Thimblet Ghostings: Part 3

Children are cruel, they say, When they need a friend. Who knew that fun night Could have such bloody end?

Aubergine checked her costume in the mirror one last time. A plain white sheet, torn to shreds by crafting scissors, and a hood that went over her head, a weary, spooky face applique'd on. Tight fishnet stockings, thigh-high gogo boots she'd sourced from her mom's closet. And, at Cynthia's suggestion, handmade felt bunny ears and a tail. A bunny ghost would be too cute! her new acquaintance had said, after ambushing her and telling her that her hand-knit cardigan was oh-too-fab in the dining hall. I'll be dressed as a cat, said the girl's friend... Adrien? Austin? Honestly, Aubergine was terrible with names. Thank goodness they'd sent her the address for the party on their phone.

Halloween parties were not exactly her forte. She was never invited to one in high school, and honestly didn't expect to be invited to one during her freshman year of college. It wasn't like the little community college was some kind of bustling party school - it was quaint, small, exactly the sort of thing she wanted for herself while she was still figuring her priorities out. She was still pretty introverted, but it seemed that this party was really desperate for guests.

Plus, she remembered what her mom had said when she told her she'd gotten an invitation. Go, make some friends! she'd gushed encouragingly. Her mom had always been a bit mystified by Aubergine's quieter tendencies, always trying to shove her out the door to go to big group events.

"I really could use a friend or two," Aubergine muttered to herself, adjusting the sheet so it laid on her shoulders straight. Well, as straight as it could get.

She leapt down the stairs, and grabbed her keys, getting ready to shove them in her bra once she got out the front door, but hesitated over her phone, which was charging by the door. This was a party, after all, and Aubergine knew she had a tendency to burrow into her own little browsing hellscape the moment she started to get uncomfortable. She considered her options - socialization, with the possibility of boredom? Or comfort phone, with the possibility of making no friends, therefore making no connections, therefore failing at life completely. Okay. She took a deep breath and lifted her hands in surrender. No phone tonight. What was the worst that could happen?

She took the bus down to the neighborhood the party was in - it was close to the school, where the more independent, and maybe more financially comfortable, students rented houses for themselves. The block was wild - open garage doors, pounding music, clinking glasses. Aubergine was in her own little bubble, repeating the address under her breath as she walked past the hubbub. "Four-thirty-two, four-thirty-two..." Finally she reached the house, although there wasn't much else to separate it from the others. She took a nervous breath, fidgeting with the edge of her sheet costume. It's now or never, Geanie. She braced herself and approached the door, trying to be bouncy and light on her feet. If she looked and acted positive, that was how others would perceive her. At least, that's what she hoped.

She knocked, but of course, not a single person heard her. There was a sign on the door that said, let yourself in! with a crude jack-o-lantern scrawled beneath. Aubergine hated to be rude, but it wasn't rude if you were technically invited to do the rude thing... right?

She'd barely gotten her foot in the door when Cynthia, dressed as a sexy version of a doll or something-or-other, flounced over, her massive wig pigtails bouncing with her. She squealed at Aubergine, flinging her arms wide to pull her into an embrace. She smelled of vodka. "Abby! I'm so glad you made it!"

Abby? Well, a nickname was a nickname, even if it wasn't the one she preferred. She'd take it.

"Hi, Cynthia," she said softly.

"Look, Ashton!" she called, waving her hand at the boy, who slunk over with a polaroid camera around his neck. "Aubergine's here! Quick, take a picture!"

Aubergine mustered up as genuine a smile as she could manage, while Cynthia cinched her arm around her waist, brandishing a prop knife. It looked really realistic, Aubergine realized. "Is that a real knife?" she yelled, struggling to be heard over the music.

"What?" Cynthia called back, even though the other girl's face wasn't three inches away. Aubergine shook her head, and Cynthia grinned, dragging her into the crowd. She was offered a drink, two drinks, and soon her head was swimming.

Soon she was being ushered into an Uber. "There's a way better party, this one was starting to bore me." Crammed into the hot backseat between two near-strangers.

The car pulled up at the overlook, and she was jostled out. Aubergine felt sick. There wasn't anybody here. "Where's the party?" she asked, but her words were coming out slow, and it was hard to pick out the sounds.

"Oh, it's here. Quick, Ashton, take a photo."

The knife glinted in the full moonlight.