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DIRTY DANCING

act one ━ chapter twelve

. . . . . .

━ MORGAN SAMUELS ━
october 1993

"SORRY, LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT, YOU INVITED YOUR EX-BOYFRIEND TO YOUR HALLOWEEN PARTY?"

"You would be correct."

"Okay, next question, and this might be a tough one, why?"

This was indeed a tough one, as Casper had rightfully named it. Morgan was struggling to pull together an answer that distracted them from her crumbling frame and already pathetic approach to being an ex-girlfriend.

"I had a stroke?"

In the moment that Morgan and Herbert discussed the former's plans for Halloween, this actually must have been the only valid conclusion as to what was happening in her brain the second she invited her ex. Not a lot, essentially. She could feel the sweat trickling down her neck and her hands becoming all clammy and her cheeks going red. What else could she do besides lose all control over what came out of her mouth?

"That's what we'll tell Herbert when he asks where you are tonight," Bea tutted from where she was applying mascara to her lashes, sitting in front of the floor-length mirror in her and Morgan's dorm room.

Kamilah and Maggie had already long disappeared for their Halloween plans ─ although they promised Kira they'd show up to her party later ─ so this friendship group had commandeered their room in the Gryffindor tower for a regroup before they began the party preparations in the Room of Requirement as the afternoon began to filter into the evening.

Once Casper had told them all what he had managed to gather on the teachers' whereabouts for the evening and Morgan had dumped all of the bottles of alcohol she had secured from her eighteen-year-old brother earlier onto her bed, she had told them the news of Herbert's newly established invite to their party.

Morgan slumped against her headboard, the bottles sprawled out on her mattress clinking against each other with the movement. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Bea shrugged and looked at the moping girl in the mirror. "You never wanted to go to this party in the first place. Now I'd say you've got a pretty valid reason for not going." Bea glanced over at Kira who was perched on the end of Maggie's bed to confirm that Morgan's appearance at Kira's party wasn't necessary. Kira shrugged nonchalantly.

"I thought the plan here was not to make Morgan look like a sad loser who can't get over her ex-boyfriend?" Morgan spoke in the third person, jutting her neck out and pushing up her shoulders. Her eyes flicked from one person to the next but none of them seemed particularly clued up as to how they were supposed to help a girl who had got herself into such a mess.

"We'll say you had a stroke then," Edie said, although she didn't seem all that convinced herself that this would work. "Medically emergencies are nothing to do with someone's loser ability."

"We just definitely won't use a heart attack as an excuse," Greg said over the top of his book. He resided at the other end of Maggie's bed to Kira, and, up until this point, they didn't think he was even listening. "Because that would indicate heartbreak," he lifted his head and stared down Morgan, "which is obviously not what is happening here."

With Greg's dig in her mind ─ his attempt at toughening her up ─ Morgan slumped further into her collection of pillows.

"I could write home and make my parents send him to the Navy?" Kira suggested casually, while she applied a fresh coat of paint to her nails.

Bea eyed Morgan in the mirror as the latter, very seriously, considered this proposal. Carefully placing her mascara back into her makeup bag, Bea got to her feet and strode over to Morgan's bed.

"No, none of this is going to happen," she declared. "Honey, you just need some confidence. You can't let him affect you anymore." Morgan's brows furrowed. She had been trying this and thus far had failed. Obviously.

"So," Bea said, trying to contain her excitement. "We just need to make sure you look hot."

❋❋❋

"HOT", IN TO BEATRICE FISHER'S TERMS, WAS ANYTHING BUT whatever Morgan would choose for herself. She made Morgan change out of her apparently unrecognisable Oliver Wood getup and transformed her into ─ like the quintessential white girl she was, apparently ─ a very boring devil.

When she had spoken to Herbert earlier, she didn't recognise his costume. Probably because, as Oliver had thought, she was highly uneducated when it came to Muggle media. She might have thought it was just his normal Saturday clothes if it wasn't for the fact Kira had mentioned that he was indeed in costume when she also said: "he can't even dance, what makes him think he can pull off being Johnny Castle?". Whatever that meant.

Naturally, Morgan interrogated Herbert's sister about Herbert's costume. She didn't fully understand everything Kira said but what she concluded from her conversation with Kira ─ besides the fact that Kira had very strong feelings about her brother dancing sexually ─ was that his costume wasn't in the category of classmate intimation, as Morgan had elected for, but rather classy and swoony. So Morgan simply had to change.

He couldn't see her attempt at humour in the form of a costume based on a real-life person that he had spoken to before, he just couldn't. So the only last-minute costume available to her was something Edie had in her wardrobe, mixed with something from Casper's and then completed with something from Kira's.

Bea had been the one to suggest it because now they seemed like a pair of coordinated best friends as an angel and devil. The red dress was Evie's, the horns Casper's and Merlin knows why Kira had every possible emergency costume at the bottom of her trunk, gifting Morgan a red trident to top it all off.

She felt basic and stupid as a devil. But hopefully not as stupid as she would have been should she had stayed dressed up like a school student carrying a miniature broom everywhere.

As for the rest of them, they had all arrived at the room of requirement two hours before the party was due to start. Complete overkill, basically.

They had told people the party started at eight, which meant nobody would be turning up until eight-thirty at the earliest. But, according to Kira, they had to make sure this was the best party ever and that the appearance of the venue was the most important part. Even when it was going to be dark, everyone was going to be drunk, and if they required Halloween decorations, the room would have given them some. Clues in the name.

Greg told them he found the Room of Requirement when he was trying to study on a Monday night. The library was apparently full, the classrooms locked, and every study room was far too noisy for him to get anything done. He said it just appeared out of nowhere when he was on his way back to the Ravenclaw tower to admit defeat. ("It had a desk and a lamp and everything.") And so, he took them to the exact spot where he had seen the door materialise.

Seeing as no other house was using their common rooms to host a party and there was no other room in the castle big enough nor one that wouldn't get them caught, they were in need of a party venue. Well, Kira was. They just shoved her in front of the wall where Greg claimed the room to be and poof, just like that they had a big expanse to host an absolute rager.

"Do you think our respectful, completely sober, good friends who are coming to this party will pay any attention to the decorations?" Greg asked dubiously as he slumped onto the top platform of the ladder, he had been slaving away on for at least fifteen minutes trying to hang pumpkin bunting from the ceiling.

"It doesn't matter. I'm paying attention to the decorations."

"This is her moment in the spotlight. Let's just leave her to it."

An hour in and the Room of Requirement was certainly doing its job. The chamber had filled up rapidly and so despite Morgan's view that her friendship group wasn't cool enough to be responsible for throwing such a big party, apparently, people didn't care enough about who was hosting it because, well, it was a party.

But along with the good turnout, came all its consequences. At least half of the drinks they had set out had already ended up on the floor, leaving a quickly hardening sticky residue. Alongside that, they had put up far too many Halloween-related decorations for the amount of attention the partygoers actually paid to them.

When Edie watched a student vomit in a corner with nothing to catch said vomit, it triggered a thought in her that caused her to pull a few of her friends aside. Kira and Casper claimed they were too busy dancing, but Morgan, Greg, and Bea all listened to Edie's query, who at this point was disgusted and utterly terrified for the state of the room at the end of the night.

"You know we have to clear all this up at the end, right?"

"We're magic, we'll manage," Morgan told her worried friend.

"Do you know any charms for mopping the walls?" Edie asked in response. "Because I, for one, don't."

"Do the teachers even go in here?" Bea asked because if the answer was no, she was willing to pretend this party never happened. She didn't know many cleaning spells and Edie was right, there were some suspicious stains on the wall at this early point in the night.

"I'm not taking that risk," Greg shook his head. Edie's question hadn't prompted Greg to look around and take in the state of their chosen party venue because all he had been doing since the party started was study every single mess made. He was beginning to regret ever telling his friends where this place was.

"I'll help."

A voice came from behind them, causing their little huddle to break apart.

They all identified the person to be Oliver after a few seconds, but only Morgan approached the boy.

"Oliver!" She beamed, skipping over to him, and hugging him friendly. "Welcome to the party. If we get caught I had absolutely no hand in the planning of this event."

Although Oliver detected the sarcasm in her voice, he knew she was somewhat serious deep down, so, for her benefit, the boy looked around as if dazed and confused and held out his hands as he shrugged. "What event?"

"You're a good person."

"I do try."

Now that they had both agreed that they were not currently attending a very forbidden party, Morgan could finally take in Oliver's costume. The exact same one from earlier. "I was scared you were going to show up as me."

"Oh, I was," Oliver nodded enthusiastically, trying to keep his smile to a minimum so that they could take this very serious matter seriously. "But none of the girls' skirts fit me. And my English accent is probably miles worse than your Scottish one."

"Fair enough," Morgan pouted her lips before whispering in mock seriousness. "The skirts are torture."

Once Oliver's chuckle had subsided and he decided they needed a new topic of conversation, his eyes fell onto what she was wearing which is when he noticed she was no longer dressed as him. "Why'd you change? That's very insulting." He opted out of telling her that the replacement to her Oliver Wood get-up . . . suited her, to say the least.

Morgan shrugged. "I may have accidentally invited my ex-boyfriend to this party, and I wanted to show him up," she said. "According to Kira, he dressed up as Johnny Castle? Whatever that is."

Oliver was astounded that Morgan didn't know who Indiana Jones was but this only prepared him to have to explain the film industry to all of his hard-core Wizarding friends. It was his duty. "From Dirty Dancing." When Morgan pulled a disgusted face, Oliver added for clarification: "Famous 80s movie."

Unaffected, Morgan took a sip of her drink, her eyes examining his costume once more, over the rim of her cup. "What, like your weird Idaho guy?"

Oliver resisted the urge to cackle and restrained himself by furrowing his brows. "Was the only thing you remembered was that he shared a name with a US state?"

"Yes," she said shamelessly. Muggle phenomena were too hard to keep up with. "It was either Idaho or Illinois."

"It was Indiana?"

"That was maybe my fourth guess?"

"You really need to watch some 80s movies," Oliver shook his head disappointed. She would only be doing herself a favour ─ Herbert Fleet wasn't the only person at Hogwarts who had dressed up as a character from the same decade.

"What," Morgan scoffed in disgust, "like Dirty Dancing? Sounds horrific."

"Because it has the word dirty in it or because your ex-boyfriend dressed up as the lead from it?"

"Both."

Oliver took a sip of his drink as he took in the scene before him. "It's funny," he said, after swallowing and turning back briefly to Morgan, "cause Katie dressed up as Baby from Dirty Dancing and . . ."

Morgan ignored the fact that Oliver had trailed off, his face going stoic, his eyes fading as if nobody was truly there, and instead, she cackled. "Baby? Who the hell names their child Baby?"

"It's a nickname," Oliver replied subconsciously, waving a hand to dismiss her question because the movie was no longer what he was focusing on. "Wait a minute."

Morgan naturally whipped her head around to examine the vicinity just to double-check that nothing drastic had happened since she had asked her movie-related question. When nothing obviously baffling presented itself, she turned back to Oliver, jutting her chin out confused. "What?"

Oliver's eyes were trained on the dance floor, and Morgan didn't think she had seen him in such deep thought before. "You said Herbert dressed up as Johnny Castle? As in, Patrick Swayze?"

Morgan shrugged. "I think that was his name," she told him. "I don't know, I wasn't paying attention."

When Oliver finally lifted his gaze to observe the rest of the party, it seemed the majority of the students had flocked to the centre of the room. And right in front of him, just as his eyes were beginning to adjust to the sheer number of people he saw in one frame of view, the crowd seemed to part to reveal—

"What the fuck?"

Morgan's eyes went wide at the speed at which Oliver's face lost all colour. "Gosh," she chuckled awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with a boy that now appeared so distraught out of nowhere. "Don't tell me your friends also dressed up as the Beatles to annoy you?"

She stood closer to the boy and tried her best to follow his line of vision. And seeing as the boy's eye-line hadn't wavered once due to how paralysed the boy had become, it wasn't hard for her to locate the reason for his horror too.

"No," Oliver said robotically. He gulped and then finally lifted his finger to focus on what he was looking at. "Look."

Morgan followed his finger. The crowd had shifted since Oliver first saw it but Morgan ─ unfortunately ─ located what had traumatised Oliver in a matter of seconds.

Dancing in the middle of the huddle of drunken teenagers were Herbert Fleet and Katie Bell. For clarification, the pair weren't just dancing together, but dancing on top of each other. Hands going everywhere faces inches apart. Basically like what Morgan imagined this Dirty Dancing movie was about. She was just waiting for them to kiss, to solidify her worst nightmare incarnate.

"What is happening right now?" She managed to croak out in her mortified daze.

"My eyes are burning."

Morgan knew how he felt. After half-heartedly trying to swallow the boulder-sized lump that had invaded her throat, Morgan asked the boy weakly, "Can we leave?"

Oliver's nod was small and rigid, but she sensed him do it anyway. "Absolutely."

The two darted out of the Room of Requirements, both immediately hit with a gust of air that wasn't necessarily fresh, but at least not contaminated with the teenager's bodily fluids and the stuffy contents of alcohol. But once they had adjusted to the new level of light outside of the darkened party, Oliver had expected her to just stay outside, maybe pace the vicinity. But off she was, like a rocket, striding down the corridor, rambling as she went.

"I mean, a couple's costume?!" She scoffed. "That takes planning, Oliver. Meticulous, carefully thought out, weeks' worth of planning. How long have they been a thing?"

He had to pick up his pace just to keep up with her. "I don't know!" He said, unaware of his volume, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. "I just witnessed that for the first time myself, Morgan!"

Oliver felt like he wasn't getting the chance to process all of this. How had Katie already moved on? She didn't want a boyfriend two months ago but now is fine? What was so wrong with him and so perfect about Herbert Fleet? Because the girl he was currently chasing had a lot of bad things to say about Herbert Fleet.

He watched from afar as she rapidly sped off and turned the corner, disappearing from sight. By the time he got to her, she was slouched on a stone step, beside a window, in a little cut-out of the castle, a protruding window-sill with a low roof tucked away from the main maze of the building's corridors.

"They rebounded," she huffed, as he sat next to her, gathering his breath. Morgan was staring straight ahead at the floor, her arms resting across her tucked-up knees. "They rebounded and we're the sad losers who got dumped watching them rebound."

"Okay, speak for yourself," Oliver scoffed. "I'd rather label myself a sad loser and not have someone else do it for me."

"You're a sad loser and you know it." There was a hint of mischief glossing over her eyes.

"Do I?"

"You spend far too much time playing Quidditch and talking about Quidditch and writing in that little notepad of yours about Quidditch. And when you're not playing Quidditch you're thinking about Quidditch." She finished, glancing over at him with a bored expression. "I know exactly what goes on in your head, Wood."

"Do you?" He asked dubiously, wondering if the amusement was showing on his face or not.

"I do," Morgan replied. "Which is why I know that you're a sad loser."

Oliver couldn't help but chuckle at the little shrug she did when she finished her sentence. She was right of course, except the only people that had ever pointed out how much of a loser he was had been Fred and George and he would much rather hear it from her.

She watched as the grin slid onto Oliver's face and their eyes stayed locked for what felt like the longest time.

It was peaceful, a cocoon of serenity, far away from the booming music and crowded party, where their exes kissed and left them alone, all over again, on Halloween. The moon hung low enough so that Morgan could see it glinting back at her out of the window behind Oliver. There was a slight draft coming from the glass wall, but she liked how the chill of the air felt against her skin.

Feeling pinned under Oliver's gaze, Morgan bowed her head and chuckled nervously. "Maybe we could just stay here for the rest of time?" She asked. Right here seemed like the most tranquil of places, fit for two, separate but not isolated, calm but not boring.

Oliver smiled back at her. "I'm strangely very okay with that," he said, playfully nudging his shoulder into hers so that she rocked to the side a little.

"There wouldn't happen to be a tiny chance that the characters they dressed up as don't fall in love in this movie, would there?" Morgan winced, not wanting to hear the answer she knew she was going to get.

Oliver seemed to sink further into the stone beneath him, reminded once more of why they had ended up where they were. "No, there would not." Dirty Dancing was, to its core, a love story. And their exes had just recreated it.

Another sigh. "Fab."

Oliver put his head in his hands and began to wonder where it all went wrong.

"Asking yourself where it all went wrong?" Morgan asked cautiously after watching him for a moment or two.

Oliver lifted his head in surprise. "You read my mind."

"Told you," she teased. "Plus, I can totally relate to your existential crisis right now."

"Is that what this is?"

"You're unfamiliar?" She asked. This was Morgan's speciality. "I'll go get you a drink," she offered, nodding before getting to her feet. "Food helps too."

Oliver quickly hurried to a stand. "No, please," he said, holding out his arm to stop her. "Let me."

"You sure? I'm much more trained in the progression of an existential crisis." Morgan did not deal with her problems very well but she felt a duty to help out a newbie.

"I'm sure."

Morgan cocked her head to one side. "Thanks, Oliver. Such a gentleman."

"I told you," he grinned, walking out of their nook backwards into the connected hallway, "I do try."

Just before he could disappear from sight, braving the battlefield they just escaped and fled from, Morgan stopped him. "Hey, Oliver?" His head appeared from behind the cobblestone wall. "I'm glad it's you I'm stuck in this situation with." She didn't know where it came from nor did she want to stop it.

Oliver seemed oddly surprised to hear such a thing. And then warmed. "Ditto, Morgan."

All was okay for a while. Still. But, like all good things, this had to end and after several minutes alone with her thoughts, Morgan was suddenly ambushed. Out of the silence, an echoey chorus descended upon her. It came from down the corridor and was getting louder.

"Where is she?"

"This is going to be bad."

"I knew we should have stuck with the heart attack and/or stroke story!"

"And why didn't you come straight to us?" (This was followed by a very intimidated "I don't know!" from which Morgan instantly recognised as Oliver).

Footsteps smacked against the cobblestone until her group of friends, followed shyly by Oliver Wood, came into view and they were bounding right up to her.

They all crowded around Morgan like she was some kind of newborn they all wanted to get a look at. She noted that Kira hadn't paid her a visit but she was far too focused on the fact that Oliver had failed at making her feel better by getting her friends involved (seeing as she was planning on never telling them about this ever to save herself the embarrassment) and also failed at bringing her a drink as he set out to do.

She glared at the boy. "Do you want me to physically combust?" She asked him angrily, nudging her head in her friends' direction in a whisper-shout that wasn't doing anything towards Morgan's cause to exclude her friends.

Oliver held out his hands in defence. "I literally just told them you needed some air."

"And we translated that as Morgan's Imsmb is close," Bea grinned, evidently proud of their detective work.

"I'm sorry," Oliver jutted out his neck, "her what?"

They all subsequently ignored him and Morgan threw her head in her hands, her whole body folding in half over her legs. She could no longer control the waterworks.

"Morgan?" Edie probed. When the girl in question didn't budge, Edie edged closer. "Morgan?" No response, just the girl's shoulders heaving as she sobbed violently into her hands. Morgan was slowly coming to grips with what she had witnessed but she became very suddenly overwhelmed and overstimulated since her friends had showed up. And she hadn't even felt like that at the party, for crying out loud (no pun intended).

Edie took a step back. "Oh yeah, it's happening alright."

Oliver looked on confused as the group nodded in agreement to Edie's conclusion. "What is happening exactly?"

"She's hit rock bottom," Greg sighed sentimentally. "This is the Inevitable Morgan Samuels Mental Breakdown."

Casper popped his head over Greg's shoulder to address Oliver and add in this very vital piece of information: "Imsmb for short."

"It happens at least once a year when something happens to Morgan and she can't quite figure out how to deal with it," Bea explained to Oliver who still seemed to look on in puzzlement. It was probably just the abbreviation. "We thought it would happen when Herbert broke up with her but that was a month-long crying marathon so it was only a matter of time before this happened. Whatever that is." She held out her hands in Morgan's direction where the Imsmb was taking place.

Casper had taken a step out from behind Greg and was now bending down to analyse the muffled sounds coming out of Morgan. After he had made his evaluation he stood up straighter and gestured to Oliver to take a step away from the group. "We have been preparing for Mount Morgan to erupt for a while so, step aside," he said.

Once Oliver had shuffled to the side, like a curtain parting, casting himself away from the group, Casper walked past him and took up the vacant spot on the spot beside Morgan, and draped his arms over her shoulders. "Morgan, darling, what happened?"

A sobbing Morgan finally lifted her head to reveal puffy eyes and wet cheeks. She then proceeded to wave her hands about, her eyes scrunched up, her lips pouting.

Oliver watched on in horror as Morgan struggled to form real words. She was apparently incapable of functioning when she was doing okay when he left her a mere ten minutes ago? "She's broken," he said sadly. No one else seemed particularly sad for the girl and all heads turned towards the Scot in the corner.

"No," Bea shrugged, "this is just stage one of the Imsmb."

"Lack of verbal response," Greg added for further details.

"Did you do this to her?" Edie asked defensively after a minute. Oliver was the only one that was with her and now seemed completely shaken by Morgan's Imsmb, which he was clearly unprepared for despite everyone noticing that his eyes were a little damp too.

Oliver quickly shook his head.

At this point, Morgan must have regained her audible abilities and soon came to Oliver's defence. Well, the best that she could.

She shook her head too, to indicate it wasn't Oliver, and then progressed to hand movements where she got both hands, scrunched them up like crab claws and then pushed them together. "Herbert," she hiccupped, lifting one hand, and then the other: "And Katie."

"Ah."

"Oof."

"Ouch."

Considering this Imsmb had been anticipated, the group hadn't anticipated this. And so were at a loss for words themselves. Much like Mount Morgan. At least they had learned how to decipher Morgan's hand gestures.

"Maybe they were recreating Dirty Dancing?" Casper offered with a sense of nonchalance that Morgan wanted to slap off his face.

"It certainly fucking looked like it."

Bea cautioned a response next. "It might just be a drunken mistake?" She shrugged. She was running out of things she could do to make Morgan feel better. Morgan was a very emotional person and this was definitely her tipping point. Bea had no reason to believe either Herbert or Katie were drunk but Morgan was on the verge of tears and so it seemed like the most logical thing to say.

"Yeah," Edie agreed, hoping to offer her help to the almost-sobbing Morgan, "people do meaningless stuff with others at parties all the time."

"That doesn't make it okay!" Morgan yelped throwing her hands uselessly into her lap. "I'm not making drunken mistakes with other people at parties!"

Greg stared down at the inconsolable girl, not quite sure what the significance of her own actions had on what Herbert did with his life. "Morgan, you don't drink."

Morgan's arms flayed at her sides like a madman. "Well, I might as well start now!"

"Using alcohol as the solution to your problems is a dark path to go down," Greg told her.

As this conversation unfolded, a very drunk Kira had somehow managed to find them and stumbled in on the conversation with a slurred declaration of victory for herself now that she had found them (she had been tripping around for a while since had she started following them).

Seeing Morgan and Casper on the floor indicated to Kira that this was a perfect spot to sit down and so she flopped down the other side of Morgan.

Casper let out a loud cackle that echoed down the corridor. "Perfect timing, Fleet, as always," he grinned. It was an ironic appearance from Kira seeing as they were only just discussing alcohol's consequences.

Casper turned back to Morgan. "See? Look at Kira," he said, pointing to the Hufflepuff beside Morgan. Kira's torso was now doubled over Morgan's legs. She had absolutely no idea where she was or what was going on just that she recognised the brunette she was currently using to keep her from slumping onto the cold floor.

Upon hearing her name, however, Kira's body shot up in a sort of loopy way, like one of those inflatable tube men. "What?" She slurred.

The group simply stared at the girl, offering no kind of explanation because that would be futile. Edie took a seat next to the intoxicated girl, guiding her lolling head onto the former's shoulder, as she rubbed Kira's back in gentle circles.

With Kira taken care of for now, Morgan, once again, threw her head into her hands. "My life is officially over," she said, her voice muffled by the way she was sat. Her breathing was loud and caused her shoulders to heave. She clutched a hand to her chest. "Oh my God, I think I actually am having a heart attack. Or is this a stroke?"

"Strardiac arrest?" Kira chuckled drunkenly to herself, offering a hybrid of the two medical emergencies as her only contribution to Morgan's crisis.

Casper couldn't contain himself. He pointed at Kira like she was a zoo animal. "Ringo Starr drunk isn't making your life any better right now?" He asked with a chuckle, causing Morgan to lift her head just a little. He slid his hands into his pockets, and his expression revealed that he was never going to let Kira live this down. "Because it certainly is working for me."

Without any warning whatsoever, Kira ─ the Ringo Starr in question ─ then leaned across Morgan and emptied her stomach right onto the latter's shoes. As the vomiting continued and Morgan felt her will to live be stripped from her, she just about managed to gather Kira's hair before it went in her face, and consequently, the splash zone.

So no, Ringo Starr drunk certainly was not making her life any better, Casper.

Oliver ─ who had struggled to formulate any words since the horrors he witnessed ─ stared at the scene before him unsure how to feel. Morgan stared back at him, their eyes locking, but she didn't have many feelings as to how this night was going, because she had stopped thirty minutes ago when everything seemed to be happening at once.

As Oliver tried to show his sympathy for the girl whose clothes were being splattered with her friend's sick with a wince, Morgan summed up how dead inside she felt with a simple statement:

"I hate Halloween."