Garrett's last attempt to hit Amanda with one of the two halberds he's managed to integrate into his costume (if I could figure how to adjust my desires accordingly, I'd want some sort of offensive weapon, maybe a sword, but I don't have the heart for it) ends in tragedy, as said halberd hits the wooden part of Amanda's brush and somehow, somehow manages to deflect upwards and lodge itself in the ceiling. By now, he's been painted every color of the rainbow by Amanda's significantly more successful attacks, none of which combust or burn or drill acid holes deep into his skin. Instead, he just looks like he walked through a Pollock painting and came out the other side. He wipes his glasses off and stares up at the ceiling, with a quick "Hm," of conceded defeat.

Karen left half an hour ago. I lost to her several times, she and Amanda got into a fight over what constitutes a win when one side can't stop someone's heart with electric discharge and the other isn't allowed to use any lethal colors, and when neither side really wants to admit defeat in front of their hapless male colleague, and eventually they decided on a tie. Obviously Garrett got slammed by her, but then she accused him of just letting her win, and he started blushing. I thought she was going to punch him in the face, from the glare she was giving him, but then she just shrugged, remarked that she was glad that the coat didn't sustain any damage, since it had been painted up, and left. Garrett challenged Amanda. A halberd got stuck in the ceiling.

I stand beneath the halberd, waiting for it to come down, which is... well, I really shouldn't be standing here, let's leave it at that. "Should I try to get it down with my shield?" I ask. The ceiling, too, is dappled in paint, which becomes more evident the longer I stare up at the weapon. "How did you even manage to do that?"

"I'm just that good," she boasts.

"Better than physics? Better than common sense?" asks Garrett.

"You know that stuff doesn't matter here, right?" Amanda asks, as if this is all a joke we're in on, together, and it's so funny that she can barely stand it. "That's the trick. You have to let go of whatever you think is real, and just focus on what you want to be real. Let your will guide reality."

"That was really sage," I say. "Especially from someone wielding a paintbrush."

"The brush is kin to the pen, and the pen is mightier than the sword, or whatever. Point is, best weapon." Amanda runs her fingers through the bristles, which triggers another spray of paint. I close my eyes, respectfully. She's still grinning at me when I open them.

"Doesn't look like it's coming down." Garrett's shoulders sag. "I should really be home to hand out candy, you know."

"Will and I need to leave anyways," Amanda says, with a wink.

"Do we?" I ask.

Amanda elbows me. It hurts more than she intended, I'm sure of it. "Will. Will. Come on. You know what's up."

I manage a weak smile. "Naval Brigade party?"

"In uniform," Amanda grins. "I mean, we can tone it down, right, Shiloh?"
"It will make it very, very hard for me to come up with a coherent excuse when or if they see you again in costume--" Shiloh begins.

"--so it's not an issue? None of them live anywhere near Ignatius's house. They're not going to see us!" Amanda says. "Come on. I don't actually have a costume this year. Heaven knows Will doesn't own anything suitable."

I sigh. "Got me there. You might not believe it, but my family's not too keen on the whole Halloween thing. Not that they're not keen, but I mean, um... well, I guess I always felt like I had to go as something generic, so they'd get it, and that about sums everything up. It's a little bit, uh..."

Amanda ruffles my hair with her paint-encrusted hands. "Hey, buddy. Don't worry about them."

I'm not worried, I think, but I end up just leaning further against Amanda. We're kind of a matched pair, even with the huge disparity in our costumes, appearances, attitudes... everything...

Garrett watches us, and he's got this look on his face like he's not quite sure how to handle the situation going forwards. It's not quite disgust, or even discomfort, but more of a hey man, you work this out, I'll go handle my other stuff in this corner, kind of look. He says, "The halberd will disappear when I exit, right?"

Shiloh nods.

"Sorry for ruining your interior decor," he adds. "It's a nice place."

"It'll be fine," Shiloh says, with a reassuring wave of his tail, even though his eyes are empty and somewhat dead. "It is a projection of myself, and as such, it will naturally revert to its original state. That is to say, you kids will have to try much, much harder if you want to 'ruin' my house."

"That's a relief," says Amanda, as Garrett exits. "Guess I don't have to worry about going easy on you fools. Next time, I'm not holding back."

"What do you mean, you're not going easy on us? What does easy even entail for you?" I ask.

Amanda cackles. "Will, Will. Let's go to the party already."

"Be careful," warns Shiloh. "As I said, a 'reduced' version of your costumes is well within my powers, but I am still discomforted by the possibility of someone being... particularly insightful. If anything goes wrong, you are to return immediately. Plans of yours have gone awry in the past."
The hair on my arms stands up with his small sigh. I know that one's on me, and he knows that one's on me. I can see it in his piercing, beady eyes.

"Anything going wrong? It's a high school party full of nerds! Everything goes wrong. Always!" With a quick glare from me, Amanda adds, "I mean, in an asinine way? As in dumb stuff. We'll be safe, Shiloh."

Shiloh peers out from behind my eyes, unconvinced. I restrain myself from 'hrmph'ing in his voice, which is like restraining a hiccup, and end up just staring at Amanda.

"Walnut, are you on board or not?" she asks.

"I hopped on that ship a long time ago," I tell her, with a savvy wink.

Amanda drags me out of the Veins. When we emerge on the other side, I sense my costume materializing around me, but the sensation is different... for one thing, and I'm going to make this sound as uncreepy as possible, I can tell I'm wearing clothes. Usually, the costume feels like an extension of myself, but right now, I can sense the fabric on my arms, and the shield hangs a little heavier on my side, even though it has a little bump that signals it might have been made from a recycled garbage lid. Amanda's just in a regular smock, which almost shows her clothes underneath, and her paintbrush's wooden markings look carved in by a teenager. Running my hand up the side of my costume, I can tell that I look like a very, very amateur cosplayer. I don't think I could have made it myself, but I might have been able to come close. "We look awful," Amanda tells me. "Great work."

I flash her a half-hearted thumbs up. "You know what we're going to do if someone asks who we're dressed up as?"

"Just say we're from some obscure back of the Internet webcomic you've forgotten the name of." Amanda says. "Two years ago, Megan and I dressed up as our original characters and someone gave me this whole rant on my terrible design choices, soooo I told everyone else it was from a webcomic." She chuckles, but it trails off as she looks down the street.

"People," I say, elbowing her. "Hey, not everyone appreciates genius."

"I love you, Will."

Amanda and I walk in silence down the street. Suburbia has taken on a golden, haunting glow, and several families have put up blow-up ghouls or Halloween lights. One house is covered in cobwebs. As Amanda searches the scenery, I get the sensation she's looking for someone, her eyes darting between children in costume and finding nothing. When we finally turn in towards the house, which must be the house, because it has several dozen signs announcing that we've "entered the grounds of the coven!" and must "pay tribute or forfeit our lyves", Sally comes to the door, bearing a bow which is loaded with nerf bullets.

"Amandine, from the one web anime, you know, produced in America..." I begin.

Sally puts her bow down. She looks to Amanda. "The Swan Song of Momenta Mori."

If I had omniscience, I would probably use it to save myself from being embarrassed in front of the Naval Brigade.

"And who are you?" she asks.

Amanda shoots me a look. I shoot her a look back. "It's a webcomic," I tell Sally. "A really, really long, convoluted webcomic."

Sally allows us in. As soon as Amanda is through the door, which she practically slides through, her whole demeanor changes. She howls, "The party has arrived," and goes to join a group of her friends. I scoot in with the other freshmen, passing under the watchful eye of several more mature girls, and settle into the couch. Amanda, seemingly everywhere at once, is already in a boisterous conversation about everyone's costume that somehow avoids her own, but she still has that look deep in her ever-shifting gaze, like there's something down the street that she can't make out, hiding in the bushes.

The next few hours are a blur of candy consumption, rumors about spiked punch, long arguments about which fictional character would win in a fight from various franchises, and of course, long, stilted segments of me trying to explain just how much of an impact of this webcomic left on me without revealing any details that Amanda could contradict later.

"Wait, so are they magical girls or superheroes?" asks Rya, a dark-haired girl with jade eyes and almost tinted glasses, who I think is trying to be nice by engaging me in conversation, but just comes across as intimidating.

"It's a genre thing, you know, subversion, bridging western and eastern concepts... Amanda, can you come over here and explain?" I ask, poking my head above the crowd. Summoning all the strength in my body, I yell, "Amanda?!"

Amanda strides over with a new glass of punch, swishing it around without ever allowing it to spill. "Oh, that? It's about five warriors who need to save the world from a botanokinetic mad scientist--"

I make a slitting noise across my neck.

"I mean four, because, you know, one dies halfway through," Amanda says.

"--and there's also a laboratory of super-powered mutants, who start out as villains, but eventually join the team at large and get their own magical powers and transformations too."

"Yeah," Amanda says, "And there's a romance going on with one of the lab kids and one of the original cast that I'm particularly fond of, but you know, it's not a main focus of the series, so they'll probably never get around to resolving that one."

"I like the bird kid," I say. "Every lab story needs a good bird kid."

"Me too," Amanda says. She crunches her cup. "Me too."

"Does something happen to him? You two seem kind of..." Rya pauses. "Bitter."

I suck in a breath. I don't seem anything, but I think I'm drowning in whatever's got Amanda just by being right next to her. "Something does, but it's a spoiler."

"Does he die?" asks Rya.

I pause. "There are worse things than dying."

Rya smiles. "Oh. Oh, of course. I get it. Anyways, I'm part of a team cosplay too. My partner," she winks, "Is a big fan of webcomics. Em? Em, do you know anything about--"

"We'll send you a link later," I promise. Amanda is watching the ceiling fan turn lazy circles above us. I can feel Shiloh there, like ice, and every hair on my neck stands on end. There's only so much I can do, I think, desperately. We can think our way out of this one today. You just have to trust us.

I don't want this to go like your mission to 'help' Ignatius. Surely, Will, you can understand my concern--

Someone rings the doorbell.

"Sally," calls someone, but Amanda manages to get there first. She opens the door to reveal Megan Briggs, who looks smaller than ever as Amanda escorts her in. She's wearing a half-decent witch costume, but up against a room full of cosplayers, she looks out of place, generic, tired, nothing I actually associate with the Megan Briggs. She situates herself on the couch, waving to a few people, and then, discreetly as possible, slides out her phone.

Amanda sits on the arm of the chair, leaning over so that she just barely touches Megan. I walk over. "Hey, so, what's up?"

Megan jolts up. "Nothing, I mean... okay, nothing." She stammers over her words, and finally runs a hand through her hair, flustered. "Rough day."

"Is that why you're late?" asks Amanda.

"I said I didn't know if I'd be able to come," Megan says.

Amanda twitches in the seat, and the fabric beneath her crunches like new snow. "Why is that?"

"I told you. I had plans." Her voice is dismissive. I'm mentally backing away, but physically, I'm a deer in headlights. If I were less of a coward, maybe I'd know how to intervene.

"Tell me what's more important," Amanda insists.

"Family," Megan responds. She crosses her arms. "I'm not that late."

"Bullshit. Tell me what you're doing, Megan."

Megan's brown eyes swim with hurt. "I just told you."

"What if I don't believe you?" asks Amanda.

Megan laughs, something choking her from the inside. Her eyes shine brilliantly being her glasses, and there she is, Megan, alight in all her bright fury. "Amanda, you don't own me. We're not even in a relationship, but you still act like everything I do that doesn't involve you is a threat to you. Any second I'm not spending under your eye is some kind of betrayal. This isn't a fantasy where we're soul-bonded, we're ninth graders, and if I come late to a party because my parents need me at the house, or heaven forbid if I have other friends, that's my right. Not your business. Definitely not the end of the world."

"Sometimes it feels like the world is ending around us," Amanda says. "Our world."

"Nothing's going to end unless you break it apart," Megan mutters. Amanda lifts herself from the chair and storms out of the house. Megan waits for a second, seeing the whole Brigade's eyes upon her, and says only, "Sorry." With that, she follows Amanda out of the house.

I take in a deep breath. Shiloh buzzes at the back of my head, but he's not restraining me anymore. Amanda can't say anything. I won't say anything. Sally is standing behind me, silent as death, and when I look up I almost jump out of my skin. Again. "Hey?" I ask.

Sally offers me a Snickers bar. "It'll be alright."

I take it. "You don't need to tell me that."

"They fought like this when they were dating, too, it's just that they always got over it," adds Rebekka.

"Thanks," I say. "For reassuring me."

"You looked like you were about to get hit by an oncoming train," says Sally. "Had to say something."

"Thanks," I reiterate. The party has resumed around us.

Someone calls from the corner, "I think we found your webcomic!"

"Oh, uh, I'm... I'll be over there in a sec!" There's no way they're just going to continue around that. Did Amanda and Megan fight that much? Are they really not concerned? My head's spinning, and I'm lost at sea without my anchor. I can't be here if she's not here. I'm not strong enough yet. I don't know these people, she knows them for me. Was I supposed to jump from having one friend to having a dozen? Two dozen? This is too many people.

There's the door.

Megan brushes past me on the way out, and recognition lights in her eyes. "What," I press.

Megan tries to look away. "You should talk to her. She doesn't want to hear anything from me right now."

"Of course I'm going to talk to her," I tell her. "Because she's my friend."
Megan storms by like my brother. She has that same determined look about her: like she's the center of a great storm, and everything else just happens around her, collateral damage in the maelstrom. My heart still pulsing, I creep out onto the front patio, and sit down besides Amanda, in one of the old rocking chairs on the porch. We look like a pair of old geezers.

"Didn't go well?" I ask.

She glances up at me with the streetlights burning in her eyes.

I stall out. "If you want to talk, we can talk. If you don't want to talk, then we don't talk. We just sit here, together, and enjoy the night," I say, taking in a breath. The night air smells like a photo album. I could push apart the leaves on the ground and kick up the past few years like leaf piles, let them flutter around for a bit before settling in the same incoherent patterns of color and texture they started in. I can tell she's thinking the same thing, almost: that there has to be some way to kick up every single memory until she pulls out something until she finds something that makes everything make sense.

"I'm so stupid," Amanda said.

"I don't think you're stupid," I say. "If anyone else does, or if they make you feel like you're stupid, maybe they're not as good of a friend as you thought they were."

Amanda's eyes burn. It sucks when we don't have the masks on to protect us. "You wouldn't understand," she says, hardly masked bitterness rising up in her voice. She stands up, turning to keeping her face away from me, wiping the tears off with her arm. I can see her tremble, which is like watching a vast tree about to give way in a storm. It's hard to imagine it falling, but even as you're shocked, some primal instinct of yours knows to get out of the way. "You wouldn't understand anything."

"Amanda?" I ask.

She stands, and the chair whimpers with the lack of her. "I couldn't tell her anything, Will. She had me cornered in a second, asking why I kept cancelling on her, too. She was so upset, and I just wanted to hold her again. It's over, though, isn't it?"

"No. If someone matters to you, they'll be back, one way or another," I promise.

Amanda sighs. "That's so saccharine."

"Well, it's not based off experience, so I could be wrong," I say. "Come on. Let's go inside. Maybe we can talk to her--"

"No," Amanda insists. We both pause. She starts again, "I... I'll see you tomorrow, Will."

She's gone. There's a portal down the street, and I follow her through without warning, but Shiloh has nothing to say to me when I arrive in the Veins, alone, besides an all-knowing glance that informs me Amanda's already gone home. Shoulders sagging under the weight of defeat, I enter my house, and find my brother eating the chocolate he's supposed to be dispensing on the black chair at the back of the foyer.

"Hey," I start.

"Hey."

"We need to talk," I say.

"Sorry mom, but I'm home before curfew and I'm sure not doing anything illegal." The half-finished bowl tumbles from his lap and to the floor. He kicks it across the floor. He looks like a little kid. He's acting like a kid. I am a child and even I can tell.

Fists clenched, I recompose myself. "We need to talk about Megan. What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing's wrong with her."

"Something has been since you started hanging out with her."

"You don't know anything about us."

"No, but I know about her friends."

"Maybe she wants to be around people who aren't her possessive, controlling ex, Will."

"Don't make it sound so-- they're friends," I insist.

Adam shrugs. I want to punch the smile off his face. He kicks the candy back towards the overturned bowl, and at last consents to pick things up properly. Once he's done that, he begins ascending the stairs, like we'd come to any kind of formal resolution. "I only know what she's told me. Hope you had fun at your party."

"Don't walk out on me," I threaten.

Adam stares down at me. "I'm tired and I want to go to bed. You should come upstairs, too. Being around them makes you volatile, like they are. Hm." He glares back down at me, and I shiver. His gaze is somehow colder than Shiloh's. "Yeah, while I'm on it... did you really go to the party without a costume?"

"M-maybe because I can't cosplay with you around! Maybe because you make fun of all of my interests, Adam, have you ever thought about that?" I yell up the stairs.

"Stop pretending to be the victim," Adam says. "I never said anything like that."

He doesn't have to say anything, though. He never does. I can't make him.

I definitely never say anything back.