Chapter 1: The Scariest Thing

August 29th.

First day of junior year. SHE's gotten even more beautiful since last year. Her and her beautiful eyes and her wit and her humor and laugh... it kills me, and yet it keeps me from killing myself. With Jonathan peeking over my shoulder every second of the day, I can't believe I've been able to keep my mouth shut for this long. You'd think I'd have gathered the courage to say something by now. But he's still around and nothing's changed, as you'd expect. It's like he's a wicked poltergeist that just won't leave, that will go wherever I go, haunt my every waking hour and keeping forcing me to do those sick things, and he'll never leave. Maybe, if he isn't gone by senior year, I'll go ahead and kill myself. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

Halloween night, 2008. Wirt shook his foot impatiently in front of the bedroom mirror, watching his mother's reflection buttoning the back of his Halloween costume. He couldn't help but grin, as he looked exactly like the professional marching band players he saw on the television. The shako was slightly too big for his head, and it wobbled when he walked. But he was still happy. It covered a bruise on his forehead, from where he'd slipped and hit his head against the kitchen table earlier that day. His mother, Elspeth, had told him that he shouldn't run in the pretend marching shoes, and even considered making him wear different shoes. But Jonathan, Elspeth's boyfriend, had butted in and claimed that even the real shoes were always like that, and that once Wirt was on sidewalk, it wouldn't be a problem. Elspeth gave in and let him keep the shoes on, and once she left the room, Jonathan gave him a wink. Wirt grinned. He liked Jonathan a lot. He was nice.

"Turn around," Wirt's mother, Elspeth, ordered. She tightened the shako's strap and shifted it from side to side until it was no longer lop-sided- not that it mattered, because chances were it would become uneven that night while Wirt and his friends were out trick-or-treating.

"Now, remember, my phone number is-"

Wirt sighed and lulled his head. "3-3-6-3-0-8-7, you wrote in on my elbow, we'll trick-or-treat for two hours, and Jonathan will pick me up from the park. I know, Mom, I know."

"Hey," Elspeth scolded gently. "Watch how you talk to me. But yes, all that. Now be careful, and be good for Sara's dad, okay?"

"Yeeesss." Wirt picked up his pillow case and turned around.

"I love you," Elspeth told him, standing up.

"I love you, too!" Wirt was already out the front door. Outside, a green pick-up truck was parked on the curb, and his two best friends, Jason and Sara, slipped out of the car and raced towards him, dressed in their costumes. Jason was a Power Ranger, and he looked funny with one of his teeth missing, which he had just plucked out with the elastic band on his mask a few hours earlier. Sara was dressed as Spider-Man, and she had a black bucket with a spider on it to match. They all hugged and greeted eachother excitedly, and once Wirt said goodbye to his mother, the three gathered into the back seat and chattered away excitedly.

First order of business, they visited Mrs. Daniels, the friendly yet stern old lady in the neighborhood, to wish her a happy Halloween. They hadn't intended to stay long, but sure enough, they spent the first hour and a half at her dining room table, watching Halloween specials on TV while she taught them how to make Lady Fingers, by putting candy-corn in the tips of a glove's fingers and filling the rest with popcorn. They left after a long while, when they realized that they now only had a half hour to trick-or-treat. When they were finished, Sara's father, Jeffrey, drove them down to the playground. They had just settled down in the grass and opened their bags when Jonathan's car pulled up. Wirt told them good-bye, and ran towards the car, where Jonathan was waiting patiently. Wirt plopped into the backseat and shut the door, immediately opening his pillowcase up and vaguely shuffling through the candies. His eyes lit up at some Twix and Fun-sized Hershey's bars.

"Have fun?" Jonathan asked, pulling away from the curb.

"Mhmmmm..." Wirt hardly paid attention, being more fascinated with the candy-filled pillow-case than with small talk.

However, Jonathan seemed equally as absent-minded.

The radio sang Thriller by Micheal Jackson, a song Wirt was sick to death of because his father, Stephen, played records of it every Halloween on a constant loop while they carved pumpkins.

The car seemed stuffier than usual, and when Wirt looked up, Jonathan's forehead was gleaming with sweat. He was frantically tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, and Wirt looked out the window.

Jonathan was driving them in the opposite direction of home, towards the downtown area. Wirt alternated between confusion and glee, as the stores here often gave away discount coupons for the grown-ups and candy for the kids at the front counter. Children in costume ran down the sidewalk, away from their parents, who, in response, scolded them and took their hands.

But rather than park, Jonathan just kept driving. The amount of people lessened, and at the end of the area was a bar, a club, and a bowling alley. Jonathan turned towards the back lots, where no one roamed and streetlights flickered.

Wirt stared at a filled garbage can a few yards away. Where were they? What were they doing there?

The darkness was eery, and Wirt couldn't help but feel scared, like there was a beast out there in the shadows.

He jolted with a start when the driver's door opened and Jonathan stepped out.

He watched as Jonathan opened the back door and shut it after climbing in next to him.

"Why are we here?" Wirt asked him, glancing around at the dark lot. When he heard shuffling beside him, he looked, even more confused to see Jonathan pulling his shirt off and undoing his belt.

"Quiet," Jonathan whispered, plucking the candy bag away from Wirt's small hands and tossing it to the passenger's seat. Wirt's head spun, with bewilderment, discomfort, and sudden homesickness as Jonathan lie over him.

Wirt looked up at him, nose wrinkled. "What are you doing?"

But he didn't get an answer, only his shako, jacket, and pants pulled off. Wirt turned red, and tried to wriggle his way out of Jonathan's arms. He began to cry with fear and frustration when he wouldn't budge.

Everything after that was vivid and painful, and it felt like it lasted forever.

It hurt to sit back down, it hurt so much that sitting on his bottom nearly made him gag. He wished Jonathan would leave him there and call his mom to pick him up, but he didn't, and Wirt was too scared to say anything.

He cried silent tears, trembling and hugging himself and looking out the window. Most of the stores had closed, and the children had gone home.

It was all empty.

When he was younger, he used to imagine that the dark stores were haunted. His father used to play this strange video game in which a man explored buildings filled with bloody rooms and horrific monsters. The dark, closed stores reminded always him of it and scared him.

But right now, he decided that Jonathan was the scariest thing ever, and he wished he was out hiding in one of those eerie stores.

The very second Jonathan pulled into the driveway and shut off the car, Wirt ditched his candy and went right to bed.

He didn't sleep for another three hours.