A cry of pain rose out above the crack of a gunshot. Like a scene from a movie, a teenage boy clutched his bloodied chest and fell over backwards. As he hit the ground, a girl about the same age detangled herself from the shadows surrounding the edge of the clearing. She was clad in a black turtleneck and dark jeans and flashes of moonlight glinted off the wire-rimmed glasses she wore. The thick grass muffled the sounds of her bare feet as she padded over to the body. In one swift movement, she bent down to check one bloody wrist for a pulse and straightened back up.

She looked down sadly at his face, eternally frozen into an expression of surprise and pain, and murmured, "I'm sorry Eddie, but you really shouldn't have ignored me like that. You were all I thought about, but you never looked twice at me. You gave me no choice." Without another word, she turned and walked away until she disappeared into the trees, not looking back as the blood sank into the earth around Eddie's broken body. A moment later, another shot cracked through the still night air.

In a swath of shrubbery on the far side of the clearing a branch snapped, revealing a face looking out with shocked and terrified eyes. Then a cloud rolled over the moon, and the clearing was bathed in darkness.

* * *

The blessed end-of-year bell rang through the hallways at Clover High School. Before the last echoes had faded out, a throng of teenagers surged into the halls, branching out into their own little groups. In the center of one of the largest, the dirty-blond head of Brad Liftridge could be clearly seen. He looked down, laughing, at the pretty Sophomore standing next to him. She playfully shoved at one impressive arm and tossed a huge triumphant smile at the others behind her.

From further down the hallway, the high, reedy voice of Christian Rei rose above the clamor, announcing a party at his house the next day at seven. Shawn Thompson, his voice also high, called back, "Who all you invitin' Christian?"

Christian didn't reply at first, but forced his way through the crowd until he reached Shawn. Christian had tanned skin, and was remarkably taller, skinnier, and handsomer than Shawn. "Well, Shawn, I thought I'd invite Brad, Ash, X," he listed names for a few more moments, and Shawn started to look slightly disappointed. Noticing his expression, Christian grinned demoniacally, scratched at his casted left arm, and added, "Oh, and Becca, too, of course."

Shawn grinned sheepishly, straightened to his full, unremarkable height, and ran a pudgy hand through his strawberry-blond hair. The sprinkle of pimples across his nose and cheeks grew less apparent as his face reddened. When he realized Christian had seen his reaction, he became very interested in his shoes.

Speaking to the floor, Shawn clumsily changed the subject. "Uh, you're parents ain't thinkin' of crashing, are they?"

Still beaming, Christian answered, "Naw, they outta town for another month, at least." Leaving Shawn to blush, Christian turned and shoved through the crowd towards his locker. Along the way, he tapped the his cast on the back of a skinny, bespectacled Freshman carrying a large stack of papers. When he got to his locker, he removed the only remaining object - a skateboard - turned and rode through the school's double doors. Most of the students left shortly after; Sean joined up with another Junior, the skinny Freshman quickly gathered up the papers he had dropped and scurried out the door, the cheerleader that had been with Brad walked over to a group of girls, and, linking arms, they trailed everyone else. Only Brad was left rummaging through his locker.

He quickly dumped the assorted items left in his locker into his bag, and was shutting the door when something caught his eye. Wedged in the corner of his locker was a folded up paper, yellowed with age. Without really thinking about it, he worked in out of the corner and stuffed it in his back pocket. Then he turned and pushed through the doors. Giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the glaring summer sun, Brad looked around; most of the other students had driven off, except Christian, who could be seen a few blocks away with a blonde Brad didn't recognize, and a little group of Freshmen. Brad scanned over their faces to see if the Freshman he had seen Christian hit was there. When they saw Brad staring at them, they hurried off in another direction.

"Ya know, next year we'll be Seniors, and they'll really have to worry."

Brad jumped when he heard someone speaking in his ear, and spun around to see two of his best friends. Kent Greenwood, the one who had spoken, stepped back and glared at Brad in mock anger. "Thought you was leavin' without us did ya?"

"I figured you went home early. Wouldn't be the first time. What did you want me to do? Hang out all day in that hell-hole just to find out you cut and went home early?"

Kent's companion, Arik Johnson, spoke up. "It's like you don't know us at all. We would never skip school and miss out on all the amazing educational opportunities."

"Yeah right. The only reason you guys came today was to see the squad give their end-of-year performance. Why were you late anyways?"

Kent laughed. "Ms. Bitch-acre held us late. Somethin' about us not doin' our homework last night." Ms. Bisacre was their math teacher.

"It's her own fault for making homework due on the last day," Arik cut in.

"Yeah, then somebody tried to get us off the hook by asking her if she would really punish us for something we didn't do, and somebody almost got us beat to death with her yardstick." Kent jerked his thumb at Arik every time he said "somebody," just in case Brad couldn't figure out who he meant.

The guys started walking, but before long Kent stopped. He straightened up to his full height, and went rigid as a dog on bird-point. Brad followed his line of sight back to the school's front doors. Arik, who was at least a foot shorter than Kent, had to tiptoe to see.

Rebecca Mathews and Keren Kelga had just come out of the school, still wearing the uniforms from the cheer squad's performance that day.

The boys slowed their pace, giving the girls no choice but to catch up. As soon as they did, Kent casually walked over and draped his arm around Keren, the only girl in school close to his height. "Hey Keren, so I had this idea, right-"

Becca cut him off, "You had an idea? Better tell us before it dies of loneliness."

Before Kent could reply, Keren removed his arm, turned to Becca and said, "Come on. Let's get out of here before they come up with any other ideas."

They turned and crossed the street, hips rolling smoothly. Brad, Kent, and Arik followed them to their street, only admitting defeat when they saw Becca's dad on his front porch drinking a Bud. They turned instead for Christian's house, which was just down the block.

As the guys were walking up Christian's driveway, he pulled up behind them on his skateboard. When his arm had broken, the doctor ordered him off the skateboard until the cast was removed. Christian had been on it the next day.

"Where were you?" Kent asked. "You should'a been here before us."

Christian grinned. "I had to walk Kathlina home."

"What happened to Michaela?"

"She skipped today, and she lives on the other side of town."

"What are you gonna do when she finds out?"

"Eh, I dunno. She's getting a little old anyways. And this total babe just moved in across the street."

Brad shook his head, but secretly admired Christian's ability to pull it off flawlessly.

Christian kicked the skateboard into his four-car garage and ushered his friends inside and into the living room. The house was lavishly furnished in Asian style furniture, rugs, and wall art, and the far corner of one wall was almost completely covered by a plasma screen TV. Brad and Christian sat on the couch, Arik chose his favorite overstuffed armchair, while Kent disappeared into a kitchen half the size of Brad's house.

"So, this party?" Arik prompted.

Christian answered, "We got an ass load of people comin'. X is the DJ, we got plenty of space for dancing. My dad has some six packs and whiskey locked up, but I found the key last year. We just need food. My mom left five hundred dollars emergency money, think that'll be enough?"

The guys laughed. Arik, who was always broke, looked faintly jealous.

Christian went to get the money and keys while Brad, Kent, and Arik went outside. By the time Christian got outside, Kent and Arik were waiting in the Chevy Pick-Up's bed, while Brad was leaning on the hood. Christian and Brad climbed inside the truck, and they drove off to the local, and cheap, convenience store.

When they got back, Brad happened to look at the dashboard clock as he got out. Immediately he jumped out. "Oh shit! I was s'possed to be home ten minutes ago! Gotta run!"

Kent, who was climbing out of the bed, looked at Brad. "Oh calm down. You're always late and the 'rents never care. You could come home tomorrow and get away with it."

"Yeah, but I been late everyday this week. Dad said if I'm late again I'm grounded."

Arik started grumbling that that was what he said every time, but Brad had already taken off in the direction of his house, book bag flopping wildly on his back. He turned onto his street half an hour late, breathing a sigh of relief when his parents old Corvair wasn't in the driveway. Bursting through the door, Brad kicked off his shoes in the mudroom, threw his bag on the couch and proceeded into the computer room.

His eight-year-old sister Kamren was sitting on the ottoman, and she looked up from the monitor as Brad walked in. "Ooh, you're late! I'm telling mom and dad!" As she finished speaking, Brad heard the sound of an engine being cut off and a car door slamming. Before he could move, Kamren had leaped off the stool and ran past him. She skipped down the hallway, gleefully chanting, "Brad came home late!"

Brad laughed and shook his head before following his sister into the mudroom. Brian Liftridge stooped to hang his coat on the back of an antique style coat rack, ran a hand back through his thinning brown hair, and looked up as his son walked in. "Call it a hunch, but I get the feeling you came home late?"

"I was at the store with the guys. The line was huge."

"Why?"

"I guess because it's payday. There's always a lot of people on pay-"

Brian cut him off, "I meant, why were you at the store, wise ass?" His words were stern but his eyes were laughing.

"Oh. We needed food cuz Christian's throwing a party tomorrow."

"And I'm sure you asked your mother if you could go already, because I certainly haven't been informed."

"Uh, I was gonna ask as soon as you got home?"

As they were speaking, Patricia Liftridge had been standing by the screen door, listening silently, but now she spoke up. "Aww, let him go, Hun. I seem to remember you were quite the partier back in high school."

Brian looked back at his wife and laughed, then turned back to Brad. "Fine, you can go."

"Thanks Mom! You're the best!" Brad turned and ran off to the stairs. Pausing half way up he turned around and added, "Well, sort of."

Slamming the door to his room, Brad picked up the fun and dialed Christian's number.

"Yeah? What is it Brad?"

"I just asked. I can go."

"Great, I guess."

"What d'ya mean?"

"We all knew you'd be allowed to go. Your mom never says no."

"True. Have Kent or Arik called yet?"

"They're both still here. But they called home; they can go. Everyone's coming at seven tomorrow."

"Okay, cool. Wait!"

"What?"

"No one invited Ritchie or Zach, right?"

"Those losers from math class? Hell no!"

"Good. Later."

"Later."

The line clicked off and Brad hung up. Pulling off his shirt, grabbing the remote and flopping down on his bed, he switched on the TV. Disney Channel was playing, which meant Kamren had been in his room again. Groaning, he switched to HBO instead, where a horror movie was playing.

Brad was just dozing off when Kamren came skipping into the hallway, loudly singing that dinner was ready. Brad switched off the TV and poked his head out his door just in time to see Kamren at the end of the hallway. She turned to face him, grimaced and mimed throwing up, before turning and disappearing down the stairs. Her dark brown hair, braided with a red ribbon, flew out behind her. Brad got a bad feeling.

When he hit the staircase, Brad had to fight not to retch; the smell of his mother's latest homemade recipe, meatless meatloaf- or as she called it, wheat loaf- was wafting up from the kitchen.

Brad took his place at the table, muttering, "Yum," as his mother plopped a huge chunk of wheat loaf on his plate. She glanced at him sharply before setting down the pot and taking her own seat. Cutting off a tiny chunk, he popped it in his mouth and gulped it down with a swig of Dr. Pepper. His dad shot him a sympathectic

Kamren started talking about the party they had had at school. Brad noticed that between sentences she was eating the corn. The wheat loaf was untouched.

Brad managed to get down half the wheat loaf before he gave up. Spooning down some corn and chugging his Dr. Pepper, he quickly got up and dumped the wheat loaf in the garbage disposal before Patricia could tell him to save it. Looking back at the table, he saw Kamren had only managed three bites, and was attempting to drown it in Ketchup. Laughing silently at her from behind his mom's back, Brad turned and ran back upstairs to shower.

By force of habit, he cheched his pant pockets to make sure they were empty. He felt paper and pulled out a crumpled dollar and the old paper he had found in his locker. I don't remember ever using yellow paper. Must be old. He started to trow it away, but curiosity overcame him and, careful not to tear it, he unfolded the paper. Quickly skimming over the words, his mouth dropped in surprise. Someone had a secret admirer. Wonder who Eddie is. Brad thought the name seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't think where he would have heard it. Shrugging, he put the note and the dollar by the mirror.

Brad stripped off his pants and turned the temperature knob all the way to the blue "C," a trait no one but him understood.

Just as he was about to get out, he thought he saw a shadow through the glass door, as though someone was standing in the bathroom. He slid it open a crack and peered out, but the room was empty. As soon as he closed it though, the shadow returned. Bigger this time, like it's owner was closer to the shower. Again he peeked out into an empty bathroom.

Slightly frustrated, he passed it off as one of Kamren's dumb tricks and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he grabbed the note, dollar, and his clothes and walked down the hall to his room.

The rest of the night passed normally, and Brad fell asleep shortly after one in the morning.

It was just before noon when Brad woke up. Getting up, he walked to his closet, pulling off his pj's as he went. Ten minutes later he came into the kitchen, dressed in faded old blue jeans. The kitchen was empty; he found a sticky on the refrigerator and skimmed over what his mother had written:

Brad, we went to Wal-Mart.

We'll be back by three. Feed

your sister.

Typical, Brad thought. Sighing, he walked back upstairs and beat on Kamren's door. When there was no reply, he entered anyway, and went straight to the blinds. He opened them, letting in the glaring sunlight. Kamren's head popped up from a tangle of bed sheets. "Wuzzgo'non?" She mumbled. "Brad? Go'way. Trynt'sleep."

"Whatever. Get- oh shit! Kamren, get out of the bed! There's a spider! A spider!"

Kamren screamed and jumped a foot into the air, crashed down to the floor, leaped back and looked around wildly. "Where? Where is it!" She looked around a moment more before thoughts caught up to her, and she slowly turned to Brad, who was doubled over laughing. "You dirty little butt head! I can't believe you!"

Tears streaming from his eyes, Brad looked at her and said, "Hey, that's payback for the dumb shadow trick last night in the bathroom."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb Kamren, I know it was you."

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

"Whatever. Get up and get dressed. You're going to Brittney's house."

"Why?"

"Cuz I have to go Christian's house and you can't stay here alone."

"Why are you going to Christian's house?"

"We're planning a party." He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth."

"A party? Will Arik be there? Can I go?"

"Yes. Yes. No, you're going to Brittney's"

“But I’m hungry.”

“We’ll stop at McDonald’s on the way.”

Muttering under her breath, she climbed reluctantly out of bed.

Brad left her to change and shower. Walking downstairs, he turned into the family room, grabbed the remote, and plopped down on the couch. He quickly stood up again as he heard a sharp crack. Looking down, he saw a pair of wire-rimmed glasses half-hidden in the seat cushion, broken now that he had sat on them. That's weird. I don't know no one that wears glasses. He guessed they belonged to one of his father's friends and went to the kitchen to throw them away.

As he turned to walk back to the family room, Kamren came downstairs fully dressed. She looked at him and complained, "Aren't you even going to put a shirt on before we leave?"

"No." Without giving her any more chances to argue, Brad turned and led the way out of the house. His parents had taken the Corvair, so he grabbed the keys to the Volvo as he walked out the door.

Kamren was still sulking, and didn't speak the whole ride, except to give her order at McDonald's. When they arrived at Brittney's house she got out without saying goodbye and slammed the door. Brad shrugged it off and pulled away from the house, onto the highway.

Brad glanced at the dashboard clock. It was one twenty three. He quickly did the calculations: a half-hour drive if the traffic was light, put him at Christian’s house by one fifty three, two thirty at the latest, no more than an hour to set up. I got plenty of time; maybe I'll swing by Becca's house on the way there.

As he looked back to the road he took a passing glance at the car settings, and almost jammed on the brakes. The passenger side airbag was on; it was activated by weight. Even Kamren couldn’t get it to turn on. He blinked, and still the little airbag light was on.

He looked at the passenger seat. It was empty, but peering closer, he noticed an impression on it. His first, rather childish thought was that it looked like an invisible person was sitting there. But sure enough, no matter how hard he looked or how many times he blinked, the imprint didn't go away.

The sound of a blaring horn jerked Brad's attention back to the road, and he realized to his horror that he had just driven into oncoming traffic; an eighteen wheeler was barreling at him. Now he did jam on the brakes, cranking the wheel a hard right. Cars honked and screeched their brakes to avoid hitting him as he desperately tried to regain control.

The Volvo bumped off the road, teetering on two wheels. For a second Brad thought it might steady out, but the wobbling car hit a large bitch and pitched over onto its side, before rolling onto its back. His forehead cracked painfully off the steering wheel, leaving drops of blood behind. His left shoulder was jammed into the car's roof, and a sickening cracking sound came from one of his legs, sending blinding pain up his right side.

The windshield and windows shattered, pelting his bare chest with shards of glass. The seatbelt was constricting him, making it hard to breath. Finally, the car shuddered to a stop on its roof.

Brad managed to hold onto consciousness for a moment, but before long he pitched into a wave of welcoming darkness.

* * *

He stirred for a few moments before the ambulance arrived. Pain throbbed through his entire body and the car interior was flicked with blood. He was confused, but was pretty sure he was upside down, held in place by the seatbelt. Through the shattered windshield he saw a figure looking down at the wreckage, and as his vision cleared she came into focus.

It was a girl about his age. She had wire-rimmed glasses and was, despite the boiling summer heat, wearing a black turtleneck and dark jeans. Brad opened his mouth to call out for help, but something stopped him. Maybe it was intuition, or maybe it was the look of sheer joy on her face as she took in the mangled car and spattered blood.

Brad got the feeling she didn't know he was conscious. Seconds before her eyes shifted to his face, another wave of black rose behind his eyes, and he sank gratefully into it.