Go Home or Go Dead ✓

We Go!

Frantic does not begin to explain my emotions tonight.

Of course I'm frantic- we're so close to October 31st, and all sorts of stuff happens on Halloween.

With the cute, clueless kids prioritizing trick or treatin' and the more than creepy-looking men wielding axes, it was and is one of my least favourite seasons of the year. That, plus all the parties that happened all over New York City during the time.

And boy did I hyperventilate when I was manipulated into attending one on the eve of that cursed day.

Two nights prior, Mom slid a strange looking letter across the dining table to me. I stared at her for a full minute before my gaze glided over the orange letter with gold lined at the edges. I choked on my peas when I assumed what it was.

"Um, don't you think it's best to inform us properly before you throw the wedding card, Mom?"

Mom looked frankly horrified at my assumption, and I would've sworn she would've have slapped the huge dish spoon on my head had she been extra touchy that night.

"Why on earth would you assume such a thing?"

I shrugged. "'Cause you've been seeing the Swiss banker, and it seemed serious?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to marry him just like that! Jesus, Maisie..."

"I don't know, Mom. You come up with real crazy ideas. Remember when Aunt Morin asked you to prepare her baby shower invites? Those cards were straight off a fantasy film."

"So you think I'm supposed to be having a Halloween-themed wedding?"

I shrugged again. My gaze then slid back to the orange letter, and I picked it up with curious fingers tearing at the old-style red seal.

"A Halloween party?!" My shock was near palpable.

"That's what it says?" Mom dropped her spoon and peered over at my side of the table.

"It doesn't say who sent..."

"Seems like a fun way to throw a seasonal party. You should go."

"A big no thank you, ma'am."

"What? It's a real creative invitation. And, it's right in the neighborhood," Mom argued, hoping my curious mind would crack at a bit of pressure.

That night had taken a funny turn of events, because Mom actually made me play bodyguard for Ilona, my older sister, once she had insisted on going. The urge to scream and claw at my sister's face as she bounded up the stairs afterwards nearly made me faint.

Now, Ilona has claimed ownership of my room as she assesses my closet, mentally drafting a good vs bad dresses list while I sit like a stranger in my own room.

Ilona pauses to momentarily check my dejected self on the bed and scoffs.

"For shit's sake, Maisie, it's just a party. A party in New York City!"

"Yay."

Ilona narrows her eyes at me and continues compiling her mental list of my closet. I suddenly want to scream again, but that would be a literal exercise in futility, a grand strain on my weak vocal chords. Screaming would only attract attention, not get Mom to let me sit this party out.

"I don't even get why I have to go," I muttered.

"You're the baby sister, which means you go wherever Mom and I want you to go."

"Fantastic."

A more detailed retort stops halfway on my tongue. What does it matter? I wasn't getting out of this unless I mortally wounded myself or... well, nothing else. And I'm so not going to dismember my precious physical form just to escape the worst season of the year.

No, I wasn't going to go that far...