The *** House

Beau sat next to me, watching curiously as I dug through some of the dusty cardboard boxes in the attic. I had been up here for a few hours, searching for something to wear. It seemed like there was something up here from nearly every inhabitant of the house, and so I hadn't forseen how difficult it would be to find something perfect.

"What are you doing up here all alone?" Tate's head appeared as he climbed the rickety old steps and entered the room.

"I'm not alone," I replied, tilting my head slightly to indicate that Beau was with me. "And I'm looking for supplies."

"Supplies for what?"

I pulled a long black dress from a box and got to my feet, attempting to brush the stale smell from the fabric. "Halloween. Where's the fun if we don't get dressed up for the occasion?"

"You mean you want to wear a costume? Aren't you a little old for that?"

I rolled my eyes. "You are never too old to love Halloween."

His eyes took on a vacant stare as he surveyed the dress gripped in my fingers. "It's just a stupid day for people to pretend to be something that they're not."

I stopped admiring the dress and let my arms fall limply. "You know, people used to tell me that they believed I only liked Halloween because I was always pretending, and for one day it was okay." I pointed to my raven locks with a bitter smile. "I'm a redhead naturally. I always looked funny in family photos. I was the odd one out. Hiding my true hair colour was my first official act of rebellion. I started dying it when I was fourteen, and I could never bring myself to let the red grow back. But it was stupid of people to make that judgement based solely on hair colour. I wasn't pretending then any more than I am now."

"Are you pretending now?" he pressed carefully.

I felt like I should have been irritated by his inquisitive nature, but I wasn't. I couldn't be angry with him for being so much like me. "Not in the least. It would be stupid to pretend here. I'd have to keep it up for all eternity. And that would be exhausting."

Tate's eyes showed the faintest glimmer of something other than belief, but he didn't ask anything more on the subject. Instead, he smiled and pulled the dress out of my hands. "Next year, you can take all the time you need to make a costume. This year, can we just have a normal night out?"

I held open the flaps atop the nearest cardboard box so that he could put the dress back where I had found it. "When you put it that way, can I possibly respond with anything other than yes?"

Tate wisely chose not to gloat about his simple victory. I had until the end of the world to dress up for Halloween. I also had that length of time to spend with Tate. And being too stubborn to ever give in would make that relationship hard to maintain.

As soon as the first rays of sun peeked into the windows, the house was more alive than I had ever seen it. Excited spirits hurried up from the basement, or wherever they had been lurking elsewhere in the house, and bustled toward the door. Patrick, I noticed, was the first one out. Chad followed his lover out, though he stayed a safe distance behind. The Harmons descended the stairs together, leaving no question that today they were one solid unit. Violet tucked her hair behind her ear and shot me a quick smile as Vivien carried on about what festivities they were expecting to see this year. Her husband cradled their infant baby in his arms, an orange blanket surrounded the bundle for the occasion. Moira left the house with a purposeful stride, as if the housekeeper were on a mission of some kind. One by one, the others all left, too. The twins were laughing happily as they stepped foot onto the street; Nora seemed a nervous wreck as she trailed after them; Hayden took off at a dead run, as if she couldn't possibly spare a single second of freedom. I looked up at Tate where he sat next to me on the sofa.

"Are you ready?"

"I've been ready since I crawled out of those bushes."

A playful smile lifted his eyes as he got to his feet and held out a hand for me. I accepted, and together we left the house. I felt a shiver of excitement race up my spine as, for the first time since my death, I stepped onto the cracked cement of the sidewalk. Instantly, it was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes. I could see the world again. It wasn't the dark and tortured place that I remembered, though. It was happy and light and carefree. Even looking back at the house, I noticed that it was less imposing and threatening when I saw it from the outside.

I set off down the street, practically dragging Tate along behind me. He tried to match my pace, then laughed when I sped up every time he effectively caught up.

"Where are we going?" he asked, a chuckle in his voice.

"Anywhere," I breathed, smiling wider than I had in years. "Absolutely anywhere."

We spent a couple of hours at a fair, where I spotted Ben and Vivien from afar. I couldn't see Violet and the baby, but I assumed that they were around somewhere nearby. When I grew bored of the pumpkins and the pies and the squealing children, I began to head off in search of my own home. I knew that Tate was going to disapprove, but he didn't voice his concerns.

I stopped at the perfectly trimmed hedges in front of the old bungalow with the peeling tan paint. From the outside, it looked unchanged. There was no evidence that this family had suffered in the last year. The flowerbeds were still weeded and the brightly coloured petals wilted in the afternoon sun. They could use some water. I stepped lightly across the lawn, hoping that I could still be invisible to them when I wasn't inside the mansion. I peered in through the front window carefully.

My father and brother were seated on separate sofas in the living room. Dad was focused completely on the television, and Jason's head was buried in a textbook. He was almost done getting his degree. He was going to be an engineer. He'd always been smarter than me. Through the open archway inside, I could see my mother in the kitchen. Something was bubbling away perkily on the stove, and she was staring at a crossword puzzle at the kitchen table. Normally, I had decorated this house from top to bottom in spiderwebs and skulls and dripping candles. Now, there was no visible hints that it was even Halloween. I knew there would be a bowl of candy by the door, but other than that it seemed that they had forgotten the holiday had been approaching. This was just another day to them.

"Did you see what you were hoping for?" Tate asked as I joined him on the sidewalk once again.

I shurgged, trying to hide how sad I really felt. "I don't know what I was hoping for. They're okay, I suppose. They didn't keep up my traditions, though."

He brushed his knuckles gently across my cheek. "Stay hidden."

I looked up at him, perplexed. He winked and then dashed up the path and to the front door. I gasped and ducked behind the hedge, once again forgetting that I didn't really have to physically hide from anyone anymore. Tate rang the doorbell and waited patiently. I had no idea what he was planning to do.

The door creaked open, and my brother appeared carrying a large glass bowl stuffed to the brim with tiny chocolate bars. He opened his mouth, then closed it when he caught sight of Tate. Jason appeared just as confused as I felt.

"Sorry, I don't give candy to anyone over the age of twelve." Jason began to close the door, but Tate caught it with his hand.

"Wait," he pleaded. "I'm not trick-or-treating."

Jason looked past Tate and toward the street, as if there should be some kind of clue as to who Tate was located somewhere outside. "Whatever you're selling, we're not buying."

"No, it's not that. You don't know me, but I knew Ainsley. First of all, I'm really sorry about what happened to her. She was really special. To me, as well as a lot of other people."

My brother looked torn. Slowly, he set the candy bowl down and leaned against the door frame. He wasn't allowing Tate inside, but he wasn't slamming the door in his face, either. That was a bonus.

"A couple of days before, she asked me to hang on to something for her." In the sunlight, I saw a glittering strand hanging from Tate's outstretched fingers. I reached a hand to my neck as I realized what it was. I had been wearing a necklace the night that I died. I had worn it every day, actually. But I hadn't seen it since I'd been dead. I had just assumed that the mugger had taken it, along with everything else that I'd had on me that night. It wasn't a valuable necklace, but I had had a sentimental attachment to it. My grandmother had given it to me before she'd died.

Jason seemed to recognize the necklace, too. He stumbled backward, then turned his head to peer over his shoulder. "Mom!" he yelled.

My mother rushed up behind him, and as soon as she spotted the necklace, she began to tear up. "How did you... Who are you?"

"My name is Tate. I adored your daughter. She asked me to hang on to this, and after she died I couldn't bring myself to part with it. I was selfish, and I'm sorry. I know that she would have wanted it to be yours." He stretched his hand out in offering, and my mother slowly took the chain into her aged hands.

"Thank you," she whispered. "But I don't remember Ainsley ever mentioning someone named Tate," Mom seemed to snap out of a trance as she inspected the teenager in front of her.

"I was kind of a new friend," he explained, adding a sad smile for effect. "I should go, though." He turned his back on them and hopped lightly down the front steps.

"Thank you!" My mother called after him. Tate offered up a quick wave before he set off down the sidewalk. He passed by me without pause, and I watched as my mother crumbled into tears. Jason put his arms around her and gently steered her inside before he closed the door. I hurried after Tate, unsure how to react to what had just happened.

"That was nice of you," I said slowly.

He shrugged. "I knew that you really just wanted to see that they were still hurting over your death. It's not like they've forgotten about you, you know."

"How did you get that necklace?"

"I took it from your body before you woke up that day. I'm sorry. I thought that you were dead before you were on the property, so I didn't think that I would have to deal with the repercussions. That's why I was outside when you first got up."

"But why did you take it? It's not like you could do anything with it. You couldn't even sell it."

He turned away, flushed. "I was going to give it to someone."

I frowned. "You were going to leave it for Violet," I assumed.

He nodded. "But then when you came to, I knew that I couldn't do that. And look, now it's back where it belongs."

I chewed on my lip, but I let the subject drop. I didn't want to fight on our one day away from the house. "Thank you for giving it to them."

He led me to the beach, and just as the sun began to set he lit a fire in the sand. The waves crashed in front of us, and the spray of salt settled upon my face. I breathed in the scent, wishing that there was a way that I could do this more than once a year. I had never been the type that spent their summer days lounging by the ocean, but now I felt like I had missed out. I wanted to be able to do all those things that I'd taken for granted before.

Wild laughter echoed from over a hill behind us, and Tate tensed. "We might have to leave," he hissed through his clenched jaw.

"But we just got here," I argued.

"If I tell you to run, just do it."

I didn't have time to ramble off a smart reply before a group of teens appeared, silhouetted against the wavering light from our fire. They laughed again, though I hadn't heard a word spoken to give them something funny to giggle about. Suddenly, the pack of them seemed to swoop in on us, rushing from the top of the hill and stopping just out of reach. I could see details in the light now. Either they had impressive makeup on, or they were dead. One of them was even missing a good chunk of his jaw. He glared at Tate from behind his glasses, unable to say anything at all.

"We scoped out your house," a girl in a cheerleader outfit said, folding her arms across her narrow chest. "We knew that this was the only other place you'd be."

"Why is it," a boy with long, greasy hair and a leather jacket sneered at Tate. "That you always seem to get dates? What is wrong with girls today? A ruthless, soulless killer can't possibly make a good boyfriend."

I glared at him. "What makes it your business, asshole?"

"Wait a second," a guy in a lettered jacket held up a hand, silencing his friends. "You look familiar, girl."

"Doubtful. I think I'd remember if I met anyone as ugly as you," I spat.

"No, he's right," the greasy boy smirked maliciously. "I remember you."

"That's impossible," Tate nearly shouted. "Leave her out of this. You want me, come get me."

"You went to Westfield," the boy continued, completely ignoring Tate's outburst. "You're dead, aren't you?"

"So?" I snapped. I had no idea where this was going. How did these freaks know anything about me?

"You're right!" Another girl, who had dark eye makeup and blonde and black hair down her back, let out a barking laugh. "They had that memorial thing for you. It's really too bad that the only reason anyone showed up was so that they could skip class."

I felt a sudden stab of personal sympathy at the thought. I'd had a couple of good friends. They cared that I was dead, didn't they?

"Aww, are you going to cry?" The cheerleader stuck out her bottom lip, mocking me. "It's just like when they had a memorial for us, and your little boyfriend was completely left out and no one even cared. People just aren't sad when psychos die."

My mouth went dry. I couldn't move. I wasn't like Tate had been before; why would this girl say something so mean? Even if she wanted to get back at Tate - I had figured out by then that these were some of the kids that he killed in high school - why would she lie about me? "What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice coming out as a pathetic quiver. "You've got the wrong girl."

The jock snorted haughtily at me. "We spend every day trapped in that school. We don't miss things. We know who you are."

There were tears in my eyes as I cowered back into Tate's chest. "Make them stop," I whispered desperately. "Why are they lying about me?"

The greasy-looking boy smiled again, and it didn't look any less sinister this time around. "Unlike when you pretended that you didn't remember us," he nodded toward Tate, "I actually kind of believe that she doesn't know what she's done."