TJ was beginning to panic. "Beckyyy!" he whined loudly from the bathroom. His older sister didn't even look up from her book.

"Do you need something, loser?" she called back.

"Can you please come here?" he answered tensely.

She groaned and put her book down, walking into TJ's bathroom and promptly bursting out laughing. "Teej, what the hell did you do?" she gasped, hands on her knees.

There he stood, defeated by his own costume. His face was chalky, too white and smeary. His eyes were too dark, ringed like a raccoon clown or something equally ridiculous. Worst of all, he was pouting. "I tried to make my costume," he said quietly. A chunk of white gunk fell from his cheek."

"Costume of what?" Becky choked, wiping her eyes. "Diaper cream?"

"Would you please just help me?" TJ snapped. "I'm supposed to be a murder victim."

Becky tried to hold back her giggles. She grabbed a wash cloth and dampened it under the sink. "You asked for it bud," she said menacingly

Xx0oXx

Two painstaking hours, several meltdowns, and a shower later, Becky put down her makeup brush, satisfied. "There," she said with a grin. "Go look in the mirror."

TJ turned around nervously, and was shocked by what he saw. In front of him in the glass stood a tall, broad shouldered football player with dark, sunken eyes, a pale complexion, and a ghastly slash in his throat. "Becky, this is fantastic! Thanks!" He hugged her, and she gave him a gentle shove.

"Get off me loser, you're going to smear your face," she said with a laugh. "Go pick up your little girlfriend and have some fun."

TJ shoved her back playfully. "Spin's not my girlfriend. She's my girl-space-friend." He paused. "Thanks again, seriously." Then, before things could get any more friendly and awkward, he waved goodbye and headed for Spin's.

0oXx0o

Meanwhile, Ash was having her own problems with her costume. She stared at her self in the bathroom mirror, too embarrassed to even move.

Her skirt...it was so short...and her top was so...small. It had come in the mail a week ago, the label on the box clearly stating, "BABYDOLL, SUCKRPNCH. SPINELLI, ASHLEY." She had been so excited for this costume, a badass female role in a spectacular comic and rad movie. The gun, the leg holster, the katana, everything about it screamed, "SPINELLI!" Everything except the outfit.

So here she stood, debating. Could she really convince herself to leave this room in a miniskirt, cropped top, and thigh high stockings? Would the badassery of the character eclipse the sluttiness of the costume? Finally she sighed. What else could she do anyway? She hadn't planned a backup outfit for this exact reason: now there was no way for her to chicken out. Just as she was bracing herself to leave, she heard the doorbell ring. 'Thank God my parents aren't home,' she thought, clinging to this tiny blessing as she dashed down the stairs, pigtails bouncing. She opened the front door and there stood...

Dead TJ. Ash gasped, startled by his deceased appearance. Pale skin, hollow eyes and cheeks, awful bloody throat. He laughed as she took it all in.

"Whatsamatter Spin?" he teased, "I scare ya?"

Spin rolled her eyes. "Like Hell, lamebrain. Was just wondering who did you in before I had the chance."

TJ gasped in mock horror. "How could you? I thought we had something special!" The two promptly burst out laughing. When they had calmed down, Spin grabbed TJ's hand.

"Let's get going! I don't want all the little kids to get all the candy!" she said excitedly, dragging him along towards the neighbors' house.

That was when TJ caught sight of her costume. He gulped and she could see him trying to maintain eye contact...and failing. She blushed, went to tease him, then thought better of it. Why bother embarrassing the poor boy? Instead, she ignored his wandering gaze and banged on the neighbors' door. The door opened and crotchety old Mr. Gardner answered.

"Trick or treat!" Spin shouted excitedly, thrusting her bag forward.

"Ain't you kids a li'l old?" Mr. Gardner grumbled, reaching behind him to grab the bowl of chocolates off the table where he kept his keys.

"Nah," Tj said with a laugh, plunging his hand into the bowl and grabbing a generous fistful for himself, then another for Spin. She looked at him quizzically, and he turned to her and said simply, "Your hands are smaller than mine." She smiled and turned away.

"Thanks Mr. Gardner!" she shouted, walking away down the path, fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. One almost slipped out when she heard the crabby old geezer call, "Just get the Hell off my lawn, hooligan!"

XxOoXx

The night went on, and TJ felt his bag getting heavier, the plastic straps stretching. He offered to take Spin's, but she just glared at him. "Let's do something else," she said, swinging her arms like the little girl he never remembered her being.

"Like what?" he asked skeptically. The only time he'd ever seen her act like this, she'd just broken Randal Weems' nose.

"We could go somewhere...explore..." she smirked, eyes roaming over his shoulder. TJ looked behind him, confused. Then his eyes locked on the cemetary.

"Oh..." he whispered, eyes lighting up. "Tender." Then he paused. "Have you been planning this all along?" he asked.

"Of course, duh!" she said matter-of-factly. "Now c'mon, I wanna check out the crypt!" Before he could say another word, she was already across the street and half way over the wall.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he thought aloud. Half-shrugging, TJ followed his tiny friend over the wall and into the Third Street Cemetery, burial site of millionaire philanthropist Thaddeus T. Third III, namesake of their street and school. Rumor had it he lurked around his crypt on All Hallows' Eve, waiting for the right person to sneak in so he could tell them where he hid his fortune all those years ago. TJ didn't believe in ghosts, and he certainly wasn't getting his hopes up to win the fortune of Third Street fame, but the story certainly felt a little more realistic when surrounded by spooky marble headstones and dark, spindly trees. Spin seemed to have no such qualms.

"Hurry the hell up Teej! We gotta be waiting at the mausoleum by midnight or we won't have a chance to get the dough!" She beckoned wildly from some ten feet ahead, up what in the day was a pristine manicured lawn, but in the moonlight looked craggy and wild.

"Y-you don't really believe in that stuff, do you Spin?" Teej laughed shakily, catching up to her and following uncertainly as she darted up the hill towards the small marble building at its peak.

"Oh, fuck no!" she scoffed, dashing a bit ahead of her companion then waiting impatiently for him to follow. "Damn, would you hurry up! It's all for fun...and there's some incentive waiting for you up there!"

"Like what," he muttered irritably, "a creepy dead guy with a fistful of fifties?" They reached the peak, TJ trying to hide his breathlessness, and Spin reached behind a marble headstone. She withdrew her hand, and in it she held a bottle of rum and a ouija board. "Really Spin?" TJ asked in a panicked voice. "Do you honestly think that's a good idea?"

Spin laughed. "No. That's why it's fun." She grinned a Cheshire smile. "Come on Mr. Good-Boy, live a little." She took a swig from the bottle and set the board in front of the locked mausoleum door. She settled the planchete on the center and beckoned him to kneel beside her. "Let's get this party started."