[General POV]
"Don’t thank just yet. If everything goes well, you’ll owe one," said Willa with a smile.
And just as she said that, Cam walked into the living room, carrying Lily in his arms. She had a little pumpkin scarf tied around her neck like a cape. She looked absolutely adorable.
"I heard everything!" said Cam with his usual over-the-top enthusiasm. "It’s going to be amazing having you spend Halloween with us, Willa!"
"Sure..." said Willa with a half-smile, more the smile of soone who knows sothing’s coming.
"And you’ll have to wear a costu," Cam added solemnly. "It’s a family rule. At Claire’s house, everyone dresses up. Everyone."
Willa slowly turned her head toward Andrew, as if hoping he might save her from an impending execution.
Andrew just smiled... and shook his head, amused.
"It’s true," he said, shrugging. "Claire’s really strict about it. If you show up without a costu... she’ll notice. And she’ll probably start to get suspicious. Not a great idea if we want the prank to work."
"You can wear sothing simple," Andrew added, trying to be conciliatory. "Like a cheap vampire cape and so fake fangs, I don’t know. Just... sothing that looks like you made a little effort."
"We can look for sothing," Cam cut in, imdiately switching into compulsive planner mode. "I’ve got a whole box of old costus in the closet. Maybe sothing Andrew wore in the past might fit you..."
Willa turned her head toward Andrew, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Her gaze moved from his shoulders to his arms, to his torso, and then down to his legs.
"How far back are we talking?" she asked dryly. "Because I doubt anything he wore since... I don’t know, fourth grade?... would fit ."
Andrew, with his well-developed quarterback physique, tall for his age, muscular arms, broad shoulders, and at least 80kg of pure training, smiled with silent pride.
"Yeah, I don’t think those costus are going to work," Willa added, crossing her arms. "Unless you want to look like a little girl drowning in adult clothes."
Cam chuckled but nodded, "That’s true... but we could try sothing from Mitchell’s costu stash. Those might be a better fit."
Andrew’s head snapped around. "Dad costu? No, please... Willa’s my friend. I don’t want her to hate Halloween more than she already does."
"Are they really that bad?" Willa asked, curious.
"Judge for yourself," said Andrew, pulling out his phone. He scrolled and showed her a photo.
It was Mitchell dressed as Spider-Man, a cheap, shiny costu with badly sewn-in foam muscles and a mask pulled halfway up, revealing half his face.
He had taken the photo that very morning in the bathroom mirror and sent it to Andrew before Andrew could roast him in person.
"He wore that this morning. I’m serious. It’s an insult to everything Peter Parker stands for," Andrew said, shaking his head.
Willa, upon seeing the image, recoiled as if she’d seen a poorly made-up corpse.
"That’s sacrilege!" Willa exclaid. "A Spider-Man cosplay cannot have such hideous, fake foam muscles!"
"Thanks!" said Andrew, patting her shoulder lightly. "Finally soone who gets it."
Cam, completely immune to aesthetic criticism and still brimming with the energy of soone directing a musical in his mind, clapped his hands excitedly. "Alright, alright. Let’s try a different approach. New proposal! First... Willa, what would you like to dress up as?"
Willa looked thoughtful for a mont before finally saying, "A clown?"
"A clown...?" Andrew repeated, with a strange tone in his voice. Not mocking, more like uncomfortable.
Willa noticed imdiately.
"Yeah, a clown. But not a happy one, of course. A disturbing one. Like It, from the ’90s miniseries. It always scared ... but ironically, it’s one of my favorites," Willa explained.
Andrew looked down for a second, crossing his arms with a slight discomfort, like he had swallowed sothing bitter.
Willa noticed. She frowned, "What is it?"
Before Andrew could answer, Cam let out a long, nostalgic sigh. "Ah... clowns. So misunderstood. Actually, I was one. My character was Fizbo," he said, as if everyone already knew who he was talking about.
’Why do you always have to tell your whole backstory?’ Andrew thought, already knowing where this was going.
"A clown innocent, devoted to laughter, balloons, and the magic of color. Lewis and I, my act partner, used to perform at parties, schools... even parades. Until I t Mitchell... and, well, a stable relationship and a clown career don’t always mix."
Andrew slowly closed his eyes. He had heard this story far too many tis.
"When Andrew was in elentary school and winning football championships, I used to dress up as Fizbo," added Cam. "To bring him joy, surprise him, take pictures, cake, balloons... The problem is—"
"I hated it," Andrew cut in bluntly. "It wasn’t funny. It was... unsettling."
Willa slowly turned to him, raising an eyebrow as a smile began to form on her face.
"Are you afraid of clowns, Pritchett?"
"It’s not fear. It’s... discomfort. I saw the It miniseries as a kid, and it left a mark. Watching a terrifying clown try to rip off a kid’s arm didn’t exactly prepare to hug Fizbo at my birthday party, you know?" Andrew replied, crossing his arms.
Cam nodded with resignation, "Until one day, Mitchell asked to stop dressing up for Andrew’s events. That while he tolerated it, he clearly didn’t enjoy it. And from that day on, Fizbo retired from youth football."
Willa looked at Andrew with a wicked smile, as if she had just received the best news of the day, "Then it’s official," she said, raising her voice dramatically. "I’ll dress up as a scary clown."
Andrew frowned, "Didn’t you say it scared you?"
"Exactly. That’s why I’ll do it," Willa replied with a nod. "Besides, if it makes you uncomfortable, that’s even more fun. I’ll be your shadow, let’s just hope you don’t freak out before the prank on Claire," she added, leaning in slightly with a smile that clearly annoyed Andrew.
"You’re sadistic," Andrew muttered.
"You’re not one to talk: Mr. Fake Heart Attack Prank to Scare Your Aunt to Death. Who’s the real monster here?" Willa shot back, raising her eyebrows.
"Hey, you’re the one pretending to have the heart attack. And you like the prank, so that doesn’t make you any better than ."
Before Willa could respond, Cam appeared out of nowhere with a box full of makeup in his arms. Neither of them had noticed when he had left.
"Got it! The full Fizbo kit!" Cam announced, raising the box like it was an ergency briefcase.
"We’ve got less than an hour before we head to Claire’s!"
Willa looked at him with a mix of laughter and amazent, "Do you always have that on hand?"
Andrew answered before Cam could, "Yeah. It’s like his superhero suit. Only instead of a cape, it has a red nose and makeup, and instead of fighting criminals, he brings joy to children by making balloon animals."
Cam nodded proudly, "Exactly."
Andrew crossed his arms, thoughtful, then walked over to a table. He picked up a sheet of paper and a marker, "I have an idea to improve the makeup..."
"Now?" Willa asked.
"Yeah. It’s sothing that ca to one night when I couldn’t sleep... It’s more disturbing, more theatrical. Sothing like this..." said Andrew with fake casualness.
He wasn’t about to say: I’m from the future, and this is a creepy clown you’ll see in theaters in a few years.
He sat down and, with quick strokes, began to draw a pale face, sharp angled eyebrows, red lines running down from the eyes to the mouth, and makeup that looked more like a Victorian demon than a classic clown.
When he finished, he turned the page toward her.
Willa looked at it, "That’s perfect."
"Yes?"
"Yes. It’s ugly, horrible, intense... I love it," said Willa, pausing as she stared at the drawing with a mix of admiration and amusent.
"You know what the worst part is?" she added.
"What?"
"I don’t even know why I thought of dressing up as a clown, when... well, I hate them. They scare . But now I want to look like one, crawl out of a storm drain and say to a kid: They all float down here, Georgie."
She delivered the final line in a raspy, high-pitched tone like Pennywise, eyes wide open and with an unnaturally wide grin.
Andrew leaned back, bursting into laughter.
"Okay, wow," he said, laughing. "That was way creepier than I expected. As long as you don’t want to make float and just stick to scaring the kids... we’re good."
At that mont, Cam leaned in, looked at the drawing, and nodded solemnly, "We’re going to need more than just makeup," he said in a grave tone.
"That face needs a costu worthy of it."
He turned to Willa with the precision of a Broadway tailor, "I’m going to take your asurents," he declared, pulling a asuring tape out of his pocket as if he always carried one.
Willa stared at him in disbelief as he began asuring her back, shoulders, waist, and leg length with unnerving efficiency, "Have you always been this ticulous?"
"Sweetheart, I’ve designed four school plays and two unofficial productions of Cats. Inside this body lives a costu designer, a choreographer, and a retired clown."
Cam finished the asurents with a dramatic flourish, snapped the tape closed, and said, "I’ll be back in half an hour! I’m going to find the perfect costu for that face you just created. In the anti, Willa, do your makeup. And you, Andrew, watch Lily. Don’t let her eat any more candy."
And just like that, he rushed out of the house like a flash, carrying the asuring tape and muttering sothing about gray tulle and strategic ruffles.
Andrew and Willa were silent for a few seconds.
"Is he always like this?"
"He’s worse when he’s directing sothing," replied Andrew. "One ti he cried because a first grader sneezed and ruined the choreography."
Willa chuckled softly and picked up one of the brushes from the Fizbo kit, walking over to the mirror.
As Willa did her makeup, Andrew sat on the couch with Lily, who was playing with a little bat plush in one hand and a soft pumpkin toy in the other.
He talked to her in a soft voice, mimicking monster sounds every ti she tried to bite the toy.
Lily burst into giggles at the "Monster" voice Andrew was doing.
Willa couldn’t help but smile to herself. If she kept watching that... her makeup would lt off.
"Hey, quarterback," she called out, still watching him through the mirror. "Can you give a hand with this?"
"With what?" Andrew asked.
"I need you to mark the outline of my eyebrows with a white pencil. If I ss it up, I’ll ruin the whole look," Willa replied.
Andrew looked at her with a mix of doubt and resignation, "Are you sure? I’m not exactly a makeup expert."
"Neither am I, but here we are, improvising," Willa shot back.
"Alright..." said Andrew, as he sat Lily in her little chair with her toys.
Willa handed him the pencil and he took it carefully. He stood in front of her, just inches away.
The closeness was inevitable.
She stared at him with those intense blue eyes, wide, unblinking. Like she was studying him.
Andrew focused on tracing the line above her left eyebrow, but his fingers trembled slightly.
Not out of nerves.
Not exactly.
"Why are your eyes so wide open?" he finally asked without looking at her. "You’re very... intense."
"Because you’re drawing on my face," Willa replied with a barely contained smile. "And because I’m waiting for you to ss up so I can make a scene."
"My theory that you’re sadistic just keeps getting stronger," Andrew muttered. Willa, of course, heard him due to the closeness, but didn’t reply.
"You’ve got a steadier hand than I expected for a guy obsessed with sports and lifting weights," said Willa, lowering her voice.
"Is that a complint or a disguised insult?" asked Andrew, slightly frowning as he concentrated on keeping the line clean.
"Both," she answered, in her most characteristic tone. "Your hands are more... precise than I thought."
"Of course, these hands will be worth millions in the near future," Andrew said with a slight smile.
Willa narrowed her eyes with a crooked smile, "Wow, zero humility. Do your YouTube fans know about this lack of modesty?"
"I’m just being realistic," said Andrew.
Finally, Andrew stepped back just a few inches and looked at her, "There. You’re... symtrical, maybe."
"Thanks, doctor," she replied, turning her head to look in the mirror.
"And you?" Willa asked, still examining her reflection. "What are you dressing up as tonight?"
Andrew leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms, "Michael Myers."
Willa slowly turned toward him, raising an eyebrow, "The masked killer who walks really slow and sohow teleports when no one’s looking?"
"That’s the one," Andrew nodded with a smile.
She looked him up and down for a mont, evaluating him critically.
"Well... you’ve definitely got the presence. You’re tall," she said, like it was just a casual observation. "And you’ve got the build too. You’ll be scary without even trying."
Andrew raised an eyebrow, amused, "Was that a complint, Willa?"
"It was an observation," she replied with a half-smile, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "From an actress who cares about detail. Nothing more."
"So It scares you, but you’re fine dressing up as a guy who stabs people with a blank-faced mask?" Willa asked, quickly changing the subject.
"The costu is comfortable. I don’t have to talk. Just stand there and stare," Andrew replied with a shrug. "I skip the makeup and avoid human interaction with kids."
"Whoa, I didn’t know you were antisocial on Halloween," Willa laughed.
They kept chatting as ti passed, until finally Cam burst into the room with a cloth bag and a triumphant expression.
He brought a full costu: aged fabric, dark ruffles, strategically torn lace. The perfect mix of theatrical and disturbing. It looked like sothing straight out of a vintage horror film, but with style.
Willa didn’t say a word when she received it. She just nodded, satisfied, and headed to the bathroom to change and finish her makeup.
anwhile, Andrew slipped into his dark blue overalls, put on the boots, and had the mask ready to wear at any mont.
When Willa erged from the bathroom, she was completely transford.
Her face was painted white with stylized lines running down from her eyes in distorted teardrop shapes, red lips, and shaded eyebrows that gave the impression of a permanently mocking expression.
On top of that, the outfit: form-fitting, with subtle ruffles and gothic elents, a modern, female version of Pennywise, far more elegant than the 1990 original, who just looked like a creepy regular clown.
Cam greeted her with a restrained round of applause and a proud smile.
A few minutes later, the front door opened and Mitchell walked in, still wearing the cheap Spider-Man costu. He had a gloomy expression.
"I don’t want to talk," he announced without looking at anyone, as he crossed the room and headed straight to his bedroom in silence.
No one asked.
Only Cam knew that, at Mitch’s new job, he and two other idiots were the only ones who showed up in costu.
When Mitchell reappeared, he was no longer wearing the costu. Just regular clothes and a neutral face.
Cam, who would normally have dragged him back to get dressed up again, barely managed to throw a plain black cape over his own outfit. His enthusiasm was now fully focused on the masterpiece that was Willa’s costu, and on seeing Claire’s reaction.
The clock read 6:50 PM when they headed out toward the Dunphys’ house.
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