She pours a shot of rum and hands it to me. “Here, this will cheer you up. Pregaming before a haunted carnival is like, law.” I accept the shot and gulp it down. When I lower the glass, the smile is back on my face. Alcohol won’t cure the guilt, but at least I’m not mad about my mom calling me a prostitute anymore. She snorts when she sees my face. “What do you think the haunted houses will be like this year?” she asks, patting some shimmery brown eyeshadow on her eyelid. She’s going to look dangerous when she’s finished. The eyeshadow will bring out her sage green eyes to hazardous levels and attract all the monsters. “T don’t know, it’s always hard to guess. It’s like trying to guess the next theme for American Horror Story.” The houses in Satan’s Affair usually all follow the same theme. One year, most of the haunted houses were set up like prisons, and in each house, you had to figure out how to escape. That’s still one of my favorite themes thus far. That was also the same year Daya peed herself. She brings an extra change of clothes now, and I tease her every time. “You ready?” she asks, swiping at her eyelashes one last time with her mascara wand. “Girl, I was born ready. Let’s go pee-body.” “Bitch,” she mutters, but I barely hear it over my evil cackling.