Chapter Eleven: Halloween Hijinks

Adam looked up from his trig homework as he heard a knock at the door. Figuring that it was Linda coming over for one of her study sessions with Charlie, he looked over at the deposed JV captain who lay motionless on his bed.

"I guess I'll get it," the Varsity forward offered as he got up from his desk and made the short walk to the door.

"Hey, Adam," Linda greeted him with a polite smile.

Though the smile was a friendly one, it masked a growing sense of frustration with her boyfriend's negativity. Charlie had been so busy feeling sorry for himself that he had not even gone downstairs to let Linda in to the boys' dormitory. Instead, she had to race in through the side as another guy exited the building.

Just like some common weirdo.

"Hey, Linda," Adam replied, opening the door wider to allow her in. "I was just about to head to the library anyway. Alt rock doesn't exactly produce a Mozart effect."

"Heh, no. It definitely doesn't," she agreed as she entered the cramped dorm room.

The Foo Fighters – and their eponymous debut album – had been playing in the background, but Linda was unable to identify the group.

They all sound the same anyway.

"Later guys," Adam called out as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and departed.

"Bye, Adam," Linda called back.

Charlie still had not made a sound. But he was roused into action as Linda turned off the CD player and began unpacking her study materials.

"You mind?" He asked irritably. "I was listening to that."

"You were sulking mindlessly," she corrected him. "You know a good cure for that? Work."

Charlie rolled his eyes, but Linda persisted.

"Hey, if you think you have it bad, get a load of this guy," she thrust a copy of Oliver Twist into his gut. "I assume you've done your reading."

"Well you assume wrong."

He handed back the book before turning on the CD player and returning to his bed.

"Charlie, you can't just shut down and not do any school work. If you start flunking class, you'll lose a lot more than some dumb title to Paul Larson. Orion will bench you. And if you can't turn it around, he'll throw you off the team. And if you're off the team, you'll lose your scholarship. Does any of that mean anything to you?"

The veteran Duck got back to his feet with a grunt, prompting a relieved Linda to grin.

But her relief gave way to exasperation as Charlie walked past her and turned up the volume on the CD player.

"I wish I had a remote control for this thing," he mumbled on the way back to his bed.

"Well, this is pointless," Linda declared as she gathered her things.

Meanwhile, as Adam made his way to the school library, he heard a cheery female voice call out "hey, Banksie."

Only one person can call me that without annoying me.

But as he turned to discover that Tiffany Collins was the source, he corrected himself.

Only one person can call me that, and her name is Tiffany. Not Julie.

"Hey, Tiffany," he called back, approaching her in the courtyard.

Conveniently located between the boys' and girls' dormitories, the courtyard was ideal for guys and girls to meet and make plans for later. The distinct lack of privacy that it offered precluded rendezvous of the intimate kind, but its limited uses were appreciated at the stifling prep school.

As he approached the tall cheerleader, he realized that planting a kiss on her cheek would not present too much of a...logistical challenge. And it wouldn't hurt to lay claim to his potential girlfriend by kissing her in front of the other students who were milling about in the courtyard.

So he went ahead and gave her a peck, drawing a surprised giggle.

"I was just about to go grab some dinner," Tiffany announced, eyeing Adam's backpack. "Were you going to the library?"

"Uh, no. Dining hall," he replied before indicating his backpack. "I just haul this around to keep my strength up away from practice."

"Oh?" She asked with a grin. "I can grab some books from my dorm if you like. I even have a few dumbbells up there."

"Well, that's kind of you to offer. But I don't want to bulk up too much, y'know?"

Tiffany laughed as she extended her hand for Adam to grasp, which he did.

"So I'm not interrupting an important study session?"

"Absolutely not," he lied.

"Good."

Despite their plans to attend the Semi-Formal together, Adam and Tiffany were just short of being an official item – although they had been on a few successful dates since Sarah had introduced them. If his experience with Julie had taught him nothing else, it hammered home the importance of being bold and assertive; so he found himself taking chances with Tiffany that he never dreamed of taking with Julie.

Some hand-holding here, a cheek-peck there, and an increased willingness to trust his sense of humor had all given him an appearance of cool confidence that masked his nervousness quite effectively.

The internal nervousness made a brief appearance as the dining attendant flashed a suspicious look at Adam as he stood in line for a second time that evening.

But it was something that a bit of Banksian sarcasm could easily fix.

"Don't worry," he addressed the attendant. "Your eyes aren't playing tricks on you. I really am Elvis Presley."

Embarrassed that she had been caught staring, the attendant rung Adam and Tiffany up at the cash register without saying anything.

"Heh, speaking of Elvis – get a load of that guy," Tiffany indicated Dean Portman with her head as she emerged from the line with Adam.

"Portman?" Adam strained his eyes to observe the defenseman with the pompadour.
"He looks so weird without his bandana."

"He looked pretty weird with the bandana, to be fair."

Adam laughed, but he felt guilty laughing at Portman – and always had. As he approached the Beautiful Peoples' table with Tiffany, Portman graced the pair with his puppy-like smile.

"Hey guys."

"Hey, Portman," Adam replied.

Dinner at Eden Hall had always been a more relaxed affair than lunch. The various cliques seemed less rigid during the evening, and there was more mingling. So it came as no surprise to Adam when he observed Portman sitting with the Beautiful People rather than the handful of Ducks over at the JV table.

But as Paul Larson emerged from the line and moved to take his seat in Charlie's old spot, the grin on Portman's face vanished.

"I better get going," he announced. "Later, Banksie – babe," he added with a nod in Tiffany's direction.

Adam rolled his eyes but did not bother to correct the former Bash Brother, who was already halfway across the dining hall.

"Aren't you going to defend my honor?" Tiffany teased.

"I think he's got enough problems already," Adam replied, observing Larson give the back of Portman's head a hard thwack.

Given his position on Varsity – and Charlie's increased caginess – Adam knew little about JV dynamics. But from this vantage point, it was clear that Larson had cut Portman down to size. Though JV had yet to lose a game, Adam could not shake the feeling that things would go very badly for his former team very soon – and Larson's machinations would be the cause.

But he was hardly in any position to save the Ducks; and rather than dwell on the gloomy fate that awaited them, Adam turned to a happier subject: his budding romance with Tiffany.

The two enjoyed a pleasant chat – Tiffany having been genuinely interested in learning about hockey, and Adam delighted to teach her. Given that the cheerleading squad only performed at football and basketball games, hockey had always been something of a mystery to her; luckily, she had stumbled onto a cute guy for whom talking hockey was a pleasure second only to playing it.

As Adam began talking about Bobby Orr and the evolution of the modern NHL defenseman, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Oh, hey Scooter. What's up?"

"Henderson wants to invite you to the Halloween party at his place," the Varsity goalie explained before flashing a quick glance at Tiffany. "You're welcome to bring a date."

Adam raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"A peace offering, is it?"

Scooter shrugged, unaware of the Varsity captain's ill-fated attempt to discipline the team's star forward.

"More like a mandatory you-better-show up-or-else kinda thing," he replied.

But having seen what a poor fighter Henderson was, his threats did not scare Adam in the least.

"Tell Henderson that I've got plans."

"Aw, Adam – you can't turn down a party at Zach's," Tiffany protested. "His place is huge, it's practically custom-designed for amazing parties!"

Although Adam was less-than-thrilled about Tiffany's pre-existing friendship with the abrasive Varsity captain, he figured that making a fuss about it would create more trouble than it was worth. Rather than allow guilt by association to preclude a future relationship with a highly desirable cheerleader, Adam decided to acquiesce.

"Alright, Tiffany, we'll go – for you."

"Great!" Scooter enthused. "The party is actually on Halloween – it's nice having it on a Friday night for a change. I can drive you guys there, just be sure to wear a costume!"

As the Varsity goalie departed, Tiffany leaned in and whispered into Adam's ear.

"Make sure you bring the stuff for a party."

The forward nodded, not having the faintest idea what 'stuff for a party' meant, but not wanting to look like an idiot by asking.

After finishing his second dinner for the evening and walking Tiffany back to the girls' dormitory – complete with a soft kiss goodbye on the lips – Adam made a mental note to give Sarah a call so he could understand Tiffany's cryptic instructions.

Several yards away at the side entrance to the building, Julie allowed Tim in for a late night study session. Ms. Stewart, the ancient dorm supervisor who chilled easily had cranked up the building's furnace; so the girls in her charge dressed accordingly. The challenge that scantily-dressed girls created for her mission to prevent 'conjugal visits' never occurred to the matron, but at least she was warm.

Not that it bothered Tim Riley, who drank-in the sight of Julie in a white tank top that ended just above her navel and a pair of high-rise black shorts that clung snugly around her upper thighs.

"Hey, doll face," he greeted her before pecking her cheek. "Nice getup," he added.

Stupid, stupid.

"In case you didn't notice, it's like a sauna in here," Julie explained. "You might wanna lose that wool sweater before it starts sticking to your skin."

"Duly noted."

The JV forward did not even wait until they were upstairs before he slid his sweater off. Here he was with Julie Gaffney advising him to remove his clothes. He felt like he was well on his way to the best night of his life when the goalie opened the door to her room to reveal a bored-looking Connie watching TV from her bed.

"Oh, hey Cons," he greeted her.

"Hey, Tims," she replied before looking to Julie. "I can go and give you guys some privacy."

"Oh, no," Julie insisted. "That won't be necessary. You just stay put and watch Beverly Hills. Tim and I can work with it in the background."

"Honestly, Julie – I don't mind."

Connie began rising to her feet only for Julie to shove her back down to the bed.

"Heh, sorry," the goalie apologized for her brusque hands. "But there's no sense in you going out so late at night. Tim's only here at this hour because we both find history so difficult to write about on our own."

Tim frowned at the prospect of an all-night essay session; he had made the trip to Julie's dorm in the expectation that homework was a pretext for making-out – maybe even more. But taking in the sight of those long, bare legs, he decided that like a bottle of his father's port, they had aged to perfection and were ready for opening; he was not prepared to consign the object of his desire to the basement just yet.

"If Connie wants to get some fresh air, I think we should let her," he proposed, fanning his face with his hand. "It is awfully stuffy in here."

"Well, there you go," Connie replied, rising to her feet.

"It's fine!" Julie insisted, shoving Connie back down.

The brunette forward let out a resigned sigh as she returned to TV-watching position. Ever since Julie had yanked her out of the locker room after Varsity's shower prank, the goalie had been hell-bent on preventing Connie from ever being alone – where Larson could strike. And her smothering was getting old.

Connie was tempted to seek-out Larson if for no other reason than to prove to Julie that he was harmless. But she had not acted on that impulse…yet.


Having asked Sarah to translate the enigmatic phrase 'stuff for a party,' a nervous Adam made his way down an unfamiliar aisle in the drug store. He was horrified by the vast, confusing selection, and had no idea what device was right for him. Seeing a payphone out of the corner of his eye, he was tempted to call his father and ask for help.

Then he realized that was the dumbest idea of all time.

But without guidance, Adam did not know what to do – short of grabbing one of each kind of prophylactic on the shelf.

And there's your answer.

He went to grab a shopping basket before returning to the aisle under the watchful – and seemingly judgmental – gaze of the clerk. Though he was reluctant, Adam was with one of the most popular girls in school; and she had certain expectations. He would have to meet those expectations, or face a humiliating breakup.

Taking a deep breath, he let out a determined sigh before grabbing every men's contraceptive he could find. He liked to believe that he was 'large,' or even 'extra-large,' but who knew what qualified? So with a profound feeling of self-loathing, he grabbed the medium and small just to be safe.

He sighed again when he realized that the easy part of his mission had been completed.

Now he had to check out.

Game face, Banks, game face!

He put his head down and moved toward the front of the store in long, determined strides. Because his eyes were fixed to the floor, he did not realize that he was heading directly into Portman, Russ, and Tim – who were snickering about something in the pet care aisle.

"Heads up, Banksie!" Portman called out before Adam could crash into the trio.

"Oh, hey guys," the Varsity forward put on the brakes just in time.

But he was unable to hide his shopping basket before the three JV players caught a glimpse of the contents.

"Wow, not even a month sittin' with the Beautiful People and already Cake Eater is turnin' into a man," Russ teased. "Almost brings a tear to the eye."

"And Julie always says that you're such a nice guy," Tim scoffed.

Unlike Russ, Tim's tone did not convey even a hint of good-natured ribbing.

Although Portman and Adam were never close even during the best of times, the JV defenseman took it upon himself to offer the quiet Varsity forward what he regarded as words of encouragement.

"Don't listen to 'em Banks. Just cos these losers can't pull, it don't mean the rest of us can't have some fun," the ex-Bash Brother declared with his trademark mischievous grin.

Adam's cheeks turned beet red.

"Uh…thanks."

He wanted to drop his basket and flee to the bus stop, but managed to hold his ground before moving to change the subject.

"So what are you guys doing here?"

"None of your damn business," Tim snapped.

"Sorry, Cake Eater," Russ offered. "But I'm afraid this is on a need-to-know basis."

Adam nodded, suspecting that the JV trio's shopping had something to do with attacking Varsity. Knowing that he would not get anything out of his former teammates – and knowing that he probably would not share the knowledge with Varsity even if he did – Adam moved to leave.

"Sure thing, guys. I guess I'll see you later."

Tim turned around without saying a word.

"Later, Banksie," Russ nodded.

Portman grinned his famous grin.

"Pace yourself, you dog."

The cashier can't possibly be any worse, Adam tried to tell himself.


Halloween came, and with it, Henderson's off-campus party.

Seated in the back seat of Scooter's GMC Yukon – along with Tiffany, Connie, and Guy – Adam met the evening with less dread than he expected. Dressed as Indiana Jones, he felt as party-ready as he was ever going to feel; and thanks to a bit of coaching from his experienced and discrete freshman roommate, Luis, Adam was confident that he was properly-kitted for any contingency.

Looking over at Connie, who was dressed as Lois Lane, a Lex Luthor-clad Guy sulked. His girlfriend looked perfectly coordinated with Scooter, who was donning a Superman costume.

Connie understood Guy's sentiments at once.

"Well, that's what you get for skipping rehearsal," she teased.

"Uh-huh."

"Hey, don't sweat it," Connie assured him. "I dig the bald cap."

"And now my evening is complete."

Adam failed to stifle a laugh. Given his own designs on a female Duck, he always felt sorry for Guy – as his relationship with Connie was a constant source of entertainment for the rest of the team. But Adam had to concede that it was entertaining.

Besides, there isn't really a team anymore.

"You guys are gonna love Zach's place," Tiffany announced in her skin-tight devil costume.

With her sheer red corset, matching horns and thigh-high boots, she was sure to get a lot of double takes. Adam had gotten a good look at the sexy costume before she had thrown on a black overcoat for the ride over. But her poitrine ample had remained quite visible, and it took every ounce of willpower that he possessed not to stare, drooling jaw agape at her mountainous chest. The sight was almost enough to make him forget that she was friends with Zach Henderson.

Almost.

"Well, if his house is less lame than he is, that's really not saying much."

"Adam, be nice," Tiffany gently chided him.

"Sorry."

"Although he is pretty lame," she acknowledged with a grin, prompting Adam to chuckle. "But sometimes the price of an awesome party is an annoying host."

"Words to live by," Adam agreed.

As the four sophomores continued to chat in the back of his SUV, a lonely Scooter moved to park his vehicle in the street in front of a large Victorian mansion not far from Adam's own house. The goalie had been unlucky in love, girls lost interest in him as he seemed increasingly distracted. He had been interested in Julie, but was unwilling to act on it and risk alienating his Duck-hating Varsity teammates.

The fact that she was going out with the younger brother of Rick Riley was a bitter irony to Scooter, but he pressed on in the face of disappointment – determined to get his mojo back in-between the pipes and help Varsity return to glory.

The party of five made their way to Henderson's front porch and waited a minute or so to be let in when the door opened to reveal Jason Voorhees of Friday the 13th fame.

The sinister figure raised his mask to expose his true identity.

"Ah, come in," Henderson opened the door wider to allow the group in. "Gentlemen, ladies…"

As Tiffany shed her overcoat, Henderson immediately began pitching a tent in his pants. Instinctively, he slid his mask back down…as if that would cover it.

"Come, this way to the living room."

He guided his new arrivals to the family's spacious living room. Apart from a few teenagers in costumes, there wasn't anything to indicate that the party was specifically a Halloween one. The Varsity captain indicated a long table that practically groaned under the weight of hors d'oeuvres and a glass punch bowl.

"The punch is a proprietary blend that I'm very proud of," Henderson announced. "It's five parts Grey Goose, two parts Hendrick's, and one part Cyrus pomegranate liqueur."

"Classy," Adam deadpanned.

"Quite," Henderson agreed. "In this house, we do not abide generic spirits," he added prissily.

Guy snickered at the ridiculousness of his new captain. Charlie Conway, even in his most petulant and mopey state possessed more dignity, grace, and humor than this mook. Startled, the blond forward covered his mouth upon realizing that he had internalized some of Henderson's vocabulary.

"Anyway, help yourselves," the Varsity captain declared. "If you'll excuse me, I must return to my duties as host."

And with that, Henderson made haste to a bathroom to disassemble his pitched tent.

Sneaking another look at the goddess who had taken the form of a devil, Adam decided that he needed all the help he could get in living up to Tiffany's party expectations. So he went ahead and filled a plastic red cup to the brim with punch.

Given his inexperience with alcohol, he had no sense of proportion, so he knocked back a swig as if it was Hawaiian Punch. He coughed at the harsh concoction that lit his throat on fire.

How can people actually enjoy this?

"It might not be a bad idea to cut that stuff with some water," Guy proposed, adding a splash of Evian to Adam's cup.

Adam took another sip, this time to soothe his throat and found that the chilled spring water had taken most of the bite off the paint thinner that he had been drinking.

"Thanks man, want some?"

Guy shook his head before leading Connie over to the leather sectional in the corner of the living room.

Adam poured half a cup for Tiffany, making up the difference with spring water before rejoining Connie and Guy. The cheerleader did not leave any space between Adam and herself, and her costume became even more revealing as she sat down.

Yep, she's dressed for bed alright…at the Playboy Mansion, Adam thought before knocking back some more punch and strategically placing an arm over his lap.

"God, it feels so good to get out of that fucking dorm room!" Connie exclaimed, drawing a startled look from Adam.

Connie swears?

He took yet another swig, and noticed that the punch was going down more easily than it had before.

"Yeah, it's nice to get out, y'know?" Tiffany agreed with Connie.

"Especially when you've got a roommate who won't let you breathe without getting permission first," the brunette forward added. "It's unbelievable how controlling and smothering Julie has become."

This girl is just full of surprises!

Adam had no idea that Connie and Julie's relationship had deteriorated so badly. He was particularly shocked to hear Connie describe the goalie as 'smothering.' That was one quality that he had never, ever associated with the smart, independent girl who still haunted too many of his dreams. In fact, he would have preferred it if Julie had been a just a bit more smothering – toward himself anyway.

But as Connie continued to vent her roommate frustrations, Adam grew concerned. He made a mental note to give Julie a call to see how she was doing.

Tiffany had some roommate horror stories of her own to share, and she quickly struck a chord with Connie. As the pair of girls became absorbed in their conversation, it left Adam with little to do but drink his punch – which had gotten smoother and smoother.

In the kitchen, Henderson filled a second punch bowl with his 'classy' proprietary blend. The original bowl was not quite ready for replacing, but the hors d'oeuvres needed to be replenished, so the Varsity captain went ahead and refilled the sushi, meat, and cheese platters. He did not believe the veggie platter needed any attention – which was convenient, because he had no intention of giving it any.

Placing the replenished plates on a large tray, Henderson opened the swinging door to the kitchen with his shoulder and returned to the party.

Once the host had departed, Emperor Palpatine emerged from the shadows.

Larson had gone all-out in his homage to the Star Wars villain who derived power from turning people against each other; he looked like an elderly corpse in a black hooded cloak. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a bottle of cat ear medicine. After taking a quick look around the kitchen to ensure that he was alone, he dumped the contents into the punch and stirred it in with a ladle.

With the punch spiked, the figure in black vanished.

Two hours had passed when Henderson re-emerged from the kitchen with a full bowl of punch.

"About time!" Adam exclaimed from the sectional.

He had noticed that with each sip he took, the punch that initially made him recoil had gone down more easily; and he was enjoying the warm, confident feeling that the 'liquid courage' seemed to provide. Fortified by the hooch, Adam engaged his friends in effortless, humorous conversation. The fact that he was louder and less funny than he believed himself to be had no effect on his confidence – quite the opposite in fact.

As he got up to refill his cup, a worried Guy spoke up.

"Maybe you should slow down, man."

But Adam waved a dismissive hand.

"This stuff's great. Don't worry, I'll get you one too," he then turned to Tiffany. "And when I come back, we can check out the upstairs."

Connie's jaw dropped at Adam's alcohol-induced swagger, but Tiffany giggled.

"Sure thing, Banksie."

"Oooh…" Adam growled. "I hate being called 'Banksie.' You're gonna get it."

"Promise?" She asked with a seductive grin.

"I promise!"

"Lucky me."

The Varsity forward had no idea what he was saying – or what Tiffany was saying, for that matter. But she seemed to be enjoying it. He refilled his cup, knocked it down in a few big gulps, and slammed it on the table before returning to his date.

"Come on, gorgeous. Let's go someplace private."

He extended a hand and helped her off the sofa. A stunned Connie watched as Adam led the giggling cheerleader through the crowd and up the stairs to the bedrooms. Given that this was her first senior party, the brunette forward had not gone into it thinking about sex. Though rarely judgmental, she was appalled in this case.

But Guy Germaine – for all of his talents – was no mind reader.

"Y'know, Henderson's got eight bedrooms."

The slap across his face was so sudden that the blond forward never saw it coming.

"Damn," he rubbed his crimson cheek. "I was thinking that we could talk about our feelings or something. What were you thinking about?"

Connie rolled her eyes, but could not help laughing.

On the other side of the room, Larson had tracked Henderson down and thrust a cup of spiked punch into the Varsity captain's hand.

"For our gracious host," the ex-Hawk offered.

"Uh, thanks – whoever you are," Henderson replied, taking a sip. "Mmm…this one's got a bit of sting in its tail!"

As the Varsity captain happily and obliviously drank the toxic brew, Goldberg, Russ, and Averman began distributing punch to other Varsity players and guests. Goldberg was completely disguised in his Pikachu costume, Russ in a skeleton costume, and Averman was unrecognizable as a Frankenstein monster. The JV players were efficient and effective in their distribution, though Fulton declined a new drink – having already cut himself off – and McGill had been tipped off by Larson and knew not to accept the punch.

Larson let out an evil titter as he watched most of the party guests sip his concoction.

Upstairs in a locked bedroom, Adam and Tiffany exchanged furious kisses as she stripped him above the waist. She bit on her lower lip as she took in the sight of his taut, toned upper body. But he didn't give her time to enjoy the view. Grabbing her by the hips, he threw her onto the bed with a ferocity that surprised and delighted her.

She kicked off her boots and graced Adam with a 'come hither' smile.

Pinning her down and straddling the her, he began feathering kisses from her jawline down to her neck. Her breathing quickened as he made his way down to her chest – driving her mad as he nibbled the silky, sensitive flesh while running a hand up her toned thigh before cupping a bare cheek.

She whimpered as he paused to undo his belt when he felt his stomach churn violently. Then came a loud rumble.

"Adam, are you okay?"

"It's probably nothing."

He had hardly gotten those few words out when he gagged. Before he knew what was happening, he vomited all over Tiffany.

"Agh! Gross! What a loser!"

She shoved him aside and sat up, sliding on her boots before stomping out the door – the brown, chunky shawl having the effect of making the scantily-clad cheerleader leave the bedroom more fully-covered than she had been when she entered it.

As Adam moved to lay down and calm his stomach, he heard pandemonium from downstairs.

Some Varsity players were lucky enough to make it to the bathrooms, only to discover that the toilets had been rigged with cherry bombs; they were greeted with a wave of toilet water as they vomited. Others, including Henderson, had not made it to a bathroom and managed to empty their stomachs in front of the other party guests.

After leaving a trail of marbles behind them, the JV conspirators grouped together at the front of the house. Russ, Goldberg, Averman, and Larson took off their masks – the former Hawk brandishing the empty bottle of cat ear medicine.

"Eat it, Varsity losers!" Russ exclaimed before he threw open the door and made his escape with his friends.

"Why those little…" a woozy Henderson was about to give chase when he slipped on some marbles and crashed belly-up onto the floor.