Ashes, Ashes (READ THIS ONE)

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven
Oh, holding my breath. Won't lose you again. Something's made your eyes go cold.
Taylor Swift, 'Haunted'

You busy? my phone's screen reads. While Maxx and I aren't really allowed to be talking, we've been texting back and forth.
Not really, I say, drowning in a pile of overdue homework. My 'my boyfriend died and it made me mentally unstable' excuse is quickly wearing off on my teachers.
You wanna go to a Halloween party?
Parties. They've always made me nervous, even more now, thanks to my deeply buried memory of Nathan. It's not like he can hit me again, he's already dead.
Where's it at?
It takes him a few minutes to text back. While I wait I try to do some math. I used to be good at math once upon a time, but now with the added stress, I fall behind easily.
It's at a graveyard.
Even worse. I haven't gotten the hang of my powers just yet, and going to a place where there will be spirits who could to me whenever they felt like it didn't seem like too much fun to me.
I don't know. . .
It's a costume party. It'll be fun! I can practically hear him begging me to go.
How would you incorporate a cast into a Halloween costume?
Does that mean you'll go?
That means I'll need a costume.
Even if I find a costume, that doesn't mean I'll be able to go.
Renee probably won't cover for me, since I'm going with Maxx. My only option is to just ask.
You could wear a hospital gown and be a patient. Maxx offers.
I go downstairs to ask my parents if there's a slim chance they'll let me go.
"Hey," I say, making my dad jump. "Can I go to a party?" I ask him.
When he looks at me, probably awaiting further details, I explain. "It's a costume party." I decide not to tell him it's at a graveyard.
"Yeah, I guess. When is it?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I can ask." I offer, pulling my phone out from my back pocket.
When's the party? I text Maxx. He replies back almost instantaneously. Halloween. 8-midnight.
"It's on Halloween from 8 to midnight."
"You can go as long as you're careful. You know people there, right?"
I nod my head. Out of my parents, Dad has always been the most easy going. "Thanks." I say. "Now I just need to worry about a costume. Can't find a way to incorporate this," -I lift up my cast- "into any kind of costume."
"Why don't you just forget about the cast?"
"What would I wear, then? I don't want to be a cliche."

"You could be Carrie." Dad suggests.
"Carrie?" I ask, clearly not following where he's going with this.
"You know, Carrie. From the Stephen King novel. You could wear a wig, get a dress, drown it in fake blood. Your mom could do your makeup. It would look amazing."
I nod. "I like it," I kiss him on the top of his head and hug him. "This is why you're the best."
"We're going to have to start making it now, since it's three days before the party." Dad calls to me as I make my way back up to my room. I can go, I text Maxx as I walk upstairs.
Any costume ideas?
Surprise, I tell him. What are you going to be?
Vampire.
Seriously?
What, you don't think I'd make an adorable vampire?
You'd be a good vampire, but I beg to differ on the adorable part.
On Halloween, I'm sitting in front of my mom's vanity, various make up products strewn around us. I'm dressed in a pinkish-red dress -so the 'blood' will show up better- with a high neckline and knee-length skirt. The high neckline is really starting to annoy me, and I try to pull it down more; it feels like I'm being choked.
"Stop tugging at it," Mom says, swatting my hand away.
"It's choking me," I complain.
She grabs the small tube of fake blood she's using for my hair and face. Dad wanted to get contacts that looked like they were filled with blood, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to see through them and refused.
"Hold still," Mom says, tilting my head back. "Or this stuff is going to go in your eyes. And I don't think that would be very fun,"
"At least it's not pig's blood," I say. "That would be horrible." I feel the blood start to trickle down my forehead and resist the urge to wipe it away. This is going to take some getting used to. We weren't sure whether I was going to have my hair temporarily dyed blond, or that I would just wear a wig, but I'd decided on the wig. I really don't want my hair to turn mud brown if the dye didn't work right.
Luckily for me the wig isn't as itchy as I thought it would be. The wig is already securely fastened on my head and drowned with blood. As for the dress, we're doing that outside. Mom doesn't want the house to look like a crime scene.
"I think that's enough blood. What do you think?" she says, gently pushing my head back up to look in the mirror.
"I look . . ." I stop, searching for the right word. "Different. Bloody."
"Well, you really didn't look like Carrie in the first place, so I guess that's a good thing."
Dad walks in, leaning against the door frame. "How are we coming along?" he asks. He's been outside, prepping somewhere for me to stand while I literally -yes, literally- get gallons of fake blood poured on me. I don't really get why Mom took her time to put the blood on my face when it's just going to get ruined. "You look bloody," Dad says with a smile on his face. "It's awesome. Ready to get even more bloody?"
This is quickly turning into a spot the period innuendos game. I have a feeling I'd win that game. "I guess." I say.
"So much enthusiasm," Dad says, leading me to where he's set up. "Be careful!" Mom calls. "Don't get blood everywhere!" Innuendo number four.
"The blood's really cold," Dad warns me as he leads me to a place behind the house, covered in tarps to catch any extra spray. "Don't scream, either, because everyone will think that I'm murdering you."
I stand in what I hope is the middle and wait for Dad to get the bucket of blood. This is turning into a very realistic reenactment of Carrie just to get the blood to look right.
After carefully wrapping my cast in a towel, Dad calls down from above me.
"Ready?"
"No." I say. "Just do it quick," Oh God, Abbi. What a wonderfully perverted brain you have.
After a few seconds of nervous waiting, two gallons of blood is poured on me. It's freezing cold and it takes everything in me to not scream bloody murder -no pun intended.
"Are you alive down there?" Dad calls. I can hear him clanking down the ladder above me. "I'm freezing cold, but overall I'm alive." I shiver. I really could use a jacket. "This stuff dries fast, right?"
"It should. When's your ride coming?"
"They should be here soon. What time is it?"
"7:15," Dad says, pulling out his phone to check. Maxx told me that it takes about 20 minutes to get to the cemetery. "I won't have my phone," I remind Dad. I don't have anywhere to put it, and I don't want to bring a bag. "But I'll be back before 1."
It took quite a bit of negotiating to convince Mom to let me stay out for the whole party. "Is that your ride?"
Dad points to the car driving slowly up our driveway. It doesn't look like Maxx's car, but, last I heard, his Supernatural car was totaled. "Maybe," I say.
The car stops at our front door, and I get a look inside the car. It's Maxx, dressed in a cape and fangs. He wasn't kidding on the vampire part, I guess. I grab a dry towel from Dad. "That's him. I'm taking this towel. Probably doesn't want me to get this blood all over his car. I'll be back."
I go to hug him, but he pushes me back. "Uh, uh." he says. "I don't want your Carrie-blood all over me. I'll hug myself."
"You're so weird," I say laughing.
"That's why you love me so much. Have fun, baby,"
I wave at him and open the car door. I sit the towel on the seat the best I can manage. "Please ignore the various dark red, blood-like stains your car will probably have after this."
"I'd ignore it, but I don't think my parents will," Maxx says, having difficulty talking around the plastic fangs.
"It's your parents' car?"
"Do I -a 16 year old boy- look like someone who would own a car like this?" he says, motioning to the clean car seats and unmistakable old-person car smell. "We should probably leave before my dad thinks we're making out."
"That would prove to be very difficult, thanks to these horrendous things," he says, pulling out his fangs. "Do you know what I am?" I ask, nudging my bloody shoulder at him as he starts to drive. "Hmm," he says. It's starting to get dark out already. It's only seven. "Blood. Blonde." he taps his chin. "Modest dress. Are you. . . little orphan Annie?"
"Okay, be serious now."
"It's not that hard. You're obviously Carrie,"
"You're good at that game."
"So what graveyard is the party at?" I ask.