"Jack, I don't think this is such a good idea," Olivia said as they half-stumbled, half slid down the grassy, muddy embankment. Her high-heeled sandals and hot pink fishnet stockings were not made for a midnight jaunt in the old graveyard seven blocks from campus. Even if it was Halloween.
With the street light and city bustle growing further and further behind them, the hushed serenity surrounding them was kind of creepy. Olivia gave a soft 'Ewww' as her toes squished in soft earth. It had been raining on and off for days, and while the rain had stopped that afternoon, none of the stars or the new moon could be seen behind the gathered clouds.
"It will be more fun if we sneak up on them, Livvie." He squeezed her hand, drawing her along through the trees. It was so dark beneath the thick canopy she had to strain her eyes to see more than a few feet in front of her. She heard a click, and Jack's torch flickered to life.
One of Jack's friends knew the night watchman's son, and for the last five years it had been their tradition to spend the night in the graveyard with lots of beer. It sounded boring to Olivia, who much preferred to spend the night dancing at her friend's costume party they had just left.
Jack had borrowed a leather suit like something out of the Indy grand prix. Surprisingly, it made him look hot. She liked the way his broad shoulders and V torso filled it out. And she loved the way his arse looked in the blue and white leather.
She had gone as a trashy vampire victim. Not original, but easy. Her gold faux snake-skin hot pants and electric blue baby-doll top were a fashion crime (even if the top did manage to make her small breasts look bigger). But with teased and tangled blonde hair that looked like she had put her finger in power socket, and dark red lipstick smudged down her throat from twin black holes sans liquid eyeliner, it was so bad it looked kinda good.
Finally they escaped the trees that hemmed the rows and rows of gravestones. Despite the lack of light, they seemed to glow in the darkness. Jack led her through a maze with a sureness that inspired some confidence in Olivia. As they walked, she tried very hard not to think about what she was walking on. She didn't believe in haunted graveyards, but the hushed solitude was enough to give her the heebie jeebies.
"There it is. Over to the left."
Olivia looked in the direction his torch pointed, spying a long, narrow shed, half hidden by trees. If she looked closely enough, she could see the glow of light beneath the edge of the door.
"Why don't I stay here while you get the surprise over with?" she asked. He laughed and kissed her quickly on the mouth.
"Won't be long," he told her. He gave her the torch, then quickly moved toward the shed, then circled around behind it.
Olivia's thoughts wondered as she gazed about her. She moved over to the nearest grave head, lifting the torch to read the inscription. Delia May, beloved daughter and sister, forever in our hearts. Born 2nd of February 1867, died 9th of June 1880". Thirteen. Great.
At thirteen, Olivia had probably just discovered flavoured lip gloss, push-up bras and boys. Turning away, she looked up at the sky, trying not to let the depressive thoughts kill her alcoholic buzz. Yet she couldn't escape them all. With a sigh, she pulled out her favourite tube of gloss from her clutch and walked over and crouched by the gravestone. After one last touch up, she leaned over and placed the tube at its base. "Enjoy."
"Talking to ghosts?"
Olivia half-tumbled, half slumped to her bottom on the grassy earth in surprise. Damn. She sat there, unable to see who it was over her shoulder, but knowing there was no graceful way to stand up with her high heels and hot pants.
"What makes you think I'm not one?" she asked as she rose up on her knees.
"If you are, I'd guess you were killed for your fashion sense."
She rose and swung around toward the voice, glad he couldn't see her smile in the darkness. He was half-sitting on a gravestone a row behind Delia May's, his arms crossed over his dark t-shirt. A white cigarette dangled from his fingers, only it didn't smell like nicotine wafting her way.
"Are you Noah?"
"Would it matter if I was?"
"Well, it would make it hard for Jack to sneak up on you if you're here and not in the shed."
He laughed and rose, coming toward her. "Not a ghost then. You must be Olivia. Come on, let's get you a drink."
They walked side by side toward the shed. He handed her the roll-up, and she swapped her clutch into her other hand and took a polite puff before handing it back.
"Who else is here?"
"So far, you, me and Jack. Tim will be along later with his girlfriend. Melanie and her friend shouldn't be too far away."
They were metres from the shed door when she heard a low growl, like some kind of dog.
"Not funny Jack," she said loudly without looking over her shoulder.
There was no response, just another long, drawn out growl that made the hair stick up on the back of her neck. She swung around, the torch light flickering around her.