Time at my father's house had slunk on from moment to moment, in its endless repetition of mindless nothingness, for months by the time Halloween came around. I had already resigned myself to sitting at home, alone, handing out candy, but not feeling very happy about it, when a knock sounded at the door.
   Answering it, there stood one of the "friends" my father had picked out for me, with a giant grin and a plan to escape for the evening. Her church, right behind my father's house, had planned a teen activity for Halloween, probably with the thought of keeping us away from any "godless" secular (i.e. fun) activities. Church buses would take everyone to a farm for an evening of chaperoned bonfires, singing, s'mores and hayrack rides. Perhaps we could convince my...

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