Chapter 1: The Invitation [https://i.imgur.com/HkmWkSn.png]

The piercing blare of the alarm clock was enough to wake the dead. Nicholas jolts out of his slumber, his face inches away from the source of the noise. Groggily, he lifts a hand to smack the snooze button, but in doing so misses, the clock tumbling off the nightstand. It clatters to the hardwood floor, skidding a few feet before it is stopped by its own power cord. That it was still intact after its fall was a testament to the sadism of the person who'd created it. The slap earlier had turned off the alarm, but unfortunately, had turned on the radio instead.

"—still baffled by the seismic activity all around the world, calling it unprecedented, officials are warning everyone to—"

"Turn that thing off!" A muffled, feminine cry comes from the other side of the house.

" —roads have been closed in response to the..."

Throwing half of his body off the bed, nearly banging his head against the nightstand in his stupor, Nicholas grabs the cord to the alarm clock and yanks it closer with more strength than is necessary. As it hits the underside of his bed, he sighs and groans. With a curse, and another yank, he lifts the alarm clock and finally turns it off.

"Thank you!" That same feminine voice calls out. "Trying to sleep here!"

"Must be nice to sleep in whenever you want!" Nicholas yells back, still half-awake, and thus the response is probably louder than intended.

Practically skidding into his doorway comes Michelle, clearly confrontational by the annoyed look on her face. Wearing pink pajamas, a bit ratty due to it being clearly a size too small, it's obvious that she's the older of the two. Her blonde hair and green eyes are a stark contrast to Nicholas's brown hair and blue eyes. She has a number of tattoos, just barely visible from what little flesh her pajamas expose. Anyone who saw them together wouldn't guess they were siblings.

"What did you say, brat?" She growls.

"Party too hard last night?" Nicholas replies.

"Oh, you little... as if you're such a saint!" 

"More saint than you, Satan. Aren't you too old to be at home?" Nicholas growls at her, climbing slowly out of bed. Not so much because he wants to at this point, but more because he feels the need to be on his guard now. "Can you get out of my room?"

"I'm not even in your room."

"Well, you're in the doorway."

With a roll of her eyes and a rude gesture, Michelle turns to walk down the hall, her voice echoing as she speaks. "If you're late, don't beg me to take you to school."

"Fine by me!" Nicholas says, clearly riled up enough to not care about making it to class on time. "I'd sooner crawl there than owe you a favor," he mumbles under his breath.

Finally left alone, he shuffles into his bathroom, still trying to fully wake up. His crumpled shirt and underwear come off as he closes the door. Turning on the water inside, he simply climbs into the shower, the cold water immediately snapping him fully conscious. He shudders and leans in to move the water temperature higher, hoping it'll make it warmer faster. It does the trick, but the temperature quickly rises to boiling lava hot. With a startled yelp, he quickly regulates it back to cold. After a few minutes of showering, he jumps out and wraps himself in a towel, walking back into his room.

Nicholas's bedroom isn't particularly large, but it's big enough that he has some privacy. A twin bed, a desk with a single chair, and a dresser take up most of the floor space, with the only other doors linked to his bathroom and his closet. The walls, painted a sky blue, are leftovers from his childhood days. If one were to look closely, they could see the remnants of what used to be fluffy white clouds painted over. A single window looks out over the backyard. Through it, he can see the nearby retention pond, just in view of a sign buried in the ground that warns people not to swim in it.

Crossing the room to his closet, he digs around in a pile of what's probably 'lightly used' clothes: not too smelly to be noticed, but not worn enough times to warrant a presence in the hamper near his door. Putting on dark jeans, and a red t-shirt, Nicholas begins to look more like an average high school student. He checks himself one last time in the mirror before stepping out the door.

Glancing at his wristwatch, he checks the time and quickly grabs his skateboard and backpack. "Too late for breakfast again," he mutters to himself, jumping onto the board to take advantage of the gentle decline the driveway offers. His home is one of several in a cul-de-sac, with each housing having the same sort of manufactured look to them. 

Just barely in time to catch the bus as its brakes noisily bring it to a halt at the end of his street, Nicholas kicks his skateboard up, catching it with his hand, and quickly climbs aboard. The old man sitting in the driver's seat only nods at him in acknowledgement as he comes aboard.

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"Good morning, Mr. Cooper," Nicholas says, trying to be polite.

"Good morning." The old man replies. "Go ahead and take a seat. Rough roads today."

Nicholas looks out the windshield, noticing a couple of police cars blocking the entrance to several streets, with some officers in bright green vests diverting pedestrians to another route. He wonders about it for a second, before turning his attention back inside the bus.

Spotting his friend seated in the back, Nicholas makes his way down the center aisle, squeezing past some legs and feet. A few inches taller, with hair cut close to the scalp, his friend Darius is very much the stereotypical jock, with his mind on his body, and so he's well-built. His milk chocolate brown skin stands out among his peers, who are predominantly white.

With the bus accelerating, it's slow going for Nicholas, but he soon settles down into the backseat with his friend. "You know, Darius, Rosa Parks would not be impressed."

"Ha! Yeah, well, by the time the bus gets to my house, this place is already packed full. I don't have a whole lot of choice," Darius grins, nudging his friend in the side with an elbow. "Wise guy."

Rubbing his ribs lightly in response, Nicholas finally leans back comfortably, or as comfortably as he can in the stiff school bus seat, setting his backpack onto his lap. "So, what's new? Did you ever hear back from that college you applied for?"

"Sure did." Darius says, grinning wide and resting a hand against Nicholas's shoulder to shake him a bit, adding emphasis to his excitement. "I got accepted."

"Dude, that's awesome! Congrats."

Darius chuckles, leaning back and folding his arms behind his neck, attempting to get more comfortable, but mid-movement the bus hits a bump that forces him to drop his arms again. "I wasn't expecting it. But man, my parents were stoked. I haven't seen my dad that proud in years. That's his alma mater, y'know. Same place I'm going to. He always said during his time there he majored in three things: beer, co-eds, and law. Depends on if you ask him when my mom is around or not."

"It's a shame you're going to be gone," Nicholas says. "But I'm happy for you."

"Oh, c'mon, don't get all teary eyed on me," Darius says. "I'll only be a few hours away."

"Yeah, but I'll be all the way south, attending some tech school, so it won't be realistic for us to meet except for those long breaks," Nicholas replies. "I'm just saying, we should make these last few weeks count, yeah?"

After several minutes of noisy chattering, the bus finally arrives at the school grounds and squeals to a slow stop. The door opens allowing the teenagers to disembark one by one. Most of the high school students head down the brick walkway toward the front doors.

As the trees thin at the edges, the football field behind the high school becomes visible, poorly maintained and kept to bare minimums. It is a depressing sight, with brown patches of dead grass, tall goalposts with chips of yellow paint gathering beneath it, and a set of old bleachers that are so rusty most people must choose to stand during games than risk tetanus.

The school is old as the football field itself, the white walls have long begun to peel, revealing the old peach-colored coat of paint beneath it; the school's drains, little more than openings with which the water flows from the roof, are a pale green with healthy mold. In some places, the mold crawls down nearly the entire length of the wall.

Nicholas steps out of the bus and kicks some littered trash in his way, the plastic clatter of ancient soda bottles scraping against the ground. Behind him, Darius follows suit.

Upon entry into the building proper, both Darius and Nicholas are immediately confronted by a diminutive, albeit excited, young girl: her green eyes and unkempt black hair are accentuated by her tan skin and tiny freckles, the latter hidden somewhat behind the thin wire-frame of glasses. Judging by her size, a head smaller than Nicholas, one might expect her to be a timid sort of girl. Instead, she's practically bursting with charisma.

"Guess what, boys! I got big news. We got invited to the party!" She squeals, leaping up to throw her arms around Darius, hanging off him like a pendulum. "I didn't think they'd include me. You know, being a sophomore and everything. But, I guess that didn't matter. We're all invited!"

Reaching a hand out to grab Darius's backpack, now properly on his back, Nicholas helps to balance the two, so they don't topple forward. "What party?"

"This one!" Sophia releases Darius, but only to pull a paper out and show Nicholas. It has a set of numbers on it, though judging by the look on both men's faces, neither of them are understanding.

"They're coordinates," she whispers to the two.

Darius frowns, still visibly muddled. "Coordinates to what?"

Sophia smiles, voice low, as if giving away a secret. "Buckhorn Mountain."

Nicholas laughs and lets out a gentle 'oh'. He looks at Darius, who is still noticeably confused. "I'm surprised you haven't heard about this. The seniors camp out somewhere in the woods. It's a 'cool kids' thing. You can only go there if you get invited by another senior. Started with last year's class, I think. It's right up your alley. Tons of loud music, girls and booze." He glances over at Sophia, suddenly realizing something. "Aren't you a little young to be drinking?"

"Oh, relax, mom. I'll be fine. Besides, I'm not that much younger than you," Sophia huffs, pushing against Nicholas's chest, before she turns around to rush off. "Anyway, it's tomorrow! We should go together!" She shouts back, before disappearing into the crowd. Considering her height compared to her peers, she's nearly impossible to find again.

Nicholas sighs, turning his attention over to Darius.

Darius grins, shaking his head slowly. "Well, that's Sophia for you. Always making plans. She'll be at this party whether we go with her or not. Honestly? I think we'll be doing her a favor if we take her with us, Nick. We can keep an eye on her, make sure she stays out of trouble. Besides, she knows we're going to graduate soon. She probably wants to spend some time with us before we're out of here."

Any further thoughts or words are quickly drowned out by the sound of the bell, signaling that the first period of classes has begun. "Counting down the days." Nicholas says, curling fingers into a fist and extending his arm toward Darius. Without missing a beat, his friend nods and returns the gesture, the two bumping fists together. Pulling his backpack over his shoulder and preparing to turn away, Darius nods. "Alright. See ya later, man."