Lucas was the lead douche in what I’d coined “The Hallow Hill Hicks,” the ring of bullies who got off on making my life a living Hell. I was pretty sure most of them would leave me alone if it wasn’t for this dick right here. He was still pissed about what happened on the first day of my freshman year. He’d cornered me behind the school, completely smashed and looking for something I wasn’t selling. He’d fucked with the wrong bitch on the wrong damn day and had gotten his nose broken for the trouble. I was almost expelled, which was a total joke. I was the one who’d had to defend myself against a boy three years older and twice my body mass, all because he seemed to have an allergic reaction to the word no. #8 в контекст | | |
He had all the boys, and some of the girls too, calling me a whore the very next day. Oh, the fucking irony. I thought when he’d graduated two years ago, the torment would be over. But no. Lucas wasn’t going to leave town for college. Instead, he stayed in Hallow Hill to work for his dad on his farm. All the senior boys still worshipped him. Being twenty-one, he could buy them all booze. To them, he might as well be God. Lucas scoffed softly to himself, his vodka-rank breath making my stomach heave. I braced myself, ready to fight back if he decided to hit me. At least this time, there were witnesses. Most of them were assholes, but at least Chelsea would vouch for me if anything happened. In my periphery, Derrick tackled a giggling Chelsea in the cornstalks. She playfully slapped him away and sat up, picking a piece of candy corn out of her hair. Her laughter died, and her eyes narrowed through her bunny mask when her attention landed on us. #9 в контекст | | |
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“What? I’m not doing anything but offering her a drink.” #11 в контекст | | |
He shoved the bottle of vodka toward me, probably hoping I’d flinch when he moved just a little too aggressively. His lips flattened when I didn’t so much as twitch. #12 в контекст | | |
“Come on, Little Moore Whore. Don’t you want to grow up to be just like mommy? Take a drink.” #13 в контекст | | |
I bristled at the nickname. I wasn’t going to be anything like my mother. I was going to do something no other Moore woman had done before me. Graduate and get the hell out of this town. #14 в контекст | | |
“I’m good, thanks,” I said, brandishing a too-sweet smile. “I’m not here to get trashed. I’m here because I took your stupid bet. After tonight you’re going to owe me two hundred bucks. Hope daddy pays you enough for cleaning up pig shit to cough up.” #15 в контекст | | |
The rest of my classmates gathered around us. Well, except for Chelsea and Derrick, who had laid back down, their tangled legs visible from behind a row of corn, where the sound of sloppy kissing was so loud it could be heard over the rustling stalks. #16 в контекст | | |
Everyone else had their attention on Luc, waiting to see what he’d do. His jaw flexed as his teeth ground audibly. Normally I wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of the bully, but the fact that he was dressed up like Freddy Krueger had my heart racing. Not because his striped sweater or the half-assed makeup he’d applied was even sort of scary. It was because he’d made the leather glove out of real blades he’d found around his farm. #17 в контекст | | |
My mom had come home on a couple of occasions with a black eye and various other bruises. Luc’s dad was one of her frequent customers, so I knew for a fact that he was a drunk who liked to beat up on women. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, so I wouldn’t put it past Lucas to use his Krueger claw. One slash of that thing, and I’d be a goner. #18 в контекст | | |
“Look at Ada. She’s scared shitless. She’s white as a ghost,” Derrick cackled, peering through the cornstalks. He omitted a loud “ouch,” then dropped his voice. “Hey, what are you doing, babe?” #19 в контекст | | |
“Getting away from you. You’re being a douche.” A moment later, Chelsea emerged, her mask slightly askew with a few pieces of dried corn husk sticking out from her mussed hair. #20 в контекст | | |
I turned my attention back to Lucas and dramatically rolled my eyes. #21 в контекст | | |
“I look like a ghost because that’s my costume, numb nuts,” I snarled at him. #22 в контекст | | |
Chelsea walked back over to us, straightening her mask. #23 в контекст | | |
“You guys are all assholes. She already took the bet to go to the patch on Halloween. Did you really have to make her dress up as her ancestor? Kind of disrespectful, if you ask me.” #24 в контекст | | |
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“Because the very first witch in the Moore family died on this night hundreds of years ago. After that, no Moore woman dared go to the pumpkin patch until Ada’s great-great-grandmother over a hundred years ago. She came back down, totally naked and completely insane, babbling about a pumpkin-headed devil. She got shipped off to the loony bin, and no one ever saw her again. So it seems Halloween isn’t a good night for the Moores.” #26 в контекст | | |
Luc’s gloved fingers curled around the neck of the vodka bottle, his metal claws clinking against the glass as he put it to his lips and took a big swig. He hissed through clenched teeth, vodka dribbling down his chin. #27 в контекст | | |
“Thing is, I don’t give a shit. No one made Ada take the bet. No one made her come. It’s not like anyone would blame her for not coming. Especially since Pumpkin Head has a thing for the Moore Whores.” #28 в контекст | | |
I cringed, but not at the cruel name he used for me. For some reason, it didn’t sit right with me whenever anyone referred to Jack Calloway as Pumpkin Head. Maybe it was because I felt sorry for him on some level, even if he died hundreds of years ago. Sure, the town called him a monster. Not because he was literally a monster. He was a male witch, but from the story, his only crime was his wild sex life with my ancestor, Adaline Moore—the woman I was named after. #29 в контекст | | |
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I shivered as a chill that had nothing to do with the crisp fall night crawled into my bones. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had no business being here on this night, of all nights. That maybe I should have listened to them when they said to stay away from the pumpkin patch on Halloween night. #31 в контекст | | |
Instead, I’d taken the stupid dare to dress up like my ancestor, wearing a period dress of the time, and make this trip to the pumpkin patch on All Hallows’ Eve. The challenge was that when Jack didn’t show, it would prove there were no such thing as ghosts, as I repeatedly claimed. #32 в контекст | | |
I had to ignore the little alarm bells going off in my mind, so I could shut everyone else up and prove to them once and for all there was no pumpkin-headed specter haunting the town’s pumpkin patch, waiting for the return of Adaline Moore. #33 в контекст | | |
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There was nothing for me here in this shit town with these shit people. #35 в контекст | | |
I almost wished Jack Calloway were real, so he could take me far away from this shit hole. #36 в контекст | | |
Wherever he’d take me, even if it was Hell itself, it had to be better than here. #37 в контекст | | |
