---

---

Vicky plucked the tissue from Tuyen’s hand, freeing her poor friend from her clutches as she dabbed at her eyes. Vicky was still sniffling, but Tuyen’s reassurance that she knew that Vicky didn’t like Tyler like that had prevented the full nuclear meltdown. Tuyen was right. Tuyen was so right. Vicky didn’t deserve to be forced to break up with her boyfriend so that she wasn’t the loser who got dumped at the party, but frankly, she was better off for it. Damn right Chef was lucky to be with her. He was a total loser—a college student, dating a high schooler, getting dumped by that high schooler? Oof! What. A. Dweeb.

She was better off, she was, she was, it was definitely better to not be in a relationship with such a loser. Even if that loser was going to one day win a Heisman Trophy. Even if it meant not going to college parties. Even if it meant she had nobody to take her to Homecoming. Even if it meant being single. Only if she was single it meant she was a Gwen. She didn’t want to be a Gwen. She wanted to be a Vicky, and a Vicky was always with someone cool!

”I know it’s not the same as having him there, but I’ll stay with you the rest of the party. I won’t leave your side, I promise,” said Tuyen as Vicky’s face darkened as reality began to reveal itself to her.

“No it’s not the same,” said Vicky, letting Tuyen cook for a few moments under the bright light blues of a staredown before breaking out into a big smile and trapping Tuyen in a tight hug. Tuyen was cool. Therefore, technically, it counted. “It’s better! Tuyen! You’re just the best. I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Seriously, what an asset to the team. Thoughtful, kind, caring, knew that Vicky wanted Tyler to come down with some horrible disease so rare the doctors would eventually name it Fox’s Syndrome. Bonus points for dressing down so Vicky could feel like the hot one, even if she wasn’t feeling so hot right now, in fact, she was feeling kinda sick, and it wasn’t the typical kind of sick she felt when Vicky looked at Tuyen, saw how skinny the girl was, and knew that she could never achieve that trim of a waistline.

Still, it made Vicky want to throw up.

Oh, no, wait! She was actually going to, oh god, she was totally gonna—it passed, okay, coast clear. Probably just a case of the sixty-second suddenly single sickness, brought upon by the realization that because of this breakup Vicky was going to die alone and not be found until half of her body was devoured by her seventeen cats after her neighbors complained about the smell.

Vicky stared with dead eyes straight ahead at the vulgar graffiti covering the rusted door of the stall, thinking that perhaps if she looked long enough something between the blocky tags and dirty doodles would reveal to her the secret of how to turn her brain off. Unfortunately, if there was any wisdom to be found she couldn’t uncover it. Instead she pulled away from Tuyen with a shudder, making a mental note to never get any kind of pets. She tucked the tissue to be forgotten inside of Chef’s jacket, trading it for a tube of sparkly lip gloss as she turned her back to Tuyen and moved to the mirror.

“I am so done with all the stupid boys in this town. They are all such lo-sers,” said Vicky. She started to shimmy out of the massive jacket, struggling a bit with the concept that to get it off she would have to remove both her arms from the sleeve first. “I didn’t even really like Chef. He was always so suspicious, texting me, asking me ‘what are you up to’. It was so annoying!”

Vicky kicked the jacket away with her heels as it dropped to the floor to reveal not much, at least in terms of the amount of fabric—a sleeveless crop top and a snug skirt that completely failed the school’s fingertip rule. She leaned forward as she began to run the gloss over her lips, analyzing every single fault in her face as she continued to transform her tears into steam as she vented.

“You know what the worst thing was? He would call me,” said Vicky with a smack of her lips as she capped the gloss and began to fluff up her hair, immediately undoing anything she had been going for as she wildly shook her head in exasperation. “Like, on the phone. And just to talk, too! Seriously, what the fuck!? Here I am, having a panic attack, thinking he’s in the hospital or jail or something, and he just wants to hear my voice. It was *so* stupid! And he did it all the time, all the time! Sometimes twice in one week. It was obnoxious! I hate people who talk too much.”

And with no time to acknowledge the hypocrisy, she continued her rant.

“Ick, and the way he kissed? It was like making out with, Jesus, how can I even begin to describe something so awful?” Vicky turned from the mirror back to Tuyen, gesturing with the tube of lip gloss. “Well, remember Gwen made us go to the Slappyburger because she said her ex could hook us up with his employee discount and not only did we have to pay full price but your chicken fingers were raw on the inside? Imagine that mouthfeel but worse.”

The worse was illustrated as Vicky made a thrusting and thrashing motion with the lip gloss tube, creating a visual representation that Tuyen had not asked for and that nobody needed to see.

“Here, hold this. I don’t have pockets.” Vicky lobbed the lipgloss at Tuyen before looking back at the mirror. “Is it obvious that I was crying?” asked Vicky, looking back at Tuyen. “It’s obvious that I was crying. Oh, I know!” Vicky looped her arm under Tuyen’s and pulled her towards the bathroom door. “Let’s find Kersten.”

If Vicky smelled like weed, then nobody would know that her eyes were red and puffy before she’d gotten high. Could a drunk person think of such a brilliant idea as that? Absolutely freaking not! Which meant that they should also get a couple of drinks along the way. Vicky barely stumbled as she guided Tuyen towards the door, leaning just a bit on her friend for both moral support and actual, regular old support too, but just because of the heels being kind of hard to walk in and not for any other reasons.

“I just got broken up with, so you’re getting high with me. And none of that shit like last time where you put the thing to your mouth and pretended to smoke it. Oh, what, didn’t think I’d notice? People might tell you everything, but I see all, I know all. Nothing slips by me,” teased Vicky in a way that kind of sounded like she possibly believed it.

She actually felt better. Tuyen was such a good listener. Vicky threw the door open with gusto, ready to grace all the worried people with her presence, certain that there would be a sea of sad faces waiting for her, the crowd absolutely devastated because Cornell’s cutest couple was kaputt, and wait, these assholes kept partying without her?

What the hell?

Seriously!?

God, she really liked everyone here, obviously she had to, and they definitely, totally, fucking better have liked her too (or else), but sometimes, sometimes, SOMETIMES they really made Vicky so mad that she wished each and every single one of them (minus Tuyen) would die a horrible, painful, and truly awful death.

---

---

Time slowed to a hideous crawl as Daniel Mars drowned in anxiety, any self-assurance he'd won in tempering the hyperstimulation of his surroundings had leaked right out of him and been replaced with half-formed apologies.

So overwhelming were his nerves and concern that he found himself caught in some feedback loop, the higher parts of his brain watching his body try to babble a sentence before self-consciously cutting itself off repeatedly. That same suffocating mixture of light and sound made it feel as if every eye was on him, even if his rational mind knew they probably weren’t. None of this helped by the girl’s, admittedly rather intimidating, glare as she turned on the floor and looked up at Daniel.

Then, she chuckled and her gaze softened. A gesture that was enough of a tension clearer that Daniel was able to regain his composure and respond with a weak smile of his own. Certainly it wasn’t a sign all was forgiven - Lexi would chuckle similarly before saying something inflammatory about Jesus, for example - but it was a step, at least for Daniel, to halt his directionless regret.

“You’re forgiven, party boy,” Lynn paused as her head crooked to the side and her smile lingered, “help a girl up?”

And suddenly the shame flooded right back into him. At least he had more control over it this time.

”Oh! Of course, of course!” Daniel cringed, wrapping both his hands around Lynn’s right and gently pulling her up to her feet, ”I- I really am sorry again! I- I lost my footing, I hope you’re not hurt.”

Even if his command of language returned, his self-flagellating mentality didn’t let up. Bad enough to crash into this poor girl, now he’d been too self-concerned to offer her a hand up, not even an hour into his first high school party and he was already becoming quite an asshole. Not helped was the sticky sensation he felt on Lynn’s hand from when she hit the floor, he hadn’t even considered the amount of refuse coagulating on the ground and slowly becoming some new, horrific organism. Returning to his apologetic smile, Daniel took the opportunity to shake Lynn’s hand.

”My name’s Mars. Er, Daniel. Put them together it’s Daniel Mars, or party boy, whatever you like,” a weak chuckle, releasing her hand and stepping back just a smidge too far to give her more breathing room than she could possibly need.

It occurred to Daniel, now not drowning in neurosis any more than usual, that he’d never actually seen this girl around town or campus, certainly she had a unique enough look that Daniel would’ve remembered if he had. So, he’d inadvertently assaulted a newcomer, yet another thing to kick himself over. At the very least, Daniel always enjoyed learning about new people and talking directly to someone was helping him put the overstimulation of the party behind him without even realising.

”Are you, um, new here?” He asked, having to lean forward and yell over the music a little louder on account of moving too far back, ”circumstances aside, it’s nice to meet you if you are!” A thought occurred to him, better hedge his bets just in case he appeared any ruder, ”Uh, apologies if you’re not and I didn’t notice!”

---

The interrogation when on for another thirty minutes with Saylor stone walling as much as possible and Agent Novak pulling teeth. Saylor's impatience was starting to get to her. Agent Novak looked no more frustrated than when she walked in.

"Can we end this already? It's past my bed time and I haven't had dinner yet," Saylor said with a sarcastic edge.

"We can do something about your hunger, but we can't release you until your parents come to get you," Agent Novak replied.

Saylor glared at her. They weren't concerned about her mom being there when they picked her up. Granted, Ronnie was there when they did, but that drunk could barely get himself up to piss when he'd been hitting the bottles all day. He said he would get himself cleaned up to come over, but he said a lot of things.

"So you called my mom?" she asked.

Agent Novak nodded. "We did-"

"Then you know she's in Philly and isn't coming back for at least another day." Saylor feared she may have said too much, but her mom didn't have the money to get a ticket back yet. "Unless you have someone picking her up."

She hoped they did, but at the same time didn't. If they caught her hooking, then she'd go to jail and Saylor would be stuck with Ronnie and they'd eventually be put out for not paying bills, unless they got CPS involved. That would be a headache didn't really want to deal with. Her next of kin were her shitty grandparents that kicked them out when she was a toddler. Maybe the Connors would let her move in, until she turned eighteen.

"Should we have someone picking her up?" Agent Novak asked.

Saylor shrugged. "Yeah, unless you want me to have a sleepover in a jail cell."

Agent Novak tapped her finger on the metal table, once again having a stare down with Saylor, obviously thinking about something. "I'll have someone get you something to eat. Can't promise it'll be good, but better than nothing."

Saylor rolled her eyes. "Just go to Jimmy's." She looked over her shoulder at the clock on the wall. "It closes at midnight. I'll take a double bacon cheese burger with a fry and a vanilla milkshake." She turned back around after giving her order.

"Like I said. I'll see what I can do." Agent Novak got up from the table and went to the door. "I'll see you in a bit Ms. Moon."

When the door closed, Saylor pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up TikTok. She followed almost everyone at school. She never posted herself, but she liked to stay up-to-date with what was going on. If there's shit about her going around, then she needed to know before she walked through the doors. Better to be prepared than blindsided. There were videos from the warehouse out in the forest. Seemed like a major party was going on. If she weren't here, she'd still not be there, but she would trade spots with any of those kids to not be in an uncomfortable metal chair for two hours in a police station.

---

---

”Oh! Of course, of course! I- I really am sorry again! I- I lost my footing, I hope you’re not hurt.”

Lynn felt relieved as her back rose off the not-so-dirty, but still filthy, floor of the party. She also felt relief knowing that the guy in front of her, even with both his hands clasped around her arm, was not a creep. He seemed genuinely remorseful for his action and made no weird comment about her, so whoever he was, he had already earned a spot in her good book. Lynn did not know what she could expect when the school year officially started, and having acquaintances right off the bat would be a welcome start for Lynn. Thus, her eyes slowly rose to match the shy guy and drifted across his form once again before they returned to match his eyes. Introductions were in order, and she wanted to be sure she got off on the right foot. Lynn took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. She wanted to nail this.

”My name’s Mars. Er, Daniel. Put them together it’s Daniel Mars, or party boy, whatever you like. Are you, um, new here? Circumstances aside, it’s nice to meet you if you are! Uh, apologies if you’re not and I didn’t notice!”

Shit. He introduced himself first. At least she thought he did. She leaned in closer and squinted her eyes as if that might help her hear him better. Lynn also realized that, in this moment, he was shaking her hand. Was this a power move? He had the initiative in the tug of war of introductions in a high school setting. From here, he could control the pace of the conversation and determine where it would go. Lynn would always be the one reacting to what he said. An eyebrow raised. Lynn knew she needed to play her panic off as a chill vibe. She couldn’t let the fluffy-haired guy named Mars, Daniel Mars, ask too many probing questions. Lynn knew all too well that since he deduced correctly that the guy had figured she was knew, the next question was ‘why did you move here’ and she has yet to attempt to vocalize that answer. Would she break down and cry? Would she simply cease to exist on the spot? She did not know. Thus, she knew that she needed to regain control over this conversation and direct it from here. She needed to nail this.

“Party boy, don’t sweat it. We cool,” fuck that was terrible. She took in a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and she allowed a warm smile to cross her face. “Mars. Daniel Mars. I am indeed new here. I just moved here from Oregon a couple of weeks back and figured I’d see what the vibe was ahead of the start of class. Not sure what I think of my potential classmates. My name is Serenlight, Lynn. Put it together, and you get me, Lynn Serenlight,” Lynn leaned forward, shouting over the music as she did, to ensure that Daniel could hear her. They really had this music up too loud, and she was unsure if Daniel could hear her or if what she deciphered from Daniel was accurate. She paused as her eyes drifted across the room. She hoped that repeating the phrasing that Daniel used would help her cause, and was not in and of itself another symptom of a potential autism diagnosis. “You come to a lot of these?” She paused as she finally, but gently, pulled her hand free from his grasp.

---

---

“Smarter than me too,” Nora added as they nudged Ella with their hand. The two of them were not known to have a single brain cell to share between them. Sure, they were able to recite lines from their favorite anime series at whim, recall complex plots from them at will, and engage in incredible discussions about the themes, but they often struggled when it came to the academic world, not the animated one. Neither more so than Nora. Yet even Nora could see that this Lupe was a problem in the best ways. The energy felt different around her, like anything and everything was possible. Nora wanted to become good friends with them at once and experience the joy that one might find with a friend like that by their side. And then she started mixing drinks that looked rather weak. While this was not a surprise to them, they were in highschool after all, they were still slight taken aback by the comment about how dangerous it was.

That didn’t mean that Nora would not drink. They gladly accepted their mixture with a shimmy and a wide smile. And looked towards their best friend Ella and smiled even wider. This night was already better than the anime they had planned to watch. The loud music, the energy of friendship manifested, and the memories to come were more than enough to make Nora forget about anything that came before, or what waited after when she got home. They never actually told their parents that they were going out tonight. Instead, they started an anime they had seen a hundred times on season one, episode one. They turned the volume up and left through their window to avoid their possible questions. Sure, they were likely too drunk at this point of the night to even notice, but the possibility remained that their mother would stop by with a Pączki, or a Krówki, and thrawt the night out. Sometimes you had to roll the dice, and it was not like there would be consequences. The drunken mother would send them a hundred texts until the alcohol stole the night, and their dad would rage until it did the same.

"A magical girl never backs down from a challenge! To the best school year and the bestest friends!"

“The best on the planet! Nora followed their friends' lead and took a massive drink, finishing it in one gulp. It was very tasty, and they wished they had more. They looked at Lupe with a puppy dog expression.

"Whoa, it’s so good? How’d you figure that out, Lupe? Do you just mix stuff together till it turns out well… Like alchemy! Ooo, do you have any other house recipes? Any that are pink? And don’t you two worry… If you drink too much, I’ll carry you both home!
"

“In that case, may I have another? And can it be more dangerous? Nora grinned a wide smile. Having more of those tasty drinks, and being carried in the arms of a gorgeous woman who was far too strong for her own good? Sign Nora up.

---

”Lexi,” she responded with her own smile. It was seemingly friendly, but look at it long enough and it got unnerving- almost predatory. Instead of handing over her lighter, she flicked on the little flame and leaned in to light the tip of the cigarette between his teeth. ”It’s pronounced lighter.”

She spoke slower, words almost drawled but clear enough he should be able to understand her better. It wasn’t out of any kindness, obviously. But there was no point if he didn’t catch half of what she was saying.

With him taking the smoke, she was a bit on the fence with how to treat him. Did she immediately tear him down, or try to wrap him around her finger for fun? The accent was a bit of a turn off, but he wasn’t so bad to look at. New too, so he wasn’t running crying at the sight of her like those pathetic little bitches she’d given ‘too much’ of a tongue lashing.

It would be easy to taunt him for his awful English or shabby clothes, even pretend to be offended at how long he’d stared at her before responding. But those were surface level things and Lexi preferred to dig deeper. Stupid oafs like Tyler would latch onto something easy and run with it, but where was the fun in that? She’d dig until she found something interesting.

”You don’t look happy to be here. Party too much for you? Or is it the opposite, and it’s too boring?” She asked, continuing to talk slowly, gaze fixed on him. ”I prefer mine smaller and wilder. Only good thing about parties like this is meeting new people,” she pointed at him, “and watching the old ones fuck up. That’s the most fun. People here get sloppy embarrassingly quickly. Take our school queen for example.”

Her finger turned towards the bathroom door, sharp eyes catching Vicky stumbling out with the help of her forgettable friend. She was looking forward to getting to her later. She left what she meant by fuck up ambiguous beyond drinking, even if her tone was clearly mocking. Either he’d prove himself a boring and good piece of shit by protesting her saying something like that, he’d be interesting enough to ask, or he’d just not care.

”What about you, Camille? What kinda shit do you enjoy?” She asked languidly, followed by a long drag of her cigarette. “Cause it’s clearly not this. I can make it more exciting, if that’s what you're looking for.”

Or she could make it much, much worse.

---

Ella nodded along enthusiastically as Lupe passed on her sage knowledge about how to create the perfect drink. She committed it to memory, though she wasn’t sure how many opportunities she’d have to drink after this. But it was always good to know.

"Wait, wait, wait– You’re going to carry me?" Ella gasped dramatically, reaching out with her free hand to poke Kari’s arm jokingly. She laughed loudly. "With what muscles?! No way can you carry me… Not unless you’re hiding some super secret super strength!”

Ella shook her head with a grin, downing the rest of her drink. She scanned the crowds, seeing plenty of familiar faces. And oh look- there was Vicky and Tuyen exiting the bathroom! She waved enthusiastically at her fellow cornballs (though technically Tuyen was a sub) over drunken teen heads. Between her bright pink hair and height, she was pretty easy to spot, though unfortunately Tuyen wasn't looking her way. Maybe Vicky would- though it didn't matter, since she'd catch up with them later anyway!

"I want a pink one next! Who cares if it's catastrophic?! Isn’t that what partying is about? Taking risks and having fun?” She said, dramatically slamming her empty cup on the makeshift bar and looking at Lupe expectantly. She didn’t feel anything from that last drink, so she was fine to jump right back into another one. "I wanna drink and dance and go wild! Well maybe not wild like certain people in school, but wild in that we’ll be having sooo much fun it’ll almost be like watching Sailor Moon for the first time!”

She spun around, slinging an arm over Nora’s shoulders. "See, Nora has the right idea. Another, more dangerous! We gotta drink the night away… Cause when will we have another high school party like this? I mean, we might, but this is your last year, Lupe! So… It’s basically our last chance to get super cute pink drinks! I might die if I never get to try it… Please? Pretty please? I swear on Sailor Moon that I'll do anything you want for that pink drink.”

She widened her eyes, practically batting her eyelashes at Lupe in an attempt at cuteness. She didn’t believe two drinks would kill her, after all. A magical girl couldn’t be taken out by two drinks! And she absolutely had to have the pink one. It was her colour, after all!

"Then we gotta dance! I'm not really used to party dancing, but I'm sure it can't be harder than running a marathon... And I watched a dancing anime.”

---

Tuyen felt more relief over the phrase I knew I kept you around for a reason than any person should. But if she didn’t continually prove how useful she was, why would Vicky stay friends with her?

She knew she shouldn't doubt such a long friendship, but she really didn't understand what Vicky saw in her. She treated Tuyen like a real friend and was always nice to her… It didn’t make sense. Vicky was much cooler than her- she had been even before high school, when she’d completely changed her image and dropped all their other friends. She’d always be grateful that Vicky had kept her around, because her own friendship with that group had fizzled out too… But at the same time she was constantly waiting for the other pin to drop.

For now, she should make the most of what she had. So she smiled slightly and listened to Vicky as she finally pulled away from the hug- another blessing to hide Tuyen’s tension which became relief.

Though she was a bit confused. Weren’t you supposed to like being called by your boyfriend? Wasn’t it normal to want to talk to your partner? She guessed maybe a phone call was too much when it could be a text… She didn’t entirely understand, though. If Vicky ever called her- because she was Tuyen’s friend nothing more- she’d gladly pick up and talk however long she wanted to. If by some miracle Tuyen ever had a partner in the future, she hoped it would be the same.

But she wasn’t going to argue with Vicky.

Tuyen continued to listen, face twisting into a look of appropriate disgust when Vicky described kissing Chef. It wasn’t just the description (or the unnecessarily gross acted example) that grossed her out, but the thought of kissing a man- no, no, anyone- like that. Even just the chaste kisses she’d shared with John out of obligation during the relationship had made her feel sick enough.

She easily slipped the lipgloss into her pocket, trying not to think much about the imagery of what Vicky had done with it. She didn’t have time, anyway, with Vicky dragging her towards the door.

”People might tell you everything, but I see all, I know all. Nothing slips by me.”

What? What else had Vicky seen?

She felt a phantom pain on her thighs, even though she knew she’d been doing well and it had been a whole week since she hurt herself in any way. Long enough that there weren’t any open wounds that could chafe and start bleeding again. She didn’t know. She couldn’t know, Tuyen had been so careful to hide it all these years.

If she did notice, she would have said something. Unless she just didn’t care? No… If anyone would care, it would be Vicky. Not about Tuyen, obviously, but after what her brother had done… No, there was no way Vicky knew. Maybe there was something else she’d seen?

No, no, she needed to get out of her head. She shouldn’t doubt her friend so much. She was clearly teasing. It was a joke, right?

”I got into enough trouble with my aunt for smelling like weed last time. It would’ve been worse if I was high too.” Tuyen nervously explained, feeling the need to in case Vicky really held it against her. ”I don’t have to worry about that tonight.”

Though she was sure if getting high was a good idea. Maybe it would relax her, but maybe it would just make her anxiety worse. What if she said something she didn’t want to? It was the same reason for her trying not to drink too much. She was always glad she got to pour the drinks so she could give herself a little less. But maybe she should try not to worry about that. If it really did help her relax that would be nice.

Then she could actually enjoy herself and their time together, like she did when it was just them somewhere quieter.

”You really see everything?” Tuyen said, managing a less confident teasing tone as she scanned the room for Kersten. ”Does that mean you saw why I took so long? You saw and didn’t even try to rescue me?”

She nudged Vicky jokingly, smile becoming more genuine for a moment and less of a veil.

”John Miller stopped me… You’re really right about all the boys in the town being losers. He asked to try again, but he broke up with me in the first place. Maybe he went to college and already got rejected a few times? He probably thought I’d just agree… But I never really liked him either. So even though he trapped me and wouldn’t let me go until I answered, I still said no. It just felt… weird that he’d come back to ask that. I’m done with boys from this town too. We can be single together.”

Like where the boys are from will make a difference…

Ah, wait. She’d meant to bring it up as a piece of gossip to entertain Vicky, not focus on her own feelings about it. And wasn’t it insensitive to mention someone trying to get with her when Vicky and Chef just broke up? But it was clearly because John thought he couldn’t do any better than someone like Tuyen… Hopefully Vicky wouldn’t get too upset.

She’d probably have a new boyfriend soon enough.

”Kersten’s over there.” Tuyen continued, changing the topic in an attempt to divert Vicky’s attention. She used their interlinked arms to turn her friend towards the dance floor where Kersten was, setting their course in that direction. Not that Tuyen wanted to move closer to where the crowd was the thickest. But it was what Vicky wanted… Though she wouldn’t be the one getting Kersten’s attention. Hopefully she wouldn’t even have to talk much. ”Let’s- Let’s get high, I guess.”

---

---

“Party boy, don’t sweat it. We cool,”

’Darn, she must be very popular!’ Daniel thought to himself with no hint of irony, completely missing Lynn silently reorienting herself after the odd phrasing, mistaking it instead for cool charm.

“I just moved here from Oregon a couple of weeks back and figured I’d see what the vibe was ahead of the start of class. Not sure what I think of my potential classmates. My name is Serenlight, Lynn. Put it together, and you get me, Lynn Serenlight,”

Smiling politely and repeating the name a few times in his head to try and reaffirm it, Daniel couldn’t help but feel a little envious. That was an introduction! Confident, concise, new or not this Lynn Serenlight was clearly going to have no trouble making friends in the school year. Daniel suddenly felt a pang of self-consciousness, compared to Lynn he was a neonate to the party scene and was beginning to get reminded of that fact.

With luck, he could play it casual and not let his inexperience of how his peers spent their time show. He just needed to avoid the topic wherever possi-

“You come to a lot of these?”

Ah, well, nevertheless.

”O-oh, yeah, absolutely!” Daniel yelled, matching Lynn’s volume and yet still finding it hard to hear himself think. ”Actually, just a few months ago I was at…”

Deflating, grimacing in that way people do when their brain wonders what the hell their mouth is even talking about. Daniel was good at some things, a few of them perhaps even unexpected, lying was not among that category. His stomach had already been lurching when he answered Lynn’s question in the affirmative, trying to come up with an example simply made it twist into a Gordian Knot.

”Um, to be honest with you, no I don’t,” his smile remained yet his face sagged a little, it was kind of nice being seen as a normal kid by someone who didn’t know better, ”this is actually the first real party I’ve been to. As you can probably tell, I’m not very used to it.”

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, even if his lie had barely made it a few steps forward before stumbling he still felt bad even attempting it. Lynn was thankfully easy to talk to and it was wrong of him to take advantage of her newcomer status, perhaps his moral fiber had changed more than he realised. With a glance, he looked at the party with renewed eyes, spotting some of the familiar faces and pairings thrown together by the merriment. Ella and her friends happily chatting away, Tuyen trailing behind Vicky - who looked a little more on edge than she normally did - even Lexi was taking the time to interact with a boy Daniel didn’t recognise.

”Well, welcome to Cornell, Lynn.” He said, turning back to face her. ”My party knowledge might be lacking but I’m happy to give you the lay of the land, so to speak. These are good people here.” He hesitated a little, even Daniel wasn’t that naive. ”Er, some are a little fractious before you get to know them, b-but they mean well… I think.”

---

---

”You really see everything?” Yes, everything, always. Vicky was locked in. She had them eagle eyes. Not even the most insignificant worm wiggling around in the dirt could pass her by undetected. ”Does that mean you saw why I took so long? Nooope. So long with what? Vicky had forgotten already that Tuyen was supposed to bring her a drink. A failed task that, possibly, saved her evening. Vicky was at her liquor capacity. Which meant she should get another drink. “You saw and didn’t even try to rescue me?”

Vicky stiffened. It was hard to tell why. It was quite possible that she was (even though Vicky was very much still dealing with her own extremely important trauma) alarmed to hear that Tuyen had been in danger. Then again, it could’ve been that Vicky just hated being a disappointment, even though it wasn’t her fault, she had been winning that game of beer pong, and also Chef, well, Chef was being a total dick, so really, Tuyen should be blaming Chef. Yet just as Vicky had found a perfectly good excuse to absolve herself of even the teensiest morsel of failure she was nudged by Tuyen, letting her off the hook. She relaxed.

Briefly. For a millisecond. Before Tuyen mentioned John Miller.

“Oh, gross! He’s the worst!” blurted Vicky out at the mention of his name, and after Tuyen said that he’d been the one to call things off in the first place Vicky added, “And an idiot!”

Vicky continued to interject as Tuyen told her about dealing with that lame ass benchwarmer, the cheerleader inside of her unable to resist hyping up Tuyen for cutting out that loser. Vicky hit her with the totallies, the ewgh-yucks, the so weirds, and the hell yeahs. It was so nice to see Tuyen stick up for herself. It was nice, really, it was…it just wasn’t nice enough to stop Vicky from falling silent the second Tuyen mentioned them being single together. And then what? They’d just be two lonely souls? The truth was that Vicky didn’t see everything, but at that moment, she could see the future, and again it involved her becoming kibble for the kitties.

Her eyes grew vacant. She started to feel sick again. She was so upset.

Vicky needed a new boyfriend. Soon.

“Kersten’s over there. Let’s- Let’s get high, I guess.”

Vicky snapped out of it.

“Yes! Right! Drugs!” Tuyen was right. Great idea Tuyen! “Let’s get high!”

Tuyen spun—oh, whoa, easy, not so fast—spun Vicky in the right direction. It took a second for her head to catch up with her feet as she surveyed the room. Danny Graham’s bitch ass was snickering in a circle with Gwen and some other jocks. The good Daniel was trying to convert some satanist or something. Weirdo. Satan herself was SMOKING! INDOORS? IN VICKY'S AIR!? SERIOUSLY!!? with that French kid, which almost made it okay since it was a European thing, until Vicky remembered that he was somehow French but Canadian. Weirdo. Tyler was, who cared what Tyler was doing thought Vicky as her eyes jumped over him but lingered briefly on Tommy. Weirdo.

Weirdo, the repeated thought directed this time at herself.

Somebody was waving at Vicky. Well, of course somebody was waving at her. Before she could even think, Vicky found herself waving back. Everybody should’ve been waving at her! Everybody should have been as enthusiastic as this person was that Vicky was gracing the party with her presence. Everybody should just be like (pink hair, pink hair, wait, that’s) El-ehhhhh, nope. The wave fell fast to the side of her face as Vicky shielded her eyes and diverted her gaze, her head finally catching with where Tuyen had spun her, her sight lasering in on Kersten. Knew they were there the whole time. Definitely not searching for homecoming dates, definitely not going to be eaten by a hungry mob of mewing—STOP! FOCUS!

Focused, Vicky slipped in front of Tuyen, unhooking her from her arm only to start pulling her along at the wrist. Drugs. Vicky dodged the ever distracting Lupe and the lure of one of her legendary nightender mixed drinks. Drugs, drugs. She blitzed past Ella and those lame Stupid Scouts tagging along with her. Drugs, drugs, drugs. She didn’t circumnavigate the dance floor. Drugs, drugs, drugs! She charged straight through, barely stumbling, only knocking into one or ten people, so impressive. Drugs! Drugs! Drugs!

Um, wait, Chef was the one who always dealt with Kushten. She had never scored drugs before. How was Vicky supposed to do this? According to the cop who used to interrupt their learning in elementary school so that Officer Burpke and Scruff the Drug Dog could scare those little shits straight, people were just supposed to be trying nonstop to give and make her smoke drugs. Vicky never thought she would have to learn how to ask for drugs. Is there like a code or something? A secret handshake? Do you just go…Vicky smacked Kersten on the shoulder (perhaps a bit too hard) to get them to stop dancing, held out her hand, cocked her head, and gave a big smile.

“Drugs,” demanded Vicky.

She swayed, her hand wavering as it curled and made a gimme, gimme motion. Her eyes were a little puffy from crying, but what was more telling was the drunken glaze. Vicky was sauced. When drugs didn’t immediately materialize in her hand, Vicky let go of Tuyen and started patting for pockets on her outfit. Duh! The “deal” part of “drug deal” implied that there was some kind of cash exchange or something.

“We want drugs. How much for an ounce of weed?” asked Vicky with hardly a slurred word, not actually knowing what that meant but knowing it was probably a thing and assuming it wasn’t much. Like, an ounce was nothing. Nothing weighed less than an ounce. Still patting at her skirt for something that wasn’t there, she loudly declared to both Kersten and Tuyen. “I don’t have pockets. Like, I don’t have any pockets!”

Shit, she was yelling to be heard over the music. Vicky should be whispering. This was a drug deal.

“I don’t have pockets,” she repeated in a hushed voice that was still pretty loud, her head darting back and forth between Tuyen and Kersten in confusion, letting out an exasperated laugh, like how, she had just had pockets, what the fuck? How did she lose pockets? Vicky stuck her hand back out, finding her confidence, just like she was sure to find those pockets. “First one’s free, right? Isn’t that, y’know, part of the thing?”

They better not have to do anything too weird.

Vicky side-eyed Tuyen.

Vicky better not have to do anything too weird.

---

---

---

Sometime earlier...

The warehouse was alive long before Lupe entered, bass thudding like it had its own heartbeat.

She didn’t just walk in. She arrived.

“Move, move, you’re so slow, papi!” Lupe shouted in Spanish, laughing as she grabbed Alejandro’s wrist and tugged him through the crowd.

“I’m not slow, you’re just crazy,” Diego muttered in Spanish from behind, but he didn’t resist as she hooked his sleeve and pulled him along anyway.

Alejandro grinned at the nearest strangers, eyes wide.

“This is crazy, mami,” he said in Spanish. “Like a movie.”

“Better than a movie, papi,” Lupe shot back, spinning for flair. “Because movies don’t have me!” She ended her twirl by pointing both fingers at herself.

Diego exhaled through his nose, scanning the exits.

“Yeah... that’s probably why people survive them,” he muttered to himself - albeit loud enough for Lupe to hear.

Lupe gasped, feigning offense.

“Hey! Relax, dad,” she said, playfully sticking her tongue out. “We’re here to have fun, homes!”

Alejandro laughed, slipping toward a group of people nearby.

“Let him be,” he said in Spanish, nudging Diego. “He’s just mad he never swiped his card.”

Lupe smiled like a fool, trying to hold in the laughter. As Alejandro just let it go.

“... I-” Diego began, then stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Never mind.”

Diego looked between them.

"... I cannot stand you two,” he muttered in Spanish.

They ignored him, or pretended to.

The three moved like they’d done this a thousand times before. Lupe cut through the crowd like she owned the air itself. Alejandro drifted outward, catching energy and tossing it back into the circle. Diego stayed just behind, vigilant, precise, containing the edges of chaos.

It was a rhythm.

One they didn’t even know they had built.

“But seriously,” Alejandro leaned close over the music, “if we get kicked out, that’s on you.”

“... Paaaaaaaaaaaaapi, have you even met Claire?” Lupe said in Spanish, grinning. “The only way you're getting kicked out of here is if you're Saylor, or Jeremy. One of those freaks.”

Diego snorted. “She invited Vicky.” He jabbed a thumb in her direction.

Lupe didn't even reply, she just blew raspberries and waved him off. Before turning her eyes the main event; the party! A group nearby cheered—someone fell, someone chugged, it didn’t matter.

Alejandro’s attention snapped immediately. “Oh no -look, look—” he said in Spanish, before vanished into the crowd.

Lupe shook her head, still smiling.

“That boy’s going to get himself kidnapped one day,” She rolled her eyes.

“All he has to do is start talking, they'll bring him back quick,” Diego replied.

“Or make friends with them,” Lupe added.

Alejandro returned like he owned the room, arm casually draped over June Summers’ shoulders. She didn’t flinch, didn’t roll her eyes — just stayed perfectly calm, surveying the crowd with that “I see everything” look she always got.

“You won’t believe what just happened,” Alejandro said in Spanish, leaning a little closer to June. “I convinced someone that they won't fall and break their neck by dancing on the table and they believed me!”

Lupe’s eyes flicked between them, impressed. “Papi... you actually bagged her?” she whispered in Spanish, bouncing lightly on her toes.

“Relax, I’m just her bodyguard,” Alejandro said in Spanish, shrugging like it was nothing.

June spoke next, in clear, smooth Spanish: “You’re loud.”

Lupe froze mid-step, a little stunned, eyes widening slightly. The realization hit her, and a grin spread across her face.“You speak Spanish?” She muttered in English, impressed.

"Clearly," June replied in their native tongue. "My stepfather was Puerto-Rican. And with him... you pick up some things."

Diego glanced between them, unimpressed, “You’re both exhausting,” he said voice flat.

Alejandro let out a quiet laugh, not even a little offended. “And yet here you are, bro!” he replied, laughing. “That says more about you than us.”

June’s gaze shifted to Diego, studying him for a brief second like she was filing something away. “He’s the one keeping track,” she said in Spanish, calm and certain. “You’d fall apart without him.”

Lupe blinked once — then broke into a wide grin. “Ohhh, she goootcha,” she said, bouncing in place. “I like her.”

Alejandro smirked, nudging June slightly. “Told you you’d fit in,” he said in Spanish.

June didn’t respond right away - just glanced toward the folding table bar, then back at them. “You’re out of drinks,”

Lupe gasped dramatically. “That sounds like a problem!” she was already moving.

They drifted toward the table like it was inevitable.

Lupe hopped up onto a chair, scanning bottles like she was picking weapons.

“Alright, papis, and mamis, what are we feeling?” she said, looking between them.

“Something normal,” Diego said in Spanish immediately, rolling his eyes.

“That one,” Alejandro pointed at the most suspicious bottle without hesitation.

June followed his finger, eyes narrowing slightly. “That doesn't look normal,”

“Exactly,” Alejandro shot back.

“Absolutely not,” Diego said.

“Yes.”

“No.”

June reached out, casually pushing the bottle a few inches away. “You’re not making it worse,”

Lupe didn’t wait. She grabbed both bottles anyway.

“Compromise,” she declared, pouring recklessly.

June took the cup Lupe handed her, inspecting it briefly. “... I’m trusting you, Lupe,”

“You should,” Lupe grinned.

They clinked cups.

“For what?” Alejandro asked in Spanish.

Lupe didn’t hesitate. “For us, silly,”

There was a pause.

Diego glanced at her — something quieter passing through his expression.

“... For us,” he repeated.

June watched them for a second, then lifted her cup slightly. “For surviving your bullshit, mami,” she added

Alejandro laughed. “You’re already part of it,”

They drank.

The music shifted.

Faster. Heavier.

Lupe felt it instantly.

Her head tilted.

Shoulders rolled once.

June noticed first — not the movement, but the change. “There it is,”

Alejandro followed her gaze and groaned. “Oh no—she caught a beat,” he laughed.

“I always catch the beat,” Lupe shot back in Spanish.

“Yeah, but now everyone’s going to suffer it,” Alejandro said.

June’s lips twitched faintly. “I want to see that,” she said in Spanish.

“Good,” Lupe replied.

She moved.

Not fully dancing yet — just testing it, letting the rhythm crawl into her limbs.

Alejandro followed, easy, loose.

June didn’t dance immediately — she stepped with them instead, adjusting, observing, then matching just enough to stay in sync.

Diego hesitated. Then sighed. Then stepped in.

The four of them aligned, not perfectly, but naturally.

Lupe at the center.

Alejandro feeding energy outward.

June stabilizing it.

Diego containing the edges.

People noticed.

Of course they did.

“Okay okay!” Alejandro shouted in Spanish, pointing at Lupe. “Go off!”

“Don’t encourage her,” Diego warned.

Too late.

Lupe spun, dipped, snapped back into rhythm.

Cheers erupted.

Someone whistled.

Someone tried to copy her, and failed immediately.

June watched that happen, almost predicting it. “Yeah... that was going to happen," she said under her breath in English.

Lupe bounced back toward them, breath quick, eyes bright.

“You are being boring,” she said to June. “Step it up.”

June tilted her head. “Define ‘step it up,’” she replied in Spanish.

Lupe gave her a smile that was almost seductive.

“... Just keep up, mami,” Lupe shot back with a wink.

June didn’t argue. She just adjusted — cleaner, sharper, more in sync.

Lupe noticed immediately. Grinned wider.

Diego shook his head — but there was a faint smile now.

“Wait—wait,” Alejandro grabbed Lupe’s arm. “Where’s Kari?”

Lupe paused mid-motion.

Her eyes scanned the crowd.

“She should be here by now,”

June followed her gaze automatically, already scanning patterns in the crowd.

Diego caught the shift. “Worried?” he asked.

“Please. She’s just late,” Lupe scoffed.

Alejandro bumped her shoulder. “She’ll show. You know she will,” he said.

June nodded slightly. “As much of a shut-in as she is, I doubt Elsa will let her read books all night,” she added with a dry laugh.

Lupe exhaled.

“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

Then the grin snapped back into place.

“Still—when she gets here, I’m calling her out!”

“Of course you are,” Diego muttered.

“Loudly,” Alejandro added.

^{“Publicly,”} June quietly added.

“Very loudly, papi,” Lupe confirmed.

The bass dropped harder.

The crowd surged.

The rhythm tightened.

Someone shoved another drink into Lupe’s hand.

Someone shouted her name.

Alejandro got pulled — then pulled himself back.

June adjusted position without thinking, keeping the group intact.

Diego shifted with her, locking the formation.

The night settled into them.

Lupe climbed onto a chair without warning.

“Here we go,” Diego muttered.

“AY—AY—watch her, watch her!” Alejandro shouted.

Lupe raised her cup—alive, electric, untouchable—

—and then...

“... Kari, Mami!”

---

---

---

Lupe didn’t even try to hide the grin spreading across her face as Ella doubled down.

“AY. AY, AY - there it is, mami,” she laughed, pointing at her like she’d just proven a point. “You’re insane. And that's why I like you, mami.” Lupe made the heart with her hands.

She leaned back against the table slightly, eyes flicking over Ella’s posture, the empty cup, the zero hesitation.

“Two drinks in and you’re already making promises like that? Caaaaaaaaaareful, mami,” Lupe added, voice dropping just a little, playful but edged. “I'll actually hold you to it.”

Kari, beside her, lifted a brow at Ella’s poke, glancing down at her own arm like she was genuinely assessing the claim.

“I wouldn’t underestimate her,” Kari said calmly, taking another small sip of her drink. “She's Ella. She's way more capable than we gave her credit for.” Kari laughed.

Lupe snorted.

“Don’t encourage her,” she shot back—already reaching for another cup anyway.

At the demand for pink, Lupe paused mid-motion—slowly turning her head back toward Ella like she’d just said something dangerous.

“Oh, you want the pink one?” she repeated, grin sharpening.

She crouched slightly, digging into the cooler again—this time pulling out a clear, unassuming bottle that looked almost too innocent. She held it up between her fingers, letting the strobe lights flash through it.

“Alright... now we’re talking reckless,” she murmured.

Kari’s eyes immediately locked onto the bottle.

".... Oh no,” she said under her breath. “That’s Everclear”

Lupe shot her a sideways grin.

“And?”

“Are you trying to kill somebody?”

“It’s a spice,” Lupe corrected smoothly, already pouring.

A splash of Everclear.

Something bright pink.

Something aggressively sweet.

Something that absolutely should not be sharing space in the same cup.

“See, now this?” she said, swirling the cup slightly, watching the colors shift. “This is what separates the legends from the scrubs.”

Kari watched the mixture with a small, knowing exhale.

“... If you say so?” she murmured, before crossing her arms. “Is this that 'concoction' made you try to fight a speaker.”

Lupe pointed at her immediately.

“Allegedly, mami. ALLEGEDLY.”

“You even apologized to it after.” Kari snorted.

“IT WAS PLAYING WITH ME!” Lupe shot back, then waved it off like that proved everything.

She looked back at Ella, smile returning full force.

“But you swore on Sailor Moon, though...” she hummed, dragging the moment out just enough to make it feel like a deal being sealed. “Can’t disrespect that.”

She stepped forward and slid the drink across the table toward Ella like she was handing over something sacred.

“Congratulations,” she said, almost ceremonious. “You’ve unlocked the deluxe edition, mami.”

Then, lighter again—

“Drink it, and if you survive, mami... ” she jerked her head toward the dance floor, where the bass was starting to climb again, “... You'll move up to the next level.”

“Please pace yourself,” Kari added quietly with a roll of her eyes. “You know someone's going to record it if you start wildlin'.”

Lupe immediately bumped her shoulder.

“Coooooooooome, on,” Lupe grinned. “If nobody records it, how else will we know what happens?!"

Kari rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree.

---

”Lacterr. Laterr. Lie-terr.” The sounds just wouldn’t come out right, the vowels twisting behind his teeth, his Rs refusing to be anything else than guttural. Annoying. Everything about this was an exercise in frustration.

Camille huffed, smoke curling out from his mouth and nostrils. ”Tsk. Wat-everr. You underrstand. Dat is the imporrtant parrt.”

His stare eased off his new companion, returning to the crowd. He’d felt a couple of people looking over, caught a few in the act as well. Were they looking at him? Or at Lexi? Was she someone worth staring at? He had to admit he had no clue, he didn’t know her or of her until only a few minutes ago. He hoped she wasn’t, he hoped that her presence wouldn’t drag anymore attention to him. It set his teeth on edge.

Their eyes felt like ants digging their way under his skin.

”De parrty iz… fine. I ‘ave notting again parrties.” His eyes nervously followed the arcs of the dancers on the dance floor, catching how they bumped into each other, laughing all the while. ”But de people... Too many. Not use-ed to it.”

”Maybe derre arre morre people in de school ‘erre dan in my entirre village. Probably iz de case. It, euh, feels werrd.” Was that too much? Was he opening himself too much? It felt like a normal thing to say. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he didn’t look like he was having fun, so trying to pretend otherwise was just stupid. But should he have made up an excuse? But then again, it’s not like no one knew where he was from, that was very easily verifiable information (and oh, how he hated that fact, but it’s not like he could change it…)

Dammit, he really has to stop getting in his head so much. What’s done is done, and can’t be taken back, and he almost missed Lexi’s question. What did he like? At least, he’s pretty sure that’s what she asked, though he wasn’t sure what excrements and/or swears had to do with it.

…what did he like? Quite a lot, actually. He liked going to the beach, and listening to the waves. He liked watching the seal pups in winter, and counting shooting stars during the Perseids. He liked playing dek hockey with his friends. He liked being safe, and alone.

But he didn’t have any of that anymore. All he had left were…

”Books. I like books.” He tried to smile again, though it felt too stiff and bitter to truly be anything more than a grimace. ”Dey arre one of de last Frrensh ting I ‘ave left ‘erre. Also, dey arre fun. Everr read Beckett? ‘E trransla-ted ‘is own, euh, te-a-ter pieces? Iz dat de rright worrd?”

His frown returned, more thoughtful than frustrated this time. ”Wat-everr. ‘E trransla-ted ‘is worrk in English, iz wat I mean. Iz a good trranslation. I like Fin de partie, euh, Endgame, de most.” He remembered having fun comparing the two versions. It had been good practice back then too, comparing how one sentence became another when the language changed. To this day, his English reading comprehension was his strongest suit, leagues better than his speaking, hearing, or writing.

He caught Lexi’s eyes, and something in them made him hesitate. They were sharp, and seemed to look not at him, but into him. The part of his brain still tracking everyone else’s movement, just in case, was screaming at him, warning him. He messed up, he should not have said that, he should not, but why? Why shouldn’t he have?

For once in his life, he shut out the warning. He must’ve simply been a bit boring. ”Ah, but dis prrobably interrests you not a lot. Sorry. Not de best time to talk of tragi-comédies.” Hopefully the conversation wouldn’t be too derailed.

---

---

To say Kersten was taken aback when Vicky approached him would be an understatement. They never really spoke, like, at all. Chief would sometimes come see him for weed (a lot of people did) but as far as he knew, Vicky was not someone who partook in the green goodness. So an absolutely smashed Vicky loudly demanding drugs from him was even more of a surprise.

Looks like the curaçao did its job.

She looked down at the shorter girl's face, her eyebrows drawn together in worry. Even through the haze of her own habitual high, she made short work of cataloguing every single one of Vicky’s symptoms. Lack of balance, dizziness, slightly slurred speech… Diagnosis: wayyyy too much alcohol, but no other drugs. Good. Wouldn’t do to mix weed, alcohol, and stimulants…

They briefly peeked over behind Vicky, quickly spotting the other girl that always seemed to follow her. Tuyen, if they remembered correctly. A long time friend, they were pretty sure. They subtly motioned to Vicky with their head, mouthing out a message to Tuyen.

Is she okay?

”Don’t worry sister, you don’t owe me anything. I’m all about sharing, you know?” He gave her a smile, any trace of worry instantly erased from his face. ”Here at Kersten’s Fresh Green Produce, all products only cost a smile, and the promise to spread the good vibes.”

”Whiiiiich is why I’m not hooking you with anything for now, dear Victoria. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are obviously very, very drunk.” They patted her back as if commiserating, and then wrapped an arm around her shoulder to gently begin to guide her off the dance floor and towards the Stoner Corner.

”Nothing wrong with that, by the way, that’s what most of the people are here for after all. It’s just that mixing too much booze with the green stuff in a loud room is a great way to end up on a bad trip. Or in the hospital. Or both.” They’d seen enough people not know their limit, and they weren’t looking to facilitate that tonight. Or any night, really. They weren’t totally irresponsible, only slightly.

”So instead, your good pal Kushten will hook you up with a nice comfy beanbag and a bag of cheetos,” if Richie hadn’t finished them all by now, ”and then we’re gonna chill until you sober up a bit, and then we’ll make sure you’re not sober for a good long while. I’ll even give you the really good bud I usually keep for myself.” And if she insisted on smoking before Kersten judged it was safe, well, she was probably too drunk to tell apart real weed from crushed up oregano.

She glanced back towards Tuyen, giving her a reassuring smile. ”I just want everyone to have a nice evening. That’s why I made my brownies extra weak tonight. Even newbies like you should be able to handle them!”

Looks like sneaking out back with Richie would have to be postponed until these two were properly settled in. Oh well, no big deal.

---

---

Drugs for a smile seemed like a bad business practice, but if it benefited Vicky then she had no complaints. She even managed to not make a smart ass remark about how she’d already covered the cost then, having totally smiled on her approach. Instead, Vicky just took her pointer finger and dug it into her cheek as she tilted her head. She threw in a couple of batted eyelashes as a bonus and smiled harder, even if it made her face hurt.

Fortunately, that overextended smile didn’t last for long as Kersten verbally slapped it off of her face as Vicky immediately took everything the wrong way. Her jaw dropped. First of all, that’s not her name. Second, Kersten had to be super high to even think that Vicky was a little bit drunk. She was, at best, maybe tipsy. Fourth, or whatever number she was on, did Kersten just say that Vicky’s vibes were bad? Bullshit! That was bullshit! Her vibes were good. Her vibes were the best. She had better vibes than anyone else at this stupid lame party!

And also, and also, and also…where were they going? Vicky shot a look of panic over her shoulder at Tuyen as Kersten began to gently and carefully guide her towards a hazy corner of the warehouse. This was a kidnapping. She was getting taken, just like in that the dumb movie Chef had made her go see at the drive-in theater. What had it been called? Anyway, Vicky was going to run so that she wasn’t taken too, a risky option in these heels, and Kersten must’ve sensed it when she started talking about ending up in the hospital or going on a bad trip, presumably to some vague and forgettable country in Eastern Europe where his drug suppliers were established.

”So instead, your good pal Kushten will hook you up with a nice comfy beanbag and a bag of cheetos.” Douplespeak, that was doublespeak for torture! “And then we’re gonna chill until you sober up a bit, and then we’ll make sure you’re not sober for a good long while.” Dope her up and make her an addict, more like. “I’ll even give you the really good bud I usually keep for myself.” More like mail her off to some rich drug kingpin…a rich drug kingpin that Kersten was also dating casually? “I just want everyone to have a nice evening. That’s why I made my brownies extra weak tonight. Even newbies like you should be able to handle them!”

Vicky furrowed her brow. None of this really tracked as the kind of thing a drug dealer working for a human trafficker would say. The second she got to the beanbag chair she dropped into it, sniffing at the strange and unpleasant skunk smell that kicked up the moment she flopped in. Even if these stoners tried anything, they were dweebs, losers, nerds. She could beat all of these stupid Shaggies up, and she was drunk, no, not drunk, just a little tired, long day, that’s all, she’d still win, and what’s with this chair? How was it the most comfortable thing she had ever sat in while also being completely gross? She could really sink into it. She closed her eyes…

…and shot right back up, realizing that Kersten had been patronizing her! That little bitch! He thought Vicky was a bad hang, was that it? Had that dumbass Chef already gotten to them first? She flopped about, trying to find a way to sit up in the beanbag chair, the leather squelching disgustingly as she floundered. Uggggggh! Aggggh! Why did chairs like this exist? But that was it, right? She was being timed out from the party because Chef had told everyone that she had dumped him for sympathy points (which should have been her sympathy points, damn it!) and now Kersten was putting her in a corner until Vicky thought about what she did?

Or, or, or was it because—Jesus Christ, why couldn’t she sit up—or was it because—seriously, how was she sinking deeper into the chair—it was totally because Vicky not being around meant that everyone had a better evening. Is that what they all thought? Bastards. Fuck these bastards, and fuck this beanbag chair. It was like being stuck in quicksand. She’d show them. Where was her phone? She’d call the cops. Bust this whole party up. Put Kersten in time out. For life, motherfucker.

“Hey man, fuck you. Fuck you, man. She thinks I’m a newbie? Me? I’m Vicky. I’M VICKY!” rambled Vicky as her hand smacked around the beanbag in a frantic search, talking both to Kersten and Tuyen but also to herself. “MY NAME IS VICKY! I’m not a Victoria, I’m not your pal, and I don’t want to chill with you. I don’t give a shit why most people are here, you’re here because you have drugs. It’s the only reason why you were invited. It’s the only reason why anyone would talk to you. It's the only reason why someone like me would waste her time talking to you!”

“Please? I can handle my shit. So give us drugs,” slurred Vicky. She had stumbled over half of her words and muttered the other half into the beanbag. She tried pointing at Kersten, only to dip lower into the chair and point up at the ceiling. “Or else!”

Where was her phone? Had it sunk into the beanbag? It had just been in her pocket. Vicky froze, or she tried to, her foot kicking up as she sunk even deeper into the beanbag.

She didn’t have any pockets. Shit, she didn’t have any pockets. Where was her phone?

“TUYEN!” hollered the beanbag. “TUYEN MY PHONE!”

A tuft of staticy blonde hair briefly emerged from the comfort abyss as Vicky shouted frantically at Kersten, “And I don’t care what Chef told you, he’s a fucking loser and a liar and I hate him and he broke my heart and now I’m going to DIE ALONE!”

She disappeared as she flopped back down, hoping that inside of the beanbag nobody could see her tears. She called out to Tuyen between sniffles, holding out a hand expectantly, “And a drink?”

---

Vicky waved back almost as enthusiastically as Ella waved to her, stopping when Tuyen directed her towards someone else. Obviously they had somewhere else to be right now, but Ella would catch them later!

"I don’t make promises I can’t keep!" Ella grinned, waggling her finger playfully. She really didn’t- if there was anything Lupe needed from her, Ella was happy to do it! The same went for almost anyone, really. If people were in need, she’d help them!

And for friends, she’d gladly do anything!

She giggled at the back and forth between Kari and Lupe, glad that Kari had her back. Because she was right! Ella was capable! A couple of drinks wouldn’t be enough to destroy her. Plus, she wasn’t exactly worried about her reputation or anything like that. The first drink was already giving her a warm fuzzy feeling that she quite liked.

"Let them record it!" Ella declared, raising the cup to her lips and knocking it back. She didn’t actually drink the whole thing like that last one, instead just taking a big gulp. She wasn’t quite that crazy. Plus, she wanted to savour this special pink drink Lupe had made at her request. "I’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about- Whoa, it’s really good!"

She took another sip, smiling brightly. She was absolutely going to moving up to the next level, whatever Lupe meant by that. Like in a video game? Not that Ella really played them, she just watched a few anime focused around them. But being a higher level was absolutely better.

"There’s no way something like this could take me out. It’d take, like, a comet to do that. An alcohol comet!" she laughed, before raising her cup to Lupe. "I’m gonna be a legendary magical girl, so I’m gonna drink this all and survive. I’ll also take on any speakers that play with you for you!"

With Ella, it was a little hard to tell if she was being completely serious about fighting speakers on Lupe’s behalf or if it was a joke. She was, after all, often a bit of an idiot. But she was playing for once.

"Speaking of speakers, who’s in charge of the music? I- Nora too- have some requests! Great request- Oh!" In the middle of asking and looking around Ella got distracted by a familiar face that had made her way over to the drinks table. Small and unassuming, most people would’ve missed Tuyen quietly pouring two drinks. But not Ella!

It helped that she’d looked over at the exact right time, of course.

"Tuyen! Hey!"

---

Oh God, Vicky was drunker than Tuyen had realised.

She helplessly watched as Vicky demanded drugs in the least subtle way possible, trying not to panic. Kersten had always seemed chill, and everyone knew to go to him for weed, but that didn’t mean they were alright with it being asked for like that.

Thankfully, Kersten proved herself to be chill even with something like this.

Is she okay?

Tuyen hesitated, before nodding in response to the mouthed question, making a subtle gesture towards the drinks table with her free hand to try to indicate that Vicky was just drunk. It wasn’t true, but she wouldn’t speak about something Vicky hadn’t brought up herself. She wouldn’t do that to anyone, considering the amount of secrets she kept about herself.

And they’d even share weed for free–

Oh no. Alarm bells rang in Tuyen’s head when Kersten refused to give Vicky the drugs she’d so adamantly demanded. They even went as far as to pull her towards the stoner corner. Tuyen paused only for a moment in shock before catching Vicky’s panicked look back at her and hurrying to follow. She wasn’t going to blow up was she? No, she cared too much about her image. But she was drunk. What did Tuyen say to diffuse the situation?

Kersten was right about her being too drunk to do something else… Not that Tuyen knew much about weed, but it just didn’t seem sensible to mix substances. She also knew it was basically impossible to tell Vicky no. She couldn’t.

But even though she was nervous and expecting a full blow up, she managed a perfectly normal smile at Kersten, as if she didn’t need any reassurance.

“Hey man, fuck you. Fuck you, man.”

Tuyen winced, her smile briefly wavering. Then it turned apologetic, her wide eyes turning to Kersten like a deer in the headlights. Everything she said was harsh, but she was drunk. She was just upset. Though she knew… She knew that Vicky mostly looked at people for their use. It was why she made sure she was useful to her.

”She’s had weed before, I’m the one that hasn’t-” Tuyen explained as if that would smooth over Vicky’s reaction, only to be interrupted by her name being screeched from the beanbag that had practically eaten her drunk friend. Immediately she snapped to attention.

Her phone… Did Tuyen have her phone? She patted down her jean pockets, finding only her own and Vicky’s lipgloss. It must still be in the jacket left in the bathroom… But she could get that easily.

Tuyen wasn’t entirely sure what Vicky expected by holding out her hand, because Tuyen couldn’t just materialise a drink like that. She wasn’t sure she should get her a drink at all, but she couldn’t say no. She’d just make it very weak.

”I’ll be right back with your phone and your drink! It’s still in your- the jacket.” Tuyen reached out, taking Vicky’s hand for a brief moment and giving it a comforting squeeze. She quickly pulled back before her friend got upset at her for not magically materialising a phone and drink.

Then she stepped closer to Kersten. Close enough that she could talk to them without Vicky overhearing, and didn’t need to shout to be heard over the music.

”Please look after her for me.” She whispered to Kersten, looking up at her with wide eyes. She knew Vicky was being difficult at the moment and it was a lot to ask of someone else, but she couldn’t just leave her friend like this… But if she didn’t Vicky would just get more upset. ”I’d really appreciate it– I’ll only be a minute, I know where her phone is. I’m really sorry. She’s drunk… I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for an answer she spun around and dashed off. Weaving between the people was easier when she had a goal in mind, and was overly panicked about what would happen while she was gone. She didn’t want Vicky to get upset at her for taking too long. She hadn’t last time, but her patience was clearly running out with everything.

Thankfully the discarded letterman jacket was right where it had been dumped, and no one had bothered checking the pockets to steal Vicky’s phone. Tuyen slid it into her pocket and headed for the second demand: a drink.

This was a bit more difficult. There were so many people crowded around the drinks table, and the loud chattering made her whole body tense up. She tried her best to forcefully relax as she managed to squeeze in. No one was looking at her. They didn’t even care that she was there. Nobody would notice her… They wouldn’t want to talk to her, and they wouldn’t question why she was even here. It was fine.

Her hand shook slightly as she poured more vodka into one of the cups, ending up an almost fifty-fifty split. But she was still painfully sober and needed something to loosen up if they weren’t getting weed. In the other, she put just a splash of alcohol. Hopefully Vicky wouldn’t notice.

"Tuyen! Hey!" Oh no, please leave her alone. Maybe if she looked really engrossed in these drinks she could pretend she didn’t hear Ella and slip away. Except she’d poured both of the drinks. Taking a deep breath, Tuyen turned around and kept her gaze glued to the floor right in front of her feet. Just enough to avoid bumping into people, enough to avoid catching-

"Tuyennnn! Come join us!" A strong arm wrapped around Tuyen’s shoulders as she tried to slip past, pulling her right into the group.

---

"I was hoping to talk to you- It’s been ages, we barely had any practice this summer! I’ve been practicing myself, obviously, but it’s not the same without the team- Oh!" Ella shouted, letting go of Tuyen’s shoulders as she gestured to her for the rest of ehr friends. "Do you know everyone? Do you guys know Tuyen? She’s one of my fellow Cornballs! Well obviously you know her, everyone knows everyone, but I mean, have you met and talked?!"

It was the name for the school's softball team, the Cornell Cornballs. Obviously they didn’t have anywhere near the popularity of the football team, the Steelheads- like literally every other sport in the school. People only ever watched and cared about the football matches… But the Cornballs were pretty good at what they did! Sure, Ella had a higher chance of getting a sports scholarship with her great long distance running than she did softball, but that didn’t mean she was a slouch when it came to softball! Plus, team spirit was great! They even had inside jokes, like all the times Vicky jokingly threatened to hit Ella with her bat!

”I’m just a substitute.” Tuyen said quietly, smiling to cover up her discomfort as her gaze flickered from Nora to Kari to Lupe.

"Still a part of the team! Well, everyone, this is Tuyen! Tuyen, this is Nora, my bestest friend, and Kari, another super duper close friend." Ella gestured to them both. "They’re in my year, but then here’s Lupe, who’s the coolest. You’re in the same year!"

”We have some classes together. Hi.” Tuyen said with a smile, while trying to figure out how to get away. She knew everyone here, but they’d never really talked. Maybe in passing, but people tended not to talk to Tuyen. There wasn’t anything interesting about her, after all. It would just be awkward if she stayed.

Not to mention how pissed off Vicky would be. Not just because Tuyen was away for too long again, but that part of the reason was talking to Lupe. Vicky didn’t like Lupe. Tuyen had sat through one or two rants about her, though she didn’t really think Lupe was as bad as Vicky made her out to be. She seemed quite nice, just maybe so friendly it rubbed Vicky the wrong way, especially when she got attention.

"It’s been so long, how was your summer? Oh, you gotta try one of Lupe’s drinks! They’re amazing. If I finish this one I’m gonna end up the most legendary magical girl there is, and we’ll clear all the other teams this year!" Ella continued, only getting more oblivious as the alcohol started to take effect. She was still sipping away at the pink drink of death, thoroughly enjoying it.

”I’ve already got my own drink, but thank you.” Tuyen said, looking at Lupe almost apologetically. Then she looked down at the two drinks in her hands. That gave her an excuse to get away without seeming rude, didn’t it? ”I have Vicky’s too, I should get back to her with it.”

"She can wait a couple of minutes! Or maybe I can come with you? I gotta say hello to her too- But I don’t want to leave my friends yet! I gotta prove I can finish this!" Ella declared, completely deflecting Tuyen’s attempted escape without realising it. "This is really good, Lupe! I didn’t realise Everclear could be so tasty!"

Tuyen smiled, taking a sip of her heavy on the vodka and coke in an attempt to cover the way her eyes darted from side to side. Soon Ella would forget she was there and she’d slip away. None of these four really wanted her around, after all. Hopefully Vicky wouldn’t be too upset… She’d just apologise as much as she had to. It would be fine. It was fine.

Everything was fine.

---

Lexi’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling, lips pursing around her cigarette. This time she didn’t bother turning her head as she blew out the smoke right onto Camille’s face.

Fuck, he really was a loser.

She’d held some hope. Standoffish loners could be her type, and they were the most likely to not be complete fucking losers. Especially the ones that caused trouble. She could’ve overlooked the whole not being used to loads of people thing. He could’ve been a quick fling, even a part of her group of misfits if he wasn’t such a fucking bore. He liked books! It was the first answer! Fucking books!

Lexi read, obviously. She wasn’t some illiterate freak, and it helped with song writing. But she read interesting books. Horror, or ones full of grisly murder. The only classics were the likes of H.P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe. None of this Beckett bullshit. Those were the kind of books they were made to read in school. Why would she ever read a theatre piece anyway? She didn’t even like watching that stuff in the theatre.

”The only good time to talk about tragi-comédies,” Lexi sneered, imitating his accent with the last word while purposefully butchering it, ”is in a room filled with sad, lifeless losers.”

Her gaze on him never wavered, though it was much sharper now. The predator had decided how to play with her prey. She’d found something she could dig into.

”That’s the last French thing you have? Books? You don’t even have any friends in your sad little village you can call? So you’re just as dull to people who don’t need to listen to that horrendous accent? That’s so fucking sad.” Lexi scoffed, shaking her head. ”No wonder no one here wants to talk to you! You probably think it’s your English, or the problems I heard you cause- but no. You’re just not worth talking to.”

---

He was wrong. He was wrong he was wrong he was wrong hewaswrongwrongwrong—

Everyone was always trying to get to him, Camille knew that, so why did he even try? Why why why? He tried so hard, he always did, and they just used that against him, again and again and again.

Was there truly something so profoundly wrong with him to make him such a target? Was it him? Was it them? Was it because they were Americans? His life wasn’t always like this, or was it and he never noticed?!

He should have trusted his instinct, should have listened to the voice at the back of his mind screaming at him to trust no one, the voice now screaming both in triumph and horror at being proven right.

And now Lexi thought he was weak. An easy target. A loser, a pushover. That she could do whatever. He couldn’t have her think that. Everyone would be watching. He couldn’t show fear. He couldn’t show anything.

Anger. Anger was the answer. Anger hides fear. Anger protects. Anger is easy to show.

Camille bared his teeth. ”Fermes ta câlisse de gueule.” His voice was flat, neutral, like it usually was, but the feverish gleam in his eyes showed the moment he decided to do something stupid. Something violent.

In one swift movement, he grabbed the front of her jacket, dragging her close towards him, and reared his head back. A few split second calculations flashed through his mind, as he swung his head back towards Lexi’s face. Hitting her mouth was a bad idea and would result in cuts. Hitting her nose would hurt, but he didn’t want to break it. The temple would be ideal, would severely stun her or knock her out, but he didn’t have the right angle for it.

Instead, his forehead crashed into the top of her left eye socket. Not even a second later, not flinching from the impact, he struck again, this time aiming for her left cheekbone.

Come morning, he’d have a small bruise on his head. It was nothing compared to the black eye he’d doubtlessly left behind.

He released his grip on her jacket, using the same hand to roughly push her away from him. ”Dat iz why people do not speak wit me.” He threw his cigarette on the floor, crushing it under his foot to put it out. ”Leave.”

Leave leave leave leave leave—

---

---

Oh, okay, so it was that bad. Kersten swallowed a pang of hurt at Vicky’s words. She was drunk, and heartbroken, and didn’t know just how close to his insecurities she hit. It wasn’t important right now anyways, making sure she would be alright was the priority. So instead of snarking back at her, he just put on a placating smile. This would call for a bit more delicacy than he’d first thought.

”Alright, I’m sorry Vicky, you’re right, you’re fine.” She handed her the promised bag of Cheetos, surprisingly still sealed amidst the sea of munchies-havers around. ”And I don’t care what Chef said, haven’t really spoken to him at all tonight, and I’m honestly glad for it, ‘cause he’s gotta be a right dick to ditch you like that in the middle of a party.” That much was true, the man in question had only popped in briefly at the start of the party to get his fill, and then left them right after. Not much time for conversation.

He waited a few seconds, testing the waters. When Vicky didn’t immediately start tearing into him, he continued. ”And alright, I’ll admit I didn’t know you smoked, but I’m still gonna make sure you’re gonna be fine first.”

”You had a couple drinks. Alcohol can make you a lot more sensitive to THC.” And also you’re agitated, Kerten added mentally, but not out loud. That would have been a sure way to set their guest off again.

“I don’t know how well you’ll react, and I don’t want you getting a bad trip. It’s that simple.” They grabbed a lighter and a joint from their breast pocket, placed it between their lips, and lit up. ”Hallucinations, paranoia, panic attacks… These are all things that could happen if we’re not careful. So we’re gonna be careful.”

She took a few more puffs, put out her joint in a nearby ashtray, and pocketed it again for later. ”So… We’re just… gonna relax, and wait for your friend to bring you your drink, and then we’ll see about getting you, like, a brownie or something.” She gave Vicky what she hoped looked like a reassuring smile. ”She’s a good friend, you know. You’re not gonna die alone, not with her around.”

---

There was a burst of pain around Lexi's eye as Camille did the unexpected. Or perhaps it was expected, with his already forming reputation as someone who caused problems. But even most problematic boys wouldn’t go as far as hitting a girl.

Good. Now he's fucking interesting.

Her grunt of pain quickly turned into mocking laughter, her lips twisting from a grimace to a grin. It hurt like a bitch, obviously. And Lexi was no masochist. Oh no, definitely the opposite. But something like this was much more fun than the people who just cried when she ripped into them. The satisfaction she got out of his reaction far outweighed the pain from it.

This was just the tip of the iceberg. It was obvious that what little she’d said affected him. Why else would he headbutt her? She was already under his skin. There was so much more fun to be had.

”Aw, did I hit a nerve?” Lexi laughed. Her left eye was barely open, with the puffy redness around it blending into the scarlet of her eyeshadow. It was more obvious on her cheekbone, red blooming on her pale skin. It would be a nasty bruise come the morning. But that sharp taunting expression hadn’t left her gaze, only slightly hampered by how much one eye squinted at him.

She didn’t move any further back than he’d pushed her. It was enough that she’d have more chance of covering her face from the next blow if he tried again. She wasn’t going to leave like he’d told her to.

Why would she?

”It’s very clever, Camille. Most people are cowards who run when they get hurt. It’s easy to pretend your sad and lonely ‘cause of that, and not ‘cause you’re a fucking loser.”

---

---

Everything was not fine!

Vicky swatted away the bag of flaming hots like a fussy toddler refusing to open up for the airplane then returned to hiding her face behind her hands. Her life was already ruined. She was boyfriendless, phoneless, and drinkless, but she wasn’t willing to sink low enough to cover her fingers in cheese dust and get crumbs all over her outfit. Even if Vicky was starving. She probably shouldn’t have skipped dinner. Perhaps just a few of those unnatural orange bastards wouldn’t—no! If she started making justifications for junk food now, it wouldn’t be long before Vicky went from the ‘wow you’re so hot’ mountaintop to the ‘wow you used to be hot’ trash pile.

Her fingers fanned and a teary eye peeked out between them as Kersten admitted that Chef hadn’t told them anything. She even confirmed his status as a dick. Briefly, Vicky’s muffled sobs grew quieter and her breathing became steady. She forgot all about wanting to call the cops to ruin the party for everyone. All she wanted was to make sure that everyone got fed the same lie that she had given to Tuyen and Kersten. Chef was the dick who had dumped someone at a party. Not Vicky. Vicky would never do something like that! She was so glad that Kersten had bought it.

…hey, wait…

Much to her own surprise, Vicky managed to activate her core and sit up straight in the bean bag. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she stared at Kersten. She failed to see the generosity and patience that was being given to her, the undeserved kindness and caring for her own well-being from someone that she had just insulted. Any normal drunk person would still be able to see at this moment how cool Kersten really was, but Vicky was not a normal drunk person. She was a dick when she was drunk (as she was when she was sober, although much better at hiding it) and Dicky was focused on only one fucking thing: she had never said to Kersten that Chef had dumped her.

Kersten had just assumed.

So what, did Kersten just think that Vicky was the kind of the loser who would get dumped at a party? And she had done it while smoking a joint in front of Vicky to, what, taunt her about all the drugs she wasn’t willing to share? And why was he so intent on feeding her? First Cheetos, now a brownie? What the fuck! Heat rose up inside of Vicky as she jumped up to her feet, her stomach lurching, the pressure built up inside of her steaming out with a frustrated bellow.

“Eeeergyah! Are you that fucking high? Nobody breaks up with me, you druggie, burnout, dumbfuck!” So much for relaxing. The brownie definitely wasn’t happening now. “I broke up with Chef! I! DUMPED! HIM! Why would you even…why would you think…”

Somebody let out a loud “HOLY SHIT” as a hush fell over the party, or as much as one was possible while bass heavy music threatened to give everyone tinnitus. Vicky looked around in a panic, her stomach doing somersaults from the sudden movements, certain that everyone was freaking out because of her revelation, unaware that while a few people might’ve overheard her the majority of attention was being drawn to Lexi who had just been head-butted by that foreign exchange kid. She saw stupid, motherfucking Danny Graham doubling over and pointing while his girlfriend Stupidho Slutjerk looked on in horror. She didn’t see Lexi but she heard her meanspirited laugh. She saw Tuyen, Ella’s pink hair serving as a beacon, hiding her face in her cup, embarrassed to be friends with someone who’d break up with someone at a party, or perhaps hiding her disappointment from realizing that Vicky had lied to her.

“It’s…it’s not my fault…” uttered Vicky, horrified, looking as if someone just informed her that she’d been diagnosed with something terminal. She plopped back down in the beanbag, hoping it would serve as camouflage from her peers. ‘Why, that girl couldn’t possibly be Vicky Prescott, she was sitting in a beanbag chair!’ was what they would think. And Tuyen probably didn’t even hear her! She was just too polite to ignore Ella, and Ella was too stupid to know when to shut the hell up and let someone go about their very important business. She just had to clear the air with Kersten and then everything would be just fucking peachy.

“Do you think I’m a dick?” asked Vicky hesitantly as she stared at her shoes.

Perhaps she should pivot away from worrying about what Kersten thought about her and move on instead to an apology for blowing up on her. But she had already asked the question, and frankly Vicky didn’t feel like apologizing for something that wasn’t her fault—Kersten should’ve just given her drugs and sent Vicky on her way. Vicky sniffed, squared her shoulders, and sat up as best as she could to stare down Kersten. The look in Vicky’s eyes was issuing a challenge, daring Kersten to say the wrong thing, hoping for it even. If she said yes, or if Vicky even got a hint that she was being a bit disingenuous, hoo boy, just wait until she got her phone! The cops in Cornell were bored as hell. They’d probably cream their jeans at the opportunity to bust up a party and beat the absolute shit out of some stoners.

Vicky smiled. It was unfriendly. The slurred speech did little to offset the threatening undertones as she doubled down on the issue, “Do you think that I am a dick?”

---

---

---

The music felt different.

Not quieter-just farther away. Like it was happening in another room, behind a wall she couldn’t quite see. June stood near the edge of the warehouse, her shoulder brushing against cold metal. Her eyes were half-lidded as she watched the crowd move. Not in patterns. Not in anything she could follow. Just... too much. Too fast.

Too loud.

Too hot.

“…You good?”

Alejandro’s voice cut through it, warm and easy. He stepped in close like he always did-natural, effortless, like space just made room for him. June turned her head slightly toward him.

“Fine,” she said, steady.

She wasn’t.

He didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and misread it. He leaned one shoulder against the wall beside her, boxing the space in just a little. Not aggressive. Just close.

“You disappeared for a second,” he said, a faint grin pulling at his mouth. “Thought you ditched me already.”

June blinked slowly, trying to focus on him properly. The world lagged a half-step behind everything she did, like her senses were chasing reality instead of meeting it.

“I don’t ditch people,” she replied.

Her voice stayed even. Controlled. Alejandro huffed a quiet laugh. “Good,” he said. “Would’ve hurt my feelings.”

He nudged her lightly with his shoulder. The contact lingered longer than it should have. Or maybe she just felt it longer. Her jaw tightened-just slightly.

“... You’re loud,” she said, not looking at him.

He smirked. “You already said that.”

“And it’s still true.”

That earned a small laugh.

Then he shifted closer.

Too close.

June noticed it immediately-not just the distance, but the pressure of it. The way the space around her shrank without asking. Her shoulders tensed.

“Alejandro,” she said, her tone flattening just a degree.

He didn’t catch it. Or he chose not to.

“Relax,” he murmured, voice lower now. “You’re thinking too hard.”

That wasn’t it.

If anything, she wasn’t thinking enough. Everything felt a step behind-her reactions, her balance, her sense of where things should land. He reached up, his hand brushing her arm, sliding just enough to test the space. June’s body went still. She turned her head toward him fully now, eyes sharper despite the haze.

“No,” she said.

It wasn’t loud.

It didn’t need to be.

Alejandro paused. The moment hung between them.

“…No?” he echoed, like he needed to hear it again to process it.

June held his gaze.

“No.”

Clear. Final.

Something flickered across his expression-confusion first, then something tighter.

“Hey, I wasn’t-” he started, pulling his hand back slightly. “I thought-”

“I know what you thought.”

There was no anger in her voice. That almost made it worse. She pushed off the wall.

“I’m leaving.”

That landed heavier than anything else.

Alejandro straightened, his posture shifting as frustration crept in. He didn’t say anything at first. June steadied herself, just barely. The floor felt uneven under her feet, like it might tilt if she stepped wrong.

“I’m leaving,” she said again.

Same tone. Same weight.

He ran a hand through his hair. “…Alright,” he muttered. “Do what you want.”

She already was.

June turned and walked.

She didn’t look back.

---

The air outside hit harder than she expected.

Cooler. Thinner. Real in a way the inside hadn’t been.

June exhaled slowly, one hand bracing lightly against the side of the warehouse.

“…Okay.”

Her voice sounded steady.

That was good.

That meant she was still-

She blinked.

The ground shifted.

Not actually moving. Just… wrong. Like it wasn’t sitting where it should under her feet.

Her body wasn’t keeping up with itself.

“…Right,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “Too much.”

The music thumped behind the walls, dull and distant now.

She just needed to go home.

Simple.

She’d done it a hundred times.

No thinking required.

June straightened slightly, forcing her focus forward.

Home.

That was enough.

Her fingers twitched as Lux gathered-purple threading through her nerves, familiar, responsive-

Except-

It lagged.

Just a fraction.

Like her body moved first, and the magic followed after.

Her brow furrowed.

“…That’s new.”

She tried again.

Focused harder.

Home.

Now.

The Lux surged-

And stuttered.

Not clean. Not sharp.

It reached forward-

-and slipped.

Like missing a step you should’ve hit.

June inhaled sharply, her footing shifting as something inside the motion broke rhythm.

She pushed more into it.

Forced it.

The instinct was still there-go, move, leave-

But it didn’t lock.

There was no clean “next.”

No destination snapping into place.

Just a direction.

Away.

That was enough.

It had to be.

She moved.

The world didn’t shift.

It resisted.

Then-

It gave.

But not the way it was supposed to.

Space in front of her didn’t open.

It bent.

Visibly.

Like the air itself had weight-like something unseen pressed a thumb into reality, denting it inward.

Her stomach dropped.

“.... what?”

The air tightened.

Sound dulled.

The Purple Lux didn’t carry her forward-it stretched. Thinned. Pulled taut like something being drawn too far, too fast.

The seam of the world-

showed.

Not fully.

Just enough.

A hairline fracture in the shape of space itself.

Then-

It snapped.

Not outward.

Sideways.

The line split open, not with light or darkness, but with something that didn’t belong to either. The edges trembled violently, like they couldn’t agree on where they were supposed to exist.

June stumbled back, breath catching hard in her chest.

“That’s not-”

The tear widened.

Still no sound.

But the world reacted.

The ground beneath her feet warped slightly, the concrete stretching in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. The wall behind her seemed farther away for a split second-then closer again.

Perspective broke.

Depth folded in on itself.

Cold seeped through the opening-not air, not wind, but absence. A hollow pressure that pressed against her skin and slid underneath it.

Her control slipped.

Just enough.

The Lux surged again-panicked now, uncontrolled, flooding forward in a desperate attempt to correct it-

But there was nothing to anchor to.

No destination.

No endpoint.

So it fed the break.

The fracture spiderwebbed.

Thin lines branching outward along nothing visible, yet distorting everything they touched. The space around the tear warped further, as if reality itself were being pulled toward it, stretched into something thinner, weaker.

The seam wasn’t just open.

It was unraveling.

The fold tore wider.

Clean.

Silent.

Impossible.

And June, for the first time since she stepped outside, realized she hadn’t just misfired a spell.

She had pulled on something that was never meant to be touched.

The boundary between places was strained, bent, split, and gave way in places it had always held firm.

The world didn’t break all at once.

It started to come apart.

And June-

---

Inside, the music didn’t stop. It couldn’t. The bass still pounded through the warehouse, but it felt distorted now-warped, stretched thin, like it had to pass through something before it reached the room. People kept moving. Dancing. Laughing.

Normal.

But some felt a shift before it happened.

A footstep.

Heavy.

Wrong.

It echoed through the warehouse-not loud enough to cut the music, but deep enough to be felt in bone before it was heard.

Someone near the back flinched.

Another step.

Closer.

This time, it knocked something loose. A loose bottle rattled on a table. A metal chair scraped an inch across the floor with no one touching it.

Something came through.

The first person didn’t even have time to react.

One second, he was standing, drink in hand.

The next-

Something took him.

Not grabbed.

Not pushed.

Taken.

His body jerked violently upward, feet leaving the ground as if hooked by something no one could see. His spine bent the wrong way until something inside him snapped audibly, even over the music.

Then he disappeared and reappeared a few feet away mid-impact.

He hit the ground hard enough to bounce.

Blood followed a second later.

People nearby froze.

“Yo-?”

No one laughed this time.

Another step.

Heavier.

Closer.

The floor responded to it.

Warping slightly under something with a weight that didn’t match what anyone could see.

A girl mid-laugh choked on her words as her body seized. Her head snapped to the side like someone had grabbed her jaw and turned it too far. Her shoulders followed a split second later-out of sync, wrong-before something yanked her backward. Her nails scraped across the concrete, leaving thin, desperate lines before her body lifted-

and then slammed.

Once.

Twice.

The second impact didn’t sound like bone anymore.

It sounded wet.

For half a second-

No one moved.

Then everything broke.

Someone screamed.

Just pure, animal panic.

“... What the FUCK-?!”

“GO-GO-GO-!”

The crowd surged all at once, bodies crashing into each other as instinct took over. People shoved, tripped, and grabbed at whoever was closest. Drinks spilled, cups crushed underfoot, shoes slipping on something slick that hadn’t been there a second ago. Phones came out immediately. Hands shaking. Screens lighting up.

“Call someone-call 911!”

“I AM-IT’S NOT-IT WON’T-”

“I can’t get service-what the fuck?!”

A guy near the wall was already backing away, grabbing his friend by the arm. “We’re leaving-now, come on-come on!”

“I dropped my phone!”

“LEAVE IT!”

Another scream cut through the chaos as someone fell. Not taken-just knocked down in the rush. Three people tripped over them immediately, collapsing in a pile.

“Get up-get UP!”

“I can’t-my leg!”

Someone tried to help, hauling them halfway upright before the crowd slammed into both of them again, knocking them back down.

The footsteps hit again. Felt through the floor more than heard. People froze mid-motion, just enough to ripple hesitation through the panic.

“What is that?!”

“There’s nothing there!”

A bottle near the bar lifted slightly, then whipped across the room at full force, smashing into someone’s shoulder hard enough to spin them around. They screamed, clutching at the sudden pain as glass scattered everywhere.

That was it.

Any last thread of control snapped.

People started hauling ass for the exits-desperate, messy, violent. Someone shoved past their own friend. Someone else dragged theirs by the wrist, refusing to let go.

“Don’t stop-don’t stop!”

“I can’t find her-where is she?!”

“WHO?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

Near the center, a girl crouched low, hands over her head, rocking slightly. “This isn’t real-this isn’t real-this isn’t real-”

Someone grabbed her arm. “MOVE!”

She didn’t respond.

They let go.

Another impact.

A body lifted.

This time, people saw it happen.

Not what caused it.

Just the result.

A boy was yanked sideways, feet leaving the ground as his body twisted midair like something had grabbed him and spun. He slammed into the concrete shoulder-first with a crack that echoed through the warehouse.

He didn’t get back up.

People screamed louder.

Some cried.

Some just ran.

Near the exit, it bottlenecked.

Too many people.

Too fast.

“GO-GO-GO!”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re pushing-STOP PUSHING!”

Someone fell.

Then another.

Then three more.

A pile forming at the doorway, people scrambling over each other, clawing for space, for air, for escape.

“Help me!”

“I can’t!”

“I can’t breathe!”

A hand reached out-grabbing onto someone’s shirt-only to be torn free as they were dragged forward by the crowd.

The footsteps came again.

Closer.

A girl near the edge of the room turned too late.

Something hit her.

Hard.

Her body didn’t just fall-it snapped forward, like she’d been struck by something massive and fast. She hit the ground face-first and didn’t move, blood spreading beneath her almost immediately.

Someone tripped over her.

Phones kept recording.

Even now.

Even as hands shook too hard to hold steady.

Even as people cried into them.

The room emptied fast.

But not fast enough.

It was still moving.

Still hunting.

Still stepping.

Each footfall was heavy.

Measured.

Like it wasn’t in a rush at all.

And outside, the night felt wrong. The air itself shivered, like reality had taken a deep, ragged breath. Through the faint flicker of the tear, a shape lingered at the edge of the warehouse lot-a massive black wolf, its fur absorbing what little light remained, and eyes glowing red. It didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and yet it watched everything unfold with a patient, predatory interest.

Inside, the chaos escalated. Screams cut through the thumping bass as people shoved past one another, dragging friends to safety, tossing phones into the air to capture what no one could fully understand. Bottles shattered, bodies tumbled, and the air pulsed with a sickening, unnatural rhythm that no one could match or outrun. Every step felt wrong, every sound off, as if the world itself had begun to bend under the monster’s invisible weight.

And outside, the tear pulsed wider.

The wolf’s red eyes gleamed brighter.

It waited.

---

---

---

Lupe's eyes scanned the corners of the party—she caught sight of Vicky flailing in the beanbag again, shrieking for attention. Lupe stepped up beside Tuyen just long enough to smirk.

“Ella, just let Tuyen finish babysitting the damn cheerleader!” she laughed, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, immediately, her gaze flicked to the first wrong vibration beneath the floor—the tremor that didn’t belong, the kind that pressed in on the chest before it even made a sound.

It hit the warehouse like a heartbeat gone horribly wrong. A girl nearest the back stumbled, frozen mid-laugh, before something yanked her sideways, slammed her into the concrete, lifted her, twisted her, and slammed her down again. The wet crack of impact made Lupe’s stomach lurch, and she felt her jaw tighten.

“Girls! RUN!” Kari’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. Her eyes didn’t waver from the room ahead, mapping exits, blocked paths, and anything the unseen monster might use as leverage. The next impact came closer. Lupe’s blood ran cold. People were screaming, shoving, stumbling over each other.

“Move!” Kari tightened her grip on Ella’s arm, guiding them past a toppled table and over a slick patch of spilled drink. Her voice didn’t carry worry—it carried authority. Fear wouldn’t help them now; only action would.

Lupe didn’t answer. There was no time for jokes anymore. She ducked low, scanning between bodies and smashed furniture, darting toward the back of the warehouse where Diego and Alejandro could be caught in the chaos. Her eyes caught every flicker of movement, and her muscles tensed. She couldn't see it, but the creature was stepping again. Heavy. Measured. Each footfall pressed down through the floor.

Another girl went down nearby, slammed repeatedly, blood glinting in the half-light. Lupe’s heart pounded. People screamed, shoved, and fought over space, but she threaded through them like a predator of her own. Step by step, breath by breath, she advanced, eyes locked on shadows that might conceal her friends—or death.

“Elsa’s coming—don’t stop!” Kari’s sharp voice kept them moving. She forced Ella, Tuyen, and Nora through the bottleneck near the exit, ignoring the chaos around them. Every second mattered; every hesitation was a chance for the monster to strike.

Lupe’s teeth clenched as she skirted another smashed table, caught a glimpse of movement near the far wall, and ducked into the shadows. Diego, Alejandro—where the hell were they? She didn’t have time to wonder, didn’t have time to think, only time to move, only time to survive, only time to search.

---

"She isn’t–" Ella froze midsentence, a sense of wrongness overcoming her. Before she could even consider what it was, screams hit her ears and a horror show played out before her. A girl- someone she barely knew, but recognised- was brutally killed like a scene out of the poltergeist. Then a boy, brutally slammed into the ground by some invisible force.

Ella screamed, barely able to keep down the pink drink she’d just finished. It roiled in her stomach, threatening to come up as more blood sprayed across the vicinity. Nausea and terror captured her, making it easy for Kari to drag Ella away. She reactively followed, hooking her free arm around Nora to drag her with them as well as pulling her tight for comfort.

Not that there was any comfort from the unfolding massacre.

Her feet had a mind of their own, one that followed Kari’s authority where Ella was struggling to process what was happening.

Screams and horrendous cracking of bodies filled her ears, and she barely heard what Kari was saying. But her calmness was beginning to bring Ella back down from the fear that clutched her. Then she fully snapped out of it as Tuyen slipped away from them and back into the crowd.

She couldn’t just run like this, no matter how sensible it was. Sailor Moon never ran away. Even when she was terrified and cowered at first, even though she always said she wanted to run away, she never ever did in the end. She did her duty as a sailor soldier- and Ella would do hers to protect her friends. But what could she actually do? She was just a normal girl. She didn’t have magic.

That was it! There was something she could do!

"Keep going, we- we need more exits! I can help with that." Ella shouted to be heard, letting go of Nora. She looked at her two friends with a bright grin, as if none of this horrendous chaos was happening around them. Of course she was terrified. She had to do something. "I’ll get out too, don’t worry!"

She turned, dodging around Kari- who couldn’t move her unless Ella wanted her to anyway. She forced herself back through the bottleneck, along the edge of the wall. Her goal wasn’t that far from the exit everyone was swarming towards. A window a few along from it, far enough away from the exit that it wouldn’t just make things worse.

There wasn’t time to find something to help… She wasn’t sure if it was possible to break a window without a metal object, but she had to try! Plus, her high kick was always praised by her taekwondo instructor, so it should work… It had to work.

Steeling herself, Ella slammed a hard kick into the windowpane. Then another, and another, until it finally shattered. Shards of glass spilled out from the shattered window, cutting her bare leg that she hadn’t withdrawn fast enough. She wasn’t superhuman after all. She winced, biting down her lip and a cry of pain. It hurt like hell, fuck, but she’d done it!

"Over here! You can climb through the window!" She shouted at the top of her lungs to anyone that’d listen.

---

Tuyen let out an awkward laugh at Lupe’s comment, which quickly died in her throat. It wasn’t just because she felt the clear sarcasm cutting her like a poisonous knife, but some other horrific anxiety she’d never felt before. It felt unnatural.

Crack.

Tuyen’s breath caught in her throat, ice cold panic filling her lungs as she struggled to breath again. Her whole body tensed, the cup in her fingers falling to the ground and the little left spilling over her shoes. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the aftermath of what had happened. The poor girl’s body… It could barely be called a body anymore.

“Girls! RUN!”

Kari’s order snapped Tuyen out of it, her body working on autopilot with just a single tug. She had to get out of her. This wasn’t how she wanted to go, even if she didn’t think she deserved anything, she at least didn’t deserve this- Not tonight. She wanted to live. She wanted to–

No, no, Vicky was still in there! She was too drunk to save herself… She had to go back. She couldn’t live with herself if she left Vicky to die.

”I have to go back.” It was barely a whisper, possibly not even loud enough for Kari, Ella and Nora to hear over the screams. She deftly slipped away, swallowed up by the heaving mass of bodies surging towards the door. It was hard, but she was small enough to squeeze through.

It was easier once she got past the bottleneck of people trying to get out, but also more dangerous. What if the thing came for her next? She pressed herself against the wall, sticking to the shadows as the lights flickered above her. Maybe it wouldn’t notice her, like people often didn’t. She hoped not. At least until she got to Vicky and got her out.

Almost there. It wasn’t a long distance, but it felt like a slog, every second slowly stretching out into a minute until she was close enough she was sure her friend could hear her.

”Vi-”

She wasn’t the only one with Vicky’s safety in mind.

“Babe! Vicky!” A louder, much more masculine voice forced Tuyen to cut herself off. Chef ran towards Vicky, reaching her first and immediately bending down to try to help her out of the beanbag chair she was still stuck in. He gestured to Kersten. “Help me!”

He’d clearly forgotten they’d broken up in the heat of the moment… Though maybe he was the kind of guy who would’ve helped her anyway. Probably. Maybe he knew only he’d be able to get drunk Vicky to cooperate. That must be why he was helping, and Kersten hadn’t managed to drag her away yet.

Time stretched out slower as Tuyen stood there, close enough to call out but not to help. Her chest clenched with an emotion she didn’t even want to name. Jealousy.

How could she even feel that? Right now? No, it was something she should never feel. It wasn’t right. Vicky and Chef were right, her feelings… They weren’t. They didn’t exist. She didn’t have them. She was disgusting. She didn’t deserve to even be near Vicky. She didn’t deserve to be near anyone? Why did she even exist? She shouldn’t.

Something else had slipped through the tear. A weak, hungry Apparition looking for something to feed from. All it took was one negative thought for it to sense Tuyen- and it quickly found a feast of doubts. The moment it latched onto her it ate its fill.

The least she could do was sacrifice herself for someone better.

She forced herself forward, what had been less than a minute stuck on the spot feeling like much longer.

Her shadow, once normal, now slunk around her in silent glee. She was too focused on Vicky, forcing down those horrendous feelings of guilt. She could still be useful. She could help, couldn’t she? But could she do that? She didn’t have to- Vicky was drunk enough she’d need more than Chef to help her walk! Wouldn’t she? But Kersten was also there. She was useless. No, more than that. She was a burden. She’d just drag them down. She’d probably get Vicky hurt. She might as well just not bother, what even was the point in trying? She should just stop and let it–

Tuyen’s feet still moved even as her mind was filled with more and more doubts. They brought her closer to her friend and the people around her. Close enough for something else to reach out.

The floor sank under the weight of something. A heavy footstep, another, closer to them. Panic filled her lungs as she tried to bridge the remaining gap. She needed to pull Vicky away, couldn’t they see–

Invisible claws, the length of a forearm, shoved through Chef’s chest as he pulled Vicky to her feet. Blood splattered from the wound as they withdrew, and he let out a spluttering cough. Before it could be processed, the same claws pierced his shoulders, lifting him up into the air. His body was twisted horrendously, arms straightening out as if he was being tugged. With a final cry of pain he was torn in two, blood and viscera splattering across Vicky and the surrounding area.

Anyone who’d become Aware could see what had done it. A horrific shadow monster, its dark edges rippling as if it was made of mist. Its multiple, horrendously bent arms ended in long, sharp claws. Glowing white eyes regarded its prey, sharp teeth filling a sinister mouth. It had no feet, instead a shadow across the ground that connected to Tuyen.

It wasn’t only the Blinds who couldn’t see it. As part of some twisted game it clouded Tuyen’s mind with a hallucination, removing itself from her view the moment it manifested.

She took a step back, tripping over a bottle and falling backwards. She could only watch in horror as the monster ripped Chef to pieces. Everything screamed at her to run, but she couldn’t move. She was frozen with fear, hands clutching at the floor now slick with blood. She realised with horror that it wasn’t a bottle she’d tripped over. It was an arm, ripped from a person like they were just a doll.

No, she had to do something, why couldn’t she move, why was she so useless–

The Shadow turned its next victims- Vicky and Kersten- with a sinister smile cut out of its shadowy face that they couldn’t yet see. Its sharp claws slashed down towards Vicky.

With a horrific squelch, Vicky’s head was torn clean off her body. It landed on the ground with a thud, rolling towards Tuyen from the momentum. It stopped beside her, cold, lifeless eyes staring up at her. Her glossy lips were open as if mid scream, and her perfect blonde waves were stained with blood.

”No, no, no,” Tuyen whispered, whole body trembling. Tears spilled from her eyes and she clutched at her face, smearing blood across it. Her legs kicked out desperately, finding some traction against the ground and beginning to push her away from the scene.

She couldn’t look away from Vicky’s head. Not even as another thud told her Kersten had followed. She’d be next. But it didn’t matter anymore, it shouldn’t matter, so why was she scrambling back to try and escape? She desperately pushed herself back across the floor, slowly tugging away the Shadow with her.

---

The TikTok videos weren't interesting after seeing the tenth kid with a red solo cup full of liquor and very loud music in discordance with the yelling crowd. She'd just about put her phone down when the next video started with a kid being slammed into the ground and the screams that followed.

"What?" Saylor replayed it from the beginning, not entirely sure what she was looking at. There was a boy that had been swept away like a wave crashed into him and slammed him into the concrete wall near hard to kill him. He slammed once, twice. She barely made out the breaking of bones over the music and the screaming.

She scrolled to the next video. There was a stampede. Kids trying to force they way out of the double doors. The person filming had made it outside.

"Crazy shit going on here. Kids just started flyin' like something picked 'em up and went Bam!" The video had an odd warping effect to it. She'd never seen a filter like that before.

She scrolled to the next. Video after video showed kids up at the warehouse being murdered in horrific ways by some invisible force. Saylor didn't give a shit about any of them on a normal day. Even had plans to shoot up the school, but even this was too horrific for her imagination to conjure, let alone witness. They needed help. She had to get help.

She stood up abruptly from her seat and started banging on the two way glass. "Hey! Hey! I know you can hear me. There's an emergency. Something's going on up at the warehouse. Hey!"

No one came immediately. Did they think she was playing around? She banging on the glass someone more, until Agent Novak rushed into the room.

"What, Ms. Moon?" she asked, hand reaching for her gun.

Saylor threw her phone on the table and backed up. She wasn't trying to get shot for one good deed.

"The abandoned warehouse on the industrial side of town. There's a party tonight. A lot of kids. Something's going on. They're dying," she explained.

Agent Novak eyed her like this was some kind of trick, but Saylor nodded towards her phone and Novak picked it up. She watched the first video, then the next and the next. All the audio was screaming and crying kids. Some coherent enough to explain what they saw, others mourning the loss of friends.

"Well shit," Agent Novak said dropping the phone back on the table. She jogged out the door, calling for the police chief to get units to the warehouse and to call EMTs.

Saylor grabbed her phone and didn't stay put. She walked right out of the room. Police officers scrambled in the main area of the building, so she turned around and went out of the emergency exit down the hall from the interrogation room. Could she get in trouble? Sure, but she wasn't sticking around. Not when shit's going down and her morbid curiosity got the better of her.

It was a five minute jog back to her house from the police station. She didn't even bother going into the house all the way. She opened the door, grabbed the car keys off the hook next to the entrance, and ran back down the stairs to Ronnie's old beat up Honda Civic from the year she was born. She barely knew how to drive. Mr. Connors was teaching her on her learner's permit, but the streets weren't busy this time of night and she knew where to go.

She pulled off the street and headed towards the warehouse.

---

---

If the night had continued the way it had been going, Vicky would’ve ended it in a blackout. Tuyen would’ve gotten her another drink, Vicky would boot and rally, and she’d wake up the following morning with a massive hangover. However, something changed and the party was crashed. Vicky felt it just before it happened, the chill that descended microseconds before something went wrong. It raised the hair on her arms, then she heard the screams. She turned her head to the cacophony, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she saw the blood and the body and it looked like when she had found her brother in the bathroom, only her brother hadn’t been roughly folded like the shirt of a teenage boy being made to do his own laundry for the first time ever, all wadded up and carelessly tossed to the floor with the rest of the bodies.

Alcohol isn’t the only thing that could make a person blackout. Fear worked well enough as Vicky was soon to learn. Her vacant eyes witnessed the carnage, her ears heard the shrieking chorus, but her mind refused to comprehend. It was as if her mind was shielding herself from herself, her consciousness briefly spirited away in an act of self-preservation, yet her terrified body still seized as her pulse quickened. The chill that had penetrated through her skin and slipped into her veins was gone, replaced now by a burning heat, stinging her like rubbing alcohol on a scraped knee, only it was everywhere: all over her skin, in her eyes, hell, even in her bloodstream. She could hear it boiling inside of her ears, her blood whistling like the steam from a tea kettle.

It was deafening, drowning out the screams until all she could hear was the whistle, and then even the whistle faded into the background, still present but almost inaudible, and then Vicky heard footsteps. She looked up at them and the roof of the warehouse was gone, replaced by wooden floorboards. She could hear conversation in a language she didn’t understand from up above, several male voices, as she stared up at their boots through the cracks. The beanbag chair had vanished; she could feel the dirt beneath her. She could sense the other bodies jammed in with her underneath the floorboards, shoulder to shoulder. She could feel their tension. They all knew if the voices found them they would be dead.

A sneeze, a shout, a couple clicks, and Vicky threw her hands over her ears as assault rifles unloaded into the floorboards and turned the basement into a mass grave. Tears streamed down her face as she watched a second salvo of bullets shred through the faceless corpses around her, somehow leaving her unscathed, and then a trapdoor was thrown open. Footsteps. She saw the polished boots of a soldier. She heard more shuffling above. There was no way out; the corpses had trapped her in. Vicky tried to scream, and then realized she already was; it hadn’t been the sound of blood boiling in her ears, it had been her own shrieks, so feral and so loud that they’d sounded unrecognizable.

She felt something grab her.

“Babe! Vicky! Help me!”

“NO! NO!”

Her shouts were inhuman. Vicky flailed wildly, landing a couple of solid hits as Chef tried to grab her as she shouted out a few more noes. Finally he managed to dodge her swings and pull her up to feet, her strikes slowing as the memory faded and Vicky watched as the soldier uniform rippled off of Chef and disappeared alongside the rest of the basement and the bullet-ridden bodies. What the fuck? What the fuck! What the fuck! Was she going crazy? Was she delusional? Had Kersten given her some drugs? Did it matter? Chef had come back for her. She won. She buried herself against him, feeling safety in his arms even as pandemonium continued to sweep the warehouse.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I fucked up, I mean, I was drugged. I’m not in love with Tyler. I…” Jesus, he was really going to make her say it huh? Whatever, it wasn’t like she had never lied before. She pulled out of the embrace to look him in the face as she finally forced herself to say, “I lovAAAH!

It’s truly hard to say what happened in that very next moment as her false confession was cut off by her screaming. Vicky had seen the silhouette of something large and incomprehensible rushing across the warehouse towards her before the vivid visions began again. The warehouse warped, images cascading down its walls like backdrops for a stageplay, the hallucinations so real that they felt more like memories, hitting Vicky in such a rapid blur that she could hardly keep up.

She saw dark silhouettes wearing buckled hats on the other side of flames and she could feel the heat but not the burn as she stepped through the flames and watched them scatter as she lifted a hand. She saw the dark belly of a ship, her own belly stuffed, hiding in plain sight and listening with a smile on her face as the sailors accused one another of stealing rations, preventing a snicker as she covered her mouth with her hand. She saw dark furs wrapped around bearded men in fading warpaint as they sang and danced and drank, their celebration interrupted as she burst through the door of the mead hall, blood trickling down from the knife in her hand. She saw so many more, too quick to parse, but the message was still the same: it’s us versus them, it’s always been us versus them, so take our fucking hand and stand with us or die like them.

Vicky didn’t want to die.

If you asked her what happened next, she would say that Chef had protected her. However, the other people there, the ones who would survive the night, who happened to be looking her way in that precise moment instead of being swallowed up by a swarm of scared teens, they would have a different narrative. Chef didn’t protect Vicky. He never even saw what ended his life coming. Vicky would say that it was all a blur, it happened so fast, she didn’t even know how to react, but from a certain angle, from a certain perspective, it looked like she had pulled him. Her hand had been on him, his body had been shifted, and whether it was willing or not, Chef had been turned into a meatshield. Vicky didn’t step back so much as she was pulled away by the unseen hands of her ancestors, screaming louder as the claws burst through Chef’s chest and ripped through his broken heart.

Her scream was cut short as it was replaced by a gag as Chef coughed and Vicky could taste his blood in her mouth as well as feel it on her face. There was an earshattering, animalistic squeal being torn from Chef’s mouth as she dropped to her knees and started retching when JESUS FUCKING CHRIST the boy was torn in two. Vicky was soaked in gore like she’d just won the big game and Chef’s innards was the gatorade, his missing jacket no longer needed now that his warm blood had completely coated her entire body. Blinded, seeing nothing but red, she tore at her eyes with her hands, trying to wipe them clean, the blood on her hands making it a nigh impossible task, barely allowing her to witness the dark shape that had killed Chef now striking down at her as she screamed.

Then there was silence as the slumbering Lux inside of her finally woke up after a nap that had lasted generations.

There was a burst of light like a lightning strike as Vicky threw her arms up in front of her face defensively, or rather, they were guided up by the spectral hands of her ancestors that transformed into a sparking electric ribbon wrapped tightly around her forearm. She felt the chill of the shadow’s claw as it harmlessly knocked against the weave. The Lux continued to silently crackle like electricity as it shielded Vicky, her bloodsoaked hair being pulled upward by the static around her. She backpedalled across the floor in sheer terror away from the shadowy monster, slipping through blood and broken glass, her body convulsing and heaving painfully as her uncontrolled magic tried to protect herself.

To anyone Aware, it would appear as if she was being electrocuted to death, the blood soaking her skin beginning to bubble and smoke as the Yellow Lux surged around her in a protective cocoon. To the Blind, it would look as if the thing had gotten her and was pulling her by the hair as she had a seizure, dragging her away, ironically, to the room that once Vicky would’ve considered to be a safe haven. To all watching, they would see the scream stuck on Vicky’s face, looking like a crimson mask if not for her shifting expression of terror and pain as she writhed around in absolute silence, as she dragged herself through the bathroom door, leaving a trail of Chef behind.

But who would be watching, really? Everyone was only interested in saving themselves. Selfish, little monsters. Everyone, Vicky realized, except for Chef. As the door of the bathroom closed the bubble of silence around her burst, but instead of a scream there was a howling cry, an admission of guilt, and acknowledgement that she had lost someone she had truly never deserved.

From the other side of the bathroom door, the anguish sounded like she was being murdered.