Page 107 of Freshmeet
“Wow. You guys look great!”
I adjusted the top hat of my Baberham Lincoln costume. “Thanks.”
Kat shoved her kite in the passenger seat, then turned to Jamie, holding out the keys to her van. “You’d better not hurt my baby.”
“I would never,” he said, carefully plucking the keys from her hand. “You can trust me.”
Kat’s eyes narrowed behind her round, old-timey glasses. “I seem to remember you wrapping Connor’s car around a tree trunk just a week ago.”
“Ouch.” Jamie held the keys over his heart. “You know how to hurt a guy.”
Kat snorted, a small smile playing at her lips. “I’ll kill you if you get even a scratch on the Grand Caravan.”
“Understood.”
We all piled in, careful not to smear fake blood everywhere.
Jamie fired up the engine and looked back at us. “Buckle up, ladies. Next stop, a real Kirksville party.” He gave us a mischievous smile that I wasn’t too fond of, but between the alcohol from pre-gaming and the nerves that begged for more, I didn’t think too much about it.
We chatted and laughed during the short trip to the outskirts of town. A gigantic bonfire in the middle of a field came into view as we drove down a gravel road. The silhouettes of people standing around increased my anxiety—there were way more people than Connor had led me to believe there would be.
“Wow,” Olivia muttered.
“Yeah.”
Jamie parked, and we all got out and made our way toward the big-ass fire. The closer we got, the clearer the outline of a barn and house became.
“Should we walk up limping? Go full zombie?” Mona demonstrated her best undead stumble.
“Let’s do it.” I bit back a laugh and shambled past a bunch of pitched tents toward a group of people standing on the outer ring of the party. Mona and Olivia limped along, while Kat stomped across the field as if she weren’t dressed as the decomposing corpse of Benjamin Franklin.
“Holy shit!” A deep voice boomed, and a shriek filled the air. Pride that our zombie walk scared someone made me break character and laugh, Olivia and Mona not far behind me.
“Who are you?” a beautiful, tall, blond girl asked, looking at us with a curious smile. It was at that moment that I realized none of the people in front of us were wearing costumes. No, they were dressed for a bonfire, complete with fashionable jeans and cute boots. I peeked around them and saw only a handful of people in costumes.
Of course.
Olivia looked at me, but when it became apparent I wasn’t going to say anything, she said, “I’m Olivia, and this is Sarah, Mona, and Kat. We’re friends with Connor.” She stuck her bloody hand out, but at the last minute thought better of it and wiggled her fingers in front of her. “Sorry. Zombie hands.”
The group chuckled—well, except the blond. She was too busy inspecting me. Her gaze wasn’t unfriendly, but it sure as hell wasn’t warm and fuzzy. “Connor should be right back. He’s grabbing me another beer.” She crossed her arms and scanned the field. “There he is.” With that, the blond, who had still not introduced herself, turned to the girl next to her and started to speak in hushed tones.
Rude.
Dismissed by her, I looked to where Connor was walking toward us, and my jaw dropped. Wearing skintight spandex leggings, a curly blonde wig, and insanely tall red heels was Connor.
“Oh. My. God. You’re Bad Sandy!” I ran up to him, and he dropped the red solo cups in his hands and caught me, spinning us around in a hug. Burying my nose in his neck, I was overwhelmed by the smell of fire, beer, and a hint of something sweet.
He put me down, holding me at arm’s length. “And you’re the prettiest zombie Abraham Lincoln I’ve ever seen.” He leaned down and pecked my lips, then pulled me to his side and led me back to the circle of people talking. Olivia and Mona grinned at us. They were team Connor all the way.
“Everybody, this striking dead president is Sarah. Sarah, you’ve met Grant and Tom?—”
“Oh, you’re Danny Zuko!” I yelled, looking between the two guys.
“Guilty!” He dipped his chin in false modesty.
“And that’s Kimmy, Laura, and Linc.”
“Hey.”
