Hannah tugs on my arm, pulling my attention away from the trail ahead.
“You’re my favorite too,” she says, her voice quiet, intimate.
We stop walking. With our hands still entwined, Hannahuses her free one to cup my cheek, and within a millisecond, her lips are on mine. I close my eyes, give in.
“I love you,” I whisper when we pull apart, the sound filling the tiny space between our lips.
“I love you too, Clarity.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
When Kristen arrives, I run outside to meet her, planning to make the most of our time alone before the party.
“You have aCAR!” she shrieks, definitely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
“I have acar!”
“And your hair looksamazing,” she says, tilting my head to the side to see my mom’s handiwork.
“I know Tupac had a fade, butobviouslyI wasn’t going to shave my head—”
“This is Halloween after all, not a method acting class—”
“Exactly.”I laugh a little.
With the sun down, the October chill is fierce. A breeze blows and I can feel it on my scalp, which is refreshing at first until it creeps through the thin fabric of my shirt.
Inside, Kristen helps draw me some thick eyebrows. I put on a sports bra and the oversized white T-shirt my dad lends me, the front tucked into a pair of boxers I bought from Target, loose-fitting boyfriend jeans, and my Air Force 1’s. I was tornbetween those and the Timberlands, but Vincent reminded me that sometimes Val’s parties get busted, and I’ll want to be able to run if necessary. Again, terrifyingly exhilarating.
Once I put on my fake gold chain and Kristen and my mom fight over perfecting the navy-blue bandanna headband to look like the picture of Tupac I pulled up on Google for reference, there’s only one more piece to my costume.
I lean into my vanity, gently pressing the fake mustache against my upper lip, feeling it stick to my skin and knowing there’s no going back, since this is the only fake mustache I have… seeing as I had to do test runs to make sure they’d actually look good on me before today.
Mom helps Kristen with her wig, a black shoulder-length number that rivals Kylo Ren’s glossy locks inStar Wars: The Force Awakens. When she finishes, Kristen stands up, her cape cascading down to her ankles, and she grabs her red lightsaber.
I open my mouth, thinking I’m going to comment on how amazing she looks, but my own voice isn’t the one that speaks first.
“I remember when you girls would get dressed up and watchHalloweentown,” Mom gushes, already holding up her phone.
“Mom.”
“You’re right, the light in the living room is better.”
I don’t even try to hide my exasperated sigh as we’re ushered into the living room, where Dad is sitting on the couch watching a show about people roughing it in Alaska.
“Well, well, well,” he says, pausing the TV so he can focus on us. “Oh, now my eyes can see, that I have my sweet Clarity.”
“Dad,”I moan, flinching when I hear the camera shutter on Mom’s phone.
“I thought you were dead,” Dad says.
Great, Tupac conspiracy humor.
“Or I faked it so that I could slip away and have some peace.”
“You should write sometimes, let your parents know you’re okay,” he says, smiling.
“I’ll think about it.”