Page 54 of When Darkness Calls

But the sight before me at the bottom of the staircase makes me pause.

“What the hell, guys?” My voice carries over a cacophony of sound.

Four heads pop up, wide-eyed, in various places around the kitchen, living room, and entry hall. Keegan is the closest to me in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt that’s a few sizes too big…and looks suspiciously like the one I got Alex last year. His dusty brown hair is sticking up in random places and I can’t tell if it’s because he was dragged out of bed over here, or if the others have stressed him out so much, he’s been running his hands through it and tugging on the ends.

But none of that can take away from the strings of orange and purple lights knotted around his torso and hanging limply from his arms. Or from the tangled pile at his feet that seem to have exploded from the boxes surrounding him.

To his left is Nick, who’s sitting on the floor in a sea of newspapers as he unwraps whatever has been packed away into the large black storage bin in front of him. Lined up to the side of the bin are…Christmas knickknacks? That would explain the disgruntled look on his face and why his glasses are sitting half-crooked on his nose. His usually styled hair is slightly damp, making the reddish hue darker as it lays across his forehead.

Alex is…. Is he barefoot? On the fucking counters?

“I’ll say it again, what the hell, guys? Alex, what the fuck are you doing?”

He glances back at the cabinet he’s standing in front of and the orange garland in one hand, staple gun in the other, then back to me, still baring his doe-eyed expression. “Hanging stuff up.”

“And you, the tallest asshole here, needed to climb onto the counters…Instead of, I don’t know, using one of the six chairs over there?” I thumb towards the table, pursing my lips.

“I didn’t want the chair to get in the way. This seemed easier,” he deadpans, punctuating the sentence with the sharp click of the staple gun impaling the garland to the top of the cupboard.

“Right…Okay, so, again, what the hell? Anyone wanna answer this time?” I look around, my hands falling to my hips as I shift my weight to my right leg. I cock my head towards Cade who stands by the open patio door, a devil horn headband sitting on his head.

A cool breeze blows through the open space, and just behind him I can see a few other storage bins have been dragged outside.

I exhale, the rush of air filled with the exasperation of seeing the mess that they’ve made and it’s not even noon.

Cade hums and sucks his teeth. “Actually, I think Grays might be the best to speak to on all of…this.” He waves around his hand. “It was his idea. And speaking of…”

The whoosh of the front door opening comes from behind me, and I turn sharply, glaring at him as he steps through.

I quirk my brow, arms crossing in front of me, one finger tapping on my bicep. “This is the last time I’m saying this before I start smacking heads. What the hell?”

“Uh…surprise?” He gives me a weak smile and halfhearted jazz hands. “We’re decorating for Halloween. It’s part two of your birthday plans.” Grayson shuffles where he stands, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, and I soften.

Am I a little annoyed that they did this and it’s become a huge mess? Yeah, because I’ve been in charge of decorating since Mom died and there’s a very particular way of getting all the stuff out and unpacking it that doesn’t…create all of this. But am I also starting to tear up because he came up with this idea of decorating together like we used to, when Mom would wake us up early in the morning, all the cheesy Halloween music playing throughout the house and her usually wearing some kind of costume piece…kind of like how Cade is now?

Yeah…

Yeah, I might start crying.

“How—How long have you all been doing this?” I choked out, blinking back the tears welling up in the corner of my eyes.

“We got here around nine,” Nick chimes in, nodding to Keegan. “He stayed with us instead of going home.”

I turn slowly toward Cade who lifts his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I woke up when I heard noises in the garage. Imagine my surprise when I walked out there and that jackass—” he points over my head at Grayson, “—had knocked over a whole stack of boxes full of fuck knows what. I’m surprised the whole street didn’t wake up.”

With a shake of my head, I look at the man behind me. It’s like I’m seeing him clearly for the first time in years. “How long have you been here, Grays?”

He bobs his head from side to side, shifting his gaze around the entry hall, bouncing from one box to another bin. “A while.”

I nod thoughtfully.

Alright, so he’s gonna keep his secrets then. That’s fine.

“What’s left to get out of storage? Did you guys get the stuff out of the attic too?”

“I think so? I’m not sure, honestly. Nothing was labeled, but I recognized which bins had the lights and whatever that stuff is called that’s fluffy strings. And I think I got the one down that has the haunted village Marlene would set up on this thing,” Grayson says, laying his hand on the tall wooden cabinet in the hall beside him.

Truly, it’s the most useless piece of furniture we own. There’s a glass bowl sitting on it that’s empty, a basic painting from a retail art store hanging just above it. The only thing we really use it for is the mail while we’re hanging up our coats and keys on their hooks. Inside the bottom, after opening the doors, which are also pointless because there's large cutouts and not even glass to fill the gaps, the shelves hold dozens of photo albums and scrapbooks. I think there’s even one album full of our awards and certificates from elementary and middle school too?