Mondays, believe it or not, are one of my easier days. I'm off Sunday and usually collapse from the week's accumulated exhaustion before ten. I wake the next morning at six bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and for a few hours (until math spoils my mood), anything is possible. October 30, I woke to the sound of rain ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off. Jessy was already up and dressed in a sweater and slacks. Get this: She was folding laundry. "What are you doing?" I asked and sat up.

"Putting my clothes away." She said it like folding laundry at 5:50am was the most normal thing in the world.

"This early?"

"Yes, this early," Jess shot back. She scanned the room and frowned. "And before we leave, you need to pick up the yuck you call your half of the room."

Pfft. Yuck? Why, there's not even -

Clothes, shoes, and dirty underwear were strewn across the floor.

Oh.

I could have sworn I cleaned this up yesterday. "Fine," I said and flopped my head back against the pillow. My motivation tanked and suddenly, anything wasn't possible.

Jess finished up and sailed out of the room, and I sat up. Might as well get this over with.

I hurriedly picked up my clothes, crammed them into my overflowing hamper, and dressed in jeans and a black hoodie over a white T-shirt. Water streaked the window pane and hissed in the street; it was going to be a long walk to school.

Unless…

I grabbed my bookbag and went into the kitchen. Jess leaned against the counter and munched sparingly on a granola bar like a cute woodland critter, and Dad sat at the table with the Post in front of his face. "Hey," I said and sat across from him, "you're looking less lame than usual today."

He regarded me suspiciously over the top of the paper, braced for anything. "What do you want?"

"A ride to school." I smiled prettily.

Instead of sure, Alex, whatever you want, hun, he stared daggers at me, and I started to squirm. "Yeah," he said wryly, "because I was totally going to let my teenage daughters walk in the pouring rain. That's exactly something I'd do. Glad you think so highly of me."

Aaaand here we go. "Nevermind, I'd rather walk."

I started to get up but he stopped me. "Leave the house without me and you're grounded." The twinkle in his eye told me he was playing, but I didn't wanna take any chances. Tomorrow was Halloween and I was not going to risk missing it. "You're the boss," I said and parked my butt.

"Actually, your mom's the boss," he said and snapped the paper with a flourish. "I'm just middle management."

Hey, like Pat. "No wonder you throw your weight around." I leaned back in my chair. "It's always the lowest guy in the power structure who abuses his power."

Dad snorted. "What dumbass told you that?"

"You."

He didn't say anything to that.

Since I had some time to spare, I decided to have a spot of breakfast. "Hey, Jess," I said over my shoulder, "throw me one of those granola bars, will you?"

Jessy swallowed. "Get it yourself."

"Oh, come on." I put on my saddest puppy dog face.

"Nope, not falling for it."

Darn. I had to bring out the big guns. Thrusting out my bottom lip, I worked up just enough tears to sparkle. "B-But sisters…"

She darted her eyes to me then away, her jaw clenching with determination. I won't cave this time, her expression said. She made the grave mistake of meeting my gaze, and I quivered my lip. Pweeze.

Sighing, she broke like a fat guy's diet, went to the pantry, and grabbed a bar. She tossed it underhand, and leaning to the side, I snatched it. My left butt cheek started to slip, and my balance upset. With a high, wavering Whoa, I tipped, but threw out my arm and slapped my hand on the floor at the last second, saving myself from certain death. "Nice throw, but I gotta deduct points 'cause that landing was a little shaky."

"That's your fault."

"No, it's yours." I ripped open the wrapper. "The thrower is responsible for how the catcher catches. Didn't you know? It's, like, a rule of every sport."

Dad snorted. "You're full of it."

"Yeah, full of knowledge."

Jess rolled her eyes and left the room, probably to do a quick dust, mop, and vacuum before we left, and I dug into my bar. It had dried cranberries in it. Yuuum.

Across from me, Dad went through the motions of his daily morning ritual.

Turns page: "Damn liberals."

Turns next page: "Damn conservatives."

It happens like this every day. "Don't you like anyone?" I asked, spraying food.

"I like your mom."

I-I couldn't tell if he was being serious or insulting me. But you usually can't with him. "She's not a politician."

"That's why I like her."

When he was done bellyaching about Republicans and Democrats, we piled into his 2009 Focus and lit out for school, Jess in the back and me riding shotgun. Oldest always gets shotgun, even if the youngest calls it. Dirty rainwater sluiced through the gutters, carrying leaves and twigs into dark, open drains (we all float down here, Jess).

Dad turned onto Schoolhouse Road and braked to let an old woman pushing a cart pass. A half mile later, Royal Woods High appeared from the mist like a ship at sea. A big, blocky, ugly ship with a covered breezeway, a courtyard, and a higher-than-usual dropout rate. Kids streamed from buses idling at the curb, and Principal Rader and Vice Principal Wuornos stood by the door, glaring at their charges like a couple of serial killers. He was balding with glasses, and she butt ugly with blonde hair. I call them "the gruesome twosome." Mom calls them something a wee bit stronger that starts with an "A" and ends with "ssholes."

That's, like, the one thing we agree on.

Pulling over, Dad put the car in park, and Jess flung her door open. "Bye," she said and climbed out.

"Bye," Dad replied.

I started to get out too.

"Hey."

I looked at him, and for a moment we stared each other down like two gunslingers getting ready to draw. Then, he tapped his cheek.

Where I come from, that means Free shot, so I knocked his ass out and left.

Not really. I leaned in and kissed his cheek. "There," he said.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

Getting out into the damp chill, I flipped my hood up, grabbed my backpack, and hurried across the street. Inside the main lobby, the floor was slick and peppered with dead leaves. The office was to the right behind a glass partition and the gym was to the left, its doors standing open. A hallway lined with lockers stretched to the cafeteria, and a cross hall ran east to west from one end of the building to the other. At my locker, I put in the combination (39-42-56) and grabbed my history book.

I slammed the door just as my bestie Kyra walked up. Kyra's a VSCO girl, which is like a Valley Girl mixed with a vegan...I think. She wears oversized T-shirts, scrunchies around both wrists, flip-flops in every weather (except snow), and rocks a puka shell choker. I know, I know, I'm embarrassed to be seen with her too sometimes, but we've known each other since kindergarten. I wasn't as awesome back then and my first day I was really nervous. Kyra noticed and asked me to play with her during playtime, and we've been best friends through it all.

"Hey," she said and opened her locker. Her voice was perky, upbeat, and, not gonna lie, annoying. Today she wore a gray T-shirt that almost reached her knees, flipper-floppers, and her dirty blonde hair in a messy bun that sat on top of her head like a giant spider.

"Hey," I said, trying really hard not to stare at it but staring anyway.

She took a drink from her hydro flask (lime green, yuck) and exchanged it for her science book. "Ready for the big math test?"

Ugh.

I forgot about that.

"No," I said and hung my head.

"That's okay, I totes believe in you." She glanced down at my hand, and her neck muscles started to strain like that guy in the meme.

Uh-oh.

"No," I forestalled.

Her face turned red.

"Not happening."

"Just one, okay?" she begged.

I dunno if all VSCO girls do this, but Kyra gives scrunchies and metal straws to everyone. She's like Johnny Appleseed or something (heh, Johnny VSCOseed. I gotta write that down). If she spotted a naked wrist, her VSCO senses tingled and she wouldn't be happy until it was clothed in a "totes cute" scrunchie. Oh, and God help you if she saw you drinking out of a plastic bottle. Ohmigod, that's really bad for the environment. Here, have a hydro flask. Save the turtles.

"No," I said. "I'm not a VSCO girl, I'm an Alex girl."

She threw her head back. "But I have one that will look so cute on you." She reached into her gigantic tote bag (with SAVE THE WHALES embroidered across the front), and I took the opportunity to escape. I can be pretty quick when I wanna be.

If you've ever been to high school you know what it's like, so I'll spare you all the boring details. At lunch, I stood in line, got my tray, and sat across from Kyra and her friends, Valerie and Harper. The former was black and the latter a tall, prissy blonde who was a lot more chill than she seemed. They were talking about the Brenners' Halloween party when I rolled up, and I jumped right in. "I can't wait. You guys know what you're going to be?"

Valerie beamed. "I'm going to be a slutty nurse."

Yuck. Okay.

"I'm going to be a slutty clown," Harper said.

Okay, hold up. "A slutty clown?" I asked. "H-How do you do that?"

Preening like it was her time to shine, she said, "You wear makeup, a big red nose...and not much else."

Kyra covered her hand to stifle her VSCO giggle. "Sksksksks."

"No, no, I get the concept, but clowns aren't sexy. You'll look dumb."

Her jaw dropped. "No, I won't."

"Yes you will."

"No, I won't." She upended her hydro flask and sighed (ahhh, refreshing). "What are you going as?"

Even though I haven't mentioned it once in this story, I put a lot of thought into my costume. Last year, I went as Gene Simmons from KISS, complete with cape, make-up, and platform boots. This time around, I wanted something a little simpler. "A witch."

"A slutty witch?" Harper asked.

"No, a normal witch."

Harper nodded patronizingly. "Oh."

Yeah, wow, Alex isn't dressing like a thot, what a loser, right? You know, it might not be hip to say this, but I think women and girls should accentuate their minds and personalities instead of their bodies. I mean, I get wanting to be pretty, but I see girls wearing shorts so tiny the bottoms of their butt cheeks literally hang out. Oh, but it's hot. Yeah, I get hot too but I wear normal shorts like a normal person. If you wanna dress that way, fine, but I personally think walking around like a mobile meat market with something to sell is objectifying.

I didn't want to be a stick-in-the-mud like my mom, so I didn't say any of that; I just blew a raspberry and waved them off.

Across the cafeteria, Tim waited in line. Ooooh, QT at nine' o'clock. Elsewhere, Jessy and Mark sat across from each other, Jessy smiling and prattling about something lame, no doubt.

Tim got his tray and came over, and my heart fluttered. It always does when I see him. "Hey," I said.

"Hey." He sat next to me and we kissed. Not with tongue, though. We do that sometimes but not in public. "You look nice today."

In jeans, a hoodie, and red Chuck Taylor All-Stars, I looked like I always did...but I blushed anyway. "Thanks – you too."

Kyra, Valerie, and literally everything else faded away until Tim was the only thing left in the world - soft brown eyes, cocky smile, cute dimples. In my native tongue, we call guys like him muy kaleintay.

"I missed you," he said.

He took my hand and threaded our fingers together. "I missed you too." How'd you do on that math test?"

"Good," he said. "I think."

Tim's dad owns an auto body shop (did I already mention that?) and Tim helps him out in the afternoons, so he uses a lot of math.

"You?" Tim asked.

I laughed. "I bombed."

"Really?"

"Nah, I did okay." I took his roll off his tray and took a bite. He cocked an admonishing brow and I giggled like a little girl. "What?"

"I was going to eat that."

"So?"

"Now I don't have one."

"Tough shit."

He pursed his lips and nodded to himself. I should have seen that coming.

Since I'm not a monster, I broke off a piece and shoved it into his mouth; his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel and he gagged.

Pfft. Lightweight.

Ten minutes later, the bell rang and we were forced to part. I know it's really early to say something like this, but being around Tim, I get why people marry each other. I used to think it was a formality couples underwent just because, but now I see it for what it is. You marry your best guy (or girl) because when you aren't with them, you aren't complete. Your heart and soul cry out for them and you're dazed and out of sorts until they come back. I'm not saying I'll marry Tim one day (I'm only sixteen and we've been together, like, six months), but, you know...maybe.

Possibly.

Head in the clouds, I went to my next class, totally unaware that in just twenty-four hours my life was going to be thrown into chaos.

Tuesday, October 31 dawned clear, bright, and a wee bit nipply. The previous night, me, Dad, and Jess stayed up watching Halloween movies on AMC - me munching popcorn and Jess peeking through her fingers because uhhh, horror movies scare me, uhhh. Jess, God love her, is the biggest baby in the world when it comes to stuff like that. When she was a little girl, Monster House scared the bejesus out of her, and she could barely make it through Mostly Ghostly: Who Let the Ghosts Out? In an effort to put some hair on her chest, as Dad might say, I make her watch scary movies with me sometimes. We saw Get Out in the Palace Theater downtown, and I'm proud to say she only cowered for half of it.

Progress!

Anyway, I got up with my alarm - giddy like a kid on Christmas - caught a shower, and went into the kitchen. Mom, dressed in a gray shirt and a matching blazer over a white blouse, stood at the counter pouring sugar into a cup of coffee. Her hair was pulled back in a lametastic bun and when she glanced at me her eyes were hazy and unfocused with fatigue. "Morning," I sang and grabbed a mug from the drying rack.

"Morning." She brought the cup to her lips, blew away a curl of steam, and took a tentative sip. "Is that your costume?"

I grinned. "Yeah, part of it."

'Part of it' was a long black dress with a ragged hem on top of my normal clothes. Last night after dinner, I drilled a hole in a plastic skull and threaded twine through it; it hung around my neck like a morbid piece of bling. My witch hat was sitting on my dresser.

Mom hummed judgmentally.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, I just expected something a little more…" she waved her hands. "Elaborate."

I added cream and sugar. "Eh, I wanted to get back to basics this year."

After she was gone, I finished my coffee and went to get my hat. Jessy stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of the closet door and looked at her reflection over her shoulder. Dressed in a skirt and blazer much like Mom's, she wore glasses (with no lenses because she'd be blinded otherwise) and her hair in a pragmatic bun. Also like Mom's.

Can you guess what she was supposed to be?

"Hey, Teach," I said and grabbed my hat.

Last night, Jess and I carved jack-o'-lanterns at the kitchen table. Mine sat on my nightstand, the candle within filling it with flickering light.

Yes, I slept with a lit pumpkin on my nightstand last night. I also put my earbuds in and listened to my Halloween playlist on my phone. They're Coming to Take Me Away, haha, hoo hoo, hee hee.

Like I said, I'm a pretty big Halloween buff.

I dropped onto the edge of the bed and blew out the candle. "How are people going to know you're supposed to be a teacher?" I asked.

Jess, still studying herself, said, "I have an apple."

"So?"

"Teachers eat apples.".

"So do librarians. You could easily pass for one of those."

Done, Jess sat at her desk and pulled her heels on. "True, but I think people will get it."

Hmmm. I dunno, people can be kinda dense.

An idea struck me, and I reached into my nightstand and grabbed something. "I got just the thing." I went over to her.

"What?" Jess asked.

I held it up.

A Number 2 pencil. "This." I bent over, and Jess stiffened. I jammed the end lengthwise through her bun, wiggled it to make sure it was stuck fast, and stepped back to admire my handiwork. "There."

Jess turned her head side to side, and the pencil stayed. "How do I look?"

Maybe it was my imagination, but she sounded anxious, like a little girl worrying over her first day of school. My maternal instincts triggered and the urge to sweep my baby sister into the biggest, beariest hug ever came over me. Shhh, there, there, Jess. "You look great; in fact...you look as awesome as me."

Jess laughed. "I doubt I look that awesome."

"Sure you do," I pinched her cheek, "Alex Jr."

She pulled away, laughed, and swatted my hand. "Stop! That hurts."

"Oh, you'll live." I pulled my hat on and grabbed my backpack. "Now come on."

Outside, a needling breeze washed over us and I shuddered. I considered going back in for my jacket, but if I covered up my costume, people wouldn't get the full effect. Sometimes, you gotta suffer for your art.

Wind blew sheets of leaves across the street, and the swaying trees whispered dark secrets to each other…or maybe juicy gossip. I dunno. I speak tree like I speak Spanish.

"You're coming to the party tonight, right?"

Jess, thumbs thrust through the straps of her backpack like a dork, hunched against the wind, her cheeks already red from the cold. "I don't know. Crowds -"

"Make you nervous, I know. You handle school, though."

She shrugged one shoulder. "That's different. And...I really don't want to be around alcohol or anything, so probably not."

"Jess, there's not going to be any booze there. It's a community party. I don't even think booze is allowed."

She scrunched her lips in thought.

"You should come." I batted my eyelashes like the evil temptress I am. "You can hang out with Mark."

"I don't know. "I'll think about it."

We turned onto Schoolhouse Road. The trees here burned like torches and awesome fall decorations adorned all the houses along the way: Jack-o'-lanterns; blushing, happy scarecrows; plastic skeletons dangling from branches like condemned men hanged by the state; a crooked row of foam gravestones marched across someone's lawn here; and fake spider webs fluttered in the boughs of a big pine.

"You'll have fun; I promise."

"Maybe."

C'mon, Jess, have I ever lied to you?

Actually, don't answer that. I get the feeling that I may have. Once or twice.

In the lobby, Jess went left and I went right; I grabbed my things from my locker. Kyra stood next to hers with her iPhone glued to her ear.

"Ohmigod, like, totally. I have given that girl so many scrunchies. I think she keeps losing them." Her eyes went to my bare wrist and her pupils dilated like a shark scenting blood.

See ya.

In class, I sat in my normal spot at the very back of the room (I can still be a good noodle from back here, guys, I swear) and stared at the trees through the window. Girlish excitement crackled through me and sitting still was muy difficulto (adding 'O' to the end of a word automatically makes it Spanish, didn't you know?). In just a few hours, I'd be at the party bobbing for apples, eating candy, jumping out of dark corners and scaring Jess silly...ahhh, I couldn't wait.

At lunch, I dropped into an empty seat next to Tim and nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. "Hey, dork."

He grimaced in pain and rubbed his side. "Oh, I didn't even do it that hard; stop being a baby."

"Felt like a gunshot," he said.

"You're just weak," I dismissed.

"You're just bony."

"You're a sissy." I grinned, "You lack testicular fortitude."

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

Then we laughed. "Testicular fortitude, huh?" he asked and opened his milk. "I've never heard that one."

LOL. "I know."

He sighed like a gullible goof realizing he just walked into another prank and took a long drink to buy himself some time. "Your mother," he said.

"Oooh, low blow," I said and picked up my fork. "That means you got nothing better, therefore I win."

"Whatever," he said.

See, in case you haven't noticed, coming up with snappy barbs is one of the many, many, many things I'm good at. Everyone around me knows that if they step up, they'll get smacked down again, so they rarely even try.

Tim carved a piece of mystery meat with his fork and I impaled a couple of anemic green beans on mine. School food is the only food I don't like. I mean, I eat it though, but it's still gross. Ugh. I swear they eat better in prison. "What time should I pick you up?" Tim asked around a mouthful.

"Party starts at seven and I like to be fashionably late, so we should probably get there at 7:01."

"Okay, SpongeBob," he snorted. "Is Jess coming?"

I looked around and spied Jess-the-bess sitting with Mark and a few of her geeky friends. Mark said something, and she covered her mouth to hide her mushy-gushy giggle. Ahh, how fast they grow up; I remember a time when she thought boys were "yuck" and infested with bugs. Come to think of it, I'm the one who told her that. "I dunno, she was kinda waffling earlier. She thinks the place is gonna be full of drugs, beer, and sex."

That made Tim laugh. Seriously, being a community party, things were generally kept PG. Maybe people did things there but not, like, out in the open. "She's a dweeb."

And that earned him another shot to the guts. The air left him in a gasp and he bared his teeth in pain. "Shut up, asshole. My sister's not a dweeb."

"God, I was playing," he cried.

"You don't play with an Alex's Jessy. Bad things happen." I widened my eyes to communicate the severity of my warning. "Bad, bad things."

He held one hand up. "Okay, sorry."

The bell rang a few minutes later, and I scarfed down the rest of my lunch. "So, pick you up at seven?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, seven's fine."

"Alright." We kissed, then I took my tray to the window and went to science class.

That last half of the day went b y, and when the last bell rang at 2:45, I jumped up, shouldered everyone out the way, and raced into the hall.

Halloween party, here I come!