The Imposter Marin Montgomery (rom com books to read TXT) 📖

us every year, and we never go. He’s not one for hocus-pocus and costume parties. He thinks it’s a holiday for the devil.”

“And just think, you grew up with a preacher dad.” I smirked. “Did he let you celebrate Halloween?”

“We could dress up. The church had its own fall party every year, so I got to trick-or-treat that way.”

“Okay.” I shrugged. “Just promise you won’t embarrass me.”

Most teens would be disgusted if their parents asked to ride with them to a party, but I was curious to see my mother in another setting. I offered to help her pick out a costume, but she was adamant she could find something to wear.

When I barged in her bedroom a little bit later without knocking, she quickly covered up her body with a towel. I thought it was due to modesty. We weren’t a household that talked about or displayed nudity or sex.

“You know better than to come in without knocking,” she chastised.

“I just wanna help with your costume.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” she sighed. “I have nothing to wear.”

“Why can’t you be a witch and wear your black velvet dress?”

“It’s sleeveless.”

“It’s not like it’s inappropriate.”

She shook her head like I wasn’t understanding, and at the time, I didn’t.

Sitting down on her bed, she put her head in her hands. I heard muffled crying, and I thought she was upset at missing the party.

“I’ll find you something to wear,” I offered brightly.

And so I did.

While I rummaged through old boxes in our attic, she put her dark hair in waves, the perfect accompaniment to the long-sleeve hippie dress I’d found. We located a leather strap for her to use as a headband, and after we’d selected a couple of pieces of chunky costume jewelry, she embodied a flower child from the seventies. As I applied makeup to her face, I realized how pretty my mother was. She was young, only in her thirties, which was crazy to think about. But she never wore makeup, always went plain faced. Dowdy, even.

Using the same eyeliner as I had for my whiskers, I drew a peace symbol on her right cheek.

“All set.” I smiled proudly.

She seemed amazed at the transformation, her grin as wide as her flared sleeves. Even Kristin whistled at my mother’s costume and whispered to me how hot she looked.

It was true: neither of us had seen my mother dolled up.

And more than that, I saw a different side of my mother, one I had never seen before. Instead of timid, she was glowing, her posture relaxed instead of rigid. She commanded the room instead of begging to blend into the carpet.

When we arrived at the Halloween party, Miles and Bryce were there, along with their mom, Cindy.

I noticed before I took off with my friends that Cindy didn’t seem thrilled to see us. Usually, she treated me like one of her kids, the daughter she never had, but as soon as we walked in, her face turned to stone, an impenetrable gaze fixed in our direction.

We said hello, but Cindy was distant.

I forgot about it, because later Kristin and her boyfriend, Josh, had a fight, prompting her to want to leave. She was hysterically crying, and since she was my ride, I told her I would find my mother so we could go.

But I couldn’t find her.

Kristin threw a fit, and I told her to go ahead and ask Miles or Bryce to give us a ride home, but she refused.

I went in search of my mother, checking the firepit, knocking on the doors of the closed rooms in the farmhouse, and asking around.

No one had seen her.

Annoyed, I went for a walk, impatient to find her. The evening was chilly, and I was only wearing a thin leotard. My teeth were chattering without the heat of the bonfire.

I should’ve brought a coat, I berated myself.

As I headed down a dark path toward the silo, I became terrified when a shadowy figure came running toward me. At first, I didn’t know who it was, but the pink sequins of Kristin’s Glinda the Good Witch costume sparkled when they caught the moon’s bare light.

“You don’t want to go that way,” she warned.

“Why not?”

“Two people are getting it on.”

“So? Stop being such a prude.” I rolled my eyes. “Who is it? People in our class?”

Breathlessly, she shook her head. “It’s adults.”

“Let’s go see who it is.”

“No! It’s gross.” She stuck out her tongue. “Plus, I thought we were trying to find your mom.”

“We are.”

“Then let’s go back inside. It’s damn cold out here.”

“I thought you didn’t want to run back into Josh?”

“Screw him.” She sniffed. “Now that homecoming is over, I’m done.”

Though we walked back toward the loud music and sounds from the party, we didn’t go back inside. Kristin lit up a cigarette, and I could tell by the way she was chain-smoking one after the other, just like my daddy did, she was agitated.

Josh found her, and now she wasn’t in a rush to leave, so they went inside.

Bored, I sat on the steps of the wooden deck, trying to keep myself warm but not wanting to rejoin the cacophony.

It was a full moon, and I was sitting quietly, the darkness enveloping me, when two shadows appeared from the direction of the silo. I was rubbing my legs for warmth, curious to see who the adults were who had disappeared to make out—or do more, I supposed.

Assuming it was a couple, probably a friend’s parents, I waited, wanting to tease a classmate about this in the morning. The pair were close enough their shoulders touched, with one leaning into the other. I could tell by the way one arm was draped over the other that they were holding hands.

They stopped as they got closer to the house, disappearing behind a large tree with branches that shielded them from view.

The wood railing hid most of me, but I crouched down and hid underneath the deck, knowing they would walk right over my head