[i]Monday, September 6th, 2010 Labor Day[/i] [hider=New Soul by Yael Naim][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7pvy37XaRw[/youtube] (apparently this scene is an Apple commercial) [/hider] Helen spent her day off mostly lying in bed, her head aching from the last night’s drinking and smoking. She nearly threw up shortly after waking up, though was able to pull herself together afterwards. She drank two liters of water and ate a plate of fried plantains with vegan bacon. Then she laid back down in bed, stretching out over the pink and green striped covers. The walls of Helen’s room were a pale sage, and art decorated as much space as it could: band posters, flower presses, a year-old wall calendar. To the left of her pink and white desk, dozens of Willow’s drawings (as well as a few of her own) plastered the wall. On the back of the door was a black poster with a large white pentagram in the middle. Around it were the words: “God and Goddess Wise and True Guide Me Now In All I Do.” After several more hours sleeping off the hangover, Helen finally got dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a dark yellow tank top. She put on her hiking shoes and packed her backpack, which was green and polka-dotted with small yellow and pink flowers. She began to pack her bag. Into it she stuffed a phone charger, a bottle of water, a Nature Valley Bar, a pair of gardening gloves, and a small pocket knife. She stuffed a travel-size can of pepper spray into her pocket, as well as her phone and her keys. She laced up her brown hiking boots and wandered out of her bedroom towards the living room. Helen’s mom, Cassie, was sitting on the sofa, drinking a glass of wine with her feet up on a cushion. A rerun of Friends was on TV. “Hey honey,” Cassie said. “Have you finally decided to become nocturnal?” Helen sighed--it was only 5 o’clock and the sun was high in the sky, but her mom had a point. “Nah,” she said. “I just had a really bad headache this morning.” “I figured,” Cassie said. “You must have been trashed last night.” “Mom!” Helen said, her face flushing red. “Oh come on honey,” Cassie replied. “When Willow brought you home last night she practically had to carry you through the front door and you reeked of weed.” Helen looked down at her shoes, embarrassed. Her mom had this way of trying to be relatable that only served to make Helen feel more embarrassed when she did something she wasn’t supposed to. Maybe that was the point. “You just need to be careful sweetie,” Cassie said. “I don’t want you to get arrested or something!” “Mom I’m not gonna get arrested,” Helen said. “Nobody cares about weed anymore--it’s not the 1970s. Okaaaay,” Cassie said singsongedly. “So now that you’ve[i] risen from your slumber[/i], where are you heading? Back to Willow’s?” “Yeah, probably,” Helen said, disguising her lie by looking down at her phone. Cassie smiled, her cheeks slightly pink from the wine getting to her. “Awww,” she said. “You two are so cute together! I’m so happy for you!” “Mooooom,” Helen said. “You know it’s not like that. Willow is just-” “I know, I know,” Cassie replied. “I’m just teasing you! It’s my job as your mom!” Helen rolled her eyes and moved for the door. “I’ll be back later,” Helen said. “Love you mom.” “Love you too honey!” Cassie called out. “Don’t make bad decisions!” Helen groaned. She felt like she had already made a bad decision by walking out the front door. [hr] [hider=Practice Makes Perfect by Wire][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9M0vuDE5gig[/youtube][/hider] [i]6:00 PM[/i] The waste tunnel sat at the end of a gravel access road off of Mount Gray Boulevard, about half a mile out of town. A wild and unkempt field stretched around the ditch, brambles and grasses and wildflowers all tangling with each other. The side of the road was littered with broken glass, chunks of asphalt, and the occasional heroin needle. Down the road, an abandoned construction site sat in an alcove, a mess of rusty rebar and jersey walls. Doug, Helen’s car, crunched through all of the debris on the roadside as it pulled onto the access road and down to the waste tunnel. The tunnel was built into a small ridge. It consisted of a heavy iron grate about the diameter of a person. A heavy iron padlock held the grate shut. To the left of the ridge and the grate, a rusting silo moldered, standing like some kind of scrap metal obelisk. A wall of scraggly trees disguised the tunnel from the main road, and if you didn’t know where to look you’d have never known it was there. The day was cloudy, and a slight drizzle tapped on the windshield. Helen pulled onto the side of the access road, Doug’s tires squelching as it sunk into the mud. She sighed, looking out at the scene before her. It looked like she and Willow were the first ones there. She checked her watch: 6:00 on the dot. Where was everyone? Did they chicken out? It would make sense for them to have--this was a terrible idea. Helen turned Doug off and reclined her seat to look up at the cloth ceiling. Her stomach was a mess of knots and her arms were numb with fear. Helen was the kind of kid who did rebellious things just to get under the skin of grown-ups who acted like they had sticks up their ass. She was certain she would [i]not[/i] do well in juvenile detention if they got caught. “I’m not sure how good of an idea this is Will,” Helen said. “We really aren’t supposed to be here…”