“Amazing! Where to?”

“It’s a weekend at Sullivan Manor just over into the Wisconsin border. They do a mystery whodunit weekend over Halloween. We all get characters to play, and we have to solve a murder mystery.

I rolled my eyes at Renee as she scooted in closer so she could listen to Ryan’s end of the conversation. “A murder mystery… so it’s all right if I kill you for including me in this stupid idea.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll get new identities for the weekend and be all sleuthy.” Ryan whined like a two-year-old when he didn’t get his way.

“Is sleuthy even a word?”

“Probably not. But I need a break from the TV station, and so does my co-worker aka your boyfriend. Plus, it will give Tom the opportunity to bitch about someone else’s cleaning habits.”

“I’ll chat with Renee and get back to you. What’s the theme for the mystery anyway?”

“Murder at a High School Reunion.”

“Ryan, I hated high school the first time around. Why the hell would I want to relive it?”

“Just because you were the antisocial Goth girl in high school doesn’t mean you have to be one at the party.”

“I wasn’t Goth! I just wore a lot of black. It was slimming.” And with that I ended the call, making sure to press the end button with extra oomph.

I wish I could forever erase my time in high school. Memories of braces, perms, and Tommy Sullivan trying to get to second base behind the bleachers clouded my mind. I had been excited a boy was into me. Until I found out Steven Sanders bet him ten bucks and a Twinkie to touch my boobs. If he were smart he would have asked for the Ding Dongs and the Twinkies.

Renee looked at me with curious eyes.

“Ryan wants us to go to one of those murder mystery parties for Halloween.”

“I’ve always wanted to do one of those!” she said with a squeal.

It reminded me of an Orca whale and a feral cat, and I groaned.

“I guess it’s a whole weekend event at Sullivan’s Mansion in Wisconsin.”

“Oh, I hear it’s totally haunted.”

“I don’t think it’s haunted, but I’m still scared the shit of it. It’s Wisconsin for God sake.”

“Why is Wisconsin scary?”

“A state that has too many cows means someone has to slaughter them all, which means there are ghost cows mooing in the fields.”

Renee stared at me for a moment. “Did you talk to your therapist today?”

I flipped her off just before our principal, Mrs. James, came in.

“Good morning, girls. Where’s the coffee?”

“Mrs. James, since I think you’re the coolest principal out there, I’ll save you from drinking the sludge they consider coffee.”

“Mrs. Kramer made it again, didn’t she?” She sighed.

Both Renee and I nodded.

“Damn,” Mrs. James hissed. “The woman can organize files like no other, but when it comes to making coffee it’s like she dug up a dead body and ground it into a pot. Anyways, are both of you ready for the school Halloween party?”

I was not a fan of Halloween parties. I think it’s because I was traumatized by Rachael McCoy’s Halloween party in the third grade. She made everyone play this game where we had to stick our hands in bags that were labeled things like “brains” and “eyeballs,” when it was just food. I was caught eating the “intestines,” which were licorice rope. The other kids made fun of me for days after.

“Yeah, about that, Mrs. James. I feel like I’m coming down with typhoid fever. I might have to take a sick day.” I moaned and put my hand on my forehead for emphasis.

“Moxie, If you were on your death bed, I would still get you for the Halloween party even if I had to tape your body upright to a pole,” she said.

“But Mrs. James—” I whined.

“Moxie it’s the party or you’re on bus duty all winter.”

“Morning or afternoon shift?”

“Both.”

“You don’t play fair, Mrs. James, but”—I pointed my finger at her—“you’re a worthy opponent.”

“See you ladies later. I need to see about getting Starbucks delivered,” she said, walking out the door.

“See…” I turned back to Renee. “Even our fearless leader needs quality caffeine.”

“Again, good luck bringing that up in the staff meeting,” Renee said.

“I’m not afraid.” I stood and gathered my things. “Amber is like a monkey. I’m sure she’s used to shit being thrown at her.”

I pulled up into Miles’s driveway about two hours after I left school. Miles moved out of the city a few months ago so his son Dilion could have more room to run around and “be a boy.” Miles had moved with Dilion from Maine after his wife was killed in a car accident two years ago. After I vomited on Miles at our unusual first meeting at the bar, I had been surprised to see Miles again, this time as the widower father of my new student Dilion. I went on to form a great relationship with Dilion who was much smarter than his seven years gave him credit for. The boy knew more than I did. Okay, sometimes a flea knew more than I did, so I supposed that wouldn’t be the best comparison.

I loathed driving from the city into the suburbs. Taking the train would be better, but then I’d be stuck without a car and places were too far apart to walk. The grocery store was a mile away, for crying out loud. That was like when my ancestors walked from Egypt to the Holy Land, forty days and forty nights. Therefore, I’d been stuck in traffic, looking at the guy in the car next over as he picked his teeth. I swore he picked his entire lunch out of there.

I pulled my house keys out of my purse and let myself in. Yes, I had my own set of keys to Miles’s house. After a night of hot sex, he presented me the keys and said I had all access to his dick anytime I wanted. After kneeing him in the nuts for that comment, he apologized by going out at three in the morning to buy Funky Monkey ice cream for me. Good man.

“Moxie!” Dilion ran up for a hug.

“Hey, bud, how was school?” I kissed the top of his floppy brown hair.

“Good, but Mrs. Washington didn’t believe me when I told her you consume one tenth of a calorie when you lick a stamp.”

“And did you do what I told you to do when Mrs. Washington disagrees with you?”

“Moxie…” Dilion whined. “I can’t throat punch a teacher. Plus she’s too tall.”

“Then take her knees out like Tanya Harding.”

“Who?” Dilion scrunched his face up in confusion.

“Never mind,” said a much deeper voice from the kitchen.

I bent down so only Dilion could hear me. “Next time, tell that crotchety old woman her breath smells like banana peels after being left out on the pavement on a hundred-degree day.”

He laughed and skipped back to the family room couch to resume his game on his tablet. I walked into the kitchen to see my beautiful Adonis chopping vegetables, and I snaked my arms around his waist. Miles was tall and sturdy. Not like a football player, but the man definitely had some muscle. I pressed at kiss to his back and he craned his neck sideways to look at me.

“Trying to corrupt the young one again, I hear,” he said with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

I unhooked my arms and popped a piece of red pepper from the cutting board into my mouth. “I’m teaching him how to defend his argument. He’ll need to learn how to do it when he joins the debate team in high school.

“I don’t think taking your opponent out by shattering their kneecaps is part of the debate team.” He put down the knife and turned to face me.

“I disagree. I was on the debate team in high school. Mike Cameron tried to defend his argument of whether they should put vending machines in the cafeteria.”

“And what was your defensive?”

“I argued that you shouldn’t pay girls to give you blow jobs in a bathroom during math.”

“Who won?”

“I can safely say, I had Cheetos and a Snickers every day for lunch my sophomore year.”

“That’s my girl,” Miles said, embracing me.