Page 79 of Fundamentals of Being a Good Girl
The car stops where the street is closed for the night, and I open my door, pulling Junie along with me. “Junie Ellis,” I say. “We are going to have the night of our lives and it doesn’t matter if you’re slutty Daphne or Joan of Arc or a DNA-obsessed cat lady. Because we are grown-ass women and we can wear as little or as much clothing as we want on Halloween.”
“Hell yeah,” the driver says as he reaches out the window to fist-bump me. “I’d appreciate a five-star rating, ladies.”
“Of course,” Junie calls after him as she nods to herself and then at me. “Okay, okay.”
“And you know what? Joan of Arc was a badass bitch. So let’s go out and party for teenage Junie and for Joan of Arc and for the ability to DNA test your cats and for Mothman.”
“Yeah!” she says, a fire lighting her eyes. “Who’s to say Mothman isn’t a total slut?”
“Woo!” some girl cheers as she walks past us, a very suspicious water bottle in her fist that is definitely full of something boozy and clear.
“Let’s do Halloween up the butt!” Junie yells as a battle cry.
I laugh at how incredibly bad she is at being bawdy. “Wow, okay. Did not expect that. But yeah, let’s sodomize the hell out of Halloween!”
10:42 P.M.
The Dry Bean is a sea of bodies, but Junie and I are diligent as we weave our way through the crowd to the bar. I search for Sloane, but if she’s here, I’m too short to see her.
The bar crawl includes one drink and one shot from every bar in the Snake Pit, so we have some work to do.
I pull Junie along, refusing to let her get swallowed by the crowd. Her eyes are wide, but she’s putting on a brave face.
When we finally make it to the bar, the bartender is quick to notice our wristbands and pulls two Jell-O shots from the windowed mini fridge on the counter behind him.
“Two Water Snakes for you, ladies!”
I pass Junie the small disposable cup full of blue gelatin and a gummy snake.
“Do we...” She eyes it thoughtfully. “Do we need a spoon?”
“Use your tongue!” I yell over the chaos.
She appears to be entirely daunted, so I take her hand and hold up my shot. “To slutty Mothman!”
“To slutty Mothman!” And then with absolute gusto, Junie tilts the cup back and tongues the glass like a thirteen-year-old attempting their first French kiss.
“Atta girl!”
The bartender hands us each a cup full of a glittery red drink that he calls the Skin of a Killer and tells us that we can take it outside as long as we don’t leave the Snake Pit.
“That was disgusting!” Junie shouts in my ear. “I feel so cool!”
11:28 P.M.
“Oh my god, oh my god, I have to take your picture.”
Junie’s costume is a hit, but I was unprepared for the blood-curdling scream that left a girl’s mouth when she rushed Junie and hugged her just a moment ago.
The girl steps back and she’s wearing the same cape as Junie except underneath is nothing but a red lacy lingerie set.
“I’m so jealous,” the girl whines. “You look so warm.”
“But you look so sexy,” Junie tells the girl, her words slurred. “And I mean that in an empowering way!”
Everything feels fuzzy and light and this is the cutest thing I have ever fucking seen.
“A picture! You two need a picture!” I pat my skirt and then shove a hand up my shirt to feel around my bra, but my phone is definitely not in my bra or shoved into the little red boy-short underwear I opted for tonight. Shit. I left it at Bram’s—but librarians are like Boy Scouts, right? Always prepared? “Junie, give me your phone!”
