1.           This morning I awoke to the Monster Mash. I could never be sure if this was a result of my own timing, or just a coincidence. My radio has always been able to play the right song at the perfect moment. For instance, once I woke up on what I thought was a Monday. I almost had a panic attack because that meant I would still have a whole week of school left before two days of breathing. Two seconds later, the song “Manic Monday,” by the Bangles came on. I was quite relieved to remember after the song had finished playing that it was actually Wednesday.
         Either way, my waking to the Monster Mash signified the beginning of Halloween. On any other day I might have danced. Call me strange, but sometimes that is the only way I can get up in the morning. Today was not a dancing day. In the end I blame my parents for enabling the beginning of the horrors that would soon take place. Let me rephrase that: I blame my stepmother… and her stupid antiques.
      On any other day I might have at least pretended to appreciate her love of old things, but today it was the reason I was missing out on one of the largest Halloween parties ever thrown in the history of our town. It was also the reason I was not even celebrating the holiday. I honestly have no idea why she decided to take us on a “family” trip down to Virginia.
     My stepmother sure had some nerve, calling it a “family” outing.  We were definitely not your typical family. We probably could have qualified for some strange sitcom which everyone watches just to enjoy the suffering of others.
     For this reason I decided to sleep in instead of dancing. This also meant I could annoy my stepmother as much as possible by waiting to pack until the very last moment. Just because I must do something does not mean that I, or any one else for that matter, have to enjoy it.
     My glorious plan to deny my stepmother of a complete victory was foiled as a shrill ringing emanated from my night stand. Surely, most people have experienced what it is like to be awoken by a ringing phone at some point in their lives. First comes denial, I let it ring twice, and was praying that each ring would be the last. On the third ring I forced myself pry my eye lids open and accept that the phone really was ringing, and not merely whining about the awful weather we had been having lately. Much to my surprise it was Suzie, and not a telemarketer with inevitably bad timing.
     Picking up the phone I placed it to my ear, one side of my face still on the pillow. “Hello?”
     “Happy Halloween!” she exclaimed, her high pitch squeal forcing me to hold the phone a few inches away from my ear.
     “Yes, yes, happy happy…” I replied.
     “Did I call too early? Are you alive?”
     “It’s possible. Why are you calling?”
     “Can’t a girl call her friend just to wish her a happy Halloween?”
     “Well, some people might be able to,” I responded, “but not you. Come on; spill the news about you and Ricky.” I knew she had been waiting for me to ask this the whole time.
        “Well, I asked our good friend Ricky out yesterday to the wonderful Halloween party taking place tonight…” she dragged out what might have been a pause, or just the end of a sentence. I knew well enough to interject; if she wanted to she could keep me hanging all day.
     “What did he say?”
     “Well, he isn’t going to be able to make the party…”
     “Oh, Suzie… I’m sorry.”
     “Wait a second before you start feeling bad for me. I’m not done!” she exclaimed, and I could almost hear her roll her eyes.
     “Oh, so there’s more? Please tell me if it is good or bad. I know you like to tell a good story Suzie, but there is really only so much suspense I can take.”
     “Lina?”
     “Yes Suzie?”
     “Thank you.” I paused for a moment before responding.
     “What?” How could she be thanking me for her missing out on a date with Ricky?
     “Well, he said he couldn’t make the party because he already had plans to attend a concert… and he happened to mention that he had an extra ticket so…”
    “Ah! Suzie, that’s so exciting!” I exclaimed, sitting up in my bed, “What band are you going to see?”
    “Anberlin,” she exclaimed, “and we’ll be in the fourth row!” I congratulated her one more time and then the girly talk set in. Eventually we decided it best that she go plan her outfit and I work on packing for the trip.

     Only a few minutes after I had begun to pack someone rapped on my bedroom door.
     “Are you awake?” a deep voice called out.
     “I hope so!” I replied, “feel free to come in Dad.” I was currently in the process of stuffing a few bras into my bag, along with a couple tubes of toothpaste. Often order has no place in my mind.
     “Are you almost ready to go? Velma suggested we get a head start.” What he really meant was Velma was downstairs whining about how I was holding up all of her plans. Oh, and did I mention my stepmother has the name of a Scooby Doo character?
     “Yeah, I’ll be down in a second. I just need to grab a couple pairs of pants.”  
     “Good, because I want to talk to you for a second…” Uh oh, I knew where this was going.
     “You can talk to me now Dad. You’re not going to give me another one of those ‘this is a very important thing for your stepmother so try to enjoy yourself’ speeches, are you?” His reaction told me I had hit the nail directly on the head.
     “No, of course not,” he spoke as he sat down on my bed, “dads aren’t allowed to give stereotypical speeches. Shame on you for thinking such a thing.” He paused and then added, “But do try not to give your stepmother a hard time.”
     “Would I ever do that?” I asked. Although I whined about Velma a lot in my mind, I was the silent sufferer in the outside world.
     “Well, no, but you know I’m always waiting for you to crack and for an actual teenager to appear.” My father always said that I was far too polite to be a normal teenager.
     “I’ll be down in a bit and, even though I have no choice in the matter, I’ll behave.”
     “Thank you,” my dad smiled and stood up and was about to walk through the door when I added something.
     “Although, if you are really worried about me suddenly turning into a maniac you could just go without me and I’ll go to the Halloween party instead.”
     “Right,” my dad chuckled, “let the child who has lost her mind go to a Halloween party without adult supervision.”
     “Makes sense to me,” my father and I shared a smile. One of the reasons I had never fled the house to live with my mother was because I loved my dad so much. Unlike a lot of my friends, I understand my dad and enjoy communicating with him. I’ll admit in middle school I was not very close to him, but in high school I realized how cool he is and how inevitably I am turning into him… without the mustache of course.
     “Okay, we’ll meet you out in the car,” he walked out of my bedroom and shut my door carefully behind him.
     Maybe I would actually enjoy myself on this trip, and learn more about my stepmother. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Of course, that’s what someone always says before things go terribly wrong.