Your grin a bit wider as you finally make it inside your house and find that, just as you hoped, it’s just like old times again. Your parents bought a new, bigger house after high school, so the surroundings are different, but everything else is just the same.

Wistfully, you sip at your drink and take a look at your friends. Lizzie and Kash, laughing and joking about college boys while they munch on pizza. Jack giving Kash an indiscreet eye as he and Pat burn through a cube of beer, talking about fraternity life to Mike and Karen, who sit practically molded together on the couch and clearly more concerned with cuddling together than Jack and Pat’s hazing nightmares.

“Hey, it’s getting pretty dark out there,” Pat says, draining his umpteenth beer can and crumpling it precisely between his large hands. “Are your parents coming back to give out candy or what?”

“Nope,” you say, “as soon as they heard you two were coming they put all their good liquor in the car and drove off for a long weekend.”

“Really? That’s so cool? My parents hate each other,” Karen says glumly, “I bet if they went away on a little trip they might have fun together again.”

“Maybe. Yeah, my dad says it’s a ‘second honeymoon.’ Mom says it’s my dad’s excuse to hit those casino boats up north he’s been dying to visit.” You smile. “I guess that’s romantic. But yeah: the house is all ours. At least for a couple more hours.”

“When does the party start?” Jack asks, imagining the drinking and flirting opportunities. As soon as you told him you invited a ton of friends from your local college, including the fact that quite a few of them are members of your school’s sororities, his eyes lit up with a fire he usually reserved for bottles of tequila. He’s been asking you about the party every five minutes since he arrived.

“People should start coming around 7,” you say. “My parents bought a whole bunch of candy to give out before they found out about this little impromptu get-together, but they said they were cool with us partying here. They didn’t even mind me having a real Halloween party here; I think they’re getting the floors redone next month so as long as the walls don’t get carved up, they don’t care.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Lizzie exclaims, jubilant. You mentioned to her that you know a lot of fraternity guys from school, too, and all her relationship woes were immediately discarded for the promise of flirting fun. She and Jack always had more in common than they cared to admit.

“Yeah, it was pretty cool of them. Their only command was that we still give out all the candy, because they don’t want any of it around.”

“Diabetic?” Jack asks.

“Dieting,” you reply. “So who wants to be on candy duty?”

After giving a little bit of thought to Jack’s suggestion that you just pour all the candy out on the front porch for trick-or-treaters to take as much as they want of, the seven of you agree to trade off on door duty. You warn everybody that your parents told you that this new neighborhood of theirs is not only filled with kids but also one of the safe areas of the city that families from miles around truck their kids in to trick-or-treat, then run upstairs to make a few last minute phone calls, check on your costume, and take a quiet, meditative minute to reconsider all your grand plans.

“What’s going on?” Lizzie asks you from the doorway, startling you from your train of thought. “Sorry. I thought you might need some help.”

You rub your eyes as you figure out how to get rid of her, then you look at her again, thinking. You grin widely, because you figure it’s probably time to begin.

“Did you know there’s a whole other reason I got all of us together for Halloween, Lizzie? No one else knows this either, but you’re the only one who’ll appreciate it.”

Lizzie shakes her head slightly, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not well, Lizzie. There’s something wrong in my head. ‘Abnormal brain chemistry,’ is all the doctors will tell me. My parents don’t even know yet; they just know I’ve been having headaches for quite a while.”

Holding a hand up to her wide open mouth, Lizzie can only choke out words. “Oh my god. Are you d-dying?”

You chuckle. “I really don’t know. As far as I know, as long as I take my medication and keep going in for some tests so they figure out exactly what’s wrong, I’ll be okay. Maybe. Who knows?”

Grabbing on to the sliver of hope in your words, Lizzie sighs and visibly relaxes.

“That’s if I take my medication,” you say. Pulling a small medicine bottle out of your pocket, you shake it theatrically. The sound it makes betrays the fact that you haven’t taken a single pill. “I just don’t feel like ingesting something with a name longer than my arm.”

“You’re not taking your medication? I don’t understand.” Lizzie finally comes into the room and sits on a chair against the wall next to the door.

“That’s not the best part, Lizzie,” you tell her. “I have another secret. A big one. Do you want to hear it?”

She gives you an uncertain look, then nods. She’s ready to hear it.

If you’re feeling playful, click here.

If you’re feeling murderous, click here.