The Flynn Effect

11 | a damsel in distress

Jo

I'M A WOMAN on a mission. That's right. I'm stepping into Cass's party with a purpose and I'll just need to follow three simple steps to achieve that goal.

1. Be at the party, obviously.

2. Spend at most, twenty minutes at the haunted house.

3. Bolt.

Voila. I'm chanting those words to myself while I swipe a bold red lipstick over my lips and King prances around the dressing table as The Beatles play loudly in my room. It's been a while since I've done a full blown makeover and when I look down at some of the brushes in my drawer, I realize how much I've missed this. Hana and I used to do this together for no reason before she left. We'd take pictures and all and laugh about it especially when we looked ridiculous. It makes me wonder if she remembers all these or not.

"Honey," There's a knock on the door over the voice of John Lennon. It's mum. "You're getting late. Thought you said it was starting by 8?"

I lower the volume of the music from the stereo until it's low enough that she can hear me. "Mum, it's a party. I can be there at any time."

I can already hear the multiple thoughts running through her mind. "Oh, okay. Nothing stopping you from being punctual though, just saying."

I roll my eyes and look at the time. "I'm almost done." And then I turn up the volume again.

Everyone knows the parties never really start at the slated time, especially not in Lakeville. Mum just has a thing for being ridiculously early at events, whether formal or informal. I shove my hands up into my hair and mess the curls up again until I'm satisfied. The freckles on my nose are concealed and my eyes are surrounded by dark, glittery makeup. It's perfectly smudged from my eyelids to a small part of my cheek so it appears like I've been crying and they're a few spots around my neck as well. Red smudges that are hopefully supposed to depict blood. The only part of my face that looks perfect are my lips. Red and fiery. I pout a bit and scrunch my nose before getting to my feet and standing at the full length mirror.

When I take in my attire one last time, I smile. I think I look good. I grab my already prepared purse filled with my usual diabetic kit—better to be safe than sorry—check my blood sugar and sigh once I see it's normal and then grab my phone. Flynn has already sent me a message, "I may or may not have hooked you up with David and bought you coffee. Do not fail me now."

I knew he was trying to bribe me. That god-awful odd number.

Right underneath the message, there's a little 'please' and I sigh before turning around to meet King's curious look.

"How do I look?"

He barks once, lowers his head a bit and bares his teeth at me before barking the second time and relaxing. Okay, so maybe I might look a bit terrifying but I guess that's the whole point of Halloween. Besides, I really don't think I look that different from my usual 'I hate the world' face. I unlock the door and slowly walk down the stairs when mum's spicy Halloween themed casserole hits me. I suddenly start having second thoughts about even leaving the house.

Apart from the occasional clattering of kitchen appliances, the TV is loud enough to be heard from any part of the house and apparently it's a vain commercial of incredibly muscled, shirtless guys advertising an underwear line and my grandmother is sitting on the rocking chair and knitting a brown sweater as she observes them. It's the kind of stuff she likes which convinces me that sometimes, my own grandmother can be a pervert.