sh; it started with a cigarette

xii|happy f*cking halloween

I watch them go back and forth for a bit without a word. The debate eventually fizzles out, leaving an awkward tension in the car. I fiddle with my fingers and stare out the window. Hawkins is in full swing with its Halloween decorations. The Committee set up hay bales, jack-o-lanterns, cute scarecrows, and dried cornstalks around town. It creates an inviting and festive feeling to the streets. Residents decorated their houses with ghouls and goblins, tombstones, orange and purple lights, pumpkins, and spiderwebs.

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. Witnessing the festivities makes me buzz with joy. 

We pull into the school parking lot. I'm quick to go off on my own, leaving Nancy and Steve to grossly make out while simultaneously bickering. I do not understand those two. On my way into school, I can't help but notice an attractive, blonde young man stepping out of his car. I've never seen him before, and I assume he must be new. I allow myself to gawk a bit, watching him puff on a cigarette. Now that... is a beautiful man right there. I briefly consider approaching him, but the bell rings before I can make a decision. I groan, deciding to set my mission of learning his name to the side for just a while.

My first-period class is Creative Writing. I have developed a very specific routine in this class. I'm always the first to arrive, right after the first bell. Then Nancy comes a minute later and sits at our usual table with me. Jonathan always, without fail, arrives two minutes late to class. The teacher, Mr. Kay, has given up reprimanding Jonathan for his tardiness.

Nancy slides into the chair next to mine and squeezes my hand a bit before setting her backpack down at her feet.

"Alright, Crabs and Clams," Mr. Kay greets us, pacing the front of his room as the second bell rings. He scans the classroom, eyes magnified by his thick, round glasses. "you all know how much I love Halloween, so it's going to be an easy day today," the glass gives enthusiastic hoots at this news. No one wants a bunch of classwork at eight in the morning. Mr. Kay knows it. "I just want a minimum one-page, a maximum three-page scary story from you all. Due by the end of class. I don't want to send you home with homework tonight since I know you're not going to do it." The class chuckles at this. Mr. Kay picks up a two-sided flag from his desk. He's very much into the flamboyant style of teaching. "Drumroll, please!" he announces. A few students beat on their desks at a steady rhythm. Mr. Kay flips the flag from the red side to the green side. "Alright! Get writing!"

I immediately pull out my notebook and begin writing as fast as my hand will let me. Jonathan sneaks into the classroom and sits to my left, but I don't greet him. I'm too invested in the assignment.

Originally, I signed up for Creative writing for an easy English credit on my record. However, I've discovered that I genuinely enjoy writing stories. Mr. Kay has pleaded his case that I should think about going into writing as a career with me countless times.

I write furiously about a sixteen-year-old girl who moves to a small town. Shortly after her arrival, people around town keep disappearing, only to be found days later, mutilated. It's morbid, but Mr. Kay likes that about my writing. 'You're not afraid to take risks in your work,' he once told me. The girl I write about is a lot like myself, damaged and unaware of her origins. She finds herself living in a tiny town with her long-lost aunt. I do my best to throw in as much mystery as possible in a few pages. In the end, the girl discovers that not only is there a monster around town attacking people but that the monster is her. A werewolf by night, a girl by day. I finish the short story on a cliffhanger, with the girl waking up right at sunrise, covered in blood, and an angry mob of townspeople marching up the hill to her home.

I drop my pencil on the desk in triumph.

"Already?" Nancy laughs. I nod enthusiastically. "Can I read it?"