Senior Year Memories Ch. 08

"We're really gonna do this, aren't we?" Josie said, her voice sounding a little awed.

"I think so. I hope so," I admitted. "I think we'll do our damnedest, and that whatever happens, it'll be a pretty sweet Halloween."

Josie looked at me, amused. "Ah, the sweet sound of hedging your bets. It's not an attractive quality, but practical."

I shrugged. It really felt too early to know if we'd succeed in this or not, especially with Nadia's hope of earning more money than the drama club. With everything else on my plate, I was just hoping that we'd get a completed house and have fun doing it, and if I got to do it with my friends? Well, that'd be icing on the cake, wouldn't it?

Nadia walked back from the dumpster with a group of other writers from the paper, somehow looking beautiful and professional under a layer of sweat and her best approximation of the kinds of clothes people wore when moving furniture. She looked utterly out of place here, but I knew she was in her element because she was in charge. Seeing us, she smiled and headed our way.

"Shit," I said, not looking forward to her chewing us out for sitting down on the job.

"I got this," Josie said, getting up.

"Hey Josie, Ryan. Might I have a quick word with you, Ryan?" Nadia asked.

Josie and I both knew what this meant. Nodding to me, Josie said, "I'll get back to it. Holler if you need any help."

"I will," I said. Nadia could've taken Josie's seat, but she stood before me, either to impress me with her current height advantage or to not let anyone else see her sitting down when she wanted them working hard.

"Is something the matter?" Nadia asked, looking at me as I favored my foot.

"I'm fine. Just crunched my foot; Tori's getting me an ice pack," I said.

"Oh," Nadia said, concerned. "Were you wearing gloves?"

"I really should've been, shouldn't I?" I asked, not wanting a lecture from her too on proper furniture carrying.

"Yes," Nadia said bluntly. Then, as if the appropriate amount of small talk time had ended, she said, "So, remember what I was saying about how we would need your skills to 'persuade' some potential allies over to aiding our cause?"

I laughed. She asked, "What?"

"You make it sound like we're in a fantasy novel heading to war instead of building a local haunted house," I said.

"Who's to say we aren't at war? There are forces against us, be they rival haunted houses or Sophie Cusack and her Young Christian Purity Brigade looking to set up a full scale protest of the Halloween Scream, and we need everything we can to defend against them and improve our chances for success. I may be exaggerating, but only slightly, but what matters is, do you remember what I asked of you?" Nadia asked.

"Yes," I said, because it was hard to forget that she wanted me to use my charms (or cock) to convince certain skilled seniors to help us improve the chances of our house. It felt a little weird being sort of pimped out like this, but since it meant we might make more money, and I might get laid more, I'd agreed to it. Now that we were finally coming to the point where I might have to make good on it again, I felt unexpectedly nervous.

"Good," Nadia said. "Because I have your first assignment. As always, feel free to say no and tell me I'm crazy, but if we get this girl on our side, we'll have a pretty big gun working in our favor. There's just one problem..."

Of course there had to be a catch. "What's the problem?"

"She kind of hates me," Nadia said.

"How badly?" I asked.

"Rather conclusively, actually," Nadia admitted, as she laid out the great challenge I had before me.

***

I didn't know 18-year-old Mallory Dourif personally, but if you went to Regan Hills High School, you definitely knew who she was. She was beautiful even by our school's lofty standards, with soft, pale skin broken up only by a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose, and a tall (only an inch shorter than my 5'11"), willowy frame that exuded a natural grace when she moved. Her face was kind and friendly with the most delicate of features, with blue eyes so bright it wouldn't take much to call them piercing. Until sophomore year, she'd had a head of long, chestnut hair that only accentuated her stunning beauty, but since then she'd kept her hair buzzed to a length just a shade longer than fully shaved. There were reasons for this I'm sure, but I wasn't one to speculate.

It wasn't her beauty, though, that made her something of a Regan Hills High School celebrity, especially to the school's nerds. No, that'd be the fact that she was a rising star on the professional cosplay circuit. As "Mal Mega," she had a pretty robust social media following and makeup and costuming skills that could conservatively be called amazing. Her Instagram was full of pictures of her dressed in homemade costumes and makeups of Harley Quinn, Lara Croft, Black Widow, Samus, Freddy Krueger and dozens of other pop culture icons. I won't make any excuses that I, among many others no doubt, lusted after her and used a lot of these pictures for less than noble purposes back before I was regularly getting laid.

That was one of the reasons I felt guilty riding my bike over to her place, but not the only one.

No, that mostly came from Nadia telling the story of how she and Mallory used to be best friends until they had a falling out a couple years back. Nadia wouldn't tell me why, leaving me walking into a minefield without a map when I wasn't even sure I wanted to be in that minefield in the first place. I almost said no. I probably should've said no. While I may have been somewhat on board for this plan in the past, if a little wary, now I was doing everything I could not to feel used.

It wasn't easy.

Still, I had a job to do. Nadia had apparently worked enough magic with Mallory that she was expecting me. She probably wouldn't be all that happy with me being there, not that I was any happier, but I had a plan that I meant to hold to.

It wasn't Nadia's plan, but I had high hopes for it. It was a plan I liked to call: improvising.

I parked my bike behind the suburban garage of Mallory's family's house and, per Nadia's instructions, I climbed the rear stairs to the apartment above the garage, favoring my injured foot which was still sore one day later with each step.

Taking a deep breath, and hoping my improv skills were up to snuff, I knocked on the door.

There was only silence on the other side as seconds stretched on into a minute. After one minute became two and I knocked a second time, I was almost ready to text Nadia and tell her that Mallory was a no show. That would've been easy, wouldn't it? I almost hoped that this situation would implode on itself and take any and all pressure off of me.

Then I heard the sound of shuffling feet on the other side of the door, and it opened a few inches. A single, bright blue eye stared out at me from the gap.

"Hi!" I said, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "I'm Ryan Collins, from the Puma Press? Nadia said you'd be expecting me?"

Mallory sighed heavily, the conflict clear on what little of her face I could see. On the one hand, she wasn't happy with Nadia and whatever position Nadia had put her in, but on the other, I wasn't Nadia, and she was too nice to want to take it out on me. She opened the door fully.

"Come on in," she said, welcoming me into her, well, I'd guess I'd have to call it lair? It sure felt like a strange mix between extreme nerd and serial killer's lair, given the walls covered in pictures of fictional characters and celebrities, shelves full of of wigs on mannequin heads, racks of costumes and two workbenches, one covered in sewing supplies, the other covered in tools that could be used to cause a significant amount of pain.

"I'd apologize for the mess and say it's never like this, but it always is, so, no apologies," Mallory said, smiling politely. She was dressed casually, wearing a loose tank top that amply covered her A-cup tits, thin pajama pants and a pair of, I kid you not, fluffy pink bunny slippers. This wasn't the exact image I'd had of a graceful and beautiful cosplayer, but this was her private space; she could dress however she wanted.

"Hey, I'm not one to judge, you should see my room. Without the wigs and the workbenches, it looks pretty much the same," I said. She went over to her workbench, setting down a set of foam tubes and carving tools. Some of the foam tubes had already been partially carved, while others looked fresh off the shelf.

"Grab a seat," she said, absentmindedly waving me toward the chair by her computer desk. "I'm in the middle of a project right now, so I'm gonna keep working. If it's all the same to you, I'll be frank and say that I'm doing this interview against my better instincts. I'm sure you're a nice guy and all that, Ryan, but I don't really like Nadia all that much right now, and I'd rather not stretch this out any longer than I have to."

"I understand," I said.

"Do you?" Mallory asked.

"I know Nadia pretty well. Not as well as you, but I get that she's an acquired taste," I said, amending the words in my head to note that I actually did rather like how she tasted.

"That's one way of putting it," Mallory said, carving a layer of foam off an untouched tube.

"What're you working on?" I asked, wanting to ease into the improv portion of this afternoon and hoping to get her talking about something that would make her comfortable first.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sarah Kerrigan. From-"

"Starcraft, I know. Cool," I said, craning my neck at her workstation. "I'm guessing you're going Queen of Blades instead of Ghost?"

Mallory didn't turn to face me, but the way she nodded softly, I could tell I at least won a few points with her.

"You guess well," Mallory admitted. "People have criticized me for being weak on fabrication; they say I'm a suitable seamstress and an above average makeup artist, but that I lack the true versatility of the best cosplay artists. They're-"

"Trolls. Assholes. I've read their comments," I interrupted, familiar with her portfolio and wanting to put accurate words to anyone who'd say she didn't know her shit.

"I was about to say wrong, but those're good words too. I was going to say they're wrong because I'm an exquisite fabricator, but why tell them they're wrong when I can show it to them as the fucking Queen of Blades?" Mallory asked.

"I'll look forward to that," I said, enjoying this, as I did with any opportunity to talk nerdy to a beautiful girl.

"I'm sure you will," she said. "Regardless, you're supposed to interview me? Something for my best tips and tricks for a great Halloween costume?"

This was about where I knew I needed to go off script. "Not exactly."

Mallory dropped her tools. Her shoulders slumped. "What does Nadia want?"

"She wanted me to convince you, either through the powers of my own personal charms or sheer animal magnetism, to help us in making the Puma Press' Halloween Scream haunted house, which I'm kinda sorta partially in charge of, the best one possible this year so we could beat the drama club and get some much needed money to upgrade our ancient computers," I said. I tried to start out with a bit of joking and considered softening the blow some more, but I thought telling the truth was going to be best here.

Mallory laughed, a short, clipped laugh. "Charm? Animal magnetism?"

"I'm gonna try to not take offense at that," I said wryly.

Still without facing me, she said, "I'm not saying you're not cute in a geeky sort of way, but..."

"But Nadia sorta wanted to use us both to get done what she wanted to get done?" I proposed.

Mallory turned to me, an eyebrow cocked, "Sorta?"

"Okay, kinda entirely," I admitted. That she was chuckling and wasn't kicking me out right there told me my improv skills weren't as bad as I'd feared.

"Yeah, I'd say kinda entirely is an understatement," Mallory said.

"Agreed," I responded.

"So, what do we do now?" Mallory asked. "Do you use your sheer animal magnetism and charm to convince me to aid your noble cause?"

I shook my head. "I wasn't thinking about it. I mean, alright, I was sort of thinking about it; you're really pretty and nice and I'm a big fan of your work, but I wasn't thinking about it in any serious sort of way, what with the position we're both in and all that. I wanna be respectful and not presumptuous, and, well... yeah, that's about all I figured on saying. Do you want me to go? I can go. I should go, shouldn't I? I'll just tell her-"

I was getting tongue-tied, babbling like an idiot. Thank god for Mallory interrupting me, "You don't have to go."

"I don't?" I asked, puzzled. If I was in her position, I'd have kicked me out.

She waved me over to join her. "I can't abide by what Nadia wanted you to do, but lucky for all of you, I really enjoy a good haunted house and choose to support those worth supporting. Give me your pitch, not Nadia's, about why I should help your haunt. You say you're kinda sorta partially in charge? I want to hear your take on it. I'll hear it, and I'll make my decision, but until then, I'm gonna put you to work."

I thought her offer over, then said, "Tell me what you need."

So I joined her at the workbench, following her instructions as I helped put on base coats of paint on pieces of heavy foam she'd already carved while she worked on new pieces. While we did this, I laid out what we were planning for the Halloween Scream and why her help would be useful. Mallory listened to me, politely, but it was hard getting a read off of her. Whatever history she had with Nadia was none of my business, but I was hopeful I might've been making some progress with her. She was very kind and friendly, and her politeness shifted to a genuine, energetic enthusiasm when we stopped talking about the Halloween Scream and started talking comics and video games.

It was interesting, getting to know someone I'd only viewed from afar with the reverent awe that you'd put to almost anyone you considered a celebrity, when she was just another high school girl like any other at Regan Hills High, with just a softer, quieter nature than most. I could tell that she was lonely, which boggled the mind when I thought about how pretty and friendly she was, but if this year had taught me anything so far, it was that it didn't matter how pretty and popular you might be, everyone had issues.

Anyone could be lonely.

Before I knew it, we'd passed an hour in this way, painting and sculpting and chatting about nothing and everything, getting progressively closer at our two workstations. There was a subtle closeness to us I'd liked, not a heat or a spark like I'd had with a lot of other girls, but our own kind of connection. I was sent here to try to seduce her, but I'd realized by this point that I honestly didn't mind if nothing happened, I just enjoyed being here.

I'd almost forgotten why I'd come here when she brought it up out of the blue.

"Did Nadia tell you why we stopped being friends?" Mallory asked, her eyes not meeting mine.

"No. And I didn't ask. I figured that was your business," I said.

Mallory nodded. "Well, thanks for that."

"No problem," I said.

Mallory continued, "Would you like to hear?"

"I'm curious, but I don't need to know if you don't wanna share," I said.

"No, I think I want to, I mean... I've been holding onto this for a long time, but I haven't really had anyone to talk to about it. Nadia was, like, my only friend for the longest time, so much that when she wasn't, I didn't know what to do. I think it might be easy to share, even with a stranger, or a not-so-stranger anymore, like you," Mallory said.

Continuing with my hopefully not too shit painting, I said, "I'm all ears if you wanna share."

Mallory sighed, balling her hands into fists, then releasing them. "Did you hear what happened to my little brother, Jacob, during sophomore year?"

"No," I said, painfully aware of how much I tried to ignore all school gossip and news back then.

"Leukemia," Mallory said. "Sweetest damn nine-year-old you ever met, kid who wouldn't hurt a fly if it landed on his open hand, and he gets fucking leukemia."

"Shit, I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be," Mallory replied. "He pulled through, because he's as tough as he is sweet. And because he got a good marrow donor on short notice; that really helped too. He won't have an easy life, but he'll make it."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," I said, meaning every word of it. I thought I had a shit childhood after mom died, but at least I was healthy; I couldn't even begin to imagine the hell Mallory's family went through.

"Jake was feeling ashamed when he lost his hair to chemo, so Mom, Dad and me all shaved our heads so he wouldn't feel alone. It did the job, I think, and since I was into wigs for cosplaying already anyway, it turned out to be a practical and comfortable choice in the long run. I'd have thought that's all that would happen, aside from some mutterings around school, but Nadia... she wanted to write a story about it for the Puma Press. She said it was inspirational, and that people should hear about my 'sacrifice,' like the story was about me instead of Jake. I told her not to. Asked her, as a friend, not to," Mallory said.

I could see where this was headed. "So, she did."

Mallory nodded. "She wrote the story, even got some honorable mentions in a couple school paper competitions, which was probably her plan all along. I was called inspirational and had people wanting to be my friend just because they'd heard how inspirational I was, when I just wanted for school to be my escape from the hell my family was going through. It died down eventually, but I've never found it in me to forgive her."

"Who says you have to?" I asked. "That was a pretty awful thing she did."

It hurt to say it, especially because I liked and respected Nadia, but I had to. She was a great person and a damn good writer, but I'd always known she'd had drive enough to pull something like this. It didn't make it any less disappointing to hear about it, though.

"Yeah," Mallory mused, slowly casting her eyes to me. "But I guess I'll have to get used to being around her if I'm gonna help you guys with your haunt, aren't I?"

"You'll help us?" I asked, my heart swelling with pride that I'd pulled this off without having to resort to anything resembling a dirty trick. I'd maxed out my Speech points, and I'd pulled off what probably should've been the impossible.

"I'll help you, because you were honest and made a good pitch. I'll help the rest of the Puma Press, because nobody should have to work with desktop computers. I'll help myself, because I know you're decent enough to credit me with having done your makeup and costuming and let me put all my creations with you on social media. I won't help Nadia specifically until she apologizes," Mallory said.

It wasn't ideal, that there might be some fight with Nadia still down the line, but it was one I could live with.

"Works for me," I said.

"Good," Mallory asked, returning her eyes to her work. "So, with that out of the way, I've got one more question for you. It's kind of a weird one, and you don't have to answer it, but I have to know."

"Sure, but with an introduction like that, I really have to hear it now," I said.

Mallory looked to me nervously, chewing her lower lip. "So when you said Nadia wanted you to try to coax me into helping with your charm and animal magnetism, was that a joke, or did you actually mean it?"

"That one's true, believe it or not," I said.

She looked me up and down. I didn't blame her, because if I'd seen myself, I'd have had the same damn questions.

"You can ask her yourself, if you want," I said.

"Pass," Mallory said.