Triple Double Dare

Harper flops dramatically on the rumpled bed and kicks off her shoes.

"I mean, what the hell, Carly. Trick-or-treat in our own neighborhood? We can’t do that. What are we, ten? Everyone's talking about the parties they’re going to. That stuck up Jenny from geometry is having one. You should have heard her going on to Amy about who all she invited. She looked right at me and made a stupid face." Harper pulls at her ankle bracelet, tosses it onto her nightstand, then continues, "So, I decided to have my own party. I told my Mom. But she goes, "Oh no you're not. We're going to nip that in the bud right now." I am fourteen fucking years old. I think I'm going to die if I have to stay home." She spins onto her belly, covers her frizzy-haired head with the bed pillow, and thumps her feet hard on the mattress.

Carly drops to the floor, crosses her legs, and leans on her elbows. "I'm certainly not having a party. My Mom said after last year, I'm never having another one. After Lucy Crather threw up on the white shag rug. That orange puke, I'll never forget it and I'll never look at candy corn the same way again." She picks at her Scaredy Matte nail polish, leaving black specks on her blue jeans.

Harper flips over to face Carly and considers telling her what kids say behind her back; they say that Carly should grow her hair long, hide that skinny neck of hers; that they call her names like pencil neck. But instead, she says, "Hey, Carly. What do you think about pranking? I mean, we can do shit to them, right?"

"My mouth hurts," Carly says. "These fucking braces. I just had them cranked again. I'm getting a headache."

"Carly," Harper shouts. "Are you listening? Pranks, hello?"

Carly holds her head. "No, I don't think I can. I mean, pranks? Like what? I never did anything like that before."

Harper says, "Me neither but there's got to be a first time, right? Ever hear of egging? What about that?”

“Oh no. I'm not breaking any windows. Right? Isn't that what you mean?”

“No silly, you throw raw eggs. Like at cars and stuff."

"I'm not doing that either. I can just picture scrubbing it off the next day after someone tells on us,” Carly says.

"Okay, then you think of something.”

"You. I don't have any ideas."

"I heard of razor blades in candy apples. But that's a little over the top."

"Ewww! Harper, that's horrible." Carly wrinkles her face, curling her lip, exposing metal tracks on her teeth. "Are you crazy?"

“Just kidding, don’t get all skitzo about it.”

****

The next day after school, Carly stays late helping Mrs. Brin put folders together for the class term. Harper's idea of razor blades gave her the creeps. She knows Harper though, and there will be some nutty idea in the end. It's one of the reasons why she likes Harper so much.

The front concrete steps are cold, but she stays there, doesn't want to miss Carly walking home, just two doors away. Since she thought of doing pranks, it's all she thinks about. The sky is turning dark, she's getting impatient.

Carly sees Harper's yellow jacket through the leafless hedges, but it's too late to turn around. Harper jumps out at her like Spiderman and yells, "HAAA, gotcha." Carly shrieks and they both howl. 

"I've been waiting for you," Harper titters, keeping her voice light.

"I had to stay after school to help with folders," Carly says, picking at her wires. Her fingernails still have chipped black polish, the opposite of cool.

"Come on, sit down with me." Harper pats the stone step like she's calling her puppy. "About Halloween. I have an idea." Carly's the only friend she can trust, really trust. It has to be Carly or no one.

Carly lets out a groan.

"Do you want to stay home with your Mom and Dad, giving out candy to the trick-or-treaters, like some loser? Or do you want to come to the cemetery with me? We can hang out for an hour or so and then come home."

"What's so pranky about that?"

"Nothing pranky about it, it's just the bravest thing ever. We'll have some stories to tell the next day, oh yeah. This will be insane."

"Like dress up? Or just go there with lawn chairs or something?"

"No, you doddo. We wear all black so no one will see us. We'll take some beer. And a blanket. And some snacks." Harper leans back on her elbows and slides against some wet moss.

"Beer? Are you kidding me? You are asking for trub-llll."

"Hey, don't you get that metal mouth off before Halloween?"

Carly straightens up. "Yeah, that's right." She's been counting the days. "Hey, look at your elbows. Big green smudges, haha."

"Oh fuck-n-A," Harper says, swiping at the green marks. "So? What do you say? About the cemetery. It'll be a celebration. For your freedom?"

Carly's tired of being the loser, the doddo. "Okay. I'll do it."

****

Abandoned shacks overgrown with brambles sit along the long narrow road leading to the Fin del Camino graveyard. A crooked set of fence posts still holds the rusty old barbed wire. A new road went in with the recent housing development and swings around the bend just past the dogleg that leads to the cemetery. It is on that bend where the only streetlight exists.

The girls scout the place in the daytime, noticing crooked headstones, markers covered with bird shit, and a chipped vase laying haphazardly between two sites. A concrete angel lays with her face pushed into dirty wet leaves, probably tipped over in a storm. The cemetery sits in a hollow where water collects. To Harper, it is an ideal location. Out of the way, obviously abandoned. They'd be free to enjoy themselves and still brag about what a scary night they had among evil spirits and dead bodies.

****

The girls each tell their parents that they are going out to trick-or-treat in a friend's neighborhood. They meet at the entrance to Fin del Camino and ride bikes over crackling leaves toward the rear area.

Harper clicks her light on as she pedals the way to their chosen spot, bumping over the pavement. Cracks from ancient tree roots heave below as if expanding with years-long breaths. The bikes hiss onto the grass. The girls climb off and lean the bikes against headstones.

Harper's long-sleeved turtleneck and black jeans make her invisible in the moonless night. Carly's dark slicker gives a swish-swish with every step. But at least she has pockets for the chips and drinks.

The flashlight's beam shoots through the still, damp air. The scent of campfire smoke drifts from a distant neighborhood. Carly is feeling brave and more than a little excited. She shivers as she tiptoes behind Harper, tracking with a penlight.

"Let's stop here." Harper stands behind a wide grave marker. "Carly, throw the blanket over these leaves. We can see the road but no one will see us."

"No one? Like there's going to be someone? Or are you saying that just in case?"

“Well, I don’t want to be caught if the cops come in here looking around. Do you?”

“Oh, cops. Right. Hey, did you really bring beer?”

“Yes, I did. One for me and one for you. Ever had a beer before?’

“No. But have you ever had whiskey? That’s what I brought,” Carly says. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? You were all prissy about beer but you have whiskey? Maybe you’re cooler than I thought. Hey, here’s to a beautiful smile, and no more metal-mouth.”

They clink bottle to beer can, toasting like their parents.

“Wait, I hear something.”

Silence. Leaves crunching. 

Harper whispers, “Get down. Don’t move.”

More crunching. A dog barks, echoing, and far away.

Harper’s heart gallops, her breath stops, she strains to see in the dark. She reaches out for Carly, grasps her arm, and whispers, “I’m scared.”

They are against a large tombstone, tight in a crouch.

The steps sound intermittent as if a person is pausing at the tombstones. Movement, pause.

A sudden realization of a deer’s outline along the grassy edge and Harper’s breath lets go. She laughs out loud, “Deer. It’s a deer, ha ha. Our big zombie.”

“Glad we got that out of the way,” Carly says.

The girls lean against the stones, talking low, sipping alcohol, and munching on taco chips.

Carly whispers, "This whiskey stuff burns. I don't know why my dad likes it. I'm so glad I brought a coke too. A sip of this, a slug of that, the only way I can swallow it."

Harper’s idea is to stay there all night so she can say she slept in the cemetery. She figures it's been hours, but her watch shows just under forty-five minutes.

Carly says, “I’m getting cold. Let’s go home.”

“Oh hell, Carly, drink some more hooch. It’ll warm you up.”

The wool blanket, their hair, clothes, and food bag take on moisture. Carly's chill disappears as relaxation and drowsiness sets in. She lays down and rests her head on the backpack. 

Harper flicks her light off and on, holding it straight up. It reminds her of an old black and white movie with searchlights. This night is turning out to be boring, not at all what she expected. She’ll have to make stuff up for a story in school tomorrow. Like how she saw something in the mist and how it moaned real low sending her and Carly running for their lives.

Harper turns around. Something is moving behind her.

In the fog, as if not quite real, are car lights, not headlights, but parking lights, creeping toward them. Just then Carly sits up and says right out loud, “What’s that?”

“Get down,” Harper whisper-shouts.

“I knew we should’ve left. I knew it.”

The car stops, lights go off, engine cuts. Silence covers the graves.

Harper strains to see if it’s a police car. A car door opens, twigs snap, a door closes.

The engine starts.

There is a low moan, "Harper." Or maybe it's the car's engine.

The parking lights ease backward and disappear onto the main road.

“Did you hear that?” Carly says. “I thought I heard a man's voice. It said, Harper. Did you hear it?”

“You’re hearing things. Now be still.” Harper's jaw clenched, her breath becoming shallower with each inhale.

Suddenly voices are whooping, hollering; lights wake up the area around them.

“BOOOWWHHHAAA. Got you, got you.” A pair of teenagers bounce around Harper and Carly, laughing, enjoying themselves. 

Harper shines her flashlight at their faces. It’s her rivals, Amy and Jenny. But they aren’t putting her down now. They're going on about how brave Carly and Harper are, and how they can't imagine sitting alone in the graveyard. They all laugh, Carly and Harper too. They yell like little kids on a playground and play hide and seek.

Harper can barely control herself, so delighted, feeling victorious. Everything is working out, after all, she thinks, until her foot turns sideways in a divot. She rolls onto the grass, cracking her knee against a sharp stone corner. She's holding the ankle, crying out, “My ankle, oh no.”  She tries to stand, holding her knee when a thud comes from beyond the next stone.

Carly screams that she tripped over something. Her flashlight switch is stuck but even in the dark, she knows. “It’s a body, my god, someone is laying there," Carly shrieks.

Harper's light reveals a man in red shorts and white tee-shirt, with a bloody hole through his forehead. She screeches, “Hey is that a real person? No kidding now. He looks. He’s. Is he dead?" She is crying now, yelling, "Oh my god, Carly. What should we do? Help! Help!”

Amy and Jenny run to them, shrieking “Let’s get out of here." In the dark, their movements are hidden as they grab the bicycles, jump on and pedal away toward the distant streetlight.

“What’s happening? What is happening?” Carly cries. “I thought I heard him say your name. I did. He said, Harper. I heard a man’s voice say Harper before. Do you know him? Oh my god, what should we do?"

“Shut up,” Harper says. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Carly, get on your bike. Hurry up,” she yells. “Get someone, hurry.” 

The man rolls over then, reaches out, and grabs Harper by the ankle.