written a book about world domination, I felt qualified to comment on these things. "Judging by the general appearance and distinct lack of Nazi uniform, I would guess he's actually dressed as Edgar Allan Poe." The fact that I knew of Daniel's Poe obsession aided me in coming to this conclusion.

"Yes! Thank you!" Daniel threw his hands up in the air with relief. "I had a stuffed raven earlier that made it easier for people to figure it out, but it got lost somehow."

The girl still didn't look satisfied. "Even if that's true, you should be more careful with your costume choice next time. You won't win any friends by offending everyone." Then she spun on her heel and walked away.

"I shall listen to you nevermore!" Daniel called after her, waving his fist in the air.

She responded by throwing a single digit salute over her shoulder.

Note #36

Costumes can occasionally be controversial, even when they aren't intended to be. Some people may have a legitimate reason for disliking your costume choice, but there are others who will be determined to take issue with it, regardless of whether their objections have any basis in reality.

Daniel shook his head and sighed. "I guess all geniuses are misunderstood."

I laughed. "That still doesn't explain what just happened to you."

"Critics. I'm surrounded by critics," Daniel said woefully. "So, what's your costume supposed to be?"

I was prepared for this question. "I'm the Oxford comma, mate," I said with a flourish.

He shook his head. "While I applaud your creativity, I cannot support that accent."

I staggered back with my hand over my heart. "I'm wounded!"

Seth slipped his arms around me. "Though I cannot defend your accent, I can defend your honor on principle."

"Oh, great. Now I've managed to turn everyone against me. I surrender." Daniel took a couple of steps back to illustrate his point. "Maybe I should call it a night before I get my butt kicked."

"No, don't do that. It's early, and I'm sure the most interesting bits will happen at the end of the night," I said.

"To be fair, Dani, the most interesting bits tend to be the things you'd be better off avoiding," Seth pointed out.

"Are you trying to chase me off now? Because I'd better warn you, I'm scrappier than I look." Daniel put his fists up as if preparing for a fight, but he was grinning. Something about that smile, however, seemed off. Like he was actually worried something might happen.

I looked at Seth as the opening notes of Bach's "Toccata and Fugue in D minor" began to play. It lent an intense air to a situation that already seemed far more tense than it needed to be. "Just giving you a healthy warning," Seth said with a tight smile. "Holidays around Dani tend to be crazier than most people can handle."

"Hey, my family isn't around for this one, so who knows what might happen?" I tried to sound upbeat. Yeah, I know, that doesn't come naturally to me, but I was that desperate to dispel whatever was going on.

Seth nodded. "True, but I'm sure there are plenty of people in this room who could rival your cousins."

That possibility could not be denied. Still, I would have taken a whole room filled with Fallible Four replicas over what I was about to face.

"Hello everyone," Rhonda said as she sidled up to the table. Her bright green jacket, glasses resting on the end of her nose, notepad, and bright green quill identified her as Rita Skeeter. For those of you who may not know, Rita Skeeter is a rather irritating "journalist" who writes sensationalized news stories in the Harry Potter series. Considering how badly Rhonda had annoyed me earlier in the day, her costume seemed absolutely perfect.

Daniel definitely looked worried now, but I think his concern stemmed from what he feared I might do to Rhonda. "Long time, no see," I said. My tone was anything but friendly.

Rhonda looked me over from head to toe. "You're an Oxford comma? Isn't that a bit pretentious?"

I didn't even know where to begin with that one. First of all, I almost wanted to give her credit for figuring out my costume. Almost. Her calling the costume pretentious seemed pretty hypocritical to me, though. Of course, I could just be bitter about her judgments regarding my books.

"Are you sure you should be tossing that word around?" I asked.

Rhonda smirked. "You're dressed as a punctuation mark that serves no real purpose. It's merely something for grammar geeks to rally around so they can feel good about themselves. Doesn't that sound a bit pretentious to you?"

"Doesn't it seem a bit pretentious of you to go around judging the value of things all the time as if you're some kind of expert?" I demanded.

This was turning out to be quite the mature argument.

Note #37

No matter how much you try to act the part of mature adult, there are certain things that can cause that façade to crumble. People who know how to push your buttons can be the irritant that drives you to act like a child.

"First of all, it's not pretentious to point out trash when you see it," Rhonda said.

Seriously, what was wrong with this girl? I had no reason to believe she'd even read anything I'd written, but I knew what she was implying about my work. Maybe she just wanted to get under my skin and knew this was a surefire way to do it.

"It's also a bit ridiculous to assume something is unworthy when you clearly know nothing about it," Daniel said.

Seth looked lost, but he put a hand on my shoulder. "You know what seems crazy to me? Looking for a fight in the middle of a Halloween party."

Rhonda shrugged. "I'm not looking for a fight. Just a healthy debate. We debate issues like this in class all the time. It's all in good fun."

Who did Rhonda think she was fooling? "So, what? You only wanted to debate the merits of the Oxford comma in the middle of a party?"

"Actually, I wanted to debate its lack of merit, but otherwise you have the right idea." She plucked a potato chip from the chip bowl and popped it into her mouth.

I wanted to say something witty, but that isn't easy under pressure. Not to mention the fact that the kind of joke I wanted to make doesn't work verbally. If I asked her something like "How are your parents, Voldemort and Dolores Umbridge?", it wouldn't work. The implication that her parentage consisted of the two most despicable characters in the Harry Potter series could only come across on paper. That inevitably took a bit of the sting out of it.

Instead, I waved my hands in resignation. "That might be a fun way for you to spend the evening, but I'd rather not waste my time. I'll save my time for other people, if you don't mind."

As I walked away, I didn't know which part to be angrier about. Rhonda had ambushed me in what I considered a rather unfair way, but in doing so, she'd also driven me away from the snacks I'd been so determined to eat. Not cool.

Seth put his arm around my waist, and I appreciated the show of support, though it didn't do much to improve my mood. Rhonda's weren't the only words running through my mind right then. I found myself focusing on the comment I'd read on my blog earlier in the day. The words hurt. I didn't want to let them get to me, but they'd wormed their way in.

Note #38

The people who hurt you the most are the ones who know how to exploit your insecurities. Some people can identify your insecurities because they've known you forever. There's not much you can do to guard yourself from the pain in those instances. Other people who hardly know you at all may be able to exploit your insecurities because they recognize that they themselves are plagued by similar ones. These are the people you shouldn't allow to get to you. They aren't worth your time, and their motives for bothering you are suspicious to begin with.

Once again, I've got to get better at following my own advice.

By the time we returned to our table, Keith had wandered off. I spotted him in the corner with a new group of friends. He definitely had no issues migrating from group to group. I'm not saying I'd use that skill often, but it could prove handy. I might have fewer angry encounters with nasty classmates that way.

Ruby had returned to the table, though Isaac was nowhere to be seen. "Where's your dance partner?" I asked as I dropped into my seat. Daniel, who'd apparently followed us, took Keith's vacated chair.

She gave a little shrug. "Isaac had something to do. What's up with you? You look like someone raided your chocolate stash."

"First of all, if someone stole my chocolate, you'd be my first suspect," I said, hoping the attempt at humor would make me feel better. It didn't. "I had a bad encounter with someone I'd be perfectly happy never to set eyes on again." I then recounted the story with a few expletives thrown in for good measure.

When I'd finished, Ruby shook her head. "Some people are just begging to get smacked, aren't they?"

"The thought may have crossed my mind," I said. "I have no idea why some people act like that."

"I can think of a couple possibilities," Daniel said. "She's probably intimidated by you and feels like she needs to prove that she's better than you."

"Or she's secretly in love with you and can't stand to admit it," Seth said with a wicked grin.

That made me laugh, but the laugh came as such as a surprise that it ended up sounding more like a massive snort. Then I covered my flushed face with my hands and laughed at how silly the whole situation was. I hadn't come to this party with the intention of being miserable, but not only was that happening, I'd also managed to make myself look ridiculous in front of my friends.

Note #39

Try not to waste too much energy worrying about how you look in the eyes of your friends. If they're really good friends, they already know how ridiculous you can be and somehow like you anyway.

Seth put his hand on my elbow, and I dropped my hands to look at him. The expression on his face reminded me of the time I found a short story I was writing shredded on my desk at school. We were in sixth grade, and I never found out who did it, but that was an awful moment for me. I even said I'd never write again, but Seth had gently pointed out that this wouldn't work as an excuse when I tried to tell the teachers why I couldn't do certain homework assignments anymore.

I followed Seth as he stood and weaved his way through the crowd. We stepped through the double doors and out into the deserted hallway. I headed straight over to a wooden bench and sat down. Seth settled next to me with a sigh. "Something else is bothering you, isn't it?" he asked. "It wasn't only what that girl said."

I don't know why it surprised me when Seth read me so well. He'd certainly had plenty of practice over the years. "She didn't help, but no, it wasn't just her. I was also thinking about a comment on my blog. It's stupid, I know, but there it is."

His eyes darkened. "That nasty comment I saw yesterday? It was horrible, yes, but it didn't seem to bother you earlier."

"No, not that one. I got a new one today, and it wasn't from the same person, either. This person actually knows how to spell correctly." I leaned back, resting my head against the wall. "That other one didn't bother me, because it didn't offer any legitimate criticism. It just encouraged me to do something anatomically inadvisable, and half the words were misspelled anyway. That's easy to blow off, because that's classic troll behavior. This new person essentially said that I'm an entitled brat who'd never had any real problems, so I shouldn't waste anyone's time with what I have to say. And with class today and Rhonda saying the things she did, it left me wondering why I even bother."

Seth kissed my cheek. "You do it because you love it. What other reason is there?"

I shook my head. "I also do it hoping to make money, but that hasn't been working."

"Sure, you'd like to make money, but that isn't what keeps you going, and you know it."

Fine. He had a point. I may be cynical about many things, but I do write for the love of it. That doesn't make it suck any less when people insist I shouldn't bother in the first place. If anything, it makes it worse, and my natural cynicism wasn't sufficient to shield me.

"I know. I just . . . I can't help but wonder if I'm good enough to do this as a career. It's what I want more than anything, but wanting it isn't enough." I'd tried keeping these insecurities bottled up tight, but now they were pouring right out of me, and I was powerless to stop it. At least Seth was the only one there to see me like this.

"Why should you care so much about what random people who don't mean a thing to you say about your writing? You've never cared all that much about what people thought of you before." Seth rubbed my back, and I leaned into the touch.

"If only it were that easy. I'm used to people saying bad things about me, but it doesn't feel as personal as this." I sighed, struggling to find the right words. "When I write, I put everything into it, because it's an essential part of who I am. More than I normally let people see. When someone says I'm not good enough to do it, it hurts a lot worse than anything else they could say. I'm sure it sounds stupid, but that's how I feel."

Seth pulled me close and kissed my forehead. The motion was awkward because of my bowler hat, but it was nice.

Note #40

If you're going to put any raw, unvarnished versions of yourself out into the world, you're risking rejection. It's an awful feeling. You have to learn to deal with that. One good way is to surround yourself with supportive people you can trust. They don't have to love every single thing you do, but they do need to be encouraging.

"It's not stupid," Seth whispered. "It's not stupid at all."

We sat in silence for a few long moments, and the quiet embrace made me feel a bit better. "I guess I need to get used to it," I said at last. "Being a writer means being exposed to critique, and it's not always going to be pretty. Thicker skin may be required."

Seth opened his mouth to say something else, but no words came. His expression transformed to one of shock. I turned, following his gaze to the end of the hallway just as my ears registered the sound of bare feet pounding against the tile floor.

At first I was surprised that someone would be running barefoot toward the ballroom, but I wasn't even remotely prepared for the rest of the individual in question to be bare as well.

I'm not kidding. Aside from a black ski mask covering all of the person's head except for their mouth and eyes, there wasn't a stitch of clothing on them. The person was pale in complexion, slight in stature, and most definitely male.

The guy flew past us, threw open the double doors, and bolted into the ballroom with his arms in the air.
Chapter 9

In which I try to confirm the identity of the mysterious naked man.

Seth and I sat in stunned silence for a couple of seconds.

"Was that . . .?" I started to ask, but I couldn't find the right words to finish the thought.

My boyfriend's jaw was still hanging open, and his eyes were closed. He tried to form words a couple of times before he finally managed to do it. "I think I just saw my roommate naked. I'm not sure, and I honestly don't want to be sure."

"It _was_ the right body type to be Isaac," I said thoughtfully. "And he had a tattoo on his butt. Does Isaac have a tattoo there?"

Seth gaped at me. "What? How did you notice a tattoo _there_?"

I shrugged. "He didn't have any clothes on! It was rather easy to get a full view of everything."

"Well, I looked away, so I didn't see any tattoos. And why in the world would I know if my roommate has a tattoo in such a private place?"

"Too bad you don't know, because I was going to ask what that tattoo was even supposed to be. It looked like a Rorschach ink blot. At first I thought it might just be a weird birth mark, but it was too dark and symmetrical for that."

He looked at me in stunned disbelief. "And you're too busy analyzing the details of some other guy's bare ass for comfort."

I shook my head. "I'm not analyzing anyone's ass. I'm analyzing a tattoo, which could be a crucial identifying characteristic. That is in no way the same thing. And when the tattoo in question is put on full display, I think it's reasonable to be curious about it."

By this time, the gasps in the ballroom were numerous enough to be heard over the music and general party chatter. We cast the speculation about the tattoo aside and made our way back into the room to witness the aftermath firsthand.

I could still identify the route the streaker must have taken, because the crowd had parted around him like the Red Sea. The double doors on the other side of the ballroom were just closing, indicating his successful escape.

A few people whooped and hollered after him, while most returned to what they'd been doing prior to the interruption. This was college, after all. Nudity was a normal enough occurrence that it couldn't be called an earth-shattering experience, but it would still be something mentioned for years to come as a noteworthy incident in Halloween party history.

We crossed the room as things began to settle down. Ruby was also on her way back to our table. "Do you know anything about that display?" I asked as we intercepted her.

"What is there to know?" she asked. "Some guy ran through the party wearing nothing but a ski mask. Pretty standard evening, all things considered."

"What about Isaac? Have you seen him?" Though my roommate didn't seem like she was going to be forthcoming, I was determined to get something out of her.

She tried to look nonchalant, but she couldn't completely stifle the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I've seen quite a lot of him tonight. Why do you ask?"

Clever line. Well played, Ruby. Well played.

Note #41

If you can't be deceitful through the use of properly controlled facial expressions, you can compensate by using creative phrasing. It's hard to say whether you'll succeed in your nefarious intentions, but at least you may entertain some people with your wit as a result.

"That's just it. I'm thinking everyone has seen a lot of him tonight," I said.

Ruby nodded. "He's a social person, so that's hardly surprising."

Some people are too stubborn for my own good.

We reclaimed our seats, though Owen had returned and Keith was standing next to him, talking to him in a hushed tone. Before I could say hello or wonder what subject had the two of them in such intense discussion, Seth let out a sigh of frustration. "Damn it!"

"What?" Noticing that Seth was peering inside his box, I became alarmed. "Did someone raid the candy?"

He shook his head. "Nope. It's worse than that. Someone stole zombie cat."

"Really?" I shouldn't have been surprised. Zombie cat was cool. Who wouldn't want a zombie cat of their own? And undead as the stuffed creature was, it seemed unlikely that it sauntered away on its own. "Did they take anything else?"

"It doesn't look like it." Seth slumped into his chair.

Daniel reappeared beside me. "First my raven, then your cat. It seems there's a stuffed animal thief on the loose." Then he leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Are you okay?"

I waved him off. "No need to worry. I'm fine. The mystery streaker provided the perfect distraction from my troubles."

When I turned back to my boyfriend, he looked downright murderous. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, and he glared at the table as if it had personally offended him. I nudged his shoulder. "I know it sucks, but you shouldn't let it ruin your night."

Seth didn't say anything. He was too busy trying to burn holes through the tablecloth with previously dormant laser eye powers.

Patting his shoulder, I stood again. "I'll be right back." He'd done his best to cheer me up earlier. Now it was my turn to do the same for him. I made my way back to the snack table, this time keeping my eyes peeled for Rhonda or anyone else who might annoy me. For good measure, I adopted my angry don't-you-dare-mess-with-me face to thwart any interactions that could potentially interfere with my current mission.

Note #42

If you're not in the mood to deal with people, you can always try donning a grumpy face. It may not leave a good first impression, so you run the risk of alienating people for life, but if you need to get from point A to point B with minimal hassle, this method can work wonders.

Fortunately, there was no sign of my nemesis, so I got to the food items without any problem. I grabbed a couple of glasses and filled them with red punch. Then I loaded two plates with a snack mix containing pretzels, raisins, and M&M's. I also snagged a couple of handfuls of chips for good measure. Then, overloaded with food, I awkwardly cut through the sea of bodies and arrived back at my table, victorious.

"Here you go," I said, sliding a plate and drink in front of a sulky Seth. "Food can make almost anything feel better."

Though it looked like he was fighting it, a hint of amusement softened his expression. "It sounds as if you're advocating on behalf of eating disorders."

"Don't be silly. I'm advocating on behalf of food. It isn't food's fault that some people struggle with food-related issues." I took a sip of punch. "Though I think some people are going to have beverage-related issues due to this not-so-innocent punch, because it's definitely been spiked."

"Has it?" Seth picked up his glass and took a long drink. Then he nodded. "Yes. Yes, it has." One more long gulp, and the drink was gone.

"Oh dear. Well, if you want more, you're getting it yourself." I popped some snack mix into my mouth.

"Now I'm thirsty," Daniel said. "I think I'll go get some punch, too."

A few moments after Daniel left, Isaac rejoined us. His hair was plastered to his head courtesy of copious amounts of sweat.

"Welcome back, Isaac. You missed some interesting stuff," I said slowly.

"So I heard," Isaac replied. His voice sounded calm and cool, but I wasn't buying it. In part because the timing of his disappearance and subsequent reappearance were far too suspicious, and in part because of the look on Owen's face.

Owen's face had gone red, and his shoulders were shaking with laughter. Owen is many things, but subtle is not one of them. He knew what his friend had been doing, and that knowledge clearly amused him.

Keith stood there looking vaguely confused. This was an odd look for him considering he typically opted for a thoughtful expression. "Are you all right?" he asked, placing a hand on Owen's shoulder.

Owen nodded. "I'm great."

Isaac narrowed his eyes at both of them. "I disagree. He's clearly lost his mind. Maybe you should help him back to his room, Keith. At this rate, he'll be too light-headed to make it back by himself."

Now it was Keith's turn to glare back. Before I had a chance to speculate too much about what this exchange meant, Ruby jumped in. "Now boys, let's be nice. Isaac, getting upset about Owen laughing only makes it look like you have something to hide, and we both know that's not true, _right_?"

Isaac sagged a little. "You're right. Of course I don't have anything to hide. I'm just concerned for my friend. I don't want him to pull a muscle or anything."

Owen managed to compose himself. "Sorry, man. I wasn't laughing at you. I think I had a little too much of the punch, that's all."

"See?" Ruby asked. "I knew there had to be some kind of explanation. Are we all cool now?"

I looked at Ruby, suspicion churning in my gut. Something felt off about all this. First of all, Isaac is too cheerful a person to get that irritated with one of his friends. Said friend nearly slipping up in a way that could lead to him getting into trouble might, however, be enough to do it. Secondly, Ruby is a natural antagonist. She enjoys poking the metaphorical hornet's nest. Her playing the diplomat in this case had to mean something.

Note #43

When a friend begins behaving in a way that is contrary to their typical nature, there might be an interesting reason behind that change. Whether or not you should make it a point to discover that reason is up to you. If you pry and end up discovering something that disturbs you, there's no going back.

Well, if Ruby wasn't going to going to play the role of instigator this time, I'd do it. Someone had to, right?

I folded my hands on the table in front of me. "Come on guys, there's no sense in arguing about anything now. We're in the middle of a party. If anything, we should be talking about the guy who just streaked through here. Excellent costume. It would have made for a great portrayal of the son of the Invisible Man from _Amazon Women on the Moon_ if he'd stuck around longer."

Seth giggled beside me, and I took some pride in getting that reaction out of him. I made the joke for him, after all. We'd seen that movie together multiple times.

Daniel, who was just returning with a drink and some food, asked, " _Amazon Women on the Moon_? What's that?"

That question was reflected in the stares of our other table mates. "It's a hilarious movie that far too few people have seen, apparently." I finished my drink before continuing. "Either way, I was curious about one thing. The streaker had a tattoo on his butt. Did anyone else notice it?"

Ruby grinned. "I may have noticed something, yeah. I wish I could have gotten a better look at it, though. It was too dark and he was moving too fast, so I'm not even sure what the tattoo was supposed to be."

Isaac looked genuinely torn now. He struggled with a real dilemma. Should he get upset with me for trying to expose him for what he'd done, or should he focus on the fact that Ruby had admitted to wanting a better view of his rear end?

"The tattoo kind of looked like a Rorschach ink blot to me," I said. "Or maybe a weird rendering of a woman's reproductive system."

"It's a dragon's head!" Isaac yelled. "Are all of you blind?"

I leaned back in my chair, feeling pretty pleased with myself.

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. "I really don't need to know these things."

A panicked look crossed Isaac's face, and he scrambled to explain himself. "I was close when the dude ran by, okay? I got a clear look at it."

Note #44

If you're trying to hide a secret from friends who know your weak points, be cautious in your responses. Try not to let unscrupulous friends catch you in a trap.

I could have gone for the jugular. I didn't have a confession, but I didn't need it, either. I also could have accused him of looking a little too closely at a naked stranger, but I didn't want to be that petty. I simply shrugged. "Whatever you say. I was just curious. Thanks for the clarification."

Isaac sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I just don't think we'll do anyone any good by investigating this too much. Someone could get into serious trouble if their identity is discovered. He wore a mask, didn't he?"

I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Interesting. Most people streak because they're exhibitionists looking for the thrill. They usually wouldn't mind being discovered for who they are. This guy, on the other hand, wanted to remain anonymous. Why would he streak, then? What do you think his goal was?"

"It could have been an ill-advised dare," Daniel suggested.

"Or maybe he was trying to make a statement," Keith said. He had his philosophical face on again. "He wore a costume by _not_ wearing one, thereby highlighting the layers that all people use to shield themselves on a daily basis."

This brought to mind the blog post I'd written earlier. The one that had inspired the negative comment that sent me reeling. Maybe I hadn't been as off-base as my detractor claimed. Or maybe Keith was as full of crap as me.

Keith, in either case, hadn't finished his assessment. "Of course, if this is the case, then wearing a mask to hide his identity seems to negate that message. Unless he was trying to obscure his identity to imply that his statement applies to all of us, not just one person."

Isaac, looking dumbstruck, nodded. "I'll go with what he said."

Note #45

One man's drivel is another man's wisdom. No matter how you dress up a statement, some people will revere it as gold while others regard it as hogwash. Given that this is the case, you should try to find some value in what speaks to you personally and spend less time worrying about what others think.

"Except, since the person was evidently male, that would only apply to approximately half of humanity," Ruby said.

Isaac waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "That could easily be fixed. A brave woman could follow up with what our mystery man started."

Ruby shook her head. "Nice try, but that definitely isn't happening."
Chapter 10

In which a group of thieves are discovered and revenge is considered.

The party wound down, and the costumed revelers departed in small clusters. Seth tucked his box under one arm, still looking glum about the disappearance of zombie cat. I slipped my arm through his free one as we walked out of the ballroom. Isaac and Ruby trailed slightly behind us. Daniel, Keith, and Owen had formed their own little cluster and gotten separated from our group.

"Did you have any fun?" I asked as the crisp air of late October greeted us. It wouldn't be long before we got our first snow. I could feel it coming.

"Parts of it were good," Seth admitted. "The first half of it was pretty good, anyway."

"At gatherings like this, if half of it isn't a total disaster, you're doing fine," I said.

He nodded. "And if you're dealing with a family gathering, you're lucky if a quarter of it goes well."

"So lucky, in fact, that I don't expect it to be the case." I leaned in close, and he slipped his arm around me. We walked in silence for a little while, enjoying the sounds of the night which were only occasionally punctuated by the drunken cries of college students. Peaceful as it was, something nagged at me and I couldn't let it go. "I know you were upset about zombie cat being stolen, and I get that, but it seemed like something else was bothering you. I just didn't want to ask about it at the party when everyone else could overhear."

Seth bit his lower lip. Several moments passed before he said anything. "It's nothing, okay. There's no reason to talk about it."

"No reason to talk about it? We share things all the time, the good and the bad. If something's bothering you, we're both going to be miserable until you've dealt with it." I offered him a smile.

He smiled back, but it was weak. "I know that. I just . . . it's stupid, and it isn't worth sharing. I'd much rather try to enjoy the rest of the night, if that's all right."

I tried not to let his refusal to talk bother me. We'd been sharing things our entire lives, though, and I couldn't see why he'd shut down now. What didn't he want me to know? The question threw me off-kilter.

Then I shoved the dejected feeling down. The whole thing was probably inconsequential, and I was wasting precious time and energy worrying about it.

Note #46

No matter how close you are to someone, they're going to have some secrets. While some people may keep secrets that can be harmful in the long run, most secrets are harmless. Before you get too upset that a significant other may be keeping little things from you, think of all the little private moments you'd like to keep to yourself. It's part of being human.

"Okay. Let's try to enjoy the rest of the night," I said. "Did you have anything specific in mind?"

That prompted a mischievous smirk, and I knew we were getting back to normal. In retrospect, I should have known the hint of normalcy was a sign that at least one more crazy thing was going to happen before all was said and done. Silly me for not seeing it coming.

The most direct path back to our building took us past a row of frat houses. One of those houses was hosting the epic after-party I'd heard people whispering about, so the bone-rattling thrum of music didn't surprise me. Nor did the crowd of young men and women standing on the lawn of one of those houses, beers in hand as they looked upon some kind of spectacle.

None of this struck me as noteworthy at first. Why should it? Large groups of college students tend to exhibit predictable behaviors. They like to gawk. They like to egg each other on and do ridiculous things to impress their friends. With this in mind, I didn't plan to stop and witness the scene unfolding before me, and if my eyes hadn't passed briefly over the flagpole, I would have likely continued on my way.

Gatherings happen around flagpoles a lot, but I didn't think a college party seemed a likely place to find a random patriotic display or prayer circle in progress. My thoughts strayed to the more dubious uses for a flag pole, such as flying a poor freshman's confiscated underwear or, if the flagpole is sturdy enough, the entire freshman.

That thought should have had me beating a hasty retreat. Being a freshman myself, I didn't think that sounded like a particularly pleasant way to spend an evening. Nevertheless, my curiosity got the better of me. Seth, being taller than me, was better able to see over the heads of the assembled partiers. His jaw dropped when he caught a glimpse of something I'd yet to see.

"What? What is it?" I asked.

"I know what happened to zombie cat," Seth said, his eyes tracking upwards.

A few seconds later, zombie cat came into my field of view. It was followed by a stuffed spider, a stuffed parrot, and last but not least, a stuffed raven. "Wow."

Ruby and Isaac caught up to us then, and they emerged from an apparently intense discussion to investigate what had commanded our attention. Isaac shook his head. "At least you know the theft wasn't personal now. Someone clearly had a very weird goal in mind."

"What's the point of this?" Seth asked.

Ruby laughed. "Do people even need a reason to be buffoons? You get a large group of people together, and they're capable of reaching pinnacles of stupidity that any one of them couldn't have reached on their own."

She had a point. The group of cousins I'd dubbed The Fallible Four proved that over the 4th of July, and they were all working to pay off the damages to the cabin that occurred because of their idiotic actions.

"Someone probably dared a frat brother to swipe some stuff, and the guy didn't want to back out and look like a wimp," Isaac said.

That explanation sounded plausible enough.

Note #47

Many people will engage in behaviors they would otherwise avoid when dared to do so by one of their peers. We've all witnessed this at one time or another. People do this to look like they're brave enough to accept the challenge, not seeing the irony that while they're going through with the dare, they're also exposing their own cowardice. Too cowardly to say no and risk looking like a wimp, they expose themselves to all kinds of trouble in following through with the dare.

Of course, as dares go, this one hadn't been all that dangerous. Yeah, someone could have gotten in trouble for stealing, though I've seen people do far worse things. And maybe someone might have defended their property and instigated a physical confrontation, though it seemed unlikely most people would go that far to defend a stuffed animal. Unless you take Seth into account. He's never been prone to violent outbursts, but his strong affinity for zombie cat may have been enough to push him into action.

"I just want to know how we plan to get it back." Seth glared at the scene as he considered the situation.

I shook my head. "There's no way we're getting it back right now. There are too many of them, and they'll probably consider defending the flagpole a matter of honor. We should wait until tomorrow morning. They'll all be too hung over to care at that point."

Seth looked torn, and I could sympathize. It was a matter of principle. No one likes allowing someone to get away with stunts like this, but starting a big scuffle over it would've been highly impractical.

"We could always try dressing up like ninjas and stealing it back under the cover of night," Seth said hopelessly.

"As fun as that sounds, there's no way they're wrapping this up anytime soon. Tomorrow morning is our best bet. The good news is that I don't think we'll have to get up particularly early to pull it off." I took Seth's hand and tugged gently in the direction of home.

He relented. "Those jerks. They think they can take anything they want whenever they feel like it. And they know they'll get away with it, too."

I smiled. "No, they won't. See, they don't yet realize that they've messed with the wrong people. We're not going in there with fists flying, because we're smarter and subtler than that." I paused to think about it for a second. "Maybe subtle is the wrong word. At the very least, we know not to be within striking distance when justice is served."

Note #48

There are a lot of things to consider while plotting revenge. How long do you want to wait before you strike? Do you wish to make it known that you're responsible for your act of vengeance, or do you want to make it look like someone else did it? Be sure to answer all of these questions before taking action. Hasty acts of vengeance tend to backfire.

Seth smirked. "You're the best. You know that, right?"

I shrugged. "I'm either the best or the worst, depending on who you ask, and I'm all right with that."

It only took a few more minutes to make it home. The four of us poured into the lobby, and that's when Ruby dropped a big announcement. "I've invited Isaac back to our apartment."

I raised an eyebrow. "For how long?"

She tried to keep her face neutral, but a telltale blush tinged her cheeks. This intrigued me since she was typically unflappable. "You might want to go ahead and make alternative sleeping arrangements. Somehow I doubt you'll have trouble with that." She shot my boyfriend a meaningful glance.

Seth looked more chipper now. "Seeing as my roommate is going to be absent, I don't think I'll have any problem accommodating you."

"How kind of you." I nodded to Ruby. "Fine. I need to grab some stuff from my room, though."

I did my best to make it fast. While I may revel in most opportunities to be a certified pain in the rear end, I knew better than to do that to Ruby. Despite the mockery I'd endured from her as a result of Seth's frequent sleepovers, she'd actually been pretty cool about him being there. I owed her the same in return, especially since this turn of events didn't inconvenience me in the slightest.

When I walked out of my bedroom with a backpack stuffed with clothes and various other items I might need, Ruby and Isaac were snuggled together on the sofa. Seth waited awkwardly at the door. "All right, guys. Have fun!" I said.

"Bye!" Ruby and Isaac called out in unison.

Seth and I took the stairs rather than bothering with the elevator. It was only two floors, after all.

"You'll have to excuse the mess," he said as he opened the door to his apartment. "Isaac and his friends wrecked the place last night, and no one has bothered to clean yet."

The living room had indeed been thoroughly trashed, though in all honesty, it wasn't significantly worse than it would have been on a normal day. The scattered video game controllers and empty pop cans were a common enough sight. The greasy pizza boxes, half-empty bag of chips, and copious amounts of crumbs all over the carpet, however, made it clear that a large and boisterous gathering had recently taken place.

"It looks like they were busy trying to attract ants."

Seth nodded. "I'd prefer not to know what they were actually doing in here. I might not feel comfortable sitting in that room anymore if I did."

"Let's just go straight to your room, then. That way we don't have to look at the mess."

"Yes, because we know how clean my bedroom is."

Note #49

People make their own unique messes. Some people are bad about not throwing out trash. Others let dirty dishes sit around. Some rare people make hardly any mess at all because they consistently clean up after themselves. When you first get involved with someone, they may try to impress you by pretending to be less messy than they are. As time passes, that disguise begins to slip, so be prepared for that change.

The advantage of knowing Seth for most of my life was that his messy tendencies didn't surprise me. They did rub me the wrong way from time to time, but that's another issue altogether.

As I'd expected, dirty socks littered his bedroom floor, as did a dirty pair of pants and a couple of shirts. His closet door stood wide open, and clean shirts were crumpled on the floor beneath the empty hangers that were meant to hold them aloft. At least there weren't any dirty dishes and stray wrappers in there. Clothes had always been Seth's main problem when it came to cleanliness.

I began to strip the various elements of my costume away as Seth turned the TV on in the background. The sounds of a cheesy sci-fi flick filled the room. It came as a welcome reprieve from the louder, more volatile evening we'd had.

My shirt was halfway over my head when Seth's arms snaked around my bare waist. "That's not really helping, you know," I said light-heartedly.

"I disagree. You should know from experience that I'm quite good at helping you get undressed."

I snorted. "A bit too good at it, maybe."

He shook his head adamantly. "No such thing." Then he single-handedly yanked the shirt the rest of the way off and let it fall to the floor.

"Tsk tsk. Leaving more of a mess," I teased.

"If it's what I'm already known for, I might as well take full advantage of that fact."

He had a good point. "I see what you're trying to do. You should know by now that I see through all of your tricks."

Seth stepped back, his grin wide. "Why do they work so often, then?"

I grinned back. "It's only because I love you."

Note #50

Getting to know someone as they are, undisguised and open, has its advantages. Though some people might think knowing someone that well could make things boring, it doesn't have to. It can be fun knowing how to push someone's buttons in specific ways, and reassuring to understand how they'll react in a given situation. It's also nice because they know you just as well, but for some odd reason, they want to be with you anyway.

I finished changing into a pair of black and white pajama pants and a white t-shirt that said "Don't make me kill you brutally in my novel" and climbed into Seth's bed. He followed seconds later.

Seth tucked his head against my shoulder. "Is there any particular way you'd like to spend the rest of tonight?" he asked suggestively.

"Plotting revenge?"

"As fun as that sounds, I think that can wait until morning." Seth sounded hopeful.

I shook my head, but I was all smiles. "So predictable, but fine. We can worry about revenge in the morning." Then I leaned in for a kiss.
Afterward

Frat houses are ridiculously easy to infiltrate in the morning. I'm not a morning person by any means, but even after getting up at a time that didn't leave me wanting to punch the world in the face, we had no problem completing our mission.

The stuffed items were all in their respective places on the flagpole as they had been the night before. Getting them down went smoothly, and though Seth was only concerned with the safety of zombie cat, I didn't feel right simply leaving the others behind. I kept the stuffed raven with me, intending to return it to Daniel when I saw him in class. The remaining items went into a box that I placed at a popular student hangout. The sign accompanying the box said "We were kidnapped on Halloween by moronic pranksters. Please help us return to our owners." The remaining stuffed animals were gone within three days. Whether or not they actually made it back to their proper owners, I can't say.

Of course, it seemed somewhat rude to take everything off the flagpole and leave nothing in return. What kind of person would that make me? When the frat brothers got around to venturing out of the house that day, they found a flag fashioned out of an old bedsheet with the following limerick written on it.

The brothers have brains microscopic.

Girls date them to be philanthropic.

Their brains are not all,

That are exceedingly small,

But we've too little time for that topic.

As for the Halloween streaker, no one got in trouble because the school couldn't positively identify who was responsible. I'd like to say that I still to this day am not entirely certain about the identity of the streaker, so please don't use this book as evidence either way. This book merely contains my speculation on the matter, and I am not a detective.

Encounters with Rhonda continue to be unpleasant, but I try not to let them get to me. She's the real life troll to go along with the online ones I've acquired. I remind myself that they're wearing such ugly troll costumes to cover their own insecurities, and that seems to help.

Either way, I need to learn to deal with the nastiness. It's part of being a writer, as well as being human.

# # #
About the Author

L.G. Keltner spends most of her time trying to write while also cleaning up after her crazy but wonderful kids and hanging out with her husband. Her favorite genre of all time is science fiction, and she's been trying to write novels since the age of six. Needless to say, those earliest attempts weren't all that good.

Her non-writing hobbies include astronomy and playing Trivial Pursuit.

Ways to Connect

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Also by L.G. Keltner

Self-Help 101 or: How I Learned to Take Over the World Through Tolerating My Family

Self-Help 101 or: How to Survive a Bombardment With Minimal Injury

A Silent Soliloquy

Cosmic Seasoning: A Collection of Short Stories

"Felix Was Here" in the IWSG anthology _Parallels: Felix Was Here_
