I’ve got long locks of black hair in my fist as I thrust my way to Elysium. She’s half climbed onto the sink, one leg all the way up on the counter.

I park my car on a dark street in a part of town I’m not familiar with. It’s only about a mile from school, but I’m a freshman and five months ago I’d never been this far west. My dad gave me directions before I left the house. He unfolded a map and traced the route from home to the party with his finger. In twenty years, when I somehow carry a telephone in my pocket and can access something called GPS by talking to it, his method will seem quaint.

Somebody is yelling as I walk up the block. The voice is high-pitched but I’m pretty sure it’s a guy. He doesn’t sound belligerent, but he’s agitated about something. As the sound grows louder I can see he’s wearing a blue denim jacket and matching jeans standing underneath a porch light. He’s calling out to someone who’s not there. And would you look at that? It’s Will’s porch he’s standing on, so I guess I’m going to have to walk past him to get in.

“Hey!” The sound is quick and sharp, and when he repeats it it’s longer, more drawn out. After a beat he repeats himself yet again: “Hey! Can I come in or what?”

He’s on drugs, right? I’m admittedly a bit of a pussy and I don’t do drugs, so I don’t know what kind of trip he’s on. Sure, I get high sometimes – who doesn’t? – but I’ve never gotten high and acted like that. Anyway, the door is wide open, dude. Just go in.

I stand beside the porch for a second before I put my foot on the first step. When he doesn’t turn around and pounce on me, I walk the rest of the way up to the porch. As I approach the doorway he finally turns to look my way. His skin is pale like he hasn’t seen the sunshine in forever, and peeping out from a narrow face is a pair of beady, sunken eyes that desperately need some Visine. A few greasy strands of black hair peep out over his forehead from underneath a black wool cap. He’s definitely on a bender; at least, I think that’s the right word. And he reeks! Holy shit does this guy stink. It’s like he sleeps in the dirt or something. The guy looks right into my eyes in a way that creeps me out and asks me to get Will.

I can’t get away from him fast enough so I tell him sure and I walk inside. The entryway is dark, and so is the hallway ahead. It makes the house feel deserted in a way that would be foreboding if I didn’t know I was walking into a Halloween party. I brush past a couple hanging rubber spiders or bats as I walk further into the house. I can hear music playing loud and it reassures me that I’m not about to be whacked over the head by Leatherface with a sledge hammer and stuck on a meat hook.

That’s when a huge dark shape darts out of a doorway to stand right in front of me. It’s a hulk of a man brandishing what might be a sledge hammer. Nice jump scare, but it’s just Will. He’s dressed as Fred Flintstone, and the sledge hammer is a plastic caveman club. He greets me warmly and tells me he’s glad I made it.

As Will leads me through the house, the music grows louder and I have to raise my voice when I tell him about the guy on the porch. He’s dismissive of the apparently uninvited guest: “Fuck that guy. He’s not even wearing a costume. This is a costume party.” I’m about to make the suggestion that his costume is that of a drugged-out wastrel loser when Will continues. “Besides, I don’t even know him.”

“He knows you,” I tell him as we turn a corner. Will shrugs and says something I can’t hear. The speakers must be really close. He shuffles me into a way-too-brightly-lit kitchen and once my eyes adjust I see familiar faces standing around a table. These kids are in my eight o’clock class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’ll take me a few minutes to remember everyone’s names.

The table is set up as a makeshift bar. There’s liquor, two-liter bottles of soda, and a tower of red cups. There’s a bowl with cut-up limes, and a glass jar of maraschino cherries. A cooler on the floor nearby has cans of beer. Across from the table, a long counter has been stocked with bowls of chips and pretzels, plus a couple bags of Halloween candy, a package of garishly decorated orange pumpkin cookies straight from Safeway’s bakery department, and a jar of Planter’s peanuts. I squeeze past a guy dressed as Howard Stern plus a lady ice skater and a couple guys in suits to grab some mini candy bars from one of the bags. I put them in my pocket for later, then pour myself a drink.

Will starts making introductions, though I can’t quite hear any of the names. As he tells the crowd at the table who I am, a guy in a pair of sunglasses, a yellow shirt, and Hammer pants says they already know me. Or at least, I think he does; he’s way too soft-spoken for how loud it is. He’s definitely in my morning class, but I have no idea as to his name so I just nod and survey the rest of the group. There’s a redheaded monk in a brown bathrobe – no! The Grim Reaper. He’s got a plastic scythe, and I can see what appears to be a rubber mask sticking out of the pocket of his robe. No idea about this guy’s name either. Tim? Tom? I think it’s one of those.

Next to Tim or Tom the Grim Reaper is a girl in an unbuttoned orange-and-brown flannel shirt that’s tied in a knot at the bottom. She’s also wearing faded low-cut jeans and a floppy straw hat. Her cheeks are rouged and she’s got little drawn-on freckles and some orange makeup on her nose. I think I’ll call her Amanda. I don’t even know if she’s in my morning class with the others, but she’s cute so I’m going to keep an eye out for her on Tuesday just in case.

I know Stacy, though. Stacy sat next to me on the first day of class before deciding on a permanent spot three rows down. She’s got soft-looking strawberry-blonde hair that she usually lets hang free, but tonight it’s all hidden under a black bob wig. She’s also wearing a white blouse, black pants, and black flats. Not sure what she’s supposed to be, but even speaking at a raised volume, I’m sure I’m not just imagining the flirty lilt in her voice as she tells me she likes my costume.

Continued in Part 2.