Page 1 of Not Quite Dead Yet

Friday

October 31

1

Dead gray skin, rotted away to show off the stringy sinews of muscle below. Sunken, rubbery sockets around sparkling hazel eyes. Those were actually hers, though; they moved as she studied herself. Decaying corn-on-the-cob teeth with gore stuck in the spaces between. What did zombies eat again? Just brains, or they weren’t fussy about the other guts too? Probably didn’t enjoy the candy apple she’d had earlier.

Jet watched her reflection in the funhouse mirror, her dead face – sorry – her undead face. OK, she’d worn the mask for three whole minutes, so Mom couldn’t complain, and now Jet couldn’t breathe; hot toffee air that turned wet against the rubber, sticking it to her skin. She pulled the mask off. Still pale, slightly less gray, though, but the mirror elongated her round face, distorting her thick brows and upturned nose. Her short blond hair was sticking up now; static buzzed against her hand as she flattened it.

‘Jet?’

‘– Damn.’ She flinched. The mirror warped his face behind her, squashed his muscular frame into accordion ripples, but Jet knew his voice. Of fucking course. JJ Lim. But not with his usual black swept-back hair and clear tawny skin. He wore a garish red wig and denim overalls over a striped shirt, train-track gashes drawn on his face. Chucky. They’d watched that movie together on their third date.

‘Didn’t mean to scare you,’ he sniffed, awkward.

‘It’s Halloween, that’s the point.’ More awkward. Jet walked away without looking at the unwarped him, past astall of pumpkin pies and apple bread.Just $5!!!yelled the chalkboard sign.

‘It’s …’ JJ slipped off his wig and stumbled after her, through a group of freshly face-painted kids. Why was he following her? She’d given them both an easy out.Again.‘Sorry,’ he continued, ‘I was wondering. I just …’

Well, this was fun. Jet was super glad she’d come to the Halloween Fair now. The whole of Woodstock, Vermont, swarming The Green in the middle of town, and she’d managed to run into the one person she didn’t want to see.

‘Trick-or-treat!’ a small vampire yelled up at her.

Jet hoped he’d choke on his slobbery fangs. Were kids always this annoying, or did the sugar rush bring it out of them? It was past ten now; when did parents put children to bed these days? Not fucking early enough.

She picked up her pace, but JJ didn’t give up.

‘Jet, please.’ He reached out for her arm. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’

Jet stopped, sighed.Somethingmeantthem,didn’t it? And they weren’t athemanymore, not for months. ‘I can’t right now.’ Lie. ‘I’m helping my parents run the fundraising booth.’ Bigger lie. ‘Did Henry draw those scars for you?’ Change the subject.

JJ narrowed his sharp eyes. ‘Please, Jet, it’s important.’

‘Oh,important,’ Jet snorted, ‘like when you said I was the best you could hope for … in Woodstock. Such a poet, J.’

‘You know I didn’t mean it like that. And it’s not aboutus,it’s –’

‘– Hey buddy, think you dropped this,’ a voice said over JJ’s shoulder, saving her. It was her brother, Luke, bending to retrieve the crumpled red wig from the grass. Pinpricks of string lights reflected in his matching hazel eyes as he straightened up and squared up, passing JJ the wig.

JJ took it, and finally took the hint too, losing himself in the crowd.

‘Saved you,’ Luke said.

Jet would never admit it. She was about to tell Luke so when he punched her in the shoulder, aiming for the dead-arm spot. He missed. But – also – he was fucking thirty and a dad now. When would the punching stop?

Jet didn’t react, a lesson all sisters learned one way or another. It annoyed them more.

Luke grinned, sharpening his jaw. Actually, his whole head somehow – he’d had his honey-brown hair cut too short again; no honey, just fuzz. But Sophia liked it that way, apparently. And – great – here she was now, holding baby Cameron dressed as an unhappy pumpkin.

‘Was that JJ?’ Sophia asked, slotting in beside Luke, hip to hip, claiming her husband back. She was dressed as Catwoman, tall and lithe in a tight leather suit that would be unforgiving on Jet’s shorter, curvier frame. Remember when they used to share clothes, when they were teenagers? Back when they were the ones joined at the hip. Until Sophia got tall and Jet got boobs.

‘Didn’t JJ get the message?’ Luke surveyed the bustle of the fair, finally starting to die down, thank god. ‘How clear can you make it when a guy gets down on one knee and you say no?’

‘Literally,’ Sophia added, unhelpfully.

‘That’s not how it happened,’ Jet said.

‘So, Marge,’ Luke said, looking for another reaction. ‘What did you come dressed as this year?’

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