“Caught up with Felix.”
“Oh, so you spent the afternoon sleeping with the enemy,” Lloyd jokes. “How’s he doing anyway?”
“He made some sick saves at last night’s game. Other than that, he seems happy and content with his life.”
“That’s good,” Ford comments. “Should we go before we can’t find any costumes?”
“I respect your priorities,” Beck agrees. “The party starts at eleven, and we can’t show up acting like rookies.”
The four of us head out and wander until we spot a costume shop that’s pure Halloween mayhem inside. The store is packed with frantic last-minute customers while costumes are strewn across the aisles filled with cheap polyester and glitter. Two ladies fight over the last Barbie dress. Kids are running around, their parents shouting after them. It’s a madhouse.
Spotting a Joker costume right away, Beck makes a beeline for it. “That’s it. My costume. Perfectly chaotic, yet cool.”
I shake my head in amusement. “Now, the rest of us need to find ours.”
While the other two scatter to browse between the rows of racks, I stay in the superhero section, flipping through the larger-than-expected selection. It doesn’t take long until my eyes land on a black and red mask between all the other costumes.
I step toward the mirror, assessing the fit of the mask on me. My eyes and features below my nose are shown, but the rest of my face is hidden, creating a mystery.
Glancing over my shoulder at Beck, I ask, “What do you think?”
“Brooding. Mysterious. Determined.” My teammate counts with his fingers. “Yeah, that works for you.”
“Perfect. That’s exactly what I was going for.”
Lloyd passes us and gives a nod of approval at my pick. “Classicchoice. Meanwhile, I’m gonna find something that gets me all the attention tonight.”
“You don’t need a costume for that,” Ford mutters, barely looking up from the shelf of Viking helmets nearby, earning a laugh from all of us.
“You guys are the worst,” Lloyd jokingly complains, though it’s clear he’s enjoying the banter between us.
Eventually, he settles on a freaking space suit, complete with a helmet, that costs more than the rest of our costumes combined. True to his movie and history-loving self, Ford decides to dress up similarly to Rick O’Connell fromThe Mummy.
We pay for our purchases and head back to the hotel. Beck slings an arm over my shoulder and turns to others. “Alright, boys. Tonight, we own this party. No half-measures.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” Lloyd hoots, shaking his body to the beat of the music drifting from a nearby bar.
“If I must.” Ford sighs as he looks at our linemate. “My dream was to have a quiet night in, but I should’ve known you’d want to go out on Halloween.”
“Cheer up, buttercup. Anything can happen tonight. You could miss meeting the love of your life or something just as cheesy if you stay at the hotel,” Lloyd teases.
Back in my room, I straighten my outfit, giving myself a once-over in the full-length mirror. The black suit jacket fits snugly around my muscled body, tailored to my build, while the maskcasts a shadow over my face. For tonight, I’m stepping into another identity. I can be whoever I choose to be.
My phone rings with a FaceTime call and I see my cousin’s name pop up on the screen. Not taking the mask off, I answer with a deep hello.
“Holy shit,” Manuel’s awed voice says in Spanish. “I wasn’t expecting a masked man to answer my call tonight.”
My only cousin is a high school senior living outside Mexico City. His big dream is to earn a scholarship to play college soccer in the U.S. We’ve made a deal: if that doesn’t work out, I’ll cover his tuition and help him through the visa process.
His mom, my tía Marisol, is my mom’s younger sister. She left Sweden for Mexico in the late nineties to study abroad and never returned.
Between the two of them, they’re all the family I have left. I lost my dad before I ever got the chance to meet him or his side of the family, and my mom left when I was still a kid. After that, my maternal grandparents raised me in public housing on the outskirts of Uppsala until they passed.
“So glad I could surprise you. How’s it going, primo?”
“We won today’s match.” He puffs his chest proudly. “Coach said it was one of my best games of the season. He’s sending footage to scouts, so fingers crossed.”
He’s still wearing his jersey, his short black hair damp, so he must have just come home. We try to chat once or twice a week, depending on our busy schedules.
