He still doesn't know how he did it...How he got David Fucking Bowie to know his name, let alone let him be in a music video, let ALONE remix one of his songs and go on TOUR with him. Did he sell his soul to the devil when he wasn't paying attention? Who was he kidding? Of course he did. The high of performing and whatever the hell he took before the show is wearing off and now he's even more aware of the man he's idolized since childhood, sitting inches away from him on a beaten up couch backstage at the Orpheum. He's laughing and joking with Danny and Robin in that smooth English accent of his. There's an amused glint in his mismatched eyes that one would see in an older brother or that one cool uncle who isn't that much older than you and your friends who will buy you beer if you promise to drink it in the garage. All of it turns Trent's legs into jelly - thank God he's sitting down.

Trent hears something about the set list and wills himself to listen or at least look  like he is. 

"Now, Trent, what do you think of closing with "Reptile" tomorrow night?" David says, putting a hand on his knee to make sure he's paying attention. Trent swallows. 

Closing with "Reptile" means he won't have any time to will away the massive boner he'll have before getting off stage. He remembers the first time they had played it together, Trent was just playing the beat back on the synth and David was casually smoking a cigarette and leaning up against the grand piano in the other corner of the room, looking like a white knight come down from heaven...To smite him or send him into the rapture. He sang the words so smoothly, almost romantically like he was whispering to a lover. Trent remembers feeling flush and hot all over, amazed he didn't mess up a single note, and having to down a beer to compose himself after. 

"Uh yeah," his voice cracking, "*ahem* yea we could. I think that's a great idea"

FUCK

"Here's a thought! and If I'm totally off my tit just tell me..." the older man starts with his grand hand gestures willing, everyone to pay attention ouT of his sheer magnetism. "Do you remember our first week in the studio when we did it just you and I with the one synthesizer?"

Unfortunately

"I do" When did he start sweating? 

"Call me crazy, but i think we should try it on stage. Is that a terrible idea?" 

No idea you have it terrible, David Fucking Bowie. 

"I don't know if it is or isn't but I'm down if you are." Trent can feel himself blushing like a schoolboy and he tries to hide his face in his mop of hair. 

Just then, one of the roadies pokes his head in the dressing room door - he's already looking pretty drunk he's they're either done loading shit up or he's gonna get canned. 

"Aye, Fink! I uh - got that girl you were looking for."

"The blond one?" Robin asks, taking a swig of his beer.

"Naww. The Redhead with the tattoos, and she's got friends."

"Oooo" Robin's face lights up like a wolf in a bugs bunny cartoon. "Whatta ya say, boys?"

"I'm SO in," says Danny.

David chuckles, "'Fraid that's a young man's game, boys. But you should go have fun."

Trent is also quick to take himself out of the equation as well. The last thing he wants to do is share his coke with some 20 year old who'll put out without making him work for it and will freak out the minute he asks her to choke him. He's never found the fun in that. 

Finally they're alone and Trent doesn't know if he's delighted of terrified. They've never had priblems having a conversation, in fact, David's brain seemed to be the most attractive part of him. But tonight is different for some reason, or maybe Trent just needs to get laid. He's beginning to think he should go after Robin when he hears a lighter and looks over to see David lighting a cigarette and taking a long, slow, drag. He exhales the and the smoke dances around him like a halo and in that moment, Trent realizes that no one else is or ever will be as cool as David Bowie. 

The older man smiles, looking at him from the corner of his slightly wrinkled eyes. 

"Have I got something on my face?" he smirks. 

"What? No!" he had zoned out again. 

"Ah I was just wondering since you seem, to be starring again. You've been doing it all night."

Trent can feel his cheeks blush violently and he knows there's no way to hide it with his pale ass complexion.

"Oh, heh, am I? I think I'm just tired, it doesn't all start to his you til after you know." He chugs half his beet in an attempt to make himself look less fucking awkward. "You uh, you want another beer?" He asks more timidly that is ideal.

"Naw, don't get up mate, I'm fine." He spreads himself out on the couch, throwing his arms and head back.

Trent watches the expanse of milky white skin of his neck, the slow movement of his adams apple with each inhale of smoke. All he wants to do is mark that neck up with hickeys and bite marks. He bites his lip and then chugs the rest of his beer before getting up and grabbing another one from the mini fridge in the corner, momentarily adjusting himself in his stupid leather pants. 

David eyes him, skeptically as he sits back down. Trent looks blankly ahead, trying not to think about kissing David, about touching David, about David holding him down and -

"What's wrong, Trent?" David's silky voice asks, sincerely, touching a slender hand to his shoulder. His Hand grazes Trent's neck and he can't help the shudder that overtakes him. The drugs leaving his system and the blood rushing to his dick are making him dizzy. 

"I- I think it's just a bit of a bad comedown," he lies. 

"You gotta cut back on some of those drugs, mate," he's leaning over now still gripping Trent's shoulder. He takes the beer from him with his other hand and takes a sip before handing it back to the younger man. Their fingers touch and Trent has to swallow a moan. 

"I know you don't think you'll be the same without them, but trust me," he lifts Trent's chin to look at him in a move that is far to intimate for one man to do to another man..."You have nothing to worry about. You'll be just as -"

He doesn't know why he did it. Maybe it was to shut David up so he would stop saying nice things to him. Maybe it was to stop himself from screaming at the tension that racked his body at that very moment. Maybe he was wound up so tight he finally snapped like a badly tuned guitar string. The kind that can snap on your hand and cut you deep if you were unlucky. Whatever it was, he was now kissing David Fucking Bowie and David fucking Bowie wasn't pulling away. He tasted like black tea and cigarettes, and a little like Trent's beer - hot, and wet, and fucking perfect. It felt like it lasted forever but then David is pulling away, slightly breathless. For a lifetime, no one breathed. Trent could feel his stomach twisting in on itself - a pain worse than any comedown he had ever experienced. He had royally fucked up, and he knew it.

"David I'm...I'm so sorry-"

Then long, slim fingers were grabbing him by the hair and their lips came crashing together once more. The kiss was more amazing than any Trent had ever had. There was nothing but teeth, and tongues, and moans, and slender hands twisting in his long hair and pulling sharply. It was sending wave and wave of pleasure pain straight to his already hard cock. David leaned in further, pressing his erection into Trent's thigh before breaking the kiss. 

Trent was left breathless, his vision almost blurry.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" the older man asks in a predatory whisper against Trent's parted lips. 

"David, please. Fuck please. I want you. I -"

David cut him off with another seething kiss, even more violent than the last, sharp teeth drawing blood from Trent's lower lip. Trent is grabbing at the slender arms that hold him, gripping at them for dear life, for the minute he lets go, Trent knows he'll just sink into the floor. 

David sneaks his hand around Trent's neck and squeezes, hard, before pulling them apart. The younger man felt dazed and dizzy, gasping for air, chasing, blindly after David's lips. He had never been this desperate in his entire life. 

"Don't ever," he squeezes harder, making Trent wheeze a little, "EVA do that again."

Trent had to fight the urge to throw himself into oncoming traffic on his way to the venue the next day. He had barely slept, tossing and turning, feeling the bile in his stomach rise and fall over and over again, replaying every little hazy memory of kissing David. David scolding him in the same breath that he had stuck his tongue down his throat. David, pulling his hair, wrapping his soft hands around his throat. Maybe he could fake an overdose and they could cancel the show.

But David, ever the professional, went about rehearsal and soundcheck as if absolutely nothing had happened. So much so that Trent was beginning to think he imagined the whole thing. It wasn't until they were on stage together that he knew it had to have been real.

For over 45 minutes of their shared time on stage together, David teased him in different ways. He was exceptionally touchy, crowding Trent's microphone, wrapping his arm around him time and again, applying the tiniest pressure where his hand touched him, knowing only Trent would be able to notice. He stripped his silver trench coat, revealing his shirt unbuttoned to his navel and followed it was obscene throaty moans between verses. The smell of sweat and expensive cologne filled Trent's nostrils every time he was close, making him almost forget the words to his own songs. HIs head swam with arousal and adrenaline, the beating of his heart seeming to be louder than the entire crowd. As soon as it was over, he disappeared - not even bothering to thank the crowd.

Trent could still hear the crowd screaming down the hall. The chants and screams filled his body with their vibrations. He was high, in more ways than one now, and horny - the usual outlet of a show being taken over by David who just managed to wind him up tighter, until he couldn't breathe. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack, here in the hallway, and the other would find him with a boner still in his leather shorts.

"Hey have you guys seen Trent?" it was Robin and the rest of the band looking for him around the corner. 

Fuck

Quickly he opened the nearest door trying to escape everyone. The second he closed the door and turned around, he knew where he was and his blood went cold. He was in Bowie's dressing room. He knew it just by the smell of cigarettes and black tea before even seeing the clothes hanging in the corner. 

Trent had stopped believing in God, but something told him this was happening for a reason. It had to be right? The way the older man had been acting since they kissed, had to mean something. He must want him too, he just needed a little more convincing. Maybe if he just - 

"Yeah, Robin, just let me know when you've found him." came that sexy accent on the other side of the door. 

The door opened and without a thought Trent was on him. David gasped in surprise at the sudden assault of lips and hands. Trent had barely begun to kiss him when he was being pushed away and a stinging pain was exploding across his face. Trent grabbed his cheek with one hand and  opened his eyes to look up at David. His expression was cold, calculated, almost unreadable. 

Had he read all the signals wrong? Had he really just imagined it all because he's a worthless, horny, piece of shit, slut? He shouldn't even be alive. He stood there holding his face, hoping and praying that the floor would come up around his ankles and swallow him whole, when David stepped forward and leaned in to whisper in his ear. 

"Knees...now"

Trent fell to his knees without a second thought, not even registering the pain that shot up his already banged up knees. He stared at the floor with his hands on his knees, assuming the position that has come to feel natural to him. The fact that he was on his knees for none other than David Fucking Bowie just filled him with and ecstasy he thought he'd never experience in his life. 

"David I-" another slap to the face, knocking the spit our of him. 

"I'll be doing the talking, Reznor," HIs tone was calm and even while he circled Trent like a lioness about to go in for the final kill. "I know what it is you want." 

He stopped in front of Trent, an obvious bulge in his pants right in his line of sight. Trent tried not to stare, but the sight made him hungry, he wanted to devour him, choke on the length of him (which looked to be quite impressive)until he had tears streaming down his cheeks. 

"And I'm inclined to give it to you. Just.This.Once." The older man put a hand up to the side of Trent's face. Trent shut his eyes, expecting another blow, but there was only softness, a long thumb coming around to press on his bottom lip until Trent allowed him entry. He looked up into those mismatched, knowing eyes, heat radiating through his body, and began to suck. He twirled his tongue around the digit, doing his very best to show David what exactly he could do with his mouth if he would only let him. David gave a soft, satisfied moan that went straight to his cock. 

"Such a pretty little whore," He cooed, dragging his other hand through long, black, hair, making the younger man tremble. 

"Do you know what I do to pretty little whores?" 

Trent shook his head, "n-no,sir" 

He gasped when David pulled him up to his feet by his hair until they were face to face, breathing in the others' breath. 

"I break them." 

Before he was even able to react, he was shoved violently against the back of the door, getting the wind knocked out of him with the impact. 

"Strip, and put your hands against the door. Keep the boots on." 

Trent scrambled to obey, fumbling to get his shorts off over his clunky boots. The room was cold but his skin felt unbearably hot, he didn't even have time to register the relief he felt freeing his erection from the confines of the sweltering leather. He could feel David's cold stare on him, getting impatient, inspecting every inch of his pale physique. The room was silent except for his own heavy breathing and the thumping of his own heart. Without raising his eyes, Trent turned around and put his hands on the door, spreading his legs slightly and hanging his head in submission. 

Then came the thump thump thump  of David's boots until the Englishman's entire body was flush against him, leather clad erection, grinding incessantly against his naked backside. 

"Darling, you're trembling. I thought you wanted this." his voice was warm and teasing against Trent's ear, while long, slender fingers ghosted over his side, teasing his sensitive nipples. 

"Fuck...God I do...please David - sir! Anything you want." HIs sentence died in a filthy moan as David's fingers finally ghosted over his cock, stroking ever so slowly, not enough pressure, but damn if it didn't make his hips sputter and buck. 

"And what if I want to ruin you? Hm?" He punctuated the last few words with a tightened painful grip around his balls, making the younger man yelp.  "Leave you naked and bloody, covered in my spend for your band to find you?" He twisted them painfully in his large hand, making tears spring up in Trent's eyes. 

"FUUUUUCK...yes...please. Ruin me." God, he truly was a whore, he thought. It took nothing for the Englishman to reduce him to this. He could have not even touched him- just told him all the things he could do to him, and Trent would have cum without a single hand on him. Those hands left him momentarily, allowing him to take a much needed deep breath. He heard a belt buckle being undone behind him and his body stiffened. His blood ran cold. He was either going to get fucked or whipped and right now he didn't know which one he wanted more. 

"I think first you need to be taught a lesson in asking for permission before putting your mouth on people." He growled like a predator against the beck of Trent's neck. 

The first crack of the belt on his skin was against his right cheek and he flinched more in surprise than in pain. Th enext 3 were across his back in angry X's, the sweat on his skin making the burn worse as he bit his lip to hold back a moan. 

"Don't hold back, baby." David was on him again, teasing the outside of Trent's ear with his tongue. "Robin was looking for you, I'm sure he'll be pleased to know where you are." 

It was if David had gotten inside his head and taken every kink Trent had. The pain, the need to be dominated, the humiliation. Was he really that easy to figure out? He howled, loudly when David dug his finger nails into the welts on his back, banging his fists against the door as his skin absorbed the sweet pain that was making his whole body buzz with need.

"Look at you, Trent. You're leaking." He looked down and realized he was. His cock hung heavy between his legs, a long string of precum leaking onto the floor despite all the abuse. God, god he was so fucked up in the head. 

"What must go on in that beautiful head of yours to find this so arousing?" He punctuated his statement with a smack to Trent's ass before dropping the belt with a loud clang on the floor next to his feet. Trent took the few seconds to catch his breath before David was spinning him around again. He towered over him like some sort of god, face inches from his own. David was smiling with a cruelty that seemed so out of character for the usually loving and genial, middle aged rockstar. Trent wanted to capture those lips in his again-suck and bite and taste. Instead he was left gasping, eyes rolling up into his head briefly, as David wrapped his hand around the head of his leaking cock before coming away with Trent's fluid all over his fingers. One by one he took them into his mouth, watching Trent's face for every tiny reaction, every silent cry of want from his eyes. 

"Would you like a taste, dear?" David whispered in his ear. 

"I want to taste you," Trent managed in a soft croak - his throat dry and hoarse. 

David stepped back with an impish smirk on his lips, before he was pushing Trent back down on his knees by the shoulder.

"Hands behind your back, and keep them there, understand?" Trent nodded, urgently. 

He was back at eye level with the sizable bulge in David's pants and this time he couldn't help himself, he nuzzled his face in his crotch like a cat. To his surprise, the older man let out a small hiss, which was the first time all night he had let his composure slip and it was music to Trent's ears. 

"You really do enjoy being on your knees, don't you?" David said, grabbing a fist full of black hair in one hand while the other went to the button and zipper of his expensive trousers. 

"Only for you," Trent confessed, finally looking up at his idol. 

Finally, finally,  David pulled his cock out, stroking himself to full hardness with his other hand. Trent felt his stomach twist in knots and his balls tighten at the sight - saliva pooling in his mouth like a hungry dog. It was definitely the biggest cock Trent had ever seen - though he hadn't seen a whole lot of them, to be fair. It was perfect, just like its owner. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" his voice was lower now, slightly breathless. Trent knew  deep down, that he had also wanted this, and this was just the proof of it. 

"Please...yes, please..." he panted, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue like some trashy chick in a porno. 

David smeared his slick all over Trent's face, who reveled in the humiliation of it, the feeling of being owned, before thrusting forward into Trent's mouth. He choked, immediately, swallowing the bile that rose up his throat, trying to adjust. He gathered his bearings and pulled back so he could suckle at the tip, dipping his talented tongue into the slit, tasting David musky essence. 

"That's a good boy," purred the Englishman, throwing his head back and petting Trent's head like an obedient dog. It only spurred the younger man on. He went to work, sucking the throbbing vein along the underside stopping to lap at his balls. He took him down to the hilt, slowly this time, making sure his throat relaxed before he swallowed around the head. David hissed and let out a filthy moan. It was music to Trent's ears - something he could definitely think of sampling on his next album if they ever decided to do this again. He had totally forgotten that he was still hard as a rock, leaking profusely over his lap and the cold floor beneath his knees, until David moved a heavy boot closer between his spread legs. While lost in the sensation of David's cock on his tongue, he accidentally rubbed himself along the rough material of his shoelaces. He was so sensitive and swollen that it felt like someone had taken a cattle prod to his dick. It felt so good to be touched by literally anything that he let out a loud groan around the cock in his mouth. David looked down then, and saw Trent's cock, leaking onto his boot, a wicked smile passing along his beautiful face. He moved his boot even closer between Trent's legs, rubbing the crocodile leather against the sensitive cock head mere millimeters from his laces. 

Trent tried to pull back, to moan, to beg, to plead, but David grabbed him by the hair and kept him where he was. He started to thrust into Trent's mouth and throat at a relenting pace that made the singer's arousal boil over. There were tears stinging his eyes and drool dripping down his chin and onto the floor, mixing with the precum that was flowing freely from his neglected cock. He began to rut his hips in time with the relentless fucking into his mouth. Then David lifted the toe of his boot slightly and pressed against the base of his cock, where it met his balls. Trent almost double over, choking again, and this time he was allowed to come up for air. The pressure was like a punch to the gut, a deep, deep throbbing feeling that he couldn't explain. It felt like the promise of catharsis. He moaned loudly, not caring who might hear him, not caring what David might think, needing more of it. As if reading his mind, David obliged. He pressed his boot harder into his crotch until Trent was humping up against it, hips sputtering out of control. David stuffed his cock back down his throat and used him like the willing little fleshlight he was. 

"So perfect, darling. There you go...so good for me baby," came the breathy moans above him. Trent didn't know if David was close, but the way his thrusts had begun to match his own, he imagined he was. Then he was being pulled off with a loud pop. 

"Look at me, Trent...that's it, keep humping my boot like a good boy..." He did, and he did. He must be a sight - sweat, drool, and tears staining his body, humping his idol's boot like a dog in heat. He felt so raw, so animalistic in his want, so baseless, so numb to every other thought that normally plagued him. It was better than any high he'd ever had. 

And then he was coming, and with a few pumps of his hand, David was coming too - across his lips, his face, his chin. He lapped it up, graciously, wishing there was more before he sagged against the older man's leg, utterly spent and boneless. 

David, petting his head softly, until he could catch his breath. When Trent looked up, the older man had already tucked himself back in his trousers and had straightened his shirt. He offered him a coy smile before he bent down to help Trent off the floor. Trent got up on shaking legs, holding onto David for dear life before he was capturing his lips in a gentle kiss, licking his own spend from his lips. 

June 3rd, 1994 4:52 Lulu's Boutique

Lavender Creek had - on a good day - a population of around three thousand. If someone somehow had the desire to visit, they would have to drive two and a half hours south of Portland, smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Greeting you upon arrival were ruins of locally owned businesses closed down by Walmart, the great carcasses of the steel plant and textile factory, and the number one destination of any Friday night - the Dairy Queen. On the outskirts of town, you'd find the Lavender Creek Dairy Plant, which in the last ten years had been plagued by issue after issue.

That wasn't getting into the seedier parts of town. The patches of cheap bars with cheaper booze, a gun shop run by someone convinced doomsday would happen at any moment, and a pair of gas stations with pale and twitchy men hanging around back trying to make a quick buck with questionable substances.

It was nothing but a dead end of a town. In the mind of a thirteen-year-old fashion-crazy girl like Mariqueen, the worst part was that the only place around to buy anything resembling cute clothes was Lulu's Boutique.

At the front desk, keeping a disinterested eye on would-be shoplifters, was gray-haired Lulu herself. Supposedly she had been the town beauty queen in her youth (“I was this close to becoming Miss Oregon - then I would have been Miss USA,” she once claimed unprompted to Mariqueen), and she had opened the shop after her attempted acting career floundered. The ‘boutique’ had its walls covered in flowery paper that hadn’t been in style in almost 40 years, but Lulu had grown too attached to the hideous patterns of dusty roses. Even though smoking had not been allowed in the shop for several years, everything down to the carpet still smelled of a mix of tobacco and Eau de Toilette. The clothes in the boutique were more often than not two years out of date, squashing Mariqueen and her friend’s desire to match the latest trend that the magazines talked about.

Lori's twenty-six-year-old stepmother stood boredly near the magazine rack, tapping her freshly manicured nails against her thigh. She shot a glare at the girls here and there; when she saw that they weren't getting in trouble, she went back to staring at photos of Hollywood couples. Throughout the boutique, the four girls ran around and blabbered about the season's hottest colors, what would attract boys the most, and if those adorable high heels they couldn't possibly walk around in or afford came in their sizes.

"Do you think I can get this in blue?"

"Lori, you always look bad in blue. Yellow is your color anyway."

"You know I hate yellow! And what about that blue dress I wore to the spring dance? You said I looked amazing in it!"

"I lied."

"You're so mean, Chrissy."

"Only because I'm right and you know it."

To say that Mariqueen hadn't been paying attention to her friends' ramblings would be an understatement. Usually all too willing to join in with their fashion talk, something else had caught her eye. It wasn't a dress, a pair of shoes, or a piece of sparkling jewelry. Of all things, it was a white van parked on the curb in front of the shop.

A dirty white van in desperate need of a carwash, but still. Why it caught her eye not even she knew - white vans were a dime a dozen, even in Lavender Creek. The only thing she knew was that she had never seen a white van parked in front of Lulu's before. There were no business logos on the side, which made it even harder to figure out why it was there at all.

Mariqueen moved closer to get a better view out the window, failing to look the least bit subtle about it ("Why is she being weird?" Melissa muttered before heading to the dressing room). With her face practically pressed against the glass, she caught sight of the driver's seat. Barely visible through the tinted glass was a tall, thin figure sitting still. Their head stared forward; Mariqueen glanced at the front of the van, but if anything was interesting going on over there, she must have missed it.

She looked back at the figure.

Their head turned. The hairs on Mariqueen's neck stood straight.

Somehow, she knew they were now staring right at her.

Mariqueen froze.

"Hello? Earth to Q, are you there? Looks like she's shut up for once…"

"Show her the perfume, she'll love it."

A thick, musky stench shoved its way into Mariqueen's nose.

"Hey!" Mariqueen shouted. With a grimace, she pushed away the source - Chrissy's perfume-drenched wrist. "Ich, what is that? Are you trying to suffocate me?"

Chrissy pouted at her. "It's the same perfume my cousin Amy uses, and she says all the boys in Seattle go crazy when she wears it." She shook her head. "You know Q, we looked all over for you after school and we brought you with us, the least you can do is be nice."

"And what were you even doing with that ugly Reznor kid anyway?" Lori piped in. "He and his friends are a bunch of weirdos, everyone knows that."

An engine came alive outside the shop. When Mariqueen turned her attention back on the window, it was too late - the van had already made its getaway. And despite its absence, Mariqueen didn't feel any more relieved

Instead, she felt a desperate need to talk. About what, she didn't know. She looked around the shop in search of anything that would spark a conversation before settling on the sunglasses rack next to her. The rack stood like a tall creature made of mirrored eyes, each one reflecting her barely-hidden panic.

"Do you think this-" Mariqueen grabbed a pair of tangerine-orange framed sunglasses, "-will go with my new swimsuit?" She hastily placed the sunglasses over her eyes. She grinned at her reflection, but even she knew how fake the expression was; an actress she was not.

Behind her, Lori said, "Orange is a terrible color, Q."

"And what do you know about color?" Mariqueen asked, extending the 'you' in a mock snobby tone.

"I don't think you are allowed to judge anyone," Lori snapped and took a pair of tortoise-shell framed glasses.

Putting the glasses back on the rack, Mariqueen shot Lori a glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Emerging from the dressing room, Melissa pranced across the boutique's plush carpet. Her sundress, yellow with subtle butterfly patterns, reached just past her knee. "You know what she's talking about."

"No, I don't."

"God, Q…" Lori picked up a bottle of shocking pink nail polish, eying it. "You're so clueless sometimes, you know that?"

Melissa tsk'd. "What do you expect from her?"

"Girls, have you picked out what you want yet?" Lori's stepmom walked over in between the girls, interrupting the argument that was surely about to erupt. "I don't have all day."

Melissa threw her hands up in protest. "I'm not done trying out clothes!"

"Do I look like I care?"

All four girls sighed. Melissa begrudgingly went back to the dressing room, while Chrissy and Lori picked out their respective perfume and nail polish. For Mariqueen, who had barely been looking at the merchandise since laying eyes on the white van, the decision of what to get was much more difficult. She had a decent amount of allowance saved up, but it wasn't nearly enough to buy anything she did want.

Her eyes wandered until she saw the turning jewelry display on the front counter. Lulu had gotten bored making sure they weren't stealing anything, as her nose was between a paperback romance novel. She didn't raise her eyes while Mariqueen approached the desk. Hanging from the display, shining and glittering under the fluorescent lights, was an elaborately-designed heart pendant attached to a silvery necklace. She moved in closer and looked at the price tag.

It was the exact amount of money she had saved up.

She picked it up from the display, grinning. "I know what I'm getting!"

--

5:01 PM The Dairy Queen on 5th and Walker

It was in between spoonfuls of cheap ice cream that Robin asked him the question. "How did you get away from Mr. Roberts anyway?"

Four of them were sitting on the sidewalk with their cones in hand. The Dairy Queen was near the edge of town, passed the abandoned textiles factory, where the trees became greater in number and provided ample shade from the early summer sun. Danny had wolfed down his Blizzard in record time, got a brain freeze, and was hanging and spinning by one hand around a nearby street lamp. Richard was trying to get a peanut out of his braces with his tongue from his peanut butter cup Blizzard, and Tori sat silently watching Danny while eating her strawberry sundae.

With a mouth full of ice cream, Trent froze. He swallowed hard. "What?"

"How did you get away from Mr. Roberts?" Robin repeated. "No way you just ran."

Richard excitedly piped up, "Yeah! Did you kick him in the balls or something?"

"No! But I wanted to." Trent shook his head.

"Then how did you get away?" Tori asked. "You're so…tiny compared to him."

Trent sneered at her. Why was she always treating him like he was so fragile? "No I'm not! I got away because-"

The image was all too fresh in Trent’s mind, and he still had no idea how to attempt to process it. The memory flashed in his head - the hand letting him go suddenly. Mr. Roberts staring wide-eyed in shock. The way the hand was suspended as if an invisible puppet master was holding it still.

The throbbing in Trent's head was back in full force. Each breath he drew made his brain react with another burst of pulsating pain. The sunlight, even with the shade, didn't help matters. He could almost excuse it as an intense brain freeze, but this hurt more than any brain freeze he ever had.

Trent stared back at the remainder of his chocolate-dipped cone and frowned, his appetite gone. "He let me go. I guess."

Tori looked at him worryingly.

"If I -" Danny let go of the street lamp, but continued spinning in his sugar high. "If I were you I woulda kicked him in the balls. And give him the finger." He stopped spinning, but couldn't keep his feet from stumbling or his head still. "And then I'd tell him to-" Danny's face turned a sickly green. "Oh fuck…"

No one turned around as Danny stammered over to the nearby garbage can and dry heaved. The grip on Trent's sugar cone loosened. He was starting to feel ill himself - and he hadn't even been spinning.

Pain pulsed through his head again.

"I wanna go home," He muttered. "Mr. Roberts probably called my grandma and told him what happened. She's probably wondering where I am."

Next to him, Tori rested her arm on his shoulder. "Worried she's gonna be upset?"

"It's not that. I just-" He stuttered. Tori gave him an incredulous look (her "mom" face, he called it), and his face flushed. "Okay, yeah, I am. Not that much though."

"Hey, at least you didn't spray paint a teacher's car like we did!" Shouted Danny, still face down towards the trash can. "Tell her that, it'll put shit in perspective."

"And then get us in trouble?" Richard protested.

"Yeah, about that, I still have no idea how you talked me into that," Said Tori. "I lose several IQ points when I'm around you guys, I swear…"

"Because you're the minister's daughter," Said Robin, who had just bitten off the last of his Dilly Bar and was twirling the stick between his fingers. "And who'd ever suspect her when she plays piano at every church function?"

Tori gave Robin a silent but coy look, then went back to playing with her strawberry sundae.

"Dude, are you even puking anymore?" Robin asked. He craned his neck to see Danny's head still facing the trash can.

"Nah. Didn't even puke, nothing came out."

"...then what are you still doing over there?"

"Come here, I'll show ya…"

As Robin stood up and walked towards the trash can, Tori rolled her eyes. "Anyway, listen, she's not gonna be that upset with you. She and your grandpa will probably just talk with you and leave it at that."

"Yeah, but…"

"But 'what'?"

"...never mind. I'm going home." Trent grabbed his backpack with his free hand and stood.

"I'll come with you!" Richard chimed, oblivious to Trent's dour mood. "I don't think I wanna be around Robin for a while anyway."

Mere feet away, Trent caught the sight of Danny forcing Robin's head into the all-too-full trash can. A muffled "Asshole!" emanated from inside the can as flies flew around in a frenzy. Danny laughed maniacally, even while Robin fruitlessly tried to kick him. Tori suppressed a gag from her spot on the sidewalk, while the only thing Trent suppressed was a laugh at Robin's expense.

"...You know, I do have a curfew tonight, so I should probably get going…" She looked up at Trent. "Are you gonna be alright? With your grandparents, I mean?"

Trent shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." He tried not to imagine his grandmother, all sad and disappointed, as he and Richard walked away.

--

5:50 PM

"Hey, Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"So, I overheard my parents talking earlier." Richard fidgeted with the straps of his backpack, while his steps developed a spring. "And we might go visit Robert in LA in July, and I was thinking about asking them if you, you know, wanted to come with us?"

"Um, I'm gonna have to think about it. Ummmm, I might be-"

Catching a brief glimpse of Richard's excited and waiting face, Trent felt like an idiot when he realized what he was saying - Richard wasn't asking him if he wanted to do a run-of-the-mill sleepover. He was getting another chance to leave town.

What was Trent even saying? What 'might' he be doing this summer anyway? At most, his grandparents might drag him to some crappy tent on Mt. Hood. It wasn't like he was visiting his mom and sister either - Tera was spending the next six weeks at camp, and his mom was too busy working.

But Los Angeles would be cool. It would be way different than Lavender Creek. Different and better. And Richard's brother, one of the lucky ones who managed to escape town, became a movie star - he lost count of the times Richard dragged them all to see Terminator 2 when it came out.

It could be fun. It would be fun.

"Um, yeah, I'd like to go." He kept his tone calm, trying not to sound like an overly excited loser. "I have to um, check with my grandparents first."

Richard broke into a grin. "Yeah! I'll ask my mom. It'll be the best vacation ever!"

Trent nodded half-heartedly. He saw the familiar sight of the Patricks' house coming closer with every step. The family car sat in the driveway, but Trent couldn't spot any sign of life in the front yard or through the windows. Countless hours had been spent in the front and back yards, and despite not living there Trent knew that house like the back of his hand.

The front door opened, revealing a very displeased Mrs. Patrick. She crossed her arms. "Where have you been, young man?"

Richard sighed and visibly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They were mere feet from the front lawn now, freshly cut by one of his older siblings. "I was hanging out with my friends, Mom!"

She shook her head. "Get inside and help me set the table."

The two of them reached the mailbox, and Richard looked at Trent, then at his mother. "Hey, Mom? So, Trent and I were talking, and, um, could he come with us to see Robert?"

Mrs. Patrick tightened her lips. "I'm sorry, honey, but your father and I…We've agreed to keep this a family vacation. Lord knows it's hectic just getting all seven of us under control for a vacation." She looked at Trent, still standing on the sidewalk with a newly crestfallen face. "Trent, dear, would you like to join us for dinner? It's casserole night, you like casseroles don't you?"

"Um, no thank you, Mrs. Patrick," Trent said dully. "I…I have plans with my grandparents."

Richard gave him a sheepish look. "Sorry, Trent."

"It's fine, whatever." Trent shrugged, but his muscles were stiff.

"Guess I'll see you later, man."

Trent nodded and went silent as Richard sprinted up the front porch, with his mom nagging him about something Trent couldn't make out. When the door closed, making mother and son invisible, Trent sighed and started his trek home. It wasn't a long walk, ten minutes if he walked fast enough. Just in time for his grandpa to get home from work.

He took one last look at the Patricks' house as he passed by the edge of their yard. It made him think of the day when he started kindergarten, and during recess, Richard had asked him if he wanted to play pretend. Trent said yes because he had just moved there and didn't know anyone. And then it turned out his grandparents didn't live too far from Richard's family, and his grandmother was quick to arrange a playdate between the two of them.

A seemingly endless amount of days had passed in that yard. A seemingly endless amount of days had passed in that street, in that neighborhood…

In all of Lavender Creek.

A frown crept over his face. He hadn’t always lived in Lavender Creek, but it sure as hell felt like it did. After he was born, he and his parents moved to Portland and lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Trent didn’t understand why they divorced, but he understood his mother’s reasoning for sending him to his grandparents even less. Why couldn’t he have stayed in Portland like his dad did? Like his mom and sister did? Why was he thrown out into the middle of nowhere? He loved his grandparents more than anyone else in the world, but did they have to live in a nothing town where the most exciting thing to happen was a bank robbery from when he was eight?

He was tired of Lavender Creek, absolutely sick of it. Seeing the same faces, the places, in and out every day made him want to puke sometimes. And his chance of getting out of Oregon just flew by just as he found out about it. It was like he was trapped in the same boring town until he died.

If he can't leave, why couldn't something just happen once? Just once he’d like something more to happen around there. Something interesting. Something he's never experienced before.

The wind rustled the bushes as he walked, his destination getting nearer. The sound of an engine caught his attention and he turned around. His heart sank with dread as he saw his grandparents’ worn-out station wagon slow down and pull over.

In the driver seat, his grandfather rolled down the window. Mr. Clark smiled at him. “Hey there, young man. Why the long face?”

Trent paled and looked down at his feet. “...I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Did it have to do with that call I got from the football coach at your school?"

No reply came.

"Why don't you come on in and we'll talk it out with Grandma when we get home? Sound like a plan?"

Before he could begrudgingly nod, a burst of pain struck Trent’s head.

Everything went black, with the only sound being Trent's grandfather yelling his name.

--

6:47 PM Ross Residence

"You have to see the plans, you really do. The mayor will have no choice but to agree to the proposal!" Uncle Marcus took another swig of his wine. "Iris honey, you think so, right? What am I saying? Of course, you do!"

Aunt Iris gave a reluctant nod as if even she was skeptical of her husband's ideas. Mr. and Mrs. Ross gave Uncle Marcus unsure looks, which they had kept for the entirety of the rather one-sided conversation. For their part, Atticus and his siblings paid zero attention to the extended business-related rant that their new uncle just gave at the dinner table. Atticus had barely looked up from the pile of vegetables that he poked repeatedly with his fork.

Mr. Ross sat his water glass down on the table. "That's…quite the project you have, Marcus."

Mrs. Ross was more direct. "This isn't going to work."

"Now don't say that!" Uncle Marcus exclaimed. "A mall is just what Lavender Creek's economy needs. And everyone will love it and want to go there! It'll be the crown jewel of the town" His eyes hovered over the Ross children, each one looking more bored than the last. His gaze settled on Atticus. "Hey kiddo, how's it hanging?"

Atticus felt a sense of dread coming on that he was powerless to stop. Holding in an annoyed sigh, he said, "Um, it's- yes?"

Uncle Marcus grinned. "Good! I have a question for you, and I'm sure that makes you feel special. A question just for hip, cool kids like you." Atticus hoped he didn't see him cringe at that. "Malls: like 'em, or love 'em?"

Atticus was paralyzed - mostly by embarrassment. He nervously looked to his mother, who stared at Uncle Marcus with bemusement.

"You're probably thinking, 'Why does an old man like him care about my opinion?' I just happen to think you're a cool kid, Alan."

"M-my name is Atticus."

"That's what I said, but anyway-" Just as Atticus stood up from his chair, Uncle Marcus put his hand up in a 'stop' gesture. "Wait right there, kiddo, you never did answer my question." Atticus slowly sat back down. "And why do you like malls so much? Go into as much detail as you want, don't be shy!"

"Um, I don't go to malls…"

"How can you not like malls? Oh, I get it, you're in that 'everything sucks' phase that all teens go through."

As everyone else started to gather their dishes and leave the dining room table, Atticus became more annoyed by him. If Uncle Marcus didn't speed this up, Leopold would get to the computer before he did. "I just don't like them much. I don't like shopping."

"Well I'm just gonna have to change your mind, aren't I? So, I was thinking of adding an ice rink right in the center of…"

Atticus never wanted someone to shut up so badly in his life. When he overheard Leopold telling their mother he was going on the computer, he wanted to scream.

--

7:04 PM Clark Residence

When he came to, his vision just barely made out the two dark, gray outlines above him. Quickly, they developed more features, becoming more human as his eyelids fluttered like butterflies.

"Oh thank God, he's awake!"

Trent looked up at his grandma's concerned face and in a hoarse voice, said, "I'm sorry I escaped detention."

A sad smile crossed Mrs. Clark's face. "Oh honey, what are you talking about?"

"I-"

"Shh…" Next to Mrs. Clark, Mr. Clark held up a tall glass of ice water to Trent's view. "We'll talk about it tomorrow when you're feeling better, alright?"

Almost too weak to nod, Trent somehow managed to pick up the glass and put it to his dry lips. The speed at which he downed it would have earned him the envy of any hard-partying frat boy, and when he finished Mr. Clark took the glass back. His grandmother brushed his hair back gently, and it made him realize how sweaty his forehead was.

"How's your head?" She asked him.

He shrugged. "I guess it's okay."

"We'll let you get some more sleep and we'll talk in the morning, okay?"

His eyelids growing heavy, Trent whispered, "Okay…"

By the time they turned off the lamp on his nightstand, he had already fallen back to sleep. Mr. and Mrs. Clark exchanged worried looks at each other, then at their grandson. Despite how sound asleep he was in his bed, Trent's face was just as scrunched up as it was when he was awake and barely holding up his glass. His breaths were slow, but shaky. The blanket was warm and thick, but his small body still shivered.

Silently, they both hoped he would be better by morning.

---

11:59 PM

Thick, velvety darkness covered Lavender Creek like a blanket on a child's bed. Even the few remaining stragglers in the waking world - blue-collar workers in bars, bored teens with nothing to do - would soon become transfixed by sleep's spell. Each bedroom window light would soon be switched off one by one, plunging the town further into darkness.

None of it would last. Not the peaceful sleep. Not the directionless nightly activities. Not the familiar but comforting darkness. Not the idea of a normal, carefree summer vacation.

June 4th, 1994

3:12 PM

Lavender Creek Middle School

Lavender Creek, OR

The last bell of the year had rung out minutes before, and a swarm of students exiting the school followed. It was early June, and the endless blue sky and bright afternoon sun were already turning up the heat. Young teens gathered onto the buses, rode off on bikes, or set out on foot towards their first adventure of the next three months. The fresh scent of cut grass drifted through the air, while birds watched and sang. It was a picture-perfect view, a slice of youthful Americana.

The thirteen-year-old boy sitting in the detention hall stared out the window. His green eyes shifted upwards towards the clock turning on the wall in front of him. Aside from the teacher sitting at the desk, he was alone in the room.

Trent sighed to himself, softly enough that the teacher couldn't hear him. Of course he got himself into detention on the last day of school. Of course he was the only one to get detention on the last day of school. The principal had told him that he should be thankful that was all he got. On any other day, a fight with other students would have earned him at least a suspension.

That wasn't much of a comfort, considering Trent was the only one to get punished. Not the ones that were causing the problem in the first place though. The boys that had been bullying Trent and his friends for a year were jocks - and not run-of-the-mill jocks either. They were football stars in the making if one believed the coach. And football stars didn't get in trouble for beating the crap out of a kid smaller and weaker than them.

But Trent, who was not a jock, let alone a popular jock? He was the one stuck with a black eye, bruises, and scratches all over his skin, and detention was the icing on the cake. It was a wonder his friends - who had tried to break up the fight - weren't given detention as well.

Whose idea was it to have detention on the last day of school? It made no sense to him, unless needless cruelty was the point. It was embarrassing enough that the principal had to call his grandmother to let her know he would be home late. Now he was stuck at school for longer than anyone should ever be. All while the assholes who started it all were walking free and enjoying the start of their vacation.

He fingered the pages of his book. It was nothing special, a blatant Star Wars rip-off whose title wasn’t worth remembering. It was something he had failed time and time again to finish because of how boring it was, but he had nothing else to read. When he arrived in detention, with the teacher’s gaze icy cold as he took his seat, he tried reading the first page. Then he tried reading the first page again. And again. Trent had to stop himself from falling asleep. At this point, he would have been glad for homework. At least it would be something for his brain to do.

The bald teacher looked up to stare daggers at Trent, then went back to his newspaper. Mr. Roberts was both the P.E. teacher and the coach of the football team. For reasons they had yet to figure out, he had taken an instant dislike to Trent and his friends from the start of sixth grade. He made sure that they knew it too, singling them out for criticism during activities among the other students. Needless to say, the fight at lunch hadn't exactly put Trent in his good graces either.

Mr. Roberts turned a page in his newspaper, his breathing thunderous in the otherwise silent detention hall. No one liked going to detention as it was, but the detention hall made the experience even more unpleasant. It somehow managed to feel both sterile and dingy, with a sense of grime that no one could clean off. The chairs, which wobbled no matter what, were likely the same chairs Trent's parents used when they were his age. Each desk always had dried out, chewed up gum underneath that went back decades.

Trent bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough to nearly draw blood. Why won't it just end already? What kind of asshole put someone in after school detention on the last day of school for defending himself?

The door opened behind him, breaking the silence. He jerked his head away from the book and watched as a  dark-haired girl awkwardly walked between the aisles of desks. She wore an immaculate white button up shirt, a denim overall skirt, and a pair of shiny black loafers so new they didn’t have a single crease yet.

"You're late," Mr. Roberts snarled. He lowered the newspaper to watch her as she took a seat behind Trent, then went back to reading in silence.

She didn't apologize for her lateness, only brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

Trent knew her. Well, he knew of her. She was one of the 'popular girls' that sat together during lunch and pep rallies to gossip and read fashion magazines. He never talked to those girls, no one in his group did. They were so different that they might as well have come from different planets.

He knew of her from outside of school, though he wouldn't say it. When Trent was in fifth grade, a family from California had moved into the house next to his grandparents. They decided to do the polite thing and give them a warm welcome to the neighborhood. Trent of course wanted to stay home and watch The Six Million Dollar Man marathon on TV, but he was powerless to stop them from dragging him over. The couple, the Maandigs, had invited them into their house full of boxes and furniture covered in plastic. His eyes kept glazing over the boxes, looking for something interesting - which there wasn't. He was about to fall asleep from his grandparents asking endless questions about living in California.

Loud, excited footsteps from the floor above him caught his attention. It was then that she had asked, in that girly high-pitched voice, "Mom, have you seen my pink sundress? It's not in any of my boxes." She ran down the stairs, somehow not tripping over herself, and tugged at her mother's sleeve. When she saw Trent standing on the porch with his grandparents, she froze.

Her eyes were wide and shy at the same time. "H-hi," She stammered.

Trent stared at her, squinting. What a weird girl…"Um, hi."

They hadn't spoken to each other since that day. But he had noticed her, here and there. Saw her in the rare classes they had together. They never spoke, never interacted. But every time he saw her, he couldn't help but…

He took a single glance back at her, hoping she wouldn't notice. She was staring at the wall in boredom, but when she caught him looking at her, she smiled.

…why was his face feeling warm?

Trent quickly tried to go back to his book, completely in vain. The stupid book was unreadable - how the hell did it even get published? What a waste of trees and ink.

The phone on Mr. Roberts' desk rang, and he picked it up. "Yeah?" There was a pause. Then a deep grimace on his face. "Alright, I'll be right there." He hung up the phone and gave both students a judgmental eye. "You two stay put. I was just told some brats are vandalizing my car. When I get my hands on them…"

Getting out of his chair, Mr. Roberts dug out his keys from his pants pocket and pointed his finger at Trent and the girl. "If I find out either of you left while I was gone, there will be hell to pay."

Neither spoke up. When Mr. Roberts left, slamming the door behind him, Trent once again tried to get back to his book. He flipped through the pages - there had to be something more interesting in the middle. Anything more interesting than the first page.

"Psst."

Something was poking him in the shoulder. He turned around in his seat and came face to face with Mariqueen Maandig.

She was smiling, her mouth covered in a rosy gloss. "What are you in for?"

A weird feeling came over him. Was she bored like him? Bored enough to talk to a kid that she wouldn't give the time of day to under normal circumstances?

She really was weird.

He shrugged. "Got in a fight with some assholes during lunch. What did you do?"

She shrugged back, a more sheepish look on her face. "I did something, really, really stupid."

"Can't be that stupid."

"You know that shed on the far side of the football field? I was smoking behind it."

Before Trent could think, he blurted out, "You're right, that is pretty stupid." A chill ran up his spine - who says that to a girl? Did he want her to think was some kind of jerk?

But Mariqueen didn't seem mad at him for that. She stared at him, then burst out laughing, before abruptly going sour. "My friends were supposed to meet me during lunch. But they were taking forever, and I kinda got bored waiting...Then Mrs. Bradshaw caught me." She threw her hands up. "I guess it's whatever, you know?"

"I guess. Still kinda sucks though."

“You ever smoked before?” She asked.

There was a pause. Yes, Trent had smoked pot. He had gone to visit his dad in Portland a few weeks ago for a late birthday visit, and he had a very ‘special’ present to give Trent. Trent however very quickly realized that him and pot weren’t going to work out, and woke up the next day with a pounding headache. His dad told him he’d get around to it one of these days - Trent didn’t believe him.

But it wasn’t like Mariqueen had to know that part, right?

“Yeah…yeah, I totally smoke.” He quickly added, “Like...a lot.”

She stared at him, clearly unconvinced. Before he could continue his - not very good - lie, Trent winced in pain. He brushed his fingertips against his still-fresh black eye.

Mariqueen narrowed her eyes to his injuries. "Did you get beaten up by the football team or something?"

"Half the team, yeah." When her eyes widened, he said, "I mean, you should see the other guys."

Poundpoundpound.

The noise drew Trent away from her, towards the line of windows on the far side of the room. He grinned - on the other side of the glass was Robin, waving his hand at Trent. Before Mariqueen could ask who that was, Trent sprinted out of his desk and lifted the window open.

Robin poked his head in. "The coast is clear. Let's get out of here before he gets bad." His eyes fell on Mariqueen, still at her desk. "What's she doing here?"

"What does it matter to you?" Trent muttered under his breath. "Wait, you guys vandalized the car? What the hell did you do?"

"I'll tell you later," Robin hastily said, motioning Trent towards him. "Come on, we don't have much time."

Trent returned to his desk and grabbed his backpack, but not the book (that could go into the garbage for all he cared). As he slung the bag over his shoulder, he looked at Mariqueen, sitting by herself. "Hey."

Her eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

"Wanna come with us?"

She bolted up from the desk with dizzying speed, backpack already on. Trent followed her closely behind. Robin slid the window higher for them, motioning for them again.

"Hurry."

Mariqueen went through, legs first. The ground was mere feet down from the window, allowing her to safely land on the green grass beneath her. When it was Trent's turn, he bent his torso into the windowsill.

As he was about to dive onto the grass, something caught hold of his shirt.

Mr. Roberts exhaled sharply behind him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Shi-" In an instant, Trent was pulled back into the classroom by a great force. Soon he found himself face to scowling face with Mr. Roberts.

Trent's blood went cold. The grip around his shirt tightened.

Mr. Roberts exhaled hard. "I told you not to leave." His eyes glanced back at the windowsill, where he could still spot Robin and Mariqueen. He pointed at them with his other hand. "Don't think you two are getting out of here unscathed!"

Trent could do nothing but stare at Mr. Roberts' hand. His muscles froze even as Mr. Roberts dragged him towards the door.

"Alright you brat, you're not leaving my si-"

He pulled his hand away.

No.

Something pulled his hand away.

"What the hell?" His palm was open wide, his fingers spread to an uncomfortable degree. An invisible force seemed to keep the hand suspended in the air. Mr. Roberts tugged at it to get it to move - to no avail. Trent, his face paling, forced himself out of his stupor and ran straight for the window. Robin held his arms out for him, grabbing Trent the moment his torso was through the frame.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Trent said when he hit the grass. "Now."

The three of them didn't look back as they ran. There was no time to mutter a single word, too busy getting out of range of a very, very pissed off teacher. There was no time for Trent to tell them what happened in the classroom. There was no time for him to even think about what had happened.

He gritted his teeth. It wasn't helping that there was an ache building in his forehead completely out of nowhere.

–

3:32 PM

Willowshade Park

Lavender Creek, OR

"You think Robin got him out?"

Richard threw the baseball back at Danny. At the bench, Tori sat with her chin propping up her knee, while her other hand tapped against her thigh. They were the only ones in the playground over eleven but under twenty-five. The rest of the playground was full of little kids on the slides, swings, and the jungle gym; their parents watched half-heartedly. Being a bunch of middle schoolers, the three of them stuck out like sore thumbs. Yet it was the first place they spotted that they could hide in, something loud and full of people. Exactly what they needed in a time like this.

They ran off school property as quickly as they could. Mr. Roberts had only caught a glimpse of them as they made their getaway, but it was enough. Without warning, he ran after them.

They threw the spray cans into a nearby dumpster and hoped that no one saw that Richard had his shoes covered in paint. They shoved themselves into the jungle gym, among the screaming children, and waited for Mr. Roberts to do his search and leave.

Luckily for them, they didn't have to wait very long. For all his demands of "Don't be a loser" in his class, he gave up without putting much effort into his search.

After that, there wasn't much more they could do. They still needed to wait for Robin and Trent, assuming they had escaped. Richard and Danny started playing catch with a discarded baseball. Tori's face twisted in worry.

"They're gonna be fine," Richard replied to her finally. "You worry about Trent too much, you know that?"

"I can't help it! He's so..." She snapped her fingers. "What's the word...?"

Danny piped up with, "Pathetic?" He threw the ball back at Richard.

"No."

"A dumbass?" The ball fumbled in Danny's grasp - Richard always had a poor throwing arm.

"True, but that wasn't what I was thinking of."

The ball was back in Richard's hand. "You never worry when me or Robin or Danny get in trouble." He reeled his arm in, gripping the ball. “I mean I worry about him too - a lot - but you worry even more than that.” With a swift swing, he threw the ball back in Danny's direction…

Hitting him square in the forehead.

"Motherfu-" Danny pressed both hands to his forehead and hissed. "You hit me!"

"Yeah, and?"

"It fucking hurts!"

"Aw, don't be a baby. It barely got you!”

"Fuck you!"

Still sitting on the bench, Tori rolled her eyes. "But you guys are guys. Trent's different."

Conveniently forgetting about his pain, Danny gave her a dumb, toothy smile. "Why? Because you wanna kiss him?" He teased.

Tori sneered. "Shut up, Danny."

"What are you arguing about now?" An exhausted-sounding voice exclaimed in the distance.

The three of them looked up, and their collective faces broke out into smiles. Walking towards them with the sun beaming down, an exhausted Robin dragged a moody Trent over. A third, unexpected figure followed closely behind them.

Tori shot up from the bench. "Finally, I thought you'd never make it!"

“He was this close to killing us,” Said Robin. He nudged Trent’s arm. “Trent barely managed to escape. somehow”

There was a glassy, lost look in Trent’s eyes for a second, before he blinked and shook his head. “Y- yeah. I did.”

“Thank God…at least our efforts didn’t go to waste,” Tori exhaled in relief. "So did you see what we did to Mr. Roberts' car? I wrote 'eat shit, fuckhead'."

"I was kinda too busy running away."

Danny threw his hands in the air. "Aw man, you should have seen it! I drew a huge dick on the windshield. Rich drew the balls."

“Big, hairy ones too,” Richard said with a satisfied laugh. “Let’s get outta here.I’m getting bored playing catch with Danny.”

Trent nodded. “Yeah. Hey, Mariqueen,” He turned around to face her, “Wanna come with us?”

Mariqueen looked nervously at him. “Um…”

“Mariqueen, there you are!”

A trio of girls, each more perfectly dressed than the last, approached them from behind Mariqueen. Trent didn’t know their names, but like Mariqueen he knew of them. The popular girls that she was always hanging around with. One of them, clad in a plaid skirt, grabbed Mariqueen’s hand.

Mariqueen pursed her lips. “Sorry. I have to go.”

“That’s fine.”

The girl in plaid tugged at Mariqueen’s hand. “Come on, Q! Lori’s stepmom is taking us shopping.”

“Just a sec!” Said Mariqueen, barely hiding her annoyance. She turned her attention back to him. “Um…I just wanna say-”

“Come on, you can talk with the loser later!”

With shocking strength, the girl yanked Mariqueen away from Trent and his friends. Together, the four of them rushed off the playground to places unseen. Trent found himself watching them - or really, watching her. With her dark hair and nice clothes and smile and-

Tori whispered into his ear, “You’re blushing.”

Trent felt like someone poured ice down his shirt. “Shut up, Myra! I’m not!”

The playful look on Tori’s face became glare. “Don’t you dare call me that, Michael.”

“Oh my god, he is blushing!” Richard ran over to him, grinning. “You look like an idiot.”

Trent’s face went redder. “Shut up!”

“Did you kiss her?” Danny crept up from behind, making kissing noises at Trent.

“I said shut uUUUUUUP!” Trent yelled just as Robin - who was already one of the tallest students in school - picked him up by the waist.

Robin laughed. “Come on, did you or didn’t you?”

“Put me down!” Trent screamed at the top of his lungs. “I swear I’ll kick your ass!”

“If you insist.”

With an audible thud, Trent fell to the ground. “Ow…”

“Hey man,” Robin said with a shrug. “You said you wanted down.”

“Whatever…” Pulling himself up, Trent shook his head. “What do you guys wanna do?”

“Don’t know,” Said Richard. “...You wanna go get ice cream?”

The other four nodded nonchalantly, and within minutes they had left the playground completely.

Going out for ice cream was far from the epic start to summer vacation that every child wished for - unless you're under twelve. Considering that Trent had been unfairly thrown into detention before that, it wasn’t even a good start to vacation. But it was a start, and they all had three whole months to make it the best vacation they possibly could make.

Couldn’t be that hard, right?

–

4:02 PM

1146 Douglas Avenue

Lavender Creek, OR

"I want to use the computer."

"The level is almost over. I need more time."

"You can save and play later."

"It won't take me long to beat it."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"What on Earth are you boys arguing about down here?"

The two of them - Atticus sitting at the desk, Leopold standing cross armed in impatience - turned to face their mother. As she walked down the carpeted basement stairs, her eyes - still heavy from a lack of sleep - went back and forth between the two. Atticus' face went sheepish.

Mrs. Ross slumped her shoulders and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Atticus, dear, let your brother play now."

He swallowed. "But I-"

"No 'buts,' dear."

Atticus frowned but still opened the game's menu. After saving and pressing the 'Quit' option, a message appeared on the screen: 'Go ahead and leave. See if I care.' He raised an eyebrow - was the game mocking him for quitting?

"Alright, I'm finished," He said, getting out of the chair.

Leopold at once took a seat and started looking through the list of games Uncle Marcus had installed on the computer. He settled on Gabriel Knight, which neither of them had tried yet.

"I hope that game isn't too violent," Said Mrs. Ross, weariness in her voice. "I don't much like you boys playing those games your uncle gave you. Especially that...Doom game you keep playing, Atticus."

Without another word, Atticus joined his mother in climbing up the stairs. Digitized music spilled out of the computer's speakers as they left the basement.

When they reached the top of the stairs and entered the living room, his mother looked at him with tired eyes. She hadn’t gotten any sleep since they arrived a few days ago. "Why don't you play upstairs with your sister? I'm sure she wants a playmate now that she's so far away from all her friends."

A shrill shout "I don't want to play with Atticus!" rang out from elsewhere in the house. "He never wants to play with my dolls!"

Atticus' frown deepened and he shrugged. "I think I'll go play outside, Mum. I don't mind being alone."

She nodded. "It is a lovely day, isn't it? But-" she added, "Don't wander off too far from the house. Oh, and Aunt Iris will be here in a few hours with Uncle Marcus for dinner."

"Yes, mum."

When he found himself on the back porch, Atticus stood still. His face went blank in the realization that he had no idea what he was going to do now. It left him with the one thing he could do: think about why he was in America in the first place. The thing was, he wasn’t sure of the reason why. He wasn’t sure his parents knew why they decided to move there.

It was all so sudden. More sudden than he would prefer. All he knew was that his Aunt Iris had married an American man. An American man who owned quite a bit of property in a state called Oregon. And he believed that he had the best house in mind for his new sister-in-law's family.

All Atticus wanted to know was why they decided to go ahead with such a big move. When he asked his parents, they would shrug and say they wanted a "why not have a change in scenery?" Not a very satisfying answer, but he didn't push the issue. Atticus wasn't one to argue with his parents unless he needed to, and he didn’t feel that need then. It wasn't that the move was a bug issue for him either. He had never been happy at his old school, and he didn't have much in the way of friendships to mourn. But…he still couldn't quite put his finger on how he felt about it all.

His eyes scanned the backyard. The lawn lay before him wide and green, and the scent of cut grass was still fresh in the air. The patio furniture set next to him was empty, as was the rest of the yard. He had only been outside for a minute and the heat was already getting to him. Yet there was almost nothing for him back inside, not when his brother still had the computer.