The Haunt Squad Chronicles

Maya's first job at Terror Mountain was supposed to be lit. Just her, Jake from chemistry, and endless opportunities to vibe while scaring people for $12 an hour. But day three brought three disasters.

First, her mom packed spinach wraps for her break. "For energy!" she'd said, as if Maya wouldn't be spending her shift hiding in a fake graveyard.

Second, the new zombie animatronic glitched during a test run, its jaw flapping uncontrollably while middle schoolers filmed it for TikTok. Jake had to dismantle it with a crowbar, looking exhausted but still somehow cute in his torn flannel.

"You good?" Maya asked, trying to sound casual.

Jake sighed. "My uncle owns this place. I'm basically his unpaid tech support."

The third disaster: a power outage right before the 7 PM rush. Suddenly, Maya and Jake were stuck in the dark with nothing but emergency lighting and their costumes—Maya as a vampire who looked more goth than scary, Jake in his zombie repair clothes.

They sat on the floor eating spinach wraps by flashlight.

"This job is actually ass," Jake said, then immediately looked sorry. "Sorry, you probably needed this—"

"No, you're right," Maya laughed. "I just wanted an excuse to talk to you outside of chem lab."

Silence. Then Jake's face softened. "Wait. Really?"

Before Maya could die of embarrassment, something moved in the darkness. Massive. Furry.

"Is that a bear?" Maya whispered.

"That's a mascot costume," Jake said. "My uncle tried to add a 'haunted circus' theme last year. It flopped."

The bear costume stood there in the dim light, looking ridiculous and sad and perfect. Maya's phone buzzed—the group chat blowing up about how the haunted house was closed. Who cared?

She looked at Jake, who was grinning now. "Wanna try it on?"

"Absolutely not."

They spent the next hour taking turns in the bear costume, filming each other doing zombie walks through the empty haunted house. Maya felt ridiculous, happy, and seen. Sometimes the best shifts weren't the ones that went according to plan. Sometimes they were the ones where you admitted what you actually wanted, spinach breath and all.