Halloween: The Official Movie Novelization

22

Even from outside Haddonfield High School Allyson, Cameron, and Oscar could hear the thumping bass of the music seeping through the walls and windows of the gymnasium. Other than a few strategic spotlights shining on doorways and one angled up the flagpole, the exterior of the high school looked appropriately dark and moody. Even though they were running a bit late, they stopped at the twin brick columns of the entrance gate to take themed photos. Members of the dance committee had mounted painted plywood gargoyles atop each column. The style of the artwork was reminiscent of two-dimensional television animation rather than an attempt at photorealism. Looking more realistic than the gargoyles were the two plastic skeletons attached with fishing line to the columns.

The Exquisite Corpse Dance had officially begun about thirty minutes before she arrived with Cameron and, naturally, Oscar, who had tagged along with the pair. A few of their costumed classmates lingered by the main door. Everyone else had already gone inside.

They had arrived late due to Oscar’s eleventh-hour costume change. He’d planned to go as a vampire in sunglasses, but after tripping a couple times, he reconsidered that plan. Keeping the black cape with its wide red collar and red interior over a black novelty t-shirt designed to look like a tux, he pocketed the plastic fangs and sunglasses and put on a pair of curved devil horns. “Rather be a horny devil than a blind bloodsucker,” he explained.

“Either way’s fine with us,” Cameron said, urging him along.

“What about Mephistopheles,” Oscar said, snapping his fingers. They’d recently read Goethe’s Faust. “Anybody asks, I could say, ‘Don’t Meph with me, bro!’”

With a weary shake of his head, Cameron said, “Please don’t say that.”

“Okay, horny devil it is,” Oscar said.

“Truth in advertising,” Cameron said.

Allyson chuckled.

“Oh, don’t laugh,” Oscar said, raising his cape with both hands more in the manner of a cinematic vampire about to transform into a bat than any movie devil she’d ever seen. “Chicks dig a guy in a cape.”

“I have literally never heard that,” Allyson said.

“After tonight,” Oscar said, “you’ll know it for a fact.”

Cameron laughed. “Dream on, Casanova.”

Allyson and Cameron stuck to their original plan to go to the dance as Bonnie and Clyde. And Cameron had embraced his role as the effortlessly glamorous gun moll, wearing a tan knit beret at a jaunty angle, a brown-patterned scarf low over a mustard-yellow short-sleeved cardigan, and a brown plaid-patterned pencil skirt, along with brown socks and black loafers. He’d abandoned the blond bob wig in favor of his own shoulder-length loose curls, and his commitment to character ended short of shaving his exposed legs, though that choice was more a nod to the comedy of the moment.

“You make a fetching Bonnie,” Allyson said.

She leaned in and they kissed.

“And you—”

Stepping forward, Oscar wrapped his cape around Cameron, pulling them apart. “How dare you insult my bro,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “I’m here for you, Cam. Skirt or no skirt.”

“She didn’t insult—”

“Called you a dog, Cam,” Oscar said. “Like, ‘Fetch, Bonnie, fetch.’”

“Dude, you’re acting out again,” Cameron said, laughing. “Get over it.”

“Although he does have the luscious locks of an Afghan hound,” Oscar added, grinning as he attempted to pat Cameron’s hair.

Dipping away from Oscar, Cameron approached Allyson again. When he took her hand, Allyson beamed. “Bonnie and Clyde are inseparable,” she said with a pointed glance at Oscar, who bowed his head.

Less daring—and less gender-flipping—Allyson’s Clyde costume consisted of a pale straw fedora, a double-breasted, waist-length suit jacket with matching pleated slacks in a brown checked pattern, a long-sleeve dress shirt with suspenders and a necktie. High pant cuffs exposed her black socks with brown dress shoes, but little of her calves. She’d pinned her long hair up under the hat. And for her own jaunty look, she tucked a wooden match in the corner of her mouth, a fake cigarette.

“As I was about to say, before Oscar Mephed it up—”

“Dude!” Oscar exclaimed. “You do love me.”

“—you are one stylish Clyde,” Cameron continued, ignoring Oscar’s joyful outburst.

They kissed again, a gentle brushing of lips—

“Yield to Death,” a voice boomed behind them.

Startled, the trio turned as a tall student in a hooded black cloak wearing a rubber skull mask strode toward the gate, holding a scythe before him. As he neared, Allyson noted the scythe consisted of a broom handle with a cardboard blade covered in aluminum foil.

He stopped between them and said, “I am—the Grim Reaper.”

“Really?” Cameron said, smiling. “I had no clue.”

Oscar shrugged, playing along. “I’m shocked.”

“Allyson?” Cameron asked.

“Speechless,” she said, deadpan.

“Someone at this school has an appointment with Death,” the Grim Reaper proclaimed in his best sepulchral tone. Turning in a slow circle, he lowered the tip of his aluminum-foil scythe blade toward Cameron, Allyson, and, finally, Oscar. “You three may pass.”

“After you, Mr Reaper,” Oscar said, gesturing toward the entrance with a sweep of his cape.

They waited silently until the Grim Reaper entered the school. Then they all burst out laughing.

“What was that?” Allyson said.

“Didn’t you hear?” Oscar said, adding in a deep voice, “Death!”

They laughed again.

“Hardcore cosplayer,” Cameron said.

“Not so hardcore after they confiscate his broom scythe,” Oscar said.

“That has to be Arlo,” Allyson said, picturing the tall, skinny senior. “Arlo Riddock, right?”

“Bet it is,” Cameron said, nodding. “Heard he’s a larper.”

“Don’t be racist,” Oscar said.

“Live action role play,” Cameron said.

“Never pictured him coming to a school dance,” Allyson said, reminding herself that Vicky had to figuratively twist her arm for her to come.

“It’s not a dance,” Cameron said. “As far as he’s concerned, it’s a costume party.”

“It’s a dance—with Death,” Oscar sang, raising his cape and spinning in a circle.

“He’s enjoying that cape a little too much,” Cameron said to Allyson.

“Enough stalling,” Allyson said, as much to herself as them. “Photo time.”

“Followed by music, punch—spiked if we’re lucky—” Cameron began.

“Don’t sweat the punch,” Oscar interrupted mysteriously.

“—snacks—” Cameron continued, ticking points off on his fingers.

“And maybe a little dancing?” Allyson said.

“Sure,” Cameron shrugged. “If there’s time.”

“We’ll make time,” Allyson said. “I can’t go to a dance and not dance.”

“I see who wears the pants in your relationship,” Oscar snarked.

“Har har,” Allyson said. “Do you have your cellphone, or do you need to borrow mine?”

“Yeah, dude,” Cameron said. “Make like paparazzi already.”

“Fine, fine,” Oscar grumbled, but took out an old-fashioned flash camera rather than a cellphone. “Special occasion, so I brought my old-school camera. Now, vogue for me, bitches!”

Because even prop guns were banned from school grounds, she and Cameron stood back to back, posing with finger guns held up to their faces in profile while Oscar snapped photos with his camera. Oscar took shots of them with their arms around each other’s shoulders, fake dancing between the skeletons, then fake dancing with the skeletons, as if the skeletons had asked to cut in, along with a few solo shots. Allyson stood with her legs shoulder-width apart, arms akimbo, head turned to the side in what she hoped was a manly pose. Cameron turned sideways, lifted the hem of the pencil skirt above his knee—exposing even more hairy leg—and gave the camera a sultry look. When he tried to twirl in the skirt, he stumbled and almost fell. Allyson and Oscar laughed as Cameron pretended to tap dance in his black-buckled loafers. Allyson moved beside him, hands on her hips, and attempted to do an Irish step dance, but it had been a while since she’d seen Riverdance. Probably looked as lame as it felt, but she laughed at herself even though both guys struggled to maintain a straight face while egging her on.

Allyson switched places with Oscar, taking photos of him and Cameron with her cellphone. Cameron stood behind Oscar, putting an index finger on each of Oscar’s curved horns, as if completing an electrical circuit, and pretended to have a seizure. Whether alone or with Cameron, Oscar couldn’t help vamping with his cape, holding it open with both arms, raising one cape-wrapped forearm in front of his face so only his eyes showed. He also twirled, with more success than Cameron.

“Did you forget about your horns?” Cameron asked. “You’re a devil. Not a vampire.”

“Cape keeps throwing me off,” Oscar said. “I need a… a pitchfork or something. Cloven hooves… or a barbed tail.”

“Settle for the barbed tongue and let’s get on with it,” Cameron said.

“Okay, serious,” Oscar said. “One last shot of you two together. No goofing.”

Cameron looked at Allyson.

“Sure,” she said, smiling. “One for my mother to frame and hang on the wall.”

They stood together, side by side, as Oscar lined up the shot with his camera. “You guys!” Oscar said. “Daaayum, you look good. Okay, now on ‘three.’ Ready?”

They nodded, stood up straight. Allyson reached out, interlaced her fingers with Cameron’s.

“One… two…” Oscar began.

Allyson smiled, happy in the moment.

“Three!”

The flash flared—but not before Cameron leaned forward and stuck out his tongue.

“Cameron!” she yelled, jabbing him with her elbow. “You’re such a jerk!”

“Ow,” Cameron laughed, flinching away from her. “It was just a goof! C’mon, do over.”

“Forget it,” Allyson said. “Let’s just go inside before we miss everything.”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Cameron said, reaching out to catch her arm before she slipped away. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

“Let’s go,” Oscar said. “Time to make my grand entrance and watch the ladies swoon.”

“Barf, you mean,” Cameron said, taking a swipe at Oscar’s horns. “I forgot. Are you supposed to be a devil—or a horndog?”

“Why not both?” Oscar said. “Hey, I got a six pack of beer stashed by the bleachers and gin in this flask. Who wants to party with Oscar?”

Oscar slipped Cameron a metal flask. Cameron nodded, impressed, and tucked the flask into the front pocket of his pencil skirt, then smoothed out the material.

Cameron laughed, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. “We’re gonna have a good time, right?”

Determined to enjoy herself, even without her best friend around, Allyson suppressed any misgivings she had, chalking the worrisome feelings up to nerves, and smiled up at Cameron. They handed over their tickets at the folding table at the gymnasium entrance and joined the crowd.

Allyson stopped, trying to take everything in before the loud music, roving lights, spooky decorations and the large crowd overwhelmed her. And before the smile on her face could falter, Oscar grabbed Cameron by the arm and tugged him away from her. As they were swallowed by the mass of moving bodies, Allyson heard Oscar say something about taking Cameron to his stash.