Page 23 of Scaredy Cat
I should really invest in a massage. My own fingers do very little even as I rub circles against the tense muscles, though I wince from the dull pain and drop my hands with a sigh to the table again.
Even when I’m so freaked out, everything just seems so…normal.It’s hard not to be at least a little bit excited to be here. I’ve loved watching this haunt grow through the years. As of now, it stands out as one of the best in the Midwest and is visited by people from all over.
A hand slams down onto the table next to me, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I look up into the face of a scare actor, his skeletal makeup only slightly obscured by the blood on his face. He stares at me, eyes bright with the aid of ice blue contacts, and doesn’t speak.
“Hi friend,” I greet, tilting my head to the side and resting my chin on my palm. “How are you doing? You want to hang around for pizza?” I’ve always been a talker and unable not to strike up a friendly conversation with actors in makeup, masks, or with fake weapons. But he just stares at me, his gaze flicking from my hair to my face, then down to my hands. He stands with a sigh, still just gazing at me, before making a soft sound in the back of his throat, like a scoff.
“You won’t make it through the night,” he tells me softly, in a near-whisper. Before I can come back with something, he adds in a low hiss,“Scaredy Cat.”
A tingle runs up my spine, but I only give him a reckless, almost hapless grin. “Oh, that’s very threatening of you,” I assure the man. “I’m terrified, actually. I?—”
“You talk so much,” he sighs, and starts backing away with his eyes locked on mine. I finally take the time to notice his costume; an ornate, almost gothic black suit with filigree and silver details under the skull makeup. “Do yourself a favor tonight.” When I don’t respond, he goes on with an unfriendly smile. “Stay out of the Darkness.”
The warning to stay out of Park Scream’s scariest attraction only makes me smile flatly, and all traces of actual hesitance drip out of me. I know this act. There’s nothing for me to be afraid of just because a scare actor tells me to be.
This is theirjobafter all.
Madison comes back first with plates of pizza layered in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. She gives the actor an unimpressed once-over before looking at me, her brows raised a little. “Love me. They had white pizza; I know how much you love it.” She sets down the plates and hands me the top one, while I watch the actor walk away with a shake of his head.
“Creepy,” Brynn remarks as she sits down beside me. She watches the actor go with a shudder, and reaches out to take another plate that’s supporting a large, greasy slice of pepperoni pizza.
Truthfully, I’m not very hungry. My stomach is busy doing anxious, uncertain flips that have me feeling heavy and full. Nothing about the pizza seems appetizing, but I force myself to take a few bites of the slightly underdone piece. Madison and Brynn barely seem to notice. They finish their slices along with their beer, barely needing five minutes to polish off the greasy food and alcohol while I barely manage to gnaw enough off of my pizza slice to say I gave it my best attempt.
But thankfully, neither of my best friends has anything unpleasant to say. They, at least, know that I’m panicking, so by the time they’re ready and I'm no longer even pretending to eat anything, Madison sweeps our plates up into her hand overmy weak protests, delivering them and the plastic glasses to the nearest trash can.
“I’m not unwell,” I grumble, catching up with her. “You don’t have to treat me like you just kicked my puppy into a pit of quicksand.” That garners a horrified reaction from Madison, while Brynn snickers.
“What order are we taking this in? Does it matter?” Brynn lifts the plastic pass on the lanyard around her neck that entitles us to one fast pass per haunt. Even though I try to be clear I don’t expect or ask for special things from haunts I visit, Park Scream sent me three fast passes this year, like a silent invitation for me to come see them like I always do.
And even though I never asked for it, I really couldn’t turn these down. And I’m especially glad for them tonight, when I’m pretty sure standing in lines that can easily take over an hour might overstimulate me enough to send me out of my mind with anxiety and nerves. This way, my friends don’t have to stay here and suffer through the lines either.
Feeling guilty at the idea of making them take up their time doing something they don’t enjoy, I all but signed off my soul to theHaunt gods when I remembered the passes sitting in my desk drawer.
“They go in order of scare level,” I explain, picking up my own shiny, plastic pass and holding it upside down. “Well, except paintball. We’re ignoring that.” I make a face, still wondering what paintball has to do with a haunt.
But judging by the people walking by laughing, with small bruises or bursts of paint staining their clothes, my opinion is not common.
“Let’s do them in order?” I suggest. “So, Factory first, Farm second, Darkness third?” We might as well, and it’s the way I’ve always done them before. My heart flutters a little, and evenmy unease isn’t enough to trample the excitement of being here completely.
“How scary is scary?” Brynn adjusts the glow stick necklace shining around her neck, hooking her finger under it and giving a soft tug.
“You’re asking the wrong person.” I give her an apologetic grin, guilt stabbing me like glass. “But you guys don’t have to go through them with me. He thinks he scared me. And if he really is here, then he’s seen you with me, and probably?—”
Madison throws an arm over my shoulder and yanks me into her. “Not a chance,” she singsongs happily. “We will suffer for you, as is in the best friend contract.”
“And you’ll owe us for the rest of your life,” Brynn adds sweetly, dropping the pass. “Factory?” She looks around until she spots the end of the line. “Factory. Come on.” Bravely, as if she’s not the biggest coward of the three of us, Brynn leads the way while we follow, Madison’s arm slipping away from Brynn so she can grab my hand and squeeze reassuringly.
It’s wordless, but I don’t need to hear what she means.
We’ve got you, Persy.
When Brynn nearly jumps straight into a scare actor wielding a dental drill in the Factory, screams, and then remains on edge for the rest of the haunt, I consider calling it there. It’s clear she’snothaving the time of her life, and for every scare after that she clutches on to both Madison and me, using us as human shields against them.
I feel terrible.
This isn’t their thing, and I’ve always been fine with that. Seeing them so scared now makes guilt climb like thorny vines through my chest, making it hard for me to really appreciate any part of the Factory. I’m barely noticing the large, metal barrels that shake and turn in their confines, or the trash compactorroom where the floor literally drops a few inches, too focused on how much she doesn’t want to be here.
So when we get into line at The Darkness, the last haunt of Park Scream,I make a decision. “Brynn, look.” I pull her to a stop, her hands in mine. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. As you can see, there’s no creepy stalker in a wolf-skull mask anywhere on the property.”
