GAME

Chapter 2 – Party

Drumming my fingers against the window sill, I watch as my guests make their way past the white gates of my mansion. My eyes scan the lot, looking for the only friendly face among them, my best friend Christopher Claus XII. He’s still just a teenager—only sixteen—so he still has a long ways to go before he can take over his father’s position as Santa Claus. It isn’t every day you can say your best friend is to be the next Santa Claus.

I, on the other hand, have turned eighteen and so, it’s my time to take over as the Easter Bunny. My mother is on some beach enjoying retirement, leaving me here to take over. Apparently, this all calls for celebration, because before leaving, my mother let everyone else know and everyone insisted in throwing a party for me, to congratulate me for becoming of age.

“Lady Bunny,” a soft voice called from the doorway of my master bedroom. Sighing, I turned around and smiled prettily at my maid. “Your guests are all gathered.”

“I’ll be right down,” I say sweetly, putting up the front that’s expected of me. The maid nods and leaves, closing the door softly behind her. Once she’s gone, my smile turns to a scowl. I can’t believe I’m being forced to mingle with these guys. Really, it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t know Jack and his Halloween posse would be there. I hate those guys. They always caused nothing but trouble. Their holiday is nothing but trouble. It has been reduced to just a bunch of stupid teenagers causing mischief—toilet papering and egging people’s houses, putting a dog’s waste on their porches and setting it on fire, some even messing up the graveyards and pulling other various pranks.

What was so great about that?

At least no one used their Easter eggs to throw at people’s windows.

Straightening up, I smooth out the skirt of my rose-pink dress and then fix the spaghetti straps that had fallen off my shoulder. Once I deem myself presentable, I leave my room to make nice with my guests.

The heels of my strapped-sandals clicked against the marble floor until I stop in front of the double doors that would lead me into the dining room. I stare at the doors, willing them to become steel doors that were sealed shut just to get out of seeing him. But no, they stayed the white doors that slide open. So, with as much dignity as I can muster, I slide the doors, pushing them to both sides and putting on the prettiest smile I can.

Everyone in the room stops talking and looks at me. The force of their smiles almost knocks me over it’s so intense, but I step forward and one of my maids that must have been scurrying behind me, closes the doors softly.

“Thank you all for coming to my party,” I say politely, “I hope you enjoy the feast.” I motion with my hand to the other double doors that lead into the kitchen. As if on my mark, they open and a ton of food is brought in.

I wrinkle my nose at the turkey, seeing as I’m a vegetarian, but I knew it would make my Thanksgiving guests quite happy.

As they go to the food, chatting happily with each other, I scan the room, finding Chris and walk over to him.

He doesn’t have white hair like most would think, it’s short and brown—he doesn’t have any facial hair either. And to his dismay, he doesn’t have any piercings. His eyes are a crystal blue, nicely shaped too—they aren’t huge like a bugs’ but they aren’t squinty either. His face isn’t round; he has high cheek bones and a straight nose. He does, however, wear a red coat that reaches down to his knees, but the fur that’s supposed to be white is black, he has red pants with black boots—though his boots are laced and take on a gothic look, the boots reach mid calf and overlap the hem of the pants.

What a little rebel.

“Hey, Chris,” I greet with a real smile, giving him a small hug.

Once we pull away, he greets me in turn by kissing the back of my hand and giving a mock bow, before settling his gaze over my shoulder, seeming distracted. Of course, Chris and I have been friends for a long time, so I don’t have to look behind me to see who he’s distracted by. When I see that his attention isn’t on me, I glower, narrowing my eyes at him.

“You’re supposed to be congratulating me,” I pout, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I did. I kissed your hand,” is his lame defense.

Sighing, I look off to the side and mumble, “What is it about him that you find so interesting?”

“He’s my role model, Lily,” his eyes seem to shine as he says this, almost dreamily. “I wish I could be just like him. He’s so cool, isn’t he?”

I scoff. “No. Not really.”

I hear him gasp softly.

“He’s looking at us,” he whispers, looking like an excited little kid on Christmas morning.

Biting my lip, I say a little chant in my head, please don’t come over here, please don’t come over here . . .

But of course, he comes over here.

Why?

Because the sadistic freak gets a kick out of torturing me, that’s why.

“Hello, pretty Lily,” I feel him purr behind me, his breath tickling my ear, his right hand on my hips, making me shiver.

“Hello, Mr. Jack-o-Lantern,” I growl in return.

Chuckling, he pulls back and I smell what he’s brought with him. Turning around, I look at him holding a turkey leg in his left hand. He switches it over to the right hand, the one that had been on my hip and takes a bite, slowly chewing it and laughing at me with his eyes.

“Lovely party,” he drawls once he swallows. Then, he holds out the turkey leg to me. “Want a bite?”

I wrinkle my nose. “You know I’m a vegetarian.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you are, pretty Lily.” Then he takes another bite and I can’t help but to scrunch my nose at him. “But,” he swallows, “with all of these rabbits around your home, haven’t you ever gotten curious? I mean, they taste really good.”

I can feel vomit gathering up my throat.

“Rabbit stew tastes really good.”

“You sick—” I’m cut off when he finally takes notice to Chris behind me, no doubt fidgeting like a school girl in front of her first crush.

“Ah, Christopher, how are you?”

“Good,” he practically squeaks.

I glance back to see his cheeks tinted red. Why does he like Jack so much? What is it he sees in the jerk enough to make him his role model? Not that it matters, he’s going to be Santa Claus, he really can’t be like Jack no matter how much he wants to. If he were to become like him, Christmas would become a very dark and twisted holiday.

“And how are your sisters?” He nods behind him to three beauties.

I inwardly shiver at the mention of my best friend’s three sisters, Sophia, Penelope, and Isabella.

Isabella is the youngest, merely fourteen years old. She’s the most timid out of the three sisters and always does what her two older sisters tell her to do.

Penelope is almost sickenly romantic. And because of this, her eyes are set on Cupid—of course. It’s no secret that she’d like nothing more than to stick him with one of his own arrows so he could swoon over her. She’s the oldest sister, but only by a year, at seventeen years old.

And then, there’s the ring leader, Sophia. Despite being a year younger than Penelope—oh, forgive me, she prefers to go by Penny—she’s sixteen, the same age as Chris which makes her, yes, his twin. Despite this, they’re not at all very close, much to her dismay. Sophia loves her brother more than anything; she’s got a major brother complex, so it frustrates her that she doesn’t have his attention, which also leads us to why she hates me. Because when we were kids, I was the one who stole his attention. I’m his best friend, the one who he talks to and opens up to. Not her. And because she hates me, the other two do as well.

They all look pretty similar, with their blue eyes, full pink lips, high cheek bones, creamy skin, and even their matching outfits—dresses that look just like Santa’s outfit, with the red and white and the thick black belt, only the top is a tube top, though once the weather becomes colder, it changes to a sweater-look. They even wear the hats on occasion. The only thing that really sets them apart is their hair.

Being Chris’s twin, Sophia has, of course, the same brown hair. It’s straight and thick and shiny and just all around beautiful.

Penelope, however, has platinum blond hair in ringlet curls, pulled back to a pony tail. And Isabella, her hair is a dark brown, so dark it looks black, and is thick and wavy. Isabella and Penelope’s hair reaches down to the small of their backs while Sophia’s is just a bit shorter, reaching just to the end of her shoulder blades and has layers.

“My sisters are good,” Chris says politely, though his eyes are shinning.

Jack smirks. “Your sister Sophia is rather charming.”

Chris looks almost horrified, his eyes widening. It’s kind of amusing.

“Oh God, she talked to you didn’t she?”

Because she’s not worthy, I roll my eyes.

Chris knows of Sophia’s infatuation for Jack. But oh Chris, my dear friend, if only you knew. The only reason Sophia has a crush on Jack is because Chris admires him, otherwise she wouldn’t pay attention to him at all. She doesn’t seem like the type of girl who goes for bad boys. Well, unless said bad boy happens to be her big brother’s inspiration. She probably thinks that if she and Jack hook up, Chris will suddenly want to be close to her again.

I almost feel sorry for her.

Jack chuckles again, finding this situation a bit too amusing.

“Yes, but don’t worry, she didn’t tell me any dirty secrets of yours if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Chris flushes and looks away, embarrassed.

Yawning, I fake being bored of this and turn to head towards the food table. I hear Jack say something to Chris but I can’t make out the words, not that I care enough to want to. But then, just as I pick up a carrot, he comes up behind me and there he is, chuckling again.

“What,” I snap.

“Nothing. I just find it absolutely ironic that you’re eating a carrot, bunny girl.”

My face feels hot as I turn around to glare at him, annoyed.

“What do you want now?”

“To congratulate you,” he smiles, “Also, to catch up. It’s been so long since we’ve last played.”

“Ah yes, it’s been rather blissful without you around.”

He just keeps smiling and picks up a grape from the table, popping it in his mouth.

“I was busy last year, since that was my year to play my part in Halloween.”

Oh yes, Jack is a year older than me. Representing the jack-o-lantern, he plays a huge part in the holiday, the biggest really. You can even go so far as to say he’s like their leader.

“Oh? And how amazing were you?” I ask sarcastically, showing him just how amazing I found his holiday.

Pfft, amazing my foot.

His smile disappears.

“Yes, well, at least my holiday is interesting, a time for people to really have fun and let loose.”

“Yes, I’m sure the ones who get killed because of a dumbass prank are really having fun.”

He snorts. “You’re over exaggerating.”

“Oh? So you didn’t kill someone?”

He narrows his eyes at me, a warning that I don’t heed.

“Cause you know, your kind do have a reputation for having a . . . mistake every now and then. Don’t think I didn’t hear about those incidents.”

He looks like he’s about to take a chicken leg and beat me with it. His nostrils flare angrily, his orange eyes darkening. They remind me of pumpkins, his eyes, with just one circle carved in the middle. Just a reminder of what holiday he belongs to.

But I refuse to fear him. I tilt my head up and narrow my eyes at him, daring him to deny those incidents.

To my surprise, he closes his eyes and inhales deeply, then slowly exhales, calming himself down. Then, a grin stretches across his face, reminding me of a Cheshire Cat.

“Oh, I see you’re in a bad mood. I would be too if I had to take over this boring ass holiday. I mean damn, even Hollywood finds you boring. They just refuse to make a big time movie for you guys.”

I grit my teeth.

“Yeah, but they’ve sure given you a lot of horror movies huh?”

This time, he doesn’t let the jab affect him, much to my dismay.

“Yes well, I guess that just means that deep down, people want to be scared shitless. Everyone looks forward to and gets excited for Halloween; it has something in it for everyone. It’s the time for the kids to get candy, the teenagers to pull pranks and the adults to party or scare the kids. It’s a big party. Easter on the other hand,” he sighs and shakes his head. “Not everyone can enjoy that holiday, only kids or religious people. How sad.”

I open my mouth to retort but I can’t come up with anything. Instead my mouth just keeps opening and closing pointlessly as I try to find the words. His grin becomes wider, if possible, and he knows he’s won.

This time.

“Oh look, it’s my dear friend Cupid,” I nod over to the angelic man who’s holding a glass of wine. “As much as I would love to play with you, I really should make nice with all my other guests.” I smile so sickenly sweet at him as I walk around him to Cupid, gathering up the remains of my pride from losing that little battle.

Oh, but the war will be mine.