CHAPTER NINE

9

We pulled up to the Haunted House. I looked around and people were spread out in their little groups. There were all kinds of people there, girls with long hair and long skirts, guys with shaved heads and piercings, girls with half-shaved heads and purple, green, pink, and blue hair, guys with short crew-cut hair, all different heights, one even looked shorter than me, looked like mostly high schoolers and college kids. 

I saw people walking out of the house, their faces white, and for some reason, they were soaked. With what? No idea.

One came up to me, shivering. He was dressed like the Hulk. Wearing a ripped brown shirt, and ripped purple shorts. It looked like he painted himself green. When he came up to me, my brows furrowed. I’m not really good with strangers. I don’t like people, but most of the people at my school were people I’ve known since kindergarten, so they weren’t really strangers to me. Until we got to high school, Danny was usually the one doing most of the talking. I just sat back and listened. That’s how I deciphered who would stay in our group or not.

Oh, I got sidetracked again. Back to the kid, he looked to be about 14 or 15, and about 6 feet tall. He was genuinely scared. I wondered why. “Don’t go in there,” he warned. I looked up at him and laughed.

“Why, cause a big scary monster is gonna eat me?” I couldn’t help but smile. This kid’s pants were wet. “What’s it like in there, kid?”

“Don’t go in there,” he kept repeating. He then sunk to his knees and eventually, on his bum and hugged his knees. He started rocking back and forth, repeating that phrase over and over again. 

I looked at him, creeped out. “Whatever you say, kid,” I said in a dismissive tone and started walking towards the house. Danny grabbed my arm and said, “Uh, Phe, maybe we shouldn’t go in there. This kid looks terribly frightened.” 

I put my hands on my hips, and cocked my head sideways at him, like a confused dog, “Danny Kevin Michaels. Don’t tell me you’re scared of Haunted Houses now.” I laughed again and hit him on the back. “Oh c’mon D, don’t be such a baby.” I held up my pinkie, “Always and forever, right? Well, ‘right now,’ is part of always.”

He sighed and repeated our friendship phrase, and we linked pinkies for the billionth time.

“It’s just a Haunted House. Nothing in here is real.” I reminded him.

If only I had known how wrong I was.