“You were an ant.” Elora’s face scrunched up in distaste.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t just an ant. I was an ant on a picnic table .”

“Exactly,” Elora responded deadpan. “You were wearing a table. I’m sorry Cass but I draw the line at wearing furniture. We’re seniors this year; we have a responsibility to blow the minds of all the underclassmen peons.”

Cassie laughed. “What about Charlie’s Angels? They are some kick butt females.”

Elora raised a single pierced eyebrow at her best friend.

“Do you really see this,” she motioned to her face and then her body, “as Charlie’s Angels material?”

Cassie looked over at her friend. There was no doubt that Elora was beautiful, but not in a typical way. She was heavy into the Goth scene. Her hair was dyed jet black, with the exception of the bright red chunks she put in it. She wore it in long layers with bangs sweeping across her face intentionally creating a mysterious air. She had a stud resting in her left brow; four piercings in her left ear, five in her right, a stud in her right nostril, and, of course, a stud in her tongue. She wore dark eye shadow that gave her purple eyes, made possible by colored contacts, an enigmatic sparkle. She was naturally fair skinned, so she didn’t bother with any powder on her face and her skin was flawless anyways. She wore black, black , and more black and she rocked it. Black miniskirts with black fishnet tights drew attention to her insanely long legs on her five foot, seven inch frame, which was completed by black combat boots and an off the shoulder shirt revealing a black halter top. Around her neck dangled various crystals, all of which were, according to her mother, effective to promote healing, positive energy, or some other such nonsense. Various rings, ranging from skeletons to talons, adorned nearly every finger.

Cassie’s mouth quirked up. “I see your point.”

“Just leave the costumes to me. I’m sure my Lisa can help me come up with something dark and sexy.” Elora turned onto Cassie’s street and her tires screeched to a halt in her driveway.

Lisa was Elora’s mom and that is what Elora had always called her. Elora wasn’t into titles that she claimed society put on people to set them apart, when, as she put it “we are all human beings who picked their noses as children in front of people without shame and then in secret as adults.”

“Who says I want to look dark and sexy?” Cassie asked.

“I do,” Elora answered giving Cassie a what kind of question was that glare.

“Just remember that we are not standing on a corner trick or treating for the wrong kind of tricks and treats, okay?”

Elora rolled her eyes but then added, “That was actually a pretty good analogy.”

“So glad I meet your approval.”

“I’ll call you later tonight. No doubt you are going to need my help on our English project.” Elora began to back out of the driveway. Cassie motioned for her to roll down her window.

“I have to go up to my dad’s work remember?” Cassie yelled to her.

“Why do you have to go again?”

“His assistant is out for the week and he asked me to do some of the filing and whatever other meaningless tasks she does,” Cassie said in exasperation.

“Okay. We’ll work on the paper tomorrow. It’s not due until Friday anyway,” Elora waved as she continued out of the driveway and peeled and puttered off down the street.

Cassie looked at her watch and realized that she was already late. She walked over to her less than impressive, not to mention ancient, Honda Civic, digging her keys from her backpack. Once she had them, she tossed her backpack into the back seat, slid into the driver’s seat, and started it up. She backed out of the driveway in a much more reasonable fashion than Elora just did, and headed towards her dad’s work in downtown Oklahoma City.

~

“Dad, I’m here.” Cassie hollered as she walked into the reception area of Woodland Oil Company, Inc. From what little she knew of her dad’s work , he handled the company’s financial stuff and had the words “President of,” in front of his name. She walked past the reception desk and down a long hallway passing office after office on either side. Her father’s office was the last one at the end of the hall.

She knocked and opened the door when she heard his voice. William Tate, III sat at his paper -covered desk, tie loosened around his neck , his salt and pepper hair rumpled from continually running his hands through it.

“Come on in, Cass,” her father said and she noticed how tired he sounded. He always sounded tired, Cassie thought to herself. He worked way too much. Though he never complained about it, Cassie could tell the long hours were wearing him down. She made a mental note to bug him later about taking her on a vacation. It was for his own good.

“Hey,” she said with her brightest smile, hoping to bring a little energy into the stale room. She wanted to wrap him in a hug when he returned her smile and he immediately looked at least ten years younger.

“So what do I need to do?”

William stood and his six foot, three inch form seemed to make the large office shrink a bit. With a flat stomach, large muscular arms and powerful legs, William Tate was an avid athlete. He tried his hardest to make time to do push-ups and sit-ups in his office throughout the day. Aside from his graying hair, he looked much younger than his forty-six years. He laid the papers that were in his hands down as he came around his desk and motioned for her to follow him back down the long hallway to the reception area. His assistant, an older, frumpy woman named Martha, kept her desk in meticulous order. He pulled a box of papers out from under the organized desk.