Maya's mocha had gone cold, the sweet foam now a listless clump on its surface. The dinning room of The Daily Bean seethed with a low-level tension, even after the police officers strolled off, coffee cups in hand. A nervous laugh broke the silence.

"Well, that was . . . something," Sarah finally said. She swished her blonde waves as if shaking the nervousness away. "If anyone asks, you were all with me at a scrapbooking convention all day. We airtight." She winked at Maya, a playful spark in her eyes that didn't quite hide her lingering unease.

Alex, his smirk replaced by a tight-lipped frown, shot a sidelong glance at Maya. "The cops in this town," he said, his tone laced with a hint of suspicion. "They'll get you for anything. Even if you've got nothing to hide. You're new so you shouldn't be worried."

"Should I have been?" Maya countered. "Cops getting coffee isn't exactly a crime spree. Though come to think of it . . ." she feigned a thoughtful look, "Maybe we could've pinned a parking ticket on them."

Emily giggled, the sound unexpectedly light considering the lingering tension. Sarah shot her a subtle look, then turned back to Maya.

"So . . ." Alex broke the remaining silence with a strained chuckle, his kind blue eyes lighting up. "Last weekend of freedom, right?" He looked at Sarah expectantly. "A weekend to help blow off some steam?"

Sarah leaned forward and Maya caught a whiff of her blueberry bubblegum perfume. She glanced from Alex with a big grin on his stubbled face, and then back to Sarah. "Our friend, Cairo, is having a party tonight to celebrate our last night weekend of freedom before school starts. His parents are out of town. You should come."

Maya was reluctant. She remembered she had made plans with her mother. Pizza and unpacking.

Before she could answer, Sarah said, "Think of it as community service, Maya – we can't let his newly-stocked fridge go to waste. And there might be...scrapbooking supplies?"

Emily smiled, but didn't say anything. She was definitely the quiet one of the group. Her dark hair, plain dark clothes, plain makeup, Maya interpreted as someone who preferred to blend in.

They were extending the olive branch, offering normalcy. Yet, Maya couldn't shake the feeling she was stepping into a room with locked doors, the unseen dangers lurking just beyond the flickering porch light. Her gaze caught a flash of movement – Alex, sliding his wallet back into his pocket. Just for a moment, a strange, etched symbol, a circle with a line through it, gleamed on the worn leather. Maya's pulse quickened. She'd seen that symbol before . . . but where?

"Um, sure," she managed, the word catching in her dry throat. An invitation? Or a test? "What time?"

"Nine-ish," Sarah answered. "We'll text you the details."

A reluctant smile formed on Maya's lips. She said goodbye to her new friends and made her way home, her mother's coffee room temperature. As she walked away, the warmth of the dappled sunlight did little to dispel the lingering unease. Her gaze drifted towards Riverside park, the scent of freshly-cut grass a brief promise of respite. But respite wasn't for tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Tonight was the party, a chance to find her place in this world, or to find out just how deep the shadows ran.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Once home, Maya kicked a stray cardboard box on the porch out of her path and nudged the front door open with her hip. "Hey, Mom? I'm back!"

The smell of fresh paint with an undertone of dust hung in the air. From the kitchen came the rhythmic clink of mugs and the scrape of a chair against the tile floor. She found her mom crouched, surrounded by open boxes, a tea towel draped over her shoulder like a resigned superhero.

Maya placed the cup of coffee on the counter next to a stack of pots and a box with bubble wrap.

Her mother took a deep breath and wiped her forehead with the back of her dusty hand. "You were gone for awhile. I was worried you got lost."

"Lost? With a cell phone and GPS?" Maya looked at her phone and saw the signal was weak.

"The people at the bank warned me cell service in this town is really spotty. Perks of living in mountain towns." She tossed the rag from over her shoulder on the box with the bubble wrap.

Maya let her eyes wander through the stack of boxes. "I met some other people from school," she said.

"Oh?" Her mom raised a concerned brow.

"Super chill. And hey, they invited me over tonight. Scrapbooking." She blurted the last word, watching her mom's face carefully.

Mom paused mid-sip, one eyebrow raised. The coffee hit the counter with a soft thunk. "Scrapbooking," she repeated, the word flat.

Maya shrugged. "Well, surfing is out of the question. The surf in the mountains isn't very good."

Her mom wasn't amused.

"It's OK, I really don't have to go." Maya turned away.

"Maya, hold on." Mom's voice had lost its usual warmth. "We talked about this. New school, fresh start – remember?"

"I do." Maya said, already halfway toward her room. She couldn't ever figure out her mother. She would encourage her to get out more and make friends, but when the opportunity arises, her mother would find an excuse to stop her. But in this situation, Maya understood since she'd gotten into a bit of trouble back home.

From the kitchen, her mother let out a heavy sigh. "Help me unpack some of these boxes, and then we'll talk."

Maya snagged a box labeled 'MAYA – CLOTHES' on her way to her new room. Twenty minutes later, she was back in the kitchen finding places for the pots and pants thinking of the promise of an evening out dangling like a carrot. She turned and watched her mother take a sip of her coffee and wince. "It's cold," said her mother.

Back in her room, Maya spent the next few hours unboxing her belongings, assembling her desk, and sorting through her clothes while wondering what to wear tonight. Home in Carlsbad, among her friends, she'd be comfortable in a simple hooded sweatshirt and a pair of shorts and flip flops. Glancing out the window, she saw the sky fading from overcast gray to a bruised purple, heavy with the threat of evening rain. The pine-covered mountains, a majestic backdrop, were shrouded in a hazy mist.

Perfect bonfire weather, Carlsbad-style, Maya thought with a pang. But here, in the crisp mountain air, sweatshirts and shorts wouldn't cut it. Not tonight, anyway.

Then she thought of Alex and his sexy messy hair, his kind, serious blue eyes that were maybe, just maybe, a little interested. Tonight was about making a good impression, and beach chic wouldn't be practical here. So she'd opted for a more sophisticated look – a sleek gray turtleneck that hugged her curves and flowed down almost like a skirt. Knee-high boots added a touch of practicality for the mountain climate, while the gold chain and layered black bracelets whispered of a newfound city edge.

Just as she finished layering on jewelry, a sharp buzz cut through the room. Pulling out her phone, Maya's heart lurched.

An unknown number.

Blood drained from her face as she read the warning: "DON'T GO TO THE PARTY."