Page 40 of A Hexcellent Chance to Fall in Love

Until the Store Closes

Christina

Halloween and horror movies are scary—even bone-chilling sometimes—but it hit me while stringing up spiders in a tree outside the haunted house that there’s nothing quite as terrifying as being in love.

The vulnerability of putting yourself out there basically saying, I think the world of you, I hope you like me back.

And it’s not that I think Pepper will hurt me—it’s that I’ve been in this place before and I’ve ended up hurt.

Having faith in something you can’t see or hold or even quantify seems like the worst idea, but it’s also the greatest feeling in the world.

Knowing that someone has your back, regardless of all circumstances.

Love is so powerful. Nothing can make you feel so good and at the same time crush you so indefinitely—and yet we seek it out over and over again.

The thrill of it, like the thrill of a good scare, keeps our hearts racing.

I never quite realized how close these feelings actually were before, and now that I see it, I can’t unsee it.

Halloween might not be as terrible as I once thought.

With the days rushing to get us there quicker, it’s crunch time at the haunted house, meaning all hands on deck—or for me, it means spending all day at school and then coming here and spending late hours, sometimes after all the kids have gone, just to get everything done in time.

My handle on time management isn’t so great when one whole page of to-dos gets stuck to another.

Not that I regret the “time off” I’ve taken. It has been worth it.

Pepper is my powerhouse, spending all her free time here with me, helping with every task without complaint.

It’s like having another set of hands—like a clone of myself, because she doesn’t need much direction or explanation at all.

She also somehow stumbled upon this hidden sound system, and the kids are thrilled we’ll have haunting sounds playing as people walk between rooms. I’m still not clear on how she even found it, but I don’t care—I no longer have to hunt down some mystery teacher.

Although Mrs.Turner, our librarian, is now on the case of trying to figure out who it was.

“Let’s move the gurney at an angle so it’s clearer what’s going on when people walk in,” I tell Chloe, who’s working with me. Pepper is in the room next door helping them get the last touches in order.

“The mural looks great, don’t you think?

” Chloe says as she helps me move the hospital bed Clover Creek Medical had donated to us.

They were getting rid of it anyway and even came to me first to see if I could use it for the haunted house, which of course I jumped at.

Any free items, we will find a way to incorporate into the show.

I get the bed in the right position and spin around.

The scene on the wall looks like a window inside a medical facility with a group of escaped patients pressed up against it.

The story is that the people who are in this room have captured the doctors and now the patients are performing experiments on them, so they’re there to watch.

It’s gruesome and disgusting, which means it’ll probably be one of the favorite rooms of this year’s haunted house. “Skylar did an amazing job.”

“She’s so talented,” Chloe says.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Boom. What sounds like thunder hitting the wall makes me jump. “What the…?” I stop myself from saying more in the presence of a student.

“Holy shit,” Chloe says and then quickly covers her mouth. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I almost said something worse. What do you think that was?” I ask.

Pepper rushes in. “Everything okay in here?” Her head swivels around like she’s trying to understand the source—that makes two of us.

“Is it raining?” I ask her.

“Is that what it sounded like to you?” she asks as she walks in and up to the mural, placing her hand on the wall. “Oh no.”

“What?” I put my hand next to hers, and the entire wall is vibrating. “What does that—” Before I can finish, water starts pouring out of the electrical outlet.

“What’s happening?” Chloe races out of the way of the stream that’s flooding into the room. Luckily the ground is concrete, and there are drains in each room to make cleanup easy at the end of the event, but it doesn’t spare the box of costumes and props.

“A pipe burst,” Pepper says.

“But how? It’s not freezing out or anything.

” And isn’t that the only reason a pipe would break?

Aren’t they made of metal? I race to get things out of the way—the cardboard is already turning into a mushy mess.

It’s not like all these costumes are made out of the best material either. This is a catastrophe. “What do we do?”

“We have to shut the water off,” Pepper says.

Shut the water off, yes, okay. But shit. “I don’t know how.”

Pepper lets out a long breath and runs from the room.

“Chloe, can you help?” My arms are ten times heavier with all the wet fabric.

“Won’t I get electrocuted?” She points to the outlet.

“Shit.” I jump out of the stream. “You didn’t hear that,” I tell her.

Chloe doesn’t say a word; she stares at the ground like she’s ready for it to turn into fire or start sparking—since water conducts electricity, doesn’t it? Other students start gathering outside the door, craning their heads to try and get a peek at what’s happening.

“What’s going on?” one asks.

“Fuck,” one of them says.

Language , I want to respond, but words are clogged in my throat.

This is a disaster. Worse than a disaster.

All their hard work is literally washing down the drain in front of me, and the only thing I can do is stand here and watch.

Are the other rooms flooding or only this one?

How long will this set us back? Will we have to cancel this year’s event?

All these questions are crashing through my head as boxes break apart and the drain starts to clog, but water and electricity don’t mix, and I’m not about to risk it.

I’m lucky nothing happened to me before when I was standing in the flow.

I scoot back toward the wall as the water level starts to rise. So this is where I die, huh? In front of my entire theater troupe. There’s too much water to jump over, and if I’d been smart, I would’ve climbed on the gurney like Chloe, but now that’s also out of reach. “Kids, you need to—”

The water stops. And even clogged the way it is, the drain still works—admittedly much slower than it should.

There’s a ruckus by the door, and Pepper comes in, her feet sloshing through the water, and she starts clearing the drain.

“Be careful,” I say, and point to the outlet.

“It’s fine. They’re built to handle this.” In no time, the water is gone, but the damage is done. “I shut the water off, but we’re going to need a plumber,” she says.

I nod. If I try to speak right now, I might cry.

Nothing like this ever happened in the corporate world.

Fire drills were a norm—a project that was supposed to be finished wasn’t, or an email that shouldn’t have been sent went out—but this feels a hundred times worse.

Those things usually affected only a few people—this affects the kids, the school, and the entire community. Right now, I’m sad for them.

“My dad’s a plumber,” one of the kids says from the doorway, but I’m still taking in all the mess and don’t register who it is.

“Good. Call him,” Pepper says. She glances my way, but I’m too busy calculating all that will need to be done to fix this to really focus.

It’s ruined. It’s all ruined. I drop the items I had collected to the ground and rub the scar on my arm.

“Sammy,” Pepper says. “Get three other people and pull out the costumes and lay them on the grass outside to start drying. River, you get some people together and collect the props and separate them into piles—things that are salvageable and things that aren’t.

Make a list of the items that aren’t. Let’s go.

” She claps her hands, and the kids scatter, doing exactly what she’s told them to do.

Pepper walks up to me and takes my hands in hers.

How is she so calm right now? “Are you okay?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know where to start.” The event is ruined.

“We’re going to get this fixed. It’s going to be okay.” Her voice is so reassuring, but my stomach has wrapped itself up in a knot so tightly, I want to throw up. “Hey. This isn’t a big deal. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

“You think?” I want to feel as positive as she does about this situation, but the kids’ work is ruined, and I’m starting to feel like the soggy remains of the cardboard boxes, easily defeated by a little water.

“I do,” she says. “Do you trust me?”

I finally meet her gaze. Blue eyes fiercely staring into mine. Her hands so steady, so sure, grounding me in place. I nod. I do trust her. There isn’t anyone in this world I trust more.

“I got you,” she says, and I nod.

“My dad’s on his way,” someone shouts.

“Perfect,” Pepper says, but she doesn’t turn away. “Don’t worry. It’s all going to work out, and we’ll be back on schedule before you know it.” She squeezes my hands, and the tension slowly seeps out of my body.

“Thank you,” I tell her.

Pepper smiles. “Now, let’s get you some angry water and maybe a snack. You’ve been nonstop all day.”

“I think we are all going to need a snack if we’re going to have enough energy required for this job.”

My phone pings in my pocket not once but three times. Principal Wilkson already knows—is the first thought that races through my mind. How am I going to explain this? I pull my cell out as it pings again. It’s not the principal, but it’s almost as bad.

Emily: Just wanted to check in on you

Emily: Mom’s doing okay

Emily: Ashley not so much LOL

Emily: But you should consider coming home

Emily: I think you could push it until after Halloween and then who knows…maybe your friend Pepper could come too

A lump the size of a grapefruit forms in my throat. On top of everything else, I’m not ready to deal with this right now.

Me: Can we talk later…Just had a major issue at the haunted house that I have to deal with

Emily: Yeah of course

Emily: Call me whenever

Emily: Love you Titi

Me: Love you too

Three hours later, a massive hole has been cut into the wall, right through the mural the kids worked so hard on, and a giant industrial fan is blowing at it. Mona’s dad was able to fix the pipe, but he won’t be able to repair the wall until it’s completely dry.

“What a day,” Pepper says as she picks up the last of the costumes from the lawn.

We’re going to bring them back to my house so they can dry the rest of the way.

Most of the props luckily are salvageable, and the kids said that even the rougher-looking ones have more of an authentic quality now, so they aren’t upset at all.

From a budgeting standpoint, we should be okay.

Mona’s dad’s company is doing all the work free of charge.

But the mural is ruined, and who knows if there will be enough time to fix it.

Plus, I don’t even know how to break it to Skylar.

She’ll likely be devastated. I’m devastated for her.

Today has been a lot. More than the kids should ever have had to deal with. And I’m exhausted to the bone.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you today,” I tell Pepper.

She shakes her head. “It was nothing.”

“No. It was everything.” And it really has been.

Not once was she flustered by the events of today.

Not when she was ankle-deep in water—likely ruining her shoes.

Not when she had to scrape up what looked like bloody vomit from the floor—but was likely just some of the gross-looking paper masks the kids made.

And not when Eddie cried that he was worried the event would be canceled.

The kids saw weeks of their work literally wash down the drain, and Pepper was infallible.

She stops and looks at me, and that’s when the tears come.

“Hey, it’s okay.” A moment later I’m in her arms, and she’s holding me tight.

My face is pressed into her neck, and I’m engulfed in her comforting scent of vanilla and incense as she rubs my back.

I’m feeling both heartbroken for the kids but also so incredibly lucky at the same time.

“I know,” I say. “I feel so terrible for them.”

“The kids will be okay. Just like you will be okay.”

“I know,” I say again because I do. “And I really appreciate you. No one has ever done anything like this for me. We are so lucky to have you here. I’m so lucky.

” And it’s the truth. For the first time in my entire life, I feel completely loved and supported.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly back.