“Yeah, well….” I look to the left and see a skeleton-style masquerade mask. “Hold that thought.” I walk toward it, standing on my tippy-toes to unhook it from the mannequin. Running my thumb over the embossed skeletons and lace, I smirk. “This I can work with.”
“That’s a little creepy,” Tatum mutters from over my shoulder.
“Well, duh, it’s Halloween, and I know this may come as a shock to you, but you’re supposed to dress creepy, not like a skank. We save that for the weekends our boyfriends break up with us.” I smile at her; adding that last part was to soften the blow. Tatum isn’t a whore or a slut, but she is a bit of a skank. But aren’t we all? As much as I love jeans, hoodies, and clothes that cover my butt, sometimes I like dressing up too.
Tillie laughs. “Well, I’m going as a cowgirl, Tatum is going as Harley Quinn, and Madi is going as a ballroom zombie! We’re all a match made in hell.”
We start laughing, and I walk away from them, going through the clothes to try and find a dress or something to wear with it. After the fifth failed attempt, I push one of the dresses back onto the hook and spin around. “I can just wear a black dress with this.”
“And suspenders!” Tatum yells as we walk out of the shop.
“No, no suspenders.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Tatum, we’re going to be in the forest. I’m not dressing like a skank in the forest. By the way, who’s going to set up our tents?” I ask, stopping outside a little café and dropping my bag down on the table. Tatum and Tillie take a seat. “Good question. Maybe you should ask Carter since he will be there early.” One of my many problems. But he could set up our tent, and it’s not an invitation or anything. But he is a male, and sometimes they expect something in return.
“I’ll text him.” I take a seat and look through the menu.
“So… Bishop, huh?” Tillie wiggles her eyebrows. I peek up at her from the menu.
“We don’t talk about him,” I reply blandly, before going back to searching between BLT bagels and potato skins with sour cream.
Tatum pours her a glass of water and giggles. “Yeah, he’s a no-go zone as far as conversation starters go with Madi.”
“But I haven’t even had a chance to talk about it!” Tillie scolds like a burned out toddler wanting the last cookie.
“Nothing great.” I drop the menu as the waiter comes to our table. “Can I get the potato skins, chicken tenders, and a Coke?”
“Why?” Tillie questions, after ordering her food.
“Because it happened, and then I found out it was all some sick fucking….” I pause, looking up at the waiter, who had to be around our age, sporting floppy brown hair and makeup that could give Tatum’s a run for her money.
He notices me watching him and laughs, brushing me off. “Oh, girl, you don’t have to worry about me.”
“Yeah, okay.” I smile at him, and he rolls his eyes, scribbling down our orders before leaving.
“Sick, what?” Tatum taunts, taking a drink of her water while smirking around the rim of her glass.
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t real. None of this is real.”
“None of what?” Tatum asks, leaning back in her chair. I really wish she would stop asking so many fucking questions.
“I don’t know, Tatum. I’m lost and confused.”
“They’re dangerous, Madi,” Tatum whispers, leaning forward. Tillie pauses and watches our exchange closely. “Think about it. Khales went missing… no one knows where she is or what happened. All we know is that she dated Bishop.” She leans back into her chair.
“So? That could mean nothing,” I reply smoothly.
“And it could mean everything,” Tatum retorts calmly.
I shrug. “So what? I’m staying away. I don’t even know what happened between us.”
“Nothing,” Tillie announces out of nowhere.
“What?” I whisper. It’s the first time I have heard her say anything since bringing up this conversation to begin with.
“Nothing happened between you. It meant nothing to him.”
“And how do you know that? I mean, I know that, but how do you know that?” I ask, leaning forward and pouring another glass of water as the waiter comes back and places our food on our table.
“Just a guess. I mean… none of those guys had ever had a girlfriend before,” Tillie says casually, taking one of my potato skins. “The only one who ever did was Bishop, and look how that ended.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t mean it in a mean way, just in a real way.”
“It’s fine,” I whisper, picking up some fries and dipping the crispy, deep-fried goodness into the sour cream. “I just wish they would forget about me.”
“SO NOW THAT WE HAVE our costumes sorted for this weekend,” Tatum says over the phone, as I turn on the faucet to my shower, “have you asked Carter if he can set up our tents?”