Amelia and Charon didn’t like each other.

It wasn’t a big problem at school. Charon had his own friend group, which consisted mainly of jocks and cheerleaders and such. The couple of times he invited me to sit with them I didn’t feel very welcome.

Outside of school, however, it became a problem. Whenever I mentioned Charon to Amelia, she got this deeply suspicious look in her face as if he had somehow wronged her. Whenever I talked to Charon about Amelia, he politely changed the subject. It frustrated me because Charon was my first friend who didn’t have anything to do with witches or magical civil wars.

So, I came up with a plan. I’d just have to get them into the same room and get to know each other. Unfortunately it was easier said than done. The only times they endured each other’s company was in classes, and even then they sat on the opposite sides of the room.

I didn’t get an opportunity until late October. Tina Bolton, a senior, was having a Halloween party. It was going to be in November because actual Halloween was on a weekday. Charon was invited, like he usually was, and this time he considered going. He asked me to come as well.

I didn’t tell Amelia that it was Charon who invited me, but I doubt she would have cared either way. Amelia loves Halloween above any other holiday; she goes all out each year. She would have attended the party no matter who the invitation came from.

We got ready in Amelia’s room. She was dressed as Nancy Thompson. She had bought a pale pink knitted west from a flea market and made her hair big like it was the 80s. She coloured a white streak into it with chalk stolen from school. She didn’t look like herself at all, but somehow pulled it off.

I was Glen Lantz. Amelia took kitchen scissors and cut a jersey’s bottom half off. If it wasn’t for Halloween, I would never have had the guts to wear something like it. It wasn’t the best outfit to wear in November. The nights were getting colder, so the half an hour walk to Tina Bolton’s was only made tolerable by the warm fuzzy blanket that our shared bottle of sweet wine brought with it.

Our wine bottle was half empty when we arrived at Tina’s. I wasn’t drunk, exactly, just tipsy enough to not notice the cool air or the nervous feeling in my gut. There were already so many cars parked outside that people had to walk from the other end of the street.

“How do I look?” Amelia asked. She patted her sweater vest nervously, maybe hoping it would to turn it into a cool leather jacket or a band shirt. It didn’t.

“You look fly. Don’t sweat it,” I said.

When we walked inside, I vaguely recognised Tina Bolton in the foyer. She was a tall girl with red hair cut like Jennifer Aniston's, and her Halloween costume consisted of a hairband with cat ears on top and a sleek all black outfit. She was greeting people with hugs and kisses and laughing so loud I heard it over the music. If she saw us, she didn’t care. I assumed most of the school was invited, anyway.

“What now?” I asked Amelia.

She took an encouraging swig of the wine and grimaced. “Now we try to find cool people,” she said.

“Okay,” I said.

I looked around for cool people. Closest to us, there was a gaggle of girls dressed as princesses; I recognised Jasmine, Ariel and Belle. There was also a very uncomfortable looking Prince Eric in their mix. They were all already sloshed.

Getting drinks from the kitchen were a very tall Catwoman and a Spider-Man who couldn’t quite fill his suit. They were quickly joined by an obnoxious pirate.

“There!” Amelia said and pointed towards a pair of kids on the other side of the living room. They were dressed as Lydia Deetz and Beetlejuice. Lydia Deetz was sipping on a glass of something blue, and Beetlejuice had a red solo cup that sloshed when he talked animatedly.

“Give me that,” I said, and Amelia handed me the wine bottle. I took a big gulp. It didn’t taste as bad as the first couple of sips, but it was still pretty awful.

We walked over to the kids and said hi. It wasn’t as awkward as I expected it to be; they were actually chill. Apparently neither of them had been invited either, but they’d heard about it at school and decided to check it out.

“We don’t really do parties, or whatever,” the girl dressed as Lydia said. She had a lazy, a bit nasally voice. “But it’s like, kind of tight to watch these posers act all wack.”

“Totally,” Beetlejuice agreed.

“Yeah, it’s pretty lame,” Amelia said nonchalantly and I nodded quickly.

“Your outfits are sick, by the way. We loved A Nightmare on Elm Street,” Lydia said.

“Totally,” Beetlejuice said again.

“We rented it like, three times, didn’t we?” Amelia said excitedly.

“We did,” I said. The third time it had gotten a bit repetitive, but it was still a good movie.

“Anyway, we’re probably gonna haul ass once we’re out of drink. There’s punch, but it’s running out quick,” Lydia rambled on.

“Totally,” Beetlejuice slurred. His cup was empty, but he tried to get the last couple of drops in before he tossed it into the backyard through an open window. It landed on the back of someone’s head, but he didn’t seem to give a shit.

“I mean, that doesn’t mean you have to leave, right?” Amelia chuckled nervously.

“Yeah, it does. I’m not sticking around to have some dickweed throw up on my shoes and be sober while he does it,” Lydia said. She looked pointedly at Beetlejuice.

“Babe, it was one time,” Beetlejuice said.

Lydia rolled her eyes like it was a conversation that happened all the time. “Babe, at least try to keep it real,” she said.

“God, take a chill pill! You’re such a bitch,” Beetlejuice complained.

He then proceeded to kick a chair so hard it tripped some poor girl, but it seemed she was too drunk to be mad about it. Beetlejuice stomped away, not a single step in a straight line.

“Sorry about that, he’s a total dick. I’ll see you around,” Lydia sighed and went after her boyfriend.

“Those were… cool people?” I said as I watched them walk and fight at the same time.

“It has come to my attention that I’m a bad judge of character,” Amelia said.

“We can find other people to talk to,” I said optimistically. “Charon’s gotta be around here somewhere…”

“God, not that guy again,” Amelia said. She drank some more wine, and didn’t even make a face this time.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t like him,” I said.

“Because,” Amelia said with no intention of finishing the sentence.

“Let’s just find him, okay? It’s not like we know anyone else here. I promise he’s chill,” I urged.

Amelia didn’t say yes, but she followed me when I grabbed her hand and started looking for Charon. He was usually pretty easy to spot wherever he went, and not just because he was tall. All I had to do was keep an eye out for the biggest, loudest swarm of people.

Our shoes stuck to the floor as we walked. Someone spilled beer on my arm. The music was so loud we couldn’t hear each other talk. The air was dense and hot, almost hard to breathe in.

When we went outside to get fresh air, I finally spotted him. Charon was in the middle of a big group, dressed as Indiana Jones with the whip on his waist and the hat on his head. He was trying to get away from the crowd, but one of the girls I had seen earlier — the one dressed as Jasmine — had a firm grip on his arm.

“Looks like he’s busy,” Amelia said happily.

“No, come on. We gotta save him,” I said.

“As if he needs saving,” Amelia grumbled.

Charon spotted us. He smiled in relief and said something to the girl. She looked disappointed but let go, allowing him to start making his way out of the sea of people surrounding him.

He was sweaty by the time he got to us. A couple of people trailed after him, but stayed a respectful distance away.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly.

“Hi,” I said. I jabbed Amelia in her side and she muttered a ‘hi’ as well.

“You guys having fun?” Charon asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“There’s not enough booze,” Amelia said.

“I’ve got some. It’s in the fridge, if someone hasn’t taken it,” Charon said. I could tell he was just trying to be polite, though. He refused to look at Amelia in the eyes, for starters. It was like watching two toddlers be offended at each other for no reason in particular.

“No thanks. We’re gonna leave early anyway,” Amelia said.

“We are?” I asked.

“There’s nothing to do here. It’s just a hundred people getting wasted, there’s no space to dance or anything,” Amelia explained. “No one’s even wearing cool costumes anymore.”

“She’s got a point,” Charon admitted. It looked like he had a hard time agreeing with her.

“What are we supposed to do then? We came all the way,” I said.

“We? He’s part of the gang now?” Amelia said and nodded towards Charon.

“As if,” Charon scoffed.

“Can’t you get along for one night?” I asked, frustrated.

“I’ll get along with her when—“

Something caught my eye. A black mass flew over our heads and landed on a tree branch. It was the crow again, and it looked at me with its head tilted. I could almost hear it asking: Busy?

“Guys,” I said hurriedly. They kept bickering, so I said louder: “Guys!”

“What?” they said in chorus.

“You see that, right?” I said and pointed at the crow. It was spreading it wings lazily like it was stretching.

“Yeah, of course we can,” Amelia said.

“Why?” Charon asked.

The bird took off. For a second I was worried it was gone forever, but it just glided onto the neighbours’ roof. It continued staring at me.

“I think I’m supposed to follow,” I said. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I was just drunk, or maybe I was going crazy. Or maybe I was right, and that crow was trying to tell me something again.

“You’re supposed to what?” Charon asked, but I was already sprinting.

I ran through the house to get to the street. I got some more foul-smelling drink on my clothes as I pushed through the crowd, but I barely noticed it. Beetlejuice was puking his guts out by the porch, and I almost shoved him into a bush when I stumbled down the stairs.

Amelia and Charon were at my heels. “What the fuck, Oscar?” Amelia asked once they reached me.

I was too busy looking for the crow to answer. Sure enough, I saw it again. It circled above our heads and once it was sure I had seen it, it started making its way down the street. It was going towards Twin Peaks.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Amelia asked, running steadily behind me.

“No!” I said.

“That’s reassuring,” Charon said.

It sure was one way of making them get to know each other, even if it wasn’t anywhere near what I had originally planned. Or as effective.

Sometimes the crow went too far away and we had to look for it, but it always appeared somewhere again and we resumed. Amelia and I got out of breath quickly but Charon managed just fine, the robust bastard.

Once we got out of the streets and into the park, it got significantly harder to keep track of the crow. It was darker, and the terrain wasn’t smooth.

We hiked up to the view point. Surprisingly, there was barely anyone there. It was just us, two quiet couples and a group of four teenagers who smelled strongly of weed. The city below us shone so bright that the sea looked like just a black mass in contrast.

“Where did it go?” Amelia asked once she had caught her breath.

“I have no idea,” Charon said.

“Maybe this is where we’re supposed to be,” I suggested, though I was still looking around.

“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on?” Charon asked.

“I would if I knew,” I said.

“So you just followed a random bird for no reason?” he said.

“It’s none of your business,” Amelia said sharply.

“Look, just because he puts up with your people doesn’t mean I have to,” Charon snapped.

“My people? He is my people!” Amelia said.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, suddenly confused.

“Wow,” Charon laughed. “I knew witches were stupid, but not that stupid.”

“You know?” I asked.

“That she’s a witch? Of course I know, I could spot her a mile away,” Charon said impatiently.

“You idiot, Oscar’s a witch as well!” Amelia said.

“He smells nothing like a witch!” Charon argued.

“Wait, what are you?” I asked.

“He’s a siren. That’s why everyone’s so obsessed with him,” Amelia explained before Charon could open his mouth.

“I thought you were just gay,” I admitted.

“What?”

“I thought we were talking about being gay that one time! What else was I supposed to think?”

“Hold up, you’re gay?” Amelia asked.

“I’m not,” Charon said.

“I am,” I said.

“Cool, I guess?”

“Then what did you mean when you said you’re like me?” I asked.

“I mean I’m a creature, and so are you,” Charon said.

“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, he’s a witch. Your sniffer is broken,” Amelia said snidely.

“Well, sure, there’s an undertone there, but I assumed he just spends too much time with you lot,” Charon defended himself.

That’s when the crow croaked impatiently behind us, and we turned around so fast we all almost toppled over. The bird was sat atop the stone wall that looked over the city.

“What does it want?” Amelia asked me.

“To tell me something, but I don’t know what,” I said. I stepped closer to the crow.

“You talk to crows?” Charon asked cautiously.

“They show me things, sometimes,” I said. I was vaguely aware of Amelia and Charon glancing at each other behind me. Yeah, we despise each other, but this guy is off his rocker.

“Oscar… Crows are bad omens,” Amelia said.

“Not always,” I said. “Fiona said so.”

“Yeah, but—“

The crow jumped and spread its wings. In a blur of smoky black, it came straight for me. Startled, I stepped back and tripped on something — a rock? — and fell. The last thing I remembered was pain in the back of my head and an echoing CROAK!

—

I was on the roof of a building, so high up I couldn’t see the street below. Freezing cold wind tossed me around like a rag-doll. I was afraid that if I took a step, the wind would catch me and I would fall to my death.

Sibyl, the old woman from my previous dream, approached me slowly. She must have been very light, but she stayed steady despite the strong gusts. When she was close enough that I could make out the lopsided grin on her face, she said: “We must stop meeting like this. Dreams fade so swiftly.”

The crow landed on her shoulder. Was it her pet?

“You have one year to make your decision. Have you figured it out yet?” she asked.

“Figured what out?” I questioned. I was getting annoyed with her. If she was so insistent on getting into my dreams, why couldn’t she just spit it out?

“I told a prophecy to your mother, long ago. I urge you to find it. It won’t make things easier — quite the opposite — but it will… Give you context,” Sibyl sighed.

“You could just tell me now,” I suggested.

“No, no, my dear boy… This isn’t the right time for something so important. I can guide you to a direction and I can give you warnings, but dreams are treacherous places,” Sibyl said. She stroked the crow’s head gently.

“Is this gonna be a regular thing, then?” I asked.

Sibyl chuckled. “No, no,” she said again. “I think this will be my final visit for now. Find that prophecy, boy. It might save a life.”

Then, what I had been afraid of the whole time happened. The wind swooped me up like I was a bird with my wings spread, and I rose up, up, up into the sky until the city underneath was just a grey grid.

For a few chilling seconds I stayed still in the air. I was weightless. I was one with the wind.

And then I started falling. Slowly, at first, like a balloon filled with air. But I picked up speed rapidly until I felt like my insides were leaving my body and all I could hear was the sky scream in my ears.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I would hit the ground any moment now, and I would be nothing but a puddle on the sidewalk. Any moment, any second…

But the ground never came.

I opened my eyes carefully.

The scenery had changed. I was back at the viewpoint, standing behind Amelia and Charon. They had forgotten all about their bickering, and were crouched over a body.

I stepped closer.

The body was me.

Was I dead?

“He’s still breathing,” Charon said feverishly.

Okay, so not dead.

“Give me a second, I should have a spell in here somewhere…” Amelia mumbled. She started going through her bag, which I knew held some of the spells and potions Dennis made her study.

“What? You’re like, 16! You don’t know anything, you’ll end up killing him!” Charon said quickly.

“You have a better idea, then?” Amelia snapped.

“Yes!” Charon hesitated. “Yes, I think so. I can call my mom.”

“And how is your mom gonna help?” Amelia asked.

“She’s a vet,” Charon said as if that explained everything.

“A vet? He’s not a dog!” Amelia shrieked.

“Look, she deals with magical injuries and stuff all the time. She’s gonna know how to fix him,” Charon said patiently.

Amelia considered it. She was clearly struggling with her choices; she knew she couldn’t trust herself with healing magic just yet, but she didn’t trust Charon either. If Charon’s mother showed up, she’d be outnumbered.

“Fine,” she said finally. “Call your mom.”