yours truly,

Jayce doesn’t like parties. 

That’s his first problem. 

The second is the fact that he’s on his way to one anyway. 

He and his mom just recently moved to the area. They only just finished putting away the last of their things two weeks ago, but summer break is hot in the crowded town of Piltover. 

His mom told him to get out of the house. Go make friends, she’d said while they shared a frozen sausage and mushroom pizza and a $1.25 can of mixed veggies. And when he’d given her a blank look, she’d unhelpfully added one last thing: try. So here Jayce is – it’s a Thursday night and he’s driving his mom’s silver Subaru to a place he doesn’t know, to try and talk to people he doesn’t know. 

His outfit is fine. 

Before he left, he’d stood in front of his closet for a little too long, sifting through wrinkled shirts and bunched up tees until he’d practically closed his eyes and grabbed whatever touched his fingertips on the count of five. He’d ultimately chosen a shirt that he’s pretty sure he got for Christmas three years ago, and he pulled on a pair of denim shorts and his sneakers. It’s casual on purpose; he doesn’t want to appear like he tried too hard. Still, on his way out, he’d stopped by his mom’s full-length mirror to make sure it worked. It was fine. He checked twice. 

He’d heard about the party in the locker room of the local YMCA. He’d just finished his lift (a routine curated by his old school’s athletic trainer) when a pair of guys who looked his age walked by, asking if the other would be at the party. And it took a little straining to listen further, but he’d managed to get the address and the date. And that was enough. 

He had nothing else to do. 

His two best friends from home have been practically MIA since April. One of them got a job working the night shift at McDonalds, and the other’s XBox has been cooked since early June. He still texts them when he can, calls them too, but they’re busy and Jayce is away. The distance is the hardest part. That, and how quiet the new house is when it’s just him and his mom. He hates it, but he’d never tell her that. 

Jayce slows to a near stop before taking a left into the neighborhood. 

He quickly learns that Piltover is a much wealthier town than what he’s accustomed to. Each house that he drives past gets larger and larger, and the yards are so clean. Each one has a big SUV in the driveway, or some luxury brand that he’s only ever seen in pictures on his instagram feed. He wonders if the people inside are gagging in disgust at his 2011 Subaru. 

His GPS tells him to turn right, so he does. Then he does one more time before taking a left. 

The party stands out immediately. The road gets more crowded as he approaches his destination, packed along either side with cars, and Jayce creeps forward. He drives straight through them at first, silently wondering if he should just go home, but eventually he pulls into a cul-de-sac and turns around. There’s a space on the curve that he can fit into, but it barely counts as a parking spot. He pulls into it anyway, fixes the angle twice, then cranks it into park. 

As soon as the engine cuts, the bass from the music leaks in. It’s so loud that he starts to consider going back home, because surely the neighbors will get irritated and call the cops, right? 

Right?

He sits there for a second. 

Make friends, his mom said. 

He exhales, grabs his phone from the mount, and gets out of the car.