12th Grade, High School

Age: 17

October-November 2009

…

Spinelli yanks hangers across the rack with a metallic scrape that echoes through the quiet Goodwill. From the other side of the aisle, TJ watches, half-heartedly thumbing through the clothes like he's been instructed. Halloween is Spinelli's favorite holiday and she has high expectations. After missing out on it last year, she is on a mission for the perfect costume – and so far, every idea TJ has offered has been shot down.

He glances toward the back wall, where a row of wigs sits on display: wild, neon-colored styles in shades of lime green, bubblegum pink, and electric blue. Sneaking a look at Spinelli, who's still deep in her search, TJ slinks over, grabs a lime-green wig, and plops it on his head.

"All you have to do is say my name three times," he calls out.

Spinelli looks up and snorts, rolling her eyes from her spot behind the rack. She leaves her search behind and heads toward him.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice," she says as she approaches.

"It's showtime!" He grins, striking a theatrical pose. "What do you think? I'll get a black-and-white suit, slap on some face paint. You could be Lydia."

Spinelli raises an eyebrow. "And you get all the fun makeup?"

"You barely need any makeup," he says with a shrug. "You could pull off a tanned Winona Ryder." He gives her a hopeful look. "So…what do you think?"

She looks him over, clearly trying to picture it, but after a beat, she wrinkles her nose and shakes her head.

"It's not gory enough."

"Spin!" He throws his head back, the green wig falling to the ground behind him. "We've been at this for hours. What exactly are you looking for?"

"I don't know," she says shrugging, heading back toward the racks. "I'll know it when I see it."

He sighs and follows behind her, muttering, "Well, could you see it a little bit faster?"

Ahead of him, she crosses her arms over her chest and he grimaces at her annoyance. "Look, if you want to go, just go," she grumbles.

He shakes his head and quietly follows her, watching as she approaches a rack and starts to sift through the clothes again. Her movements are swift, the metallic clang of the hangers on the rack grating as she forcefully searches. He sighs and puts a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention. She stops jerking the clothes around but doesn't turn to look at him.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I'm trying to help, but I clearly don't know what you're looking for."

She sighs and looks up at him with a frown.

"I know." She shrugs and lets her eyes glance around the store before meeting his again. "Honestly…I don't either. Just nothing feels right."

"Maybe you need a break?" he suggests. "We can come back tomorrow with fresh eyes. You can let the creative juices recharge overnight."

She nods, disappointed. "I guess that's not a bad idea."

She steps away from the rack and nods her head over to the back wall.

"But, let's get the green wig," she says. "If worse comes to worse, we can do the Beetlejuice and Lydia idea. That wouldn't be that bad."

"What a glowing review." He chuckles. "I thought Beetlejuice was in your top three movies of all time?"

"Of course, it's a cult classic," she states matter-of-factly. "But that makes it predictable."

He raises his eyebrow. "Isn't that the mark of a good costume? People know who you are?"

"It isn't that I need people to know the character," she explains. "I want the vibe to be there. And the vibe needs to be scary, eerie."

He nods, still not quite understanding what she's after. Part of him thinks she's putting too much pressure on herself to find the perfect outfit and that's why she's having such trouble. He heads toward the back wall, leaning down to grab the green wig from where it had fallen and they turn toward the cash register. They're about halfway down one of the aisles when Spinelli freezes, reaching into one of the racks.

"Wait a minute." She pulls a hanger out from the rack and looks at the article of clothing in her hands. "It's perfect."

He walks up behind her, taking in the item she pulled from the rack. The tattered vintage dress has lace trim around the sleeves and skirt that has slightly unraveled in spots. The bodice is nearly threadbare and the color has drained from the fabric, sun damaged in certain spots more than others.

"I'm surprised they even accepted this," TJ mutters. "It looks about ready for the garbage."

"No, no, this is it," she says, holding the dress up to her. It seems to be the perfect size. "Picture it with ripped up tights and a cardigan that's falling apart. I could use a foundation that's a few shades too light with dark contour, bags under my eyes, messy hair. I'll be a girl trapped between this world and the afterlife, stuck with unfinished business."

"Oh, can I be your unfinished business?" he jokes, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'm sure I could get you to the other side."

Spinelli gives him a flat look, arms crossing as she keeps a hold of her dress. "Let's keep it PG, Beetlejuice."

"Okay, no innuendos," he whines. Then he takes a step back and watches as she puts the dress back up to her body. He imagines it exactly as she said and a grin floods his face. "I think you'll be just downright ghastly."

"Perfect," she says, spinning on the heel of her boot and starting to march toward the cashier.

The two pay quickly and jump into TJ's car, heading back across town to their neighborhood. Spinelli continues to plan out her costume the entire ride, her mouth moving a mile a minute as she describes different accessories she can add to achieve the effect that she wants with her restless spirit girl.

"So, what time should I pick you up for accessory hunting tomorrow?" he asks playfully as they walk up the stairs to the Spinellis' front door.

She laughs and shakes her head as she opens the door. "I'm going to see what I have first."

Scruffy rushes toward them as they step into the entryway and demands attention before he lets the two through. The wafting smell of Mrs. Spinelli's cooking hits his nose as he scratches behind Scruffy's ears. It's a comforting mix of simmering herbs and garlic that immediately makes him hungry.

They round the corner into the kitchen, where Mrs. Spinelli stands at the stovetop stirring something in a large pot and Mr. Spinelli leans against the counter watching and chatting easily with his wife. Both look up as the two teens walk in.

Spinelli lifts her bag, grinning. "We found our costumes!"

"That's great, honey," Mrs. Spinelli says, waving her wooden spoon toward the kitchen table. "You got something in the mail."

Spinelli sets the bag down and picks up the large white envelope. For a moment, she pauses, frozen with the envelope in her hand, before she flips it open. Her brows lift as she uses her pointer finger to open the seal, pulling out a thick red folder and a letter. As her eyes scan the words, a smile slowly spreads across her face. She glances up, meeting TJ's eyes and then looking toward her parents, her eyes wide. She takes a deep breath before she starts to read aloud.

"Dear Ms. Spinelli, Congratulations on your acceptance to the University of Arkansas."

Mrs. Spinelli shrieks, nearly dropping her spoon as she rushes over to embrace her daughter. "Oh my goodness, Ashley, this is amazing." She wraps Spinelli in a tight hug, her voice filled with pride.

"Congratulations, Pookie," Mr. Spinelli says quietly, smiling but staying where he stands, his arms folded.

"There's more," Spinelli says, lifting the letter. "They're also offering me admission into the honors program."

Mrs. Spinelli gasps. "I didn't even know you applied!"

"I didn't. There wasn't an application," she says, slightly stunned. "Honestly, with how my grades were last year, I was just hoping I'd get in."

TJ leans closer, his eyes glancing at the words of the letter over her shoulder. "It had to be your personal statement. How could anyone not be impressed by your story?"

Mrs. Spinelli squeezes her daughter tighter, brushing a proud kiss on her cheek before reaching for the large red folder. "Let's see all the details!" She starts pulling out brochures and maps, her eyes shining with excitement. "Oh, look, dorm layouts!"

As Spinelli and her mother quickly get lost in the pamphlets, TJ glances over at Mr. Spinelli, who hasn't moved from his spot and has a faint crease in his brow. While he's smiling, it doesn't quite reach his eyes and as he watches his wife and daughter, there's a quiet heaviness to his stance, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

"Flo?" When his wife turns to him, he gestures to the stove.

"Oh, shoot," she says, quickly releasing Spinelli and rushing to the forgotten pot on the stove. She stirs it once and then puts the cover back on. "Well, that just needs to simmer for a bit. We can have that tomorrow. Let's get pizza instead to celebrate!"

"I'll go," Mr. Spinelli volunteers, his voice oddly calm for the situation.

Spinelli and her mother, both absorbed in the packet, barely notice as they start to point out various details on the papers. TJ catches Mr. Spinelli's eye as he starts to move, something unnerving about Mr. Spinelli's unusual stoicism.

"Need company?" TJ asks.

Mr. Spinelli pauses and then nods. "Sure, come on."

They call in the order before they put their shoes back on and head toward Mr. Spinelli's car. TJ sits in the passenger seat. It's quiet between them as Mr. Spinelli backs out of the driveway and starts down their street.

"How's school? Football's almost over, right?"

"Yeah, just playoffs left and we scored a bye week so we won't have to play until after Halloween."

"That's exciting."

TJ bites his lip at the stale awkwardness of their conversation. Mr. Spinelli has always been very similar to TJ in that they can both have in depth conversations with rocks. Mr. Spinelli always has a good story to tell, usually about his family – Joey got a promotion, Ashley made the honor roll, his parents were retiring from the family's restaurant and they'd sold the place to his older brother. Mrs. Spinelli is the same way, actually – both of them much more extroverted and talkative than either of their children. The opposite is the case in his family with his parents more introverted than he and Becky.

Seeing Mr. Spinelli so sullen and quiet is eerie and unnerving.

"Mr. Spinelli, I'm sorry if it's not my place to ask," TJ starts as they turn into the pizza place's parking lot. "But are you okay?"

Spinelli's father parks the car and leans back in his seat, the heaviness from earlier evident in his deep sigh. His shoulders sag even as he nods.

"Oh, of course," he says with a small smile. Then, as if he realizes how flat his voice is, adds, "I suppose all this college stuff is…a bit bittersweet."

"Yeah, it's crazy to think we're already there," TJ agrees.

It feels like no time has passed since the crew was patrolling the playground at Third Street, roaming the streets on their bikes until the street lights turned on. Graduating high school and becoming adults had always been a far-off idea that they knew would come one day, but it came a lot quicker than he had anticipated. Mikey is only weeks from eighteen and the rest of them will follow, legally adults and let loose into the world.

"Sometimes I look at her and…" Mr. Spinelli pauses, his eyes far away for a moment. A small smile finds its way to his face. "I just remember the first time they let me hold her. Skin to skin and, of course, it was a whole ordeal with all the tubes and wires. Took two nurses to get her situated." He chuckles at the memory. "I was scared to death that I'd never see this moment."

In the years TJ has known Spinelli, she has made very few comments about the way she came into the world. When she did, it was typically said flippantly and sometimes it was hard to tell whether or not it was the truth or an exaggeration. Once, she joked that the reason her voice is so gravelly is because the anesthesiologist that intubated her when she was born scratched her vocal cords. When she didn't hit the height Galileo predicted for her, her response was, "stupid thing didn't take into account I'm underbaked." She spoke much more candidly about her brother, Vito, and how his death and her parents' subsequent miscarriages affected the way her parents cared about their living children.

But, seeing Mr. Spinelli leaning back in his seat with glassy eyes as he thinks back seventeen years, TJ realizes the Spinellis love big because of the loss and trauma they've endured. He wonders if Spinelli herself realizes how much of an impact her birth had on her parents – and how awful it must have been as her parents to see the child they had fought hard to keep alive actively hating herself. His heart had broken watching Spinelli become a shell of herself, so he can only imagine the pain and torture her parents had gone through last year.

"That must have been difficult," he murmurs.

"She hasn't had an easy go at the world," Mr. Spinelli says quietly. "And I guess, as her dad, I hope that one day she doesn't feel like she settled because she was scared."

His throat tightens at the word settled. That has also been on his mind lately with Spinelli so insistent on wanting to attend the University of Arkansas. He knows that, like Mr. Spinelli said, the biggest reason for her desire to stay close to home is because she is scared. She is doing so well right now that she doesn't want to alter anything that could make her stray off course. Her meds are dosed appropriately and her therapy is working. She looks happier and healthier than he can remember her ever being, even as small children.

But there's a nagging in his head that tells him that he might have also played into that decision. Spinelli knows that he didn't apply to college in the traditional sense like the rest of them. She knows that his plan is to start courses at the community college and hope his father doesn't kick him out as long as he's studying something. Spinelli said he wasn't the only reason, although it was nice to know he'd be nearby. But he hopes that his staying home didn't partially influence her not to apply to other places farther away because, despite how well she's doing, Spinelli has been known to lie.

"I understand completely," he tells Mr. Spinelli with a lump in his throat.

"Well, I'm just glad she has you," he says, reaching over to pat TJ's knee. "You've been so good for her."

"It goes both ways. I can't even imagine my life without her."

"You're a good kid, TJ," he says. "Now, what about you? Any closer to figuring out what your plan is post-high school?"

TJ hesitates, not wanting to let Mr. Spinelli in on how lost he feels. As much as the Spinellis like him, he knows they don't want to hear that their daughter's long-term boyfriend has no direction. His mother had given him a brochure for the community college and he had looked into a few of the programs that seemed promising. She made a deal with him that as long as he has figured out his plan by mid-March, she won't tell his father that he didn't apply to any four-year colleges. But the deadline almost made his search worse, as panic sets in that he has to pick the right path and do so quickly.

He has inquired about a few of the two-year programs and has a pile of brochures and pamphlets on his desk in his room, collecting dust. He had even briefly considered the military. It provided good benefits and seemed stable – he would never be without a job. Gus's father made a good career out of it. But the more he thought about the sacrifice, the more he realized that wasn't a good option for his life. Putting Spinelli in a situation where she was alone for months long stretches, worried every time the phone rang that she'd get word he died in combat, was a non-negotiable. So, the military was out.

"I haven't made any final decisions yet," he says, as a way of answering without answering. "Well, actually, I'm not going to be a mechanic."

Mr. Spinelli laughs and TJ can't help but chuckle along with him. Joey must have told his father about TJ's various blunders in the auto shop.

"Well, luckily we already have one in the family," Mr. Spinelli says with a grin. "I'm still friends with a few officers on the force and I could get you in for a ride around if you'd like."

TJ nods his head and tries to hide his frown. The Spinellis have been so gracious with him. Maybe it's because they had already been through this with Joey, who didn't go to college. Both Mr. and Mrs. Spinelli didn't attend formal college either as far as he knew. Whereas his parents have been breathing down his neck, his father especially frustrated with his lack of direction, Spinelli's parents have done all they could do to help him. And, if anything, he would think they'd be more frustrated than his own parents – his parents have to love him, Mr. and Mrs. Spinelli didn't have to like him at all.

"That'd be great," he says earnestly. Maybe a ride along would do him some good.

…

"Okay, this is actually a little creepy," Vince says as they stroll down the empty street. Around them, skeletal framed-out houses line the newly paved street. "It's so quiet."

Sam and Dave had been clear in their instructions to not bring a bunch of cars and park them in the subdivision. Their father owns a construction company and they'd heard about the new site having some issues with the permits. The in-progress subdivision had been sitting, mostly vacant, for about a week now while the city processed the permits. They said it would be the perfect place to host a Halloween party. Most of the houses were just shells, none with inhabitants yet, and at the end of the cul-de-sac was a small wooded area where they could set up the majority of the party, hidden from the naked eye of any passerby.

That, of course, meant not driving and parking nearby. The subdivision was fairly far out, just outside of the town limits and in a still rural area, so biking was out of the question. Instead, the group had all traveled together in Mikey's mom's minivan, which they parked on a side street about a half mile away.

The lots are small and the houses large, most of them with not much of a side yard. The houses were less and less 'done' the closer they got to the end of the cul-de-sac, adding to the eeriness of the unfinished project. As TJ takes in the houses, they all seem exactly the same. Much like Menlo's neighborhood off Triplicate Terrace, the design of the subdivision is for speed – building the same house in a different color pattern is cost effective and time saving. But what he doesn't understand is the need to cram all the houses so tightly together. The houses are so large they take up the majority of the lot. TJ can't help but think that once the walls are solid and the homes are occupied, the neighborhood would feel claustrophobic.

Vince bounces his basketball against the newly paved road and Spinelli reaches forward, grabbing the ball out from under his hand.

"Hey!"

"Do you want people to hear us?" she squeals.

Vince shakes his head and grabs the ball. He tucks it under his arm, his white Space Jam basketball jersey bright in the dark.

"There's no one out here," he says, gesturing to the darkness around them. The streetlights have yet to be put in and the only light they have is from the moon and stars. "I don't even think we're in town anymore."

"I think he's right," Gretchen says. "I'm pretty sure this area is unincorporated and that's why there's problems with the permits."

"It's unincorporated," Spinelli repeats, mocking Gretchen. "Do you always have to agree with him?"

"That's what they said in the minutes of the last town meeting," Gretchen says, holding her hands up.

"Look, if you're too scared," Vince says, turning around so he's walking backwards, facing the group. "I don't mind turning back and we can have our own party at TJ's."

"We're not turning back because you hate Vance Lombardi," Spinelli says. "He may not even be there."

"He's definitely there," Gus chimes in. "Ashley Q said they're going as Morticia and Gomez."

Both Spinelli and Vince roll their eyes, Vince groaning and Spinelli's exasperation apparent in her pursed lips. Before the two decide they're ready to head out before they even arrive, TJ jumps out from behind the group.

"Hey, hey, hey, stop it," he says. "We all agreed that we'd go and check it out. If it's lame, it's lame, and we leave. Deal?"

Murmurs of agreement follow and they continue on their path. They sneak between two houses at the end of the cul-de-sac and walk into the woods, the faint sounds of music and voices growing stronger with each step. As they step through the tree line, they see the glow of camp lights illuminating a makeshift party clearing. A cornhole game is in progress off to one side and coolers are scattered around a few empty plastic chairs.

The party is clearly already in full swing, which they had known would likely be the case. Mr. and Mrs. Spinelli had gone to Ms. Finster's annual Halloween party and the six of them had offered to pass out the candy in their absence. They'd gotten into their costumes and sat on the Spinellis' stoop, praising the little kids on their Halloween costumes, and occasionally sneaking a piece of candy out of the big bowl for themselves. Once the last of the older kids strolled by, they'd left for their own party.

"Hey, Beetlejuice, who let you out?" someone calls out over the music. Sam saunters up to them, dressed in khaki pants and a polo with a golf bag slung over his shoulder.

"What are you supposed to be?" TJ asks, eyeing Sam's outfit.

"I'm retired," Sam says with a proud smirk.

"You're seventeen," Dave says, elbowing his brother through his vampire cloak. "The horror of this costume is that you haven't even started working toward retirement."

"Hey, you don't have to be retired to golf a lot," Phil says with a shrug. "Remember Principal Prickly? He has a standing tee time on Sunday mornings and then comes to the driving range, like, two or three times a week after school."

"That dude lives the life," Sam says, shaking his head in admiration. "Sits in his office all day, golfs all afternoon. Now that is a career path."

Dave rolls his eyes and then turns to their group, explaining the layout of the party to them. The small clearing is buzzing with energy from their classmates, but the decor leaves something to be desired. The twins and their party co-hosts have haphazardly slapped orange and black streamers to a pair of folding tables. A couple of plastic jack o'lanterns glow with fake electric candles. Some of the guests have gathered on a makeshift dance floor, swaying and rocking to the Monster Mash, while others stand in small groups, most partygoers nursing a Halloween themed solo cup in their hand.

It doesn't take long for the gang to disperse amongst the partygoers. Gus quickly finds Ashley T, their Mickey and Minnie Mouse matching costumes sickly sweet surrounded by ghouls and vampires. Vince beelines it to the cornhole game and quickly climbs up the leaderboard, Gretchen and Mikey acting as his own personal cheerleaders.

Spinelli lingers where the group entered, watching the crowd with no forward momentum. TJ eyes her, watching for signs of distress, but she just looks hesitant, her mouth forming a thin line.

"Should have known this would be lame," she mutters from beside him. "Who would've thought I'd be jealous of my parents? At least Finster's parties are actually about Halloween."

TJ shrugs. "Did you really expect Sam and Dave to bring it with the decorations?"

Spinelli sighs and shakes her head. "Nah, I guess not."

"Come on, let's go see what they've got for snacks," TJ suggests, nodding over to the table at the far side of the clearing with coolers beneath it.

When they arrive, Phil is standing over a cooler. Instead of being filled with ice and cans, the cooler is filled with liquid. In the low light from the few electric candles, TJ thinks the drink looks red in color, but he isn't convinced. Phil scoops a solo cup through the liquid and stands, turning around and startling when he sees that TJ and Spinelli have approached. He shakes it off quickly and smiles.

"You want one?" Phil asks, handing TJ the cup he had just filled.

TJ frowns and takes it, a strong medicinal scent wafting up to his nose. He winces and looks back at Phil. "What is it?"

"Finest mystery punch in the Ozarks," he says. He winks at them. "Or, at least that's what Sam's calling it. It's really just a little bit of everything in their dad's liquor cabinet mixed with Hawaiian Punch."

Phil then holds out a cup to Spinelli, who shakes her head. He pushes it toward her again. "I know I didn't explain it well, but really, it's not that bad, Spin."

"We'll share," she says, but her voice lacks its typical conviction.

"Suit yourself," Phil says, taking a large gulp from the cup. "Tell her, Teej, it's really not that bad."

TJ brings the cup back to his nose and shakes his head at the pungent smell. While he wouldn't call himself an expert in alcohol, this smells particularly strong. He glances toward Spinelli, but her face is still, watching his every move.

"It smells like cough syrup," he says, lifting it to his lips and taking a tiny sip. When it passes his lips, he gags. "Tastes like it too."

"You get used to it after the first glass," Phil says before he trots off toward the cornhole set up, shouting Vince's name as he retreats.

TJ brings the cup back up to his nose, making a face as he does. He glances toward Spinelli. She stands beside him, staring out at the party ahead of them. Her fingers unconsciously play with the fraying lace of the hem of her sleeve as she watches their friends and classmates. He follows her gaze to the party at large, seeing their friends mingling in smaller groups, the crowds becoming a little rowdier with each passing minute.

He turns back to Spinelli, his gut bubbling at the uneasiness she exudes. Whereas a few moments before she had seemed over the party, upset by its lack of holiday theme, her annoyance has now melted into a quiet discomfort. He keeps an eye on her, unsure what exactly caught her off guard.

He nudges her arm slightly and she seems to shake out of her thoughts, her intense focus on her surroundings now turning toward him. Her fingers still play with her sleeve and she stands tensely beside him. He finds himself biting his tongue as he picks his words carefully, aware that she is hyper focused on something outside of his realm of comprehension but trusting her to tell him if she needs help.

"I say next year we go to Finster's," he says, lifting the cup in his hand and making a face. "If nothing else, the menu will be better."

Spinelli snorts. "Just us and the old fogies."

TJ shrugs, smirking. "We'll bring a little life to their funeral service."

She chuckles lightly, but the sound quickly fades into the restless noise of their fellow partygoers. Her gaze drifts back to the crowd, her fingers restarting their nervous dance with her dress sleeve. TJ watches her for a moment and then reaches forward, gently coaxing her fingers away from her sleeve. It grabs her attention again and once their eyes meet, he takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze.

"Should we make the rounds?" he asks. "Show everyone your costume. It's by far the best here."

"Of course it is," Spinelli says, following TJ as he leads her away from their spot. "It's not like anyone else seemed to put in any effort this year."

He isn't surprised. He remembers some of Becky's costumes when she was in high school. He had never been impressed by her barely-there costumes where he could never really tell what she was trying to be. Neither had their mother, although she'd never made Becky change. When he looks around, he doesn't see any box-store costumes and most people seem to be dressed in their own clothes, styled in ways to depict their characters.

"I guess not everyone can be Queen of Halloween."

Spinelli beams at the compliment and the two fall into step. There's a larger group huddled near a few empty card tables where TJ sees Gus and Ashley T on the far side. He figures Spinelli should be comfortable there, but before he can make their way over, a flash of bright pink crosses their path, nearly running into them.

Ashley A looks up, appearing like she's about to tell them off for getting in her way. Once she notices who she ran into, her eyes soften a touch and rather than yell at them, she says, "Nice costumes."

TJ wants to offer her a compliment on her own costume in return, but he can't really see the difference between her current clothing and something she may wear to a school event. Her two-piece tweed skirt and jacket set is Barbie pink in color. Pink-tinted sunglasses cover her eyes, possibly the reason she ran into them in the first place.

"Decide not to dress up?" he asks.

"I'm Elle Woods," Ashley A says, lifting the crossbody bag she has over her shoulder, which has a stuffed dog sticking out of it. "And this is Bruiser Woods. We're both Gemini vegetarians." The two stare at her. "Legally Blonde?" When Spinelli and TJ share a glance of confusion, Ashley sighs with frustration. "You've never seen it? Ugh, you need to."

"We'll add it to the list," TJ says through his teeth, knowing that he and Spinelli probably won't get to it.

Her eyes lock in on the cup in TJ's hand.

"Ew, don't make her drink that caveman cocktail," Ashley hisses, wrinkling her nose. She passes her own bottle of hard cider toward Spinelli with a bright smile. "Here, this actually tastes good."

Spinelli glances at the outstretched bottle with hesitation. Her hand tenses in his and he frowns, his eyes focusing on her. The unease he had recognized earlier is back as she slowly reaches her other hand toward the bottle, her fingers curling around the glass without pulling it toward her. He leans forward just enough to get a better view of her face and sees her eyes, staring ahead of her, glassy and unfocused. She's withdrawing again, just like she had earlier with Phil and the mystery punch.

He swiftly removes his hand from Spinelli's and reaches for the bottle she now holds awkwardly between herself and Ashley A. He takes it out of her outstretched hand, drawing it immediately to his lips, and takes a large gulp. Watching Spinelli closely out of the corner of his eye, he swallows loudly.

"You're right," he says, winking at Ashley A. "So much better than Mystery Punch."

Ashley laughs in a sharp disapproving way. "Ugh, that wasn't for you, Detweiler!"

He barely registers her high-pitched squeal. He focuses on Spinelli, her expression unreadable but her stiff posture giving him pause. The distant look in her eyes gnaws at him, picking at wounds from last year that are still too fresh for the reminder. Something about this party is distressing her and he needs to remove her from it before she gets overwhelmed.

"Spin?" he asks gently, taking a slight step toward her. "You okay?"

She doesn't answer immediately. She stands stone still and he quickly runs through a potential back up plan. How does he rush her out of here without drawing unwanted attention toward them? Does he spill something on them? Does he feign a phone call? The plans all feel flimsy. Ashley A is still standing in front of them, her eyes narrowing just slightly with concern, as if she sees what TJ is seeing. He feels his jaw tighten. The last thing he needs is Ashley A causing a scene.

Then, almost as if someone flipped a switch in her head, Spinelli unfreezes. She lets out a short, dismissive laugh that curdles TJ's stomach. That's not her laugh, not even her tough girl snort.

"It's fine," she says, her voice too calm for her stance. She sends a smirk to Ashley A, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Her arms wrap around herself tightly. "It's not like we don't share spit anyway."

The line appeases Ashley, who shrugs off her former concern and tosses her hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated flip.

"Of course. You two are basically married after all," she chirps with a laugh. "So, when he ends up drinking it all, just come find me. We've got a whole cooler to avoid…that concoction." Then she turns back to TJ and points her finger at him with a mock glare. "Ashleys only."

His heart pounds in his chest as Ashley's shared concern completely disappears. Spinelli may have succeeded in fooling Ashley, but he sees Spinelli's fingers digging into her sides.

"Aww shucks," he says, playing into it and hopeful that Ashley will wander off bored so he can figure out an escape plan.

But, before either can make a move, Ashley Q comes up beside Ashley A. She threads her arm through her friend's and rests her head on Ashley A's shoulder, her black Morticia Addams wig askew on her head.

"Come on, A. Vance just set up flip cup," she says, her words slurring together in a whiny drawl. She glances away from Ashley A and her eyebrows raise, as if this is the first time she noticed her friend's company. "Do you wanna join?"

TJ glances at Spinelli and sees her jaw tighten.

"Flip cup, huh? Sounds thrilling," she mumbles, her tone flat. The sarcasm hardly masks her discomfort. He notices her knees lock, her body in a tense fight-or-flight mode. His hands are full, double fisting the mystery punch and the cider bottle, making it impossible for him to take her hand and give her a reassuring squeeze.

"I think we'll pass," he says firmly.

The two girls shrug and then skip away arm-in-arm. Once they're out of earshot, TJ tosses the solo cup to the ground with more force than he had intended. The mystery punch splashes across the ground, a few drops staining his sneakers. The cider bottle remains in his other hand, his knuckles whitening as he tightens his grip in frustration.

He takes a step, placing himself between Spinelli and the Ashleys' retreating figures.

"Hey," he says, his voice only loud enough for her to hear above the party noise. "Do you want to take a walk? Get out of here for a minute."

Spinelli looks up at him, her mask slipping slightly at TJ's words. She bites her lower lip and hesitates before she nods quickly.

He rests his hand on the small of her back as he gently guides her through the ruckus. He drops the cider on the first table they pass and then watches the crowd as they leave, but no one seems to be paying them any attention, everyone focused on their own entertainment. Spinelli keeps her arms crossed tightly across her as they pass the tree line into the cleared-out backyards of the new neighborhood. The music and commotion they left behind dims the further they walk into the quiet darkness, and even though he can barely see her in the night, he feels the tension in her body lessen under his hand. It doesn't fully resolve, but it's a noticeable difference.

He lets the silence hang between them as they stroll, hoping she'll take the chance to open up. When they start to near the edge of the road, they slow their steps, still quiet, and TJ stuffs his hands into his pockets. Removing his hand from her back draws Spinelli out of her thoughts and she glances up at him.

"You can really see the stars out here," he says softly, though it sounds loud in the emptiness.

"Yeah, you usually can in the middle of nowhere," she responds, her voice biting. She turns her head away sheepishly at her tone of voice and digs the toe of her boot into the yard of the new build behind them. "Sorry."

"You know you can tell me anything," he says, not wanting to probe her but to give her an in to release whatever it is she's fighting.

She shakes her head, not looking up from the small hole she is creating in the ground. "It's nothing."

"Spin." He places a hand on her shoulder and she finally looks up. Even in the dim light of the moon, he can see her eyes wet. "Come on, it's me. You can trust me."

"I do," she says firmly. Then she lets out a frustrated breath, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes. "I just thought I'd be able to handle it."

"Handle what?"

"Everything," she splutters. Her hands fall from her face and she crosses her arms tightly around her again. "The party. The crowd. The drinks."

TJ frowns, his face wrinkling in confusion. "The drinks?"

Spinelli grunts angrily and she sinks her chin to her chest, avoiding TJ's eyes. "Forget it. It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," TJ insists, his tone soft but firm. "It's bothering you, so it matters."

She blows out a loud breath through her nose and looks up, her arms still wrapped tightly around her chest. The moonlight catches her features and TJ is surprised to see harsh lines of anger over her face rather than the softer signs of depression. Lines crease her forehead as her eyebrows nearly meet.

"Talk to me, Spin," he says softly. "Please."

She blows out a breath through her nose and turns her head slightly backwards, her eyes focused on the tree line behind them. He watches her carefully as she digs her fingers tightly into her ribs, her nose flaring as her breathing quickens. When she turns back toward him, her eyes are narrowed.

"I hate this," she finally says, her voice sharp but trembling.

Her breathing becomes more and more ragged as she tries to rein it in. She closes her eyes, clearly trying to rely on a breathing exercise, but he can see the moment it fails. She shrieks loudly and lets go of her sides, reaching her hands up to press the heels of her hands to her temples, as if she's trying to stop her head from spinning.

He freezes watching her, his heart giving a few erratic beats as he watches her war with herself. What can he do to stop her from spiraling? She had been doing so well for the last few months and he hates that he didn't see her struggling early enough to get her to safety. Now, all he feels like he can do is watch, hoping that the progress she's made hasn't been lost in a single evening.

Her hands drop to her sides and she takes a few deep breaths, panting as if she has just finished a sprint to the finish.

"It's not fair," she says, her voice breathy and exhausted. She gestures toward the tree line. "All I want to do is be like them. Go to a party and not have to think about anything but having fun and being a dumb teenager." She sniffles and runs the sleeve of her dress under her nose. "But I can't do that. I'm not supposed to drink on my meds but I know people do it. My therapist and I have talked about this exact scenario, so it's not like I'd die, but…"

She sniffles again and uses her fingers to press into her eyes, trying to stop the tears that have formed.

"I don't trust myself," she says, her voice a higher pitch than before. "They drink casually and they're hung over the next day. Big whoop. I drink and…it interacts with my meds or I get hooked and everything gets ruined." She sighs and bows her head, exhausted. "It's just hard."

Guilt floods through him as her words sink in. How had he not thought of this? He's been to plenty of parties with Vince – team hangouts where they showed their faces, played a game or two, and ducked out before things got out of hand.

Neither of them had taken the newfound drinking culture at these parties seriously. Vince had been laser-focused on his college recruitment, avoiding anything that might derail his plans, and TJ had never cared enough to test his limits. He'd had sips here or there, enough to quiet the rowdy teammates who pressured him, but never enough to really lose control.

But Spinelli…she had never been in this type of environment before. She spent the majority of the previous year detached from social events. She went to school and went straight home, with doctors appointments sprinkled in. Maybe TJ had grown too used to the chaos of the upperclassman party culture to think to warn her – or even realize she needed a warning. Or an exit plan.

He shakes his head with shame. Of course this party had been a disaster. Of course it hit her harder than he could've imagined.

"Spin, I'm so sorry," he says, not moving toward her and staying rooted to his spot.

She gives a lackluster chuckle. "I know, right? It's pretty pathetic. I'm out here crying and overwhelmed by a party." She rolls her eyes. "How am I going to survive college? Guess I could just come home every weekend and hang out with my parents. Good thing I'm going local."

Her words are said sarcastically, but there's an edge of sincerity in them that stings as she attempts to hide her self-doubt under her cynicism.

"Hey," he says firmly, stepping forward this time to stand closer to her. He puts his hands on her shoulder and waits until she looks up at him to continue. "You are not pathetic."

She shakes her head and he can see her giving in to her negative thoughts. He gives her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"Stop it," he says, more firmly than before. "Get out of your head."

She rolls her eyes and bites her bottom lip. "As if it's that easy," she mutters.

"Stay out of your head and talk it out," he encourages.

She glares at him and he keeps his gaze steady on her. He knows that she isn't angry at him – it's the situation, the party, her feelings. Everything. And if she needs an outlet, he'll gladly be that for her.

To his surprise, her gaze softens. She takes a step toward him and rests her forehead on his chest. As she does it, he loosens his grip on her shoulders and instead wraps his arms around her, hugging her to him.

"You know," she says, tilting her head so she can talk with him. "A year ago, I bet I'd be drunk by now."

He nods his head and winces at the memory of where she had been this time last year. She had been a husk of herself, acting a part rather than being herself. And, as he thinks about that and puts that Spinelli at this party, he agrees with her. It would have been terrible in a completely different way than tonight. Her actions would have been fueled by self-destruction rather than an attempt of self-preservation.

"Well," he says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "What better way than to show how far you've come?"

She scoffs. "Yeah, sure, but I can't get like this at every party. I'll never have a social life again."

TJ shakes his head. "Having a social life doesn't mean forcing yourself to do something you don't want to do. Your people will have your back because you're you. Not because you party or you drink."

She pulls back slightly, shaking her head back at him. "You and your pretty words," she says. Her voice isn't malicious, but sounds distant. "You know as well as I do, parties are the social scene in high school. Even more in college. If I don't go, I'll never fit in."

"You'll find your people," he says. "And, you'll always have your people, even if we aren't always nearby."

She nods her head slowly and he can see the same thought enter her head as fills his. A year from now their people won't be nearby. Vince will be in North Carolina. Mikey and Gretchen haven't made any decisions, but he can't imagine they won't be far away chasing their dreams. Mikey, with his voice that can fill auditoriums, is eyeing New York. Gretchen's brain is too big for their sleepy little town. Gus will be at school with Spinelli, but majoring in something else, potentially running in different circles at a school almost as big as their entire town. And Spinelli, she won't be down the street anymore. Fayetteville is a quick drive, but it isn't the same having her a few doors down.

But…he'll be here. In the same house, in the same room, staring at the same walls he has stared at his entire life. As his friends stretch out across the country, reaching their potential and finding themselves, he'll be stuck here, still struggling to figure out what he is meant to do.

The thought makes his stomach curl, but he doesn't let it show on his face. Spinelli doesn't need his worries piling on her insecurities tonight. Besides, he knows he wouldn't let himself bum off her forever. In the end, he would settle for something even if it wasn't his dream if it meant helping support their family. Despite the ride around not being the most exciting thing he's ever done, he could attend the police academy. Mr. Spinelli provided well enough for his family on a first responder's salary, he could do the same even if he isn't sure it's quite the right fit.

So he shakes out of his own insecurities and focuses on pulling Spinelli out of hers. He'll figure himself out in time. If nothing else, TJ has always been able to get himself out of a mess.

Right now it isn't about him. It's about her.

"You never, ever have to do something you don't want to do," he says firmly, his voice steady as he locks eyes with her. "And if you get in that situation – now, in college, whenever – all you do is call me. I'll be right there. Or you call Gretchen and she'll talk you through it. Or Gus, or Vince, or Mikey. We are all always, always, always there for you. No matter what."

Spinelli's eyes glisten in the dim moonlight as she lets the words sink in. The tension in her shoulders melts slightly under his arms and for the first time since they came out here, he thinks she may finally be winning the war in her head.

"Thank you," she says. Her voice is quiet, but stronger and he smiles at her more typical tone. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Lucky for you," he says, leaning down, their breaths combining in the cool air. "You never have to find out."

An easy pause takes them over, the only noise around them the quiet whooshing of the wind through the trees.

"Is that a promise?" she asks softly.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "It's a vow."

He pulls away and rests his forehead on hers, never breaking eye contact with her. He can feel her breath steady and her eyes soften, losing the intensity from earlier. A shy smile finds its way to her lips and he matches it with his own.

"Thanks for bringing me out here," she says.

He grins. "Better than flip cup for sure."

She giggles and turns just slightly, back toward the party. The distant thumping bass is mostly hidden under the rustle of leaves and chirping crickets.

"Do you think anyone will come looking for us?" she asks, a hint of mischievousness in her tone.

"I hope not," he tells her, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer.

When she gives him a slight nod, he presses another kiss to her lips. This time, it's heated with the warmth of their previous conversation. Spinelli places her hands on either side of his face and he breaks the kiss only to coax her down to the grass. She lays down and he takes the opportunity to hover over her, returning to the kiss before moving down to her neck. He leaves a trail of kisses along the exposed skin of her neck, knowing what she likes, and he feels her fingers reaching under his suit jacket and shirt. He quickly shrugs out of the jacket, barely losing his concentration on her neck, and shivers when her fingers run along the skin of his chest.

The world around them fades into the background. Spinelli's hands roam with newfound confidence and TJ responds with the same quiet fervor, their hearts pounding in time with each other. But, as their movements grow bolder, hesitation begins to pull TJ's focus from the moment. This is going a bit too fast for where they are, out in the open even if they're in the middle of nowhere with no one but their drunken classmates nearby. He pulls back slightly as Spinelli begins working on the buttons of his shirt.

"Hey, uh, I uh," TJ says softly. "I didn't bring anything."

"What?" He gives her a pointed look and she snaps out of it. "Oh, right. Um, well, that's fine. It's not like I want our first time to be in a creepy half-finished subdivision."

"Right, yeah, that would certainly be an interesting story," he mumbles, glad she agrees that this isn't the time or place for where they were headed. He doesn't want them to be rushed, or looking over their shoulders for bystanders.

"I'm all for interesting, but not that interesting," she says in a rush. Then she takes a deep breath. There's a hint of nervousness in her voice when she adds, "But maybe we could, um, figure out something soon?"

His eyebrows jump on his forehead and his heart, already racing, picks up speed at her words. A mixture of excitement and uncertainty fills his gut.

"Soon, huh?" he echoes. He smirks and adds playfully, "Is this a 'next weekend' soon or a 'I'll figure it out later' soon?"

She bites her lip and shrugs. "I don't know, how 'bout a 'next time we're alone with a locked door' soon?"

He chuckles and leans down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Duly noted," he whispers in her ear.

They sit up, situating themselves again and readying to rejoin the party. Spinelli stands first, taking his hand and helping him up from the ground. He keeps a hold of her hand as they start to walk back, holding his Beetlejuice jacket over his shoulder with his other. As they walk closer to the party, the louder the music becomes and he glances down to make sure she still seems calm. Her steps are steady with her hand in his.

As they continue to pass the framed-out houses and head back to the party, he replays everything in his head, the gravity of their conversation taking hold. This will be another step in their commitment to each other and while he knows he's not nervous about that, he feels a small pit forming in his gut. Because he knows that, even if Spinelli thinks he was just being charming, he used the word vow with a purpose. He wants his life to include her at every step of the journey. When he thinks about his life, she is there and that makes him smile like an idiot. He knows it sounds corny and silly, like something Mikey might say, but sometimes he dreams about their future and she is there. She's the mother of his children. She's face he wakes up to and the last thing he sees before he shuts his eyes.

But his father's voice nags in his head, and for the first time it makes sense. He supposes his father's anger with his lack of career path always made sense, but in this moment, it truly scares him. He wants to give her everything, but the most important thing he can give her is stability. Can he do that if he has no idea what he's doing?

…

Notes:

Sorry for the exceptionally long chapter. I felt like it seemed important for all the Halloween activity to be together because the themes and parallels were there purposefully between the two parts, and then the party scene just…took over. Hope it wasn't too much!

Beetlejuice (1988) is considered a cult classic horror film by Tim Burton. TJ and Spinelli's back and forth at the Goodwill includes pulled lines from the film's characters, Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton) and Lydia (Winona Ryder).

I'm basing the University of Arkansas's letter and acceptance on my state university's – there was no application to the honor's program, they just looked at certain criteria, and everything was decided on that. However, my state school sent out the acceptance letters in a regular letter sized envelope with a giant Congratulations on the front, which totally killed any anticipation haha, so I based the folder and packet on every other school I applied and was accepted to – with their big fancy "Pick Me" packets.

Ashley A is canonically a Gemini (Outcast Ashley) so I just had to make her Elle Woods for Halloween. She quotes Legally Blonde (2001) directly when introducing her costume to TJ and Spinelli.

TJ says this chapter wasn't about him…next chapter certainly is. I already have it mostly written so hopefully it gets out a little sooner than this one!

Thanks for reading!