The consignment store on Cumberland had its periods of activity throughout the year. Sometimes, it was busy, while other times, it was dead.

Much to Gwen's surprise, it was bursting with life. Apparently, many of the other youthful shoppers had the same idea.

Trent shrugged. "I don't know, Gwen. Aren't we a little old for this?"

"If we're not too old to eat junk food, we're certainly not too old for this." Gwen flipped through a rack of clothes. Her eyes lit up as she grabbed an item off the rack. She tucked it under her arm and rushed toward the register. Trent followed, unenthusiastically.

October 30th was a night where people tried to squeeze candy out of households before the officially sanctioned day. 'Beggars Night', they call it in the States.

Trent returned to his dorm room and collapsed on his bed. Sobey's was pretty busy on Sundays and all he wanted to do was sleep until the next morning.

His cell phone buzzed to life, the chorus of AC/DC's "Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap)" poking at him.

Trent groaned as he groggily answered the phone. "Hello?" No answer. "Hello?", he said, irritation creeping into his voice.

He glanced at the screen. It wasn't a phone call, but a text. He opened it.

The picture seemed to be of a blue person, but from behind. The graininess of the picture prevented him from seeing it clearly, but he could make out a bit of orange at the top.

Trent shook his head. He glanced down on the phone screen. The message said 'You like the costume?'

He swept his finger up the phone. The text was from Gwen.

He raised an eyebrow. He dialed her number. It rang. Again…and again…and again…

"Hello?"

"I got your text."

"Great. So, what do you think?"

Trent hemmed. What was he supposed to think? "Who are you?"

"Well, I wanted to surprise you, but I'm going as Mystique."

"You mean, like, from the X-Men movies?"

"Yeah!"

"Wow. That's…interesting. How'd you come up with that?"

"Well, it was partway based on a dare. A bunch of theater girls and me are going to a party tomorrow. We each wrote down the most ridiculous costumes we could think of and put them in a hat. I drew Mystique."

"And what did they draw?"

"Can't you wait 'til tomorrow?" Trent blanched. "That reminds me, you never picked out a costume. Be a real shame if there wasn't someone to accompany me."

"Of course I have a costume. Just need to put some finishing touches on it."

"Awesome. See you tomorrow." Gwen hung up. Trent leapt from his bed and rifled through the clothes in his closet. Of course, he didn't have a costume, so he'd have to jury-rig one in a hurry.

Nothing in his wardrobe that could be construed as a Halloween costume.

Trent sunk onto his bed. He hadn't wanted to disappoint Gwen. Sure, he loved trick-or-treating and dressing up for Halloween when he was a kid, but he didn't really feel up to it as a college man.

He considered himself a pretty smart guy, and yet, he couldn't think of a costume. Was this some kind of punishment handed down by…

Trent perked up. The wheels in his head began to turn. He rifled through Mason's clothes, thankful that his ritual of Sunday night study sessions with his classmates was upheld.

He held aloft a black T-shirt. It seemed a little small, but he hoped that it'd fit well enough. After all, he only needed it for one night.

It'd been a long day for Trent. His classes had been a breeze, but it was what happened afterward that caused problems.

All he needed to do was spray-paint a skull on the front of the shirt. However, he didn't really have a place to work. Leaving that kind of smell in his room would get him into trouble.

The only place he could think of to get it done was in the theater department, where this sort of painting was commonplace. There was another problem: Gwen had mentioned some 'theater girls'. Could he trust them to keep his secret?

Trent smiled. He knew exactly what to do.

"Okay. That's five bottles of White-Out." The girl at the register gave the merchandise a peculiar look before turning toward Trent. He smiled nervously. "Will that be cash or charge?"

"Cash." Trent produced a ten-dollar bill from his pocket.

"All right. That'll be nine sixty-five." She opened the register and place the bottles in a bag. "You know, that's funny. The way the total-"

"Can I have my change, please? My roommate and I have made a lot of mistakes." The nervous smile was gone from Trent's face as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a disapproving grimace.

"Fine." She slammed the thirty-five cents on the counter.

"You'll never make employee of the month with that attitude", Trent stated as he gathered his purchase.

Trent consulted the picture he looked up on his phone. He draped the shirt over the washroom door and painted it with the White-Out. The window was opened to provide proper ventilation.

After twenty minutes of painting (and just as much time drying), Trent donned the shirt.

He glanced at himself in the mirror. Mason's shirt was a little small on him, but it fit just enough. The skull really stood out on his tight frame.

It may not have been an exact match for the character, but given its many incarnations that he saw online, Trent felt it was good enough for the party.

Trent stood outside of the dormitory. It was a little before 6:00 and the sun had gone down. He just hoped that his last minute costume was good enough.

"So, what do you think?"

Trent turned around. Gwen came down the stairs. She truly resembled Mystique, from the slicked-back red hair to the blue skin. The make-up was impressive.

"You're not really…naked, are you?"

"Hell, no. I'm wearing the one piece I picked up at the thrift store and some underwear, just in case. But, otherwise, yeah, I'm pretty naked." She eyed his costume. "Nice. You're…The Punisher?"

"Yeah." The shirt, plus a pair of black pants and a dark trench coat from the thrift store, made for an effective costume.

"Skull's a dead giveaway." Gwen sniffed the air, her face cringing. "You smell that?"

Trent darted his eyes back and forth. "What's it smell like?"

"White-Out."

"People can be pretty clumsy. So, where's the party?"

By day, it was a regular, abandoned warehouse. Didn't do much but sit imposingly at the corner of Dupont and Bathurst.

By night, however, it could become anything: a soundstage, a meeting place for shady dealings or a Halloween party.

Thankfully, for the costumed revelers inside, it was the latter. A mix CD of spooky music filled the air. It came mainly from film scores. Currently playing: a track from the movie Spellbinder.

Gwen and Trent walked in, not drawing much attention. There were more attention-getting costumes on display: the puppet from the Saw movies, Thor and a voodoo doll.

There was even someone dressed like the main character from the movie Drive, right down to the (possibly custom-made) scorpion jacket. Trent hadn't seen it yet, but he knew that his film studies class had been polarized by it. Some students felt it was a fascinating modern noir, while others felt it was a somnolent wank perpetuated by a director to whom nobody had the balls to say 'no'.

Trent took a look at how the building was dressed up. "Never been here before."

"Me, neither, but this girl in theater told me how it was good for a party as long as they got a permit."

"Gwen, hey!" A girl dressed like Hellraiser's Pinhead waved at her. The outfit was custom-made. As for the pins? Modified golf tees.

"Hey!" Gwen hurried over. There, she also found girls dressed as an evil clown and (her own personal choice) Leatherface.

Trent waved at Gwen's friends, only to be met with disapproving stares.

"Yeah. I'm gonna see if I can't…find someplace to go." Trent couldn't think of a better excuse, but he could easily tell when he wasn't wanted.

He rested against a back wall. In the past, Trent had no problems when he was at a party; even when he didn't know most of the people there, he was able to win people over. Now, in the wake of the show, even in a crowd of people and with the love of his life a good fifteen feet away, he felt alone.

"Trent! Is that you?"

Trent turned around. It was a vampire, who looked a good deal like… "Tyler?"

Tyler shook his former competitor's hand. "How've you been?"

"I've been better."

"What's wrong?"

Trent shrugged. "Stuff. General stuff."

"Well, hang in there. Things can always get better. Cool costume, by the way."

"Thanks. You, too."

"Yeah. I wanted to go as Frankenstein's monster, but my Mom talked me out of it. It would've made a lot more sense, seeing…" Tyler motioned to the refreshment table.

There stood a young woman in a white robe and a frizzed-up hairstyle with a white stripe.

"Lindsay!"

She turned around. A smile crossed her face as she ran over. "Tristan! It is so awesome to see you." Lindsay underlined her exclamation by wrapping Trent in a big hug.

"Thanks, Lindsay."

She let him go and glanced him over. "So, who are you supposed to be?"

"The Punisher."

Lindsay nodded her head. "Oh, who's that?"

"From the comic books."

"Ohhhh. I think I've heard of him."

Trent turned back to Tyler. "So, are you in college?"

"Yeah. York University. Go Lions!"

"Lions!" The cheer went up from a third of the crowd.

"How about you?"

"Humber College."

"Cool, cool." Tyler hurried toward another part of the room. "Hey, guys!"

As Trent saw Tyler greet what he could only assume were old friends, his feelings of loneliness flared up. His old high school friends hadn't attempted to contact him despite his 'friend requests'. He sighed despondently.

He suddenly remembered Lindsay, who he saw primping her hairdo. He smiled nervously.

"I…need to be by myself. Hope you don't mind."

"That's okay. I'll join you." Lindsay followed Trent into a broom closet. He took a seat on an old steamer trunk.

"I should never have come here. It feels like everyone's talking about me behind my back."

Lindsay smiled warmly. "Believe me. I can sympathize." The surprising thing about her statement was that she said it not in her usual, vacant, high-pitched tone, but in a calmer, normal voice.

Trent opened his mouth to say something, but he went agog at the sudden change in Lindsay's voice.

"Please, don't go silent on my account."

"Have you been taking voice lessons?"

"No. I've always sounded like this." Lindsay popped a lozenge into her mouth. "That voice may have helped me get exposure, but it's murder on the throat. Tea helps pretty well, too."

"So…is it just the voice you've been faking?"

"Trent, just ask what's on your mind: am I really that stupid?" Trent glanced away sheepishly. "No, I'm not. Just an elaborate performance."

"I'd say it's a damned impressive one."

"Thank you."

"Who else knows about this?"

"My parents…and Tyler. He was pretty shocked when I told him. More than you, really."

Trent started to think. "You've been pretending to be a dumb blonde this whole time?"

Lindsay motioned to her impressive body. "When you're built like this - 100% natural, by the way - people have already formed their opinions about you before you even open your mouth. I always liked to play pretend, so I figured, I may as well play the part they're expecting. I found that people liked the 'fake' me. I got decent grades, but not solid 'As' and 'Bs'. Had to keep the charade going."

"So, you knew the whole time what you were doing on the show?"

"Yes."

"So you did mean to poison me with the blowfish?" Lindsay covered her mouth. "Well?"

"You know I'd never hurt anyone on purpose, right? I was sweating bullets the whole time. I'd seen that "Simpsons" episode." Lindsay threw her arms around Trent. "I'm so glad I didn't kill you."

"That makes two of us…for the most part."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well…given some of what happened to me later on, there were times when I wished I had died…or, at least, felt like I did."

"What do you mean?"

Gwen frowned at the scarcity of refreshments at the snack table. 'What's Halloween without candy?', she thought to herself.

She poured herself a glass of punch and looked for a seat, the strains of the Children of the Corn theme filling the air. She took a sip.

A few feet away, a group of girls - dressed in costumes that were more 'slutty' than 'sexy' - commiserated, pointing at the other partygoers and laughing.

"…can wear as big a dress as she wants. Her ass is still fat." The other girls laughed.

"And what is with that 'Total Drama' guy showing his face around here?", cracked the slutty nurse. Gwen swallowed her punch. She wanted to hear where this was going.

"Yeah. He is such a joke. Who flips their shit over a number?" The slutty mail carrier rolled her eyes.

The slutty cowgirl chimed in. "I'd be really embarrassed if that were me."

"You bitches just about done?" The girls turned toward the sound of the insult.

Gwen stood up, an angry scowl crossing her features.

"And what does this have to do with you?"

"Why should that matter? Hasn't he been through enough without bitches like you dumping salt in his wounds?"

"What are you, his mother?"

"I'm a friend. That's all that matters." Gwen advanced on the sluts. "Leave him alone."

Gwen stomped off. The slutty mail carrier stepped forward. "Too bad you can't change yourself into someone with better taste."

"I could change into you, but then I'd have to take my own life", Gwen spat, not even bothering to turn around.

"Okay, that is one of the most heartbreaking and messed-up things I've ever heard."

"Believe me, it's heartbreaking and messed-up to hear about, but excruciating to have lived through."

"Have you told Gwen?"

"I'm waiting for the right moment."

"Ah. Just like I am. I hope you don't wait too long. You two are back together, so you can't keep it from her forever." Lindsay shook her head. "I just can't believe it."

"What?"

"Her and Duncan."

"Oh, that. I don't understand it. You'd think it'd be one of the Ten Commandments of juvenile hall: messing with another guy's girl is a one-way ticket to Shankville."

Lindsay gasped. "Trent, you wouldn't!"

"Of course not, but I'm just saying." He looked into her eyes. "Lindsay, thanks."

"For what?"

"It probably had something to do with the story, but thanks for not giving me crap over nines."

"It had nothing to do with the story. I know a little something about being mocked for my 'Total Drama' persona. I mean, making fun of you for the number nine? You must be confusing me with the airhead I played."

Trent smiled and hugged her. Just as he released her, Gwen opened the door. "There you are. What have you been doing in here?"

"Just catching up."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"It was nice seeing you again, Trevor", Lindsay announced in her 'dumb blonde' voice as she waved. When Gwen's back was turned, she gave Trent the 'zip your lips' signal. He nodded in assent.

"Well, the candy here is non-existent. Wanna go trick-or-treating?"

"You know we can buy candy for, like, 70% off tomorrow, right?"

"What's the point of being dressed up just so we can buy candy?" Gwen grabbed Trent's arm and headed for the door. "Let's rock!"