Page 15 of A Hexcellent Chance to Fall in Love

Until the Store Closes

Christina

I can’t believe I forgot my coffee—but between stopping at The Dead of Night and getting sidetracked with Pepper and everything else, I must’ve put it down somewhere, because it’s not here, and I’m freezing.

The AC inside the haunted house is blowing harder than gale force winds—like one of the kids messed with the thermostat.

It’s normally not this frigid in here. They are all running around, though, their sweaty little bodies—and the rain—making the air thick enough to drink and smell a little like a dirty locker room.

And since we can’t open the windows, all the painting for the day has been halted—putting us behind schedule.

I should really go check the temperature if I don’t want an astronomical electricity bill, but I’m currently buried in a pile of Halloween store bags, which should help ward off the cold but don’t.

There are a few kids in the staging house working on costumes with sewing machines donated by parents, while others are here in the main house with me organizing all our supplies and separating them into the appropriate rooms—just to make sure we have enough of everything and to make a list of things we still need.

I sit in the center of a mountain of Dead of Night bags with my student Hallee attempting to make a dent in the pile while Eli and Treyvon run from room to room distributing everything.

There are usually more kids here, but it seems the rain has kept many of them away tonight—I don’t blame them.

I’d much rather be home on my couch wrapped in my new fuzzy hoodie blanket.

“You’ve done a really great job with supplies, Ms.L,” Hallee says as she empties the contents of another bag and separates things into piles—a fake knife, some purple hair spray, and a Mardi Gras mask.

Did I buy that? While attempting to get better organized a few days ago, I stumbled across some old bags from The Dead of Night in the staging house, but I have no idea how long they were sitting in that closet.

“That’s nice of you to say, but if that were true, this list would be blank.” I hold up the pad of paper I’m using to keep track of everything.

“No, really, I think this is a better haul than we’ve ever started with before.

Even better than last year.” Hallee’s a senior and has been doing theater since freshman year, and she’s been a patron of the haunted house since middle school—meaning she has many more years of experience with all of this than I do.

“And you got the realistic fake blood. Dr.W used to say it was too expensive.” She rolls her eyes.

When I originally picked it out, I hadn’t thought about the fact I was going to need it in bulk, but I’m not sure mixing it is the best idea, so I’ve kept it the same.

Who knows what kind of chemicals are in this stuff?

I’m not a science teacher for a reason. I scribble down a note to go back over the finances again—and maybe buy stock in Mikey’s Joke Emporium, since they obviously know what they’re doing.

Unlike me. Just like with everything else in my life, I’m feeling so in over my head with all of this.

And the whole point of the event is to make a profit—not break even, and definitely not lose money.

And with prices the way they are on everything these days…

I let out a long sigh. Other school programs and the spring musical are counting on this.

Maybe my parents are right, and I should move back home and get a much less stressful job in architectural engineering.

God knows the pay would be better, and I could use my Chanel bag again without worrying it would get goo on it.

Eli comes rushing back into the room, ready for the next haul. “A severed head! Dope.”

“Ms.L is the best.” Hallee and Eli high-five.

“Well, I’m glad you approve.” I let out a sigh. Just like Pepper said, they love it. Maybe she’ll have some more cost-cutting ideas—aside from the deep discount she’s already giving me and the other supplies she’s offered at no cost. I scribble a note to myself to update my budgeting spreadsheet.

“This year’s haunted house is going to be the most epic yet,” Treyvon says as he comes back around the corner.

“Oh my god, you have the professional open wound kit, too,” Hallee says. “I totally call dibs on this one.” She points to something specific in the package that looks like a giant gash. That I know I didn’t purchase, but I don’t mention it.

“Bet.” Eli kneels down next to Hallee. “Oh, this one’s mine, then.”

“Nice choice,” she says.

“What’s the obsession with open wounds?” I have to ask. I still don’t understand the fascination with who can have the grossest costume. Can’t things be scary without also being disgusting? Like just the idea of the electricity bill is terrifying and there isn’t any blood on it.

“We can’t all have cool scars like you, Ms.L.” Hallee gestures to my forearm where I’m rubbing. “How did that happen?”

The mark on my arm looks like a crescent moon, and for whatever reason, this time of year I always find my fingers tracing over the smooth spot without even thinking about it. “I don’t remember.”

“You sound like my mom,” Eli says. “She’s always got some random bruise she doesn’t remember getting. Not in like a someone’s-hurting-her kind of way. More like a running-into-the-coffee-table thing.”

“Relatable,” I say.

Treyvon picks up some face paint from the stack. “Does this stuff expire?” He studies the package intently, flipping it over in his hands.

“Maybe technically,” I say. I’ve had an eye shadow palette since college, and I haven’t had any issues with it, so a sealed package can’t possibly be bad, can it? “Why do you ask?”

“The tag on this is from three years ago,” he responds.

“Some of this stuff I found in the closet, so it could’ve come from there.

” The good news is that I’m not the only one that has overbought for this event.

It seems like it’s a systematic problem that previous teachers have faced.

Everyone might end up with pink eye, but that’s a worry for another day.

“It’s never been opened. I’m sure it’s fine,” Hallee says.

I flip the page of my notepad and write down, does makeup expire? And also a note to myself to see how much those makeup kits cost. “I’ll research it just in case. Put it to the side. And if you find any more old stuff, just pile it all together.”

“Good idea,” Hallee agrees.

A crash of thunder rumbles outside. The storm today has been wild, quieting for a little while, then coming back full force. I’m so ready for it to figure itself out and move on. Not that I don’t love a good rainy day—just not when there’s so much to do.

“It would be so epic if we could have sound effects like this in the haunted house,” Eli says.

“Did you ever find out how to use the speakers?” Hallee asks.

“What speakers?” Treyvon asks.

She points to the corner of the room. It’s one of those items on my ever-growing list of things to do that never seem to get checked off. Plus, we have access to Bluetooth speakers and cell phones, so it doesn’t feel super important.

“Wait, we’ve had speakers all this time and haven’t ever used them?” Eli asks.

“Dr.W didn’t know where the equipment was to run them,” Hallee explains. “But I know for a fact that they used them when my sister did this—before Dr.W got here.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say I don’t know about any equipment for speakers either,” I tell them.

“It’s not like anyone left a user manual for this place.

” Although now that I say that out loud, it would be a good idea.

I could possibly make one—in all my spare time.

Okay, yeah, that’s why it doesn’t exist.

“Maybe you can reach out to the old teacher?” Eli says as he grabs another set of face paints to inspect.

“I could try.” I make another note in my notebook.

Find out who the old teacher was before Dr.W and see if they can tell me how to use speakers.

“No promises.” How important is it really to get them working?

It’s best not to get the kids’ hopes up, especially when there are so many other important things to do.

“That would be really awesome,” Treyvon says.

Another crash of thunder rings from outside so loudly, the whole house seems to shake.

“It would be cool.” Eli throws another set of old face paints onto the outdated pile, and guilt gnaws at me from the inside. Maybe I could at least try. “Sound really has a way of elevating the experience. I love a good storm, don’t you?”

“As long as we still have power, I’m good,” Hallee says.

“You shouldn’t tempt—” But I don’t get to finish that statement as the power goes out. “Great.”

Hallee, Eli, and Treyvon turn on the flashlight apps on their phones.

Seriously, what did we do before the conveniences of modern technology?

I grab my cell as well but don’t turn the flashlight on just in case I need the battery for other reasons—like making an emergency call because someone comes and murders us all.

Being in this house surrounded by fake body parts and realistic blood isn’t helping settle the nerves that are bubbling in my stomach like a witch’s brew boiling in a cauldron.

Maybe we should get a cauldron for one of the rooms. Or are they too expensive?

“I guess I’ll bring this stuff to the human torture room.” Treyvon stands.

“This place is a tripping hazard even with all the lights on; maybe we should take a break from deliveries until the power comes back,” I suggest. There’s also safety in numbers in case that hypothetical murderer becomes a real possibility.

A message comes in on our group chat saying that the people in the staging house are fine.

I want to message back to lock the door—just in case—but I don’t need to scare them unnecessarily.

“Fine.” Treyvon plops down and pulls a bag toward him to sort.