*trigger warning: homophobic slurs, GRAPHIC GORE DETAIL

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
❛ going out with a bang. ❜

THE EIGHTIES POP HIT WARBLED DOWN THE HALL, reverberating through the walls with an angelic-like echo. It grew louder as the four of us — Sydney, Dina, Calvin and I — strolled nearer to where the party was being held.

     We turned the corner, and saw the gymnasium doors propped open, a golden glow pouring out of it with lively shadows dancing on the floor, and party streamers slithering into the corridor. Calvin nudged me gently with his elbow, shooting me a lopsided grin. "Ready to... partay?" he asked.

I wrinkled my nose at him, shaking my head. "Right after I've cringed at you, sure."

It was a stark contrast to the dull gymnasium laced with the stench of body odour, where I'd been stuck for detention just earlier this week. A disco ball pivoted around in circles, catching rays of light and deflecting them as smaller specks like fireflies. In the corner, a large, glittering crescent moon complete with puffs of artificial cloud was set up in front of a camera, as people sat to pose pretentiously with their Homecoming dates. All the girls were dolled up, all the guys sporting the typical suit get-up; most of them were on the dance floor aside from a select few, who were scattered across the bleachers and hiding behind the curtain of silver streamers hanging from the ceiling. Maybe that's where I would be myself if I had come alone, and not attached at the hip to the party animal that is Calvin Simpson.

But before dancing, we had other priorities. There were two long tables set up by the side, packed to the brim with finger foods for as far as I could see, as well as a large bowl of punch standing proudly in the middle with a ladle.

Sydney casually grabbed a plastic cup of punch from a passerby, chugging the liquid until she had emptied the cup, and tossed it behind her shoulder care-freely. I just managed to dodge being hit, ducking and letting the cup crumble to the floor. Dina threw her head back with a hearty laugh.

"Hey girls," Calvin said, his drifting longingly to the food table. "We're gonna grab a bite to eat. Wanna come?"

The duo exchanged a look as if they were communicating telepathically. Then as Somewhere In My Heart by Aztec Camera began playing, Dina then replied, "Uh, no thanks. I think we're gonna dance first."

"Okay, cool. See you guys later!"

For a school dance, I have to admit the food exceeded just being edible. I kept coming back, stacking my white plastic plate with the mini pizzas, the sausage rolls, the onion rings... surely someone's parent must have chipped in, because nothing about them tasted tacky or shop bought. And of course there were the snacks which required less effort, merely opening some bags and pouring them into bowls: Cheetos, Doritos, popcorn, mini pretzels and more. When we came for our second round of food, we also began adding the sweeter options at the end of the table, which included Oreos, Twinkies and a dozen others — I let Calvin do the heavy lifting in that forte for the sake of my poor old heart, but I definitely interfered with his food choices too.

We ate our food with the other lonely guests, at the bleachers. It was somehow quieter even if the silver streamers didn't block out the noise. Perhaps it was the psychological illusion of being given privacy that faded out the music.

I stared out at the teens bobbing up and down, balancing my plate on my lap carefully. It was reminiscent of that night at Ricky Berry's, only I felt a lot safer: something I never thought I would say at a Homecoming dance. Calvin was eating silently next to me after our conversation about which eighties songs were better than others. I didn't even have to say anything for him to know what — or who — I was looking for.

"Stan's not here yet." he mumbled, chomping on a Pringle.

"I know."

"We would've seen his car in the parking lot when we came."

"I know." I sighed. The 1978 Ford Fairmont. I remembered him telling me that, the only car name I'd ever remember.

     In the middle of the dance floor were Sydney and Dina, dancing vigorously to the music with red and gold balloons weaving between their feet. Well, I don't know if you can call it dancing... but at least they were having fun. There was no doubt about that. It was the most relaxed I'd seen them be around each other, especially since the incident at Ricky Berry's party. Dina was the girl who Sydney had kissed, and it hadn't gone down well.

Something occurred to me then: images flashed through my mind of Sydney standing in the rain with black, mascara-filled tears dribbling miserably down her cheeks, completely crushed. All because she revealed her feelings and they were tossed to the side, made to make her feel worthless, and like she wasn't good enough.

What if I'd done that to Stanley? The way his face fell so obviously, all the adoration vanishing from his eyes... it was a hard image to forget. And I'd done that.

But then I looked at Sydney and Dina now, and they were infatuated. Any hardships had been left and they'd moved on, simply wanting to focus on each other, and nothing else would seem to come between them. And why was that? Because they had been open and frank with one another today and made amends. My cousin had gone out of her comfort zone to open herself up to Dina, to let her into her heart.

If I just tried to embrace these feelings, it could at least help... whether that meant going back to the way we'd been before I messed it up, or taking it up another notch, I didn't know.

I didn't know what I wanted. I still don't think I do.

"Calvin..."

"Yeah?"

"I like him too."

He smiled, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze as he rested it on my knee. Calvin gave me a little wink, and I knew he knew. Of course he did. Why wouldn't he? I squeezed his hand back, and there were no more words needed.

Brushing some crumbs off his salmon pink suit, he stood up and hoisted me up from the bleachers. "Where are we going?" I asked, confused as he began leading me down the steps.

"To take some photos, of course!" he faltered when I scowled, giggling boyishly. "Oh, c'mon, Scrooge. It's tacky High School memorabilia that you'll regret not having, when you're in your mid-life crisis and pester your teenage kids about your youth."

"Who said I was having kids?"

"Hallie, I'm an only child, so you're the only hope I have of being an Uncle."

"Um..."

We arrived at the crescent moon, beginning to queue patiently next to the photographer (some artsy student who'd volunteered for tonight, nothing too professional) as we waited for the couple's photoshoot to conclude. The guy had his arms snaked around the girl's waist, his chin leaning on her shoulder as she leaned her head back and smiled. Their fingers interlocked at her front, it was a tableau vivant of High School romance. Maybe this was the better side of it that I'd missed out on all these years... but once the girl started shoving her tongue down her boyfriend's throat, sitting on the moon, it made me want to throw up.

Nah, Hallie, I thought. You're absolutely fine.

"I'm so fuckin' glad Dina didn't come with Brad tonight." said Calvin whilst we waited, both our gazes drifting to the girls merrily wandering over to the food table now.

"I know," I replied. "He gives me the creeps. D'you think he'll still come tonight?"

"Oh, no way! He can't, not after those rumours."

"Rumours?" I squinted curiously.

"Whether it's true, I don't know, but..."

"But what?"

"People are saying that— that Jenny Tuffield—" he wheezed. "— gave him gonorrhoea!"

"Oh, wow..." I chortled quietly, unable to suppress a smile. I couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with detention the other day. I thought there was something weird between those two.

"I know! That's made my fucking day, week, year, life—"

"Next!" said the photographer, and the lovebirds were walking to the dance floor hand-in-hand. Calvin and I shuffled over to the moon and took a seat, our legs dangling over the edge. I suddenly felt rather exposed as a few other queuing couples bore their impatient eyes into us; not to mention I felt camera shy, like I was being watched.

Calvin nodded to the photographer and whispered, "That's Sebastian. You know, the Austrian exchange student? He's in one of my classes."

"Okay..." I mumbled, before adding, "Is he another one of your pin-ups I should be aware of?"

"Shh!" he pushed me playfully but he was laughing.

"Three, two, one..."

I heard a click of the camera, my heart lurching now I realised that I was being photographed. Awkwardness seized me rigid, and I forced a smile that contorted into something wobblier than I had intended. For the second photograph Calvin held his fingers up like a peace sign and pouted, but my position remained unchanged.

"This is so awkward." I said through gritted teeth after the third picture. One of the girls waiting whispered to her boyfriend, and he guffawed whilst shaking his head at us.

Calvin rubbed his chin. Then he linked his arm in mine and told me to trust him. I had no idea what to expect, but whatever it was, it wasn't him falling backwards. I gasped, gripping tightly onto the side of the moon only to feel his hand push me up to safety from the small of my back, just as the camera clicked.

"Great photo opportunity." he shrugged, pulling me onto my feet. "Lenny, how many more do we have?"

Lenny held up one finger, rubbing his temple tiredly. Although there was a ghost of a smile playing across his face; I could imagine taking photos of loved up teenagers all night long would drive you to the brink of insanity. Perhaps we were the most amusing 'couple' he'd had all night.

     "Alright, I wanna try something. Let's do the Hollywood drop." Calvin suggested excitedly.

     I glanced uneasily at some of the faces around me, waiting for their turn. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself, but at the same time, who cared? I started posing myself to be ready for the drop, before he glared at me like he was offended.

    "No, I meant you do me."

    Stopping what I was doing, I snorted, before realising he was serious. We switched our hold on each other a little bit and, when the time was right, I swooped Calvin down as he extended one foot out with pointed toes like a ballet dancer. On my part there wasn't much dramatisation, it was mainly me just lowering my over-dramatic best friend to the ground with an embarrassed smile on my face, but it was still fun. At the click of the camera, Calvin laughed, before cutting himself off and leaping back up straight as he began dusting himself down.

     "What's he doing here?" he hissed at me, trying to nod subtly over to the other side of the room.

     I followed where his eyes were locked, and sure enough, there was Ryder: he was chatting to an older girl and sipping punch from a cup. The girl looked like she was in her early twenties, and had some of his features, too. They must have been related.

     Realising I had the upper hand, I waved in thanks at Lenny, before placing my hand on Calvin's back and leading him over to his secret object of admiration.

     "W-what are you doing?" he stuttered, sounding panicked.

     "Talking to him," I deadpanned. If he was allowed to tease me about Stan, then I felt obligated to do the same — although in my case I'd have to be more subtle, because I wasn't the one who had been a closeted homosexual until this afternoon. Ryder caught my eye when we'd almost reached him and he nodded (you know... that typical, "What's up, bro?" kind of nod, which I just smiled sweetly at in return.)

     "Hey guys! You both look very nice." said Ryder.

     "Thanks," Calvin humbly looked himself up and down. "So do you."

     "I didn't know you'd be here tonight." I remarked, in such a tone that requested an explanation. It was for Calvin's sake, more than anything, although I myself was surprised that he'd shown up too.

     "I wasn't gonna come," Ryder shrugged, and jabbed a thumb towards his sister. "But my sister, Kimberly, was doing the decorations for the gymnasium and I came to help. I get free snacks out of it, so..." he watched as she gave us a wave and a shy "Hi." Now I was closer, I could see her eyes were the same chestnut brown as his, and they both had a similar facial structure. The only thing missing was his hairstyle, whilst hers was long and straightened.

     Calvin giggled. "That's cool."

     "Yeah, except not many of the Seniors are talking to me. Apart from you guys of course... hey Calvin, did you do that Art assignment yet?"

     "Oh, no, I'm procrastinating as always."

     Ryder laughed and clapped his hands together. "Me too, dude! I'm always like, leaving it the night before, but, like, then I forget, and it's just super bad."

     "My inspiration is best when I'm sleep-deprived at 2.a.m." Calvin joked, his hip jutting to the side as he transferred his weight from one foot to the other.

     "Haha, yeah!"

     They didn't even notice me slowly leaving, and that was what I wanted. I didn't take my eyes off them chatting away, not until I'd gotten a couple of metres between us before I swivelled around and began returning to the food table. They talked so well — Calvin had created more intellectual conversation with Ryder in the space of a minute than I had in an entire semester sitting by him. I suppose some things just aren't meant to be, whilst others are... I couldn't know for sure if Ryder was attracted to him, but he definitely enjoyed his company. A pang of guilt reminded me that I'd not succeeded in noticing this connection when Calvin had told me a week ago, on top of his weird behaviour surrounding our (failed) date. How did I not realise?

     Dina was alone when I got there, her hands held behind her back as she inspected the vast array of finger foods.

     "Hi, Dina."

     "Hey," she gestured to the table with a longing nod. "Have you tried any of this yet?"

     "Oh, I've gorged on it." I scoffed. "Calvin and I raided the table earlier, but he's over there, so... I highly recommend the mini pizzas."

     "Yeah, I had my eye on them too. I think I'll go controversial and have the pineapple one."

     "That's the best flavour."

     "Right? It's so tangy, it reminds me of summer..." Dina picked up a mini pizza and took a delicate bite, chuckling with a mouthful as she caught falling crumbs with a cupped hand. "... Mmm, that is so good. Honestly I was expecting worse, but the food here tonight is bomb."

     Giving her a thumbs up in agreement, I sneaked another Cheeto and popped it into my mouth. "Hey, where's Sydney?" I asked, peering around me to find her sitting on the bleachers: and I noticed Stanley sat next to her at the same time Dina informed me he was there. The two of them seemed to be engaged in deep conversation. Sydney looked out and beamed at something he said, evoking an unwanted feeling of jealousy.

     "A little birdie told me you two are like... you know— oops!" Dina hunched her shoulders, helplessly watching as a small chunk of the mini pizza fell to the ground.

    "She told you, didn't she?" I asked rhetorically.

    "Vaguely. But I kinda knew, too."

     So does everyone in my life, apparently...

     "I saw the way he reacted to what Jenny said in detention. You two would be really cute, I'm just sayin.'"

     "Oh, um... thanks, I guess?" I stared down at my shoes, hoping it would hide how flushed I could feel my cheeks becoming.

     Dina dusted her hands free of the pizza crumbs and added, "I think Mercedes ditched him."

     "Wait, she did?" I flinched at how hopeful I sounded.

     "Uh huh. Totally up and left him to go find someone else." she explained. "Last I saw he was sitting all alone on the bleachers 'til Syd came along... poor Stan." Dina straightened up abruptly, fanning out her dress to make it poof again. "Oh, wait, they're coming!"

     Surely enough, Sydney and Stanley were making their way over to us, exchanging a friendly look on the way. I had no idea where to avert my gaze, so I started out by looking at Dina as she greeted Stanley.

     No! I scolded myself. Remember you're supposed to be making things better!

     "Stan!"

     "Dina, you look, um..." he rocked back and forth on his heels, eyes drawn to the sequins on her dress. "You look like a Christmas tree."

     "Thanks, dude." she grinned.

     "Uh-huh," Stan replied, not quite with her in that moment as he looked at someone else. At me. I didn't have to look to know that his eyes were on me. I willed myself to tilt my head upwards, to just look at him...

     And it was like everything came together: time and time again I'd noticed him looking at me like that, but I hadn't thought anything of it. But now it felt different. Like I was special. His eyes flicked cautiously across my face and dress, as if he was taking it all in. There was a certain restraint that hadn't been there before — unlike previous times, where he'd stare at me for prolonged periods, just like he was soaking me up  — and what felt like a fear of lingering on one part of me for a little too long. That was my fault.

     So instead of freezing when his eyes came to meet mine again, I held his stare and smiled.

     Just a small one, my skin tingling with warmth as I did. I hoped that warmth would be transferred across, that it would tell him how I was okay with this. More than okay with this, even.

     He almost started, caught off guard by my unusually open affability. But soon enough he returned one of his own, just with the right touch of charm and shyness that made my breath hitch in my throat.

     "Oh, God." Sydney groaned, breaking us out of our trance. "Whitaker's still watching us."

     The four of us found Mr. Whitaker through an opening in the crowd, spying on us from a dark corner. When he saw he'd been caught, his eyes darted after another student to stay undercover. I mean, part of me couldn't blame him: I'd be sceptical too if a bunch of normally well-behaved students set off a burrito bomb and triggered the fire alarm.

     "It's probably the most exciting thing that's ever happened in his life."

     "Do you think he still smells like burritos?" I proposed curiously, to which Sydney's eyes glinted mischievously at the thought.

     "Mmm, I don't know, guys." Stanley tutted sarcastically. "I mean, we're wanted criminals. Why are we out here in the open? Exposed. First rule of the heist is split the loot and split the fuck up, right?"

     "What loot?" Dina interjected. "All we did was disrespect this fine institution—"

     "— And disrespect ourselves." Sydney finished, waggling her finger at her mockingly. We all chuckled to ourselves, before the scratch of a record filled the room and the track changed to It Must Have Been Love by Roxette. Stan's face instantly became crestfallen as he rubbed his eyes in despair.

     "Oh, no. On principle, I just— I can't. Sorry, this playlist is all over the map. I'll— I'll be right back."

    Cringing hard, he brushed past us swiftly and I watched after him. He skidded to a halt in front of the DJ, and over the music I could only hear parts of the conversation, but somewhere along the way the incredulous words "What do you MEAN you've never heard of Bloodwitch?" floated our way.

     I caught sight of Dina zoned out, her lust-filled eyes settling on Sydney who hadn't noticed her staring. For the second time this evening, I got the impression that I had become the third wheel, so I politely excused myself to go get some water. I doubt either of them heard me, though.

     It was nice to vanish from the crowds in the gymnasium for a while, actually. The music was a little quieter out here, and I could hide in the dark to have some time to myself and my thoughts. I felt the coolness of the metal on my thumb's skin as I held down the button, catching refreshing sips in the trickle that left the water fountain.

     I had a minute or two of undisturbed peace to hydrate myself until a familiar, disembodied voice said, "There you are."

     My head shot up as he made me jump. His face was cast in a shadow from the light pouring out of the gym, but I could see his attire clearly from the odd blasts of gold that illuminated him: he was wearing the same powder-blue suit from Ricky Berry's party, but he'd swapped the white t-shirt underneath for a dapper-looking leaf print one with a collar, and it had a v-neck cut that went low enough to expose part of his chest. He'd definitely massaged some product into his hair but it still retained those dark curls I was used to.

     "You know there's water in there, right?" said Stan, softly nodding to the doorway.

     "I know," I replied. "But think of all the grubby hands that've been handling those plastic cups."

     "And what about all those kids with mono who've probably deep-throated that water fountain?"

     I stepped back with a disgusted grimace, provoking a grin from Stanley... the one where his eyes crinkled at the sides, and that dimple on his right cheek flared.

     Chuckling lightly, I wandered over to the row of lockers at the edge of the wall. I slid down slowly to the floor, smoothing out the soft, periwinkle fabric of my dress as I sat with my legs outstretched. In my peripheral I noticed him taking a seat next to me, feeling his sleeve stroke my arm. It was like we were spectators at a movie theatre, watching a Homecoming dance play out on stage through the doorway that boxed in the gymnasium. We were bathing in the resplendent glow that enveloped this one spot of the hallway, cutting through the darkness that swallowed the rest of it.

     I turned my head and observed Stanley's eyes as he watched our classmates laughing and dancing in there. The light was catching his irises in such a way that I couldn't help being drawn to — their normal honey-like colour had been transformed by the aureate specks from the disco ball, illuminating amber hues in them that I didn't even know existed. It looked like molten gold, being churned and as lively as a lit spark.

And I was mesmerised.

Stanley turned his head to face me, and suddenly I felt light-headed. I felt as if I'd intruded on a deep thought, like I was looking somewhere where I shouldn't. But when he didn't break away from me I knew there was no tension of that sort.

"So—" We both spoke at the same time, pausing and laughing nervously at ourselves. I hadn't even gotten to what I wanted to say but my palms were already sweating.

     "You can go first." I offered.

     "No, I insist, you first. We're probably both thinking the same thing."

     "R-right, yeah..." I licked my lips nervously, swallowing hard as my fidgeting hands came to settle in my lap. "I, um... were you avoiding me at school today because of last night?"

     Stan's head wordlessly lulled back and hit the locker as his teeth dug into his bottom lip.

     Uncomfortable with how long, although not that long at all it had been since either of us said anything, I added, "Because if you are, then don't worry about it. I'm over it."

     "Well, I'm not." Stanley sighed, blinking frustratedly. He patted the front of his hair, gently so as to not shift how he'd styled it, before shaking his head to himself. "I didn't mean to say that much. Well, I— I meant it, of course, every word of it. But I didn't expect it to all just, y'know, pour out like that. I guess it's like you said... with the Jack-in-the-Box... and I couldn't keep pretending anymore."

     Steadily, as if I didn't want to disturb him, I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them like a hug. As I let my chin fall onto my knee, Stan turned properly to face me with a sincere look.

     "I just want you to know that none of it matters." he waited a few seconds, watching confusion flash across my features. "Seriously. The most important thing to me, like, above that... is if we can just keep talking. I don't wanna lose... whatever this is. I like us. I really like us. Friends or more than friends, I don't frickin' care. The last thing I want some stupid things I said making things awkward. I mean... you feel it too, right? Our..." he paused, his cheeks gaining a self-aware blush as he mumbled, "... our connection."

     I nodded slowly, beginning to ponder. I thought about what he was saying about us. How he didn't want things to be messed up, how he felt about our dynamic, and what mattered to him more than any potential route with romance. I realised he had the same fear as me, the same thing holding either of us back from acting upon these feelings: losing something special that only we had. I couldn't talk to Calvin or Sydney like I'd talked to Stanley; only with him would I have shared my deepest, darkest fears and vice versa. A boyfriend-girlfriend would typically be the next step up, but once you take that step there would be no going back to how things were...

     So, I could have just accepted this as our common fear and taken it as a sign that we were on the same terms, therefore both being in agreement that it was better to stay safe and stay friends. That's what I could have done, and maybe would have done under different circumstances.

     But I didn't. I felt brave.

     "It wasn't you, Stan. I was just really freaked out." I wasn't even surprised at how calmly the words rolled off my tongue. "Not so much by what you were actually saying, but... I've never been on the receiving end of those kind of things, you know? And I was so clueless about how to react. I... I've never really thought that I'm... lovable? Or nothing like what you said I was. So when this stuff came up, I was more confused than anything, because you're... you know, you... and I'm just me. We felt like such a weird match."

     Stan let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. "I thought the same thing about you. I never thought a girl like you would settle for someone as weird as me... great minds think alike, right?"

     "Mhm. And fools seldom differ."

Another little laugh, before he grew serious again. "So, I didn't... scare you off?" he asked insecurely.

"No," I assured him. "It was just very new."

Puffing out a relieved breath, Stanley rolled back to his original position and stared at the gymnasium again. It felt so bizarre to me how this moment we were having was so intimate, and yet no one in there could see us or notice us. Our little bubble, just the two of us, watching the faces in the crowd...

... Speaking of faces in the crowd, I spotted Mercedes Callahan with her friends, and a unanswered question brewed inside of me. There was also a shameless hint of contempt I felt too; I couldn't ever fathom ditching Stanley Barber, of all people, at a Homecoming dance. He was by leaps and bounds the most interesting character in this school.

"There's something else though..." I trailed off, squinting at him. "If you like me so much, then why'd you ask Mercedes of all people to Homecoming? Or, more importantly, why didn't you ask me in the first place?"

I began picturing this scenario had it happened a few weeks back, before we were united through Sydney's unprecedented situation: Stanley asking me to Homecoming, without any of this being built up. Would I have said yes?

"You honestly wanna know why?"

"Yes."

"I have no fucking clue." Stanley snorted at my expression, slapping his thigh as he laughed. "Seriously, I don't! I was asking myself that when I came here with her. Because, like, she was lecturing me on weed and shit..." he faked a worried expression, taking on a squeaky voice as he mimicked her saying, "Marijuana is a gateway drug." He proceeded to recall how she told him it then leads to mushrooms, MDMA, cocaine, crack, heroin, gasoline — huffing it, she'd emphasised — and then death.

"What did you say?" I asked, cracking up already.

"I just went, 'Here's hoping, Mercedes!'"

"Oh God!" I pinched the bridge of nose, my shoulders shaking with giggles and rubbing with Stan's. Once the laughs had subsided, I exhaled slowly, trying to picture good girl Mercedes lecturing Stanley Barber on his drug use. Mind you, if he'd told her he had clients, she might have had a heart attack. "What is it about boys and logic that just... doesn't add up?" I thought aloud, still believing it would have been simpler if he'd asked me in the first place.

"Ah, it's because we think with our dicks and not with our heads."

I thought back to my conversation with Sydney earlier. Heart over head. "Well, you don't. I'm pretty sure you never think with your head. Not entirely. But unlike me, you can always think with this —" I poked the area of his chest where his heart was and he caught his breath. "— and that's something."

"I guess we'd make a pretty good team then..." said Stan thoughtfully. "The head and the heart."

Letting my head relax and fall to the side, I gazed at him for a few seconds. Just taking him in. Letting the words translate themselves before they were actually spoken aloud.

"Yeah. We would." I whispered, at last.

He finally understood. Because something in the way he looked at me changed, and it stirred something inside me, too: it was like clarity for both of us. And I don't know which one of us was doing it, but I could have sworn his face had inched slightly closer to mine...

Stan perked up all of a sudden, his eyes darting around as he appeared to be listening to the new song that had replaced the sickly eighties song from before: after a few seconds when more layers of instruments came in it was identifiable, an unmistakable upbeat hit from the sixties.

"Be My Baby by The Ronettes, right?"

"Yep."

"Wall of Sound, baby!" Stan rubbed his hands together enthusiastically, springing up into his feet. Almost taking a little bow, he extended his hand out towards me. "M'lady..." he offered mockingly. I stared blankly at his open hand before it finally clicked, and I felt myself blush.

"But I don't know how to—"

"C'mon, everyone knows how to dance! It's not rocket science." he laughed.

New excuse. "Okaaay... well, I'm not very good at it."

"That's subjective."

Stan's palm was still empty like an open invitation. Giving in, I placed my hand in his and he helped me up. He didn't let go of me as he led me back into the gymnasium, weaving between couples as we pushed through the crowds. I looked around me, confusion setting in as I saw girls slinging their arms around their date's neck and gently swaying from side to side. Even Dina and Sydney had taken to the centre of the gym to slow dance.

A little bit of awkward dad dancing I could cope with, but this... I'd have no clue how to function being held in such a way, and then reciprocating that body language. And to Be My Baby of all songs? A classic, of course, but I wouldn't have thought it so for a slow dance.

He'd led me to the back of the crowd, still a stone's throw the action so it felt inclusive but also on the outskirts so I wasn't cornered. That boy can read my mind, I swear. Before I could even speak, he was taking both of my hands and placing them on his shoulders, before slowly letting his hands rest on my waist. Stan had begun moving to the music already, but I stood inelegantly cast-iron with impotence. When he stopped, I stared anxiously down at my shoes.

     "I'm sorry..." I apologised, my eyes pinched shut.

     "Don't be." he crouched a little so he could make eye contact when I opened them again. "You just need to loosen up. C'mon, just have a little shake, a lil' wiggle about."

     Stanley began shaking his arms and legs like they were jelly, and my eyes widened in embarrassment as I scanned the room to see if anyone was watching. I soon joined in on a smaller scale, my limbs still compact as I gave them a wobble; surprisingly it proved to be pretty effective.

     "So, are you okay with me putting my hands..." he paused, his hands hovering hesitantly at my sides. "... here?"

     I nodded, gulping as I felt his palms rest there again.

     "And then your arms can go, like, on my shoulders..."

     Lifting my limp arms up from my sides, I let my hands find their way back to the nape of his neck.

     "And from there you just... kinda... feel the music," he began rocking gently from side to side, this time more gently. "Kind of like how you feel your classical music."

     "Oh, this playlist could do with some Mozart, actually." I joked, swaying with him.

     Slow dancing did have that relaxing factor, however, for I soon began to melt into the rhythm of it. I felt like a buoy in the sea, being cradled gently by every tranquil wave that swept by. And it felt like the expectations were minimal: nothing fancy, just getting lost in the moment.

     I glanced for a second behind my shoulder and caught sight of Calvin, hard to miss in his salmon pink getup. He was sitting in the sidelines, still with Ryder, both of them content watching couples dance from afar. He looked so happy.

     My gaze changed direction to catch a glimpse of Sydney, who's hands were on Dina's waist and her head tilted upwards as she disappeared into her eyes. She looked so happy, too.

     Everyone looked happy.

     It all hit me far too fast, in a much too impactful way, that everyone was where they wanted to be for now. I didn't believe in happily ever after, but seeing my friends, my family free of any worry made me stumble. Especially Sydney. It wasn't just recently that she had been gloomy, it had been since her father's death, and even a little before. I hadn't seen her this infectiously joyful for years.

     Maybe it can work, I thought to myself. Maybe she CAN live with this... maybe there really IS a way.

    After everything we'd been through... I'd been through... it was going to be okay.

     Everything is gonna be okay.

     Everything is gonna be okay.

     Everything is gonna be okay.

     The tears stung my eyes like fine needles before I could stop them. Blinded by emotion, I pulled Stanley closer to me and buried my face in his shoulder, refusing to let him see me cry.

     "Hey, hey..." his voice was filled with concern. It took a few moments of dumbfounded silence before he reacted, one hand rubbing my back smoothly and the other coming to rest tentatively on the back of my head.

     I couldn't speak yet, the lump in my throat straining my vocal chords and setting me up for a trap that would surely release the waterworks. I hated crying, and I'd cried more this past week or two than I'd cried in a long time. But it was soothing just to be held in his arms for a while. He didn't ask questions, and he didn't have to say or do anything — his presence was enough.

     Whilst trying to compose myself, I breathed him in. Of course there was the usual background fragrance of marijuana that always followed him around, but there was something else. He smelled distinctly like vanilla. Vanilla...

     Vanilla Skin. I smiled, being taken back to riding shotgun in his car and feeling the wind in my hair as Bloodwitch played through the radio.

     "You okay?" he mumbled into my hair. The warmth of his breath ran pleasantly down the back of my neck, and I shivered.

     After taking a few small breaths, I managed a "Yeah." without my voice cracking.

     "You sure...?"

     A breathy chuckle slipped past my lips. "I'm great, it's just..." I licked my lips, not quite sure if words could amount to how I was feeling right then. "... things are gonna get better, aren't they?"

     "They will. You'll have plenty of shitty days, but I promise you, there'll be so many more good ones." he told me sincerely, his head leaning back slightly so his temple brushed the top of my hairline. It was almost like we were touching foreheads. Taking a deep breath, he added, "Someone once told me... that above the clouds, the sun still rises and sets every day."

     "That's true." I nodded, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck with my fingertips. I was about to ask him who'd told him that, but a microphone being switched on distracted me.

     The Ronettes song had faded out, I finally noticed, and Mr. File's monotone voice reminded me that we were weren't in fact alone, just the two of us, but in fact we were surrounded by our entire year group and more. Reluctantly, I let myself go from his embrace but still stood close to Stanley, our elbows brushing.

     "Oh, here we go..." Stan watched the stage, unamused. He rocked back and forth on his heels. "Homecoming King and Queen. I shit you not, in years to come, they'll realise this moment was the peak of their existence."

     I laughed, again — I'd been doing that a lot tonight — and listened Mr. File tried to settle the crowd down. But I didn't watch him, for right now I could only look at the boy standing next to me. The euphoria from our slow dance had yet to wear thin, but until then, all logic was thrown out of the window for Stanley Barber.

     Maybe that's what made me impulsively reach up and kiss his cheek. Right by the cut his dad gave him.

     Whether that was brave or stupid, I have no idea; it certainly gave both of us a shock. Stan looked as stunned as I was as his fingers brushed the area where I'd kissed him. He inspected his fingertips, as if he was checking for something on them, and gawped at me with dilated pupils and lips parted in a daze.

Lips.

As I'd been searching his face for his reaction, I caught sight of them. Now they were impossible to look away from. His own eyes had flitted down to mine, getting the message too.

     It was him who leaned forward first. A timid step forward, his face moving closer to mine. I took a step forward myself, my guts tying into nervous knots as I did. Our chests touched and for a moment, I thought my heartbeat had risen dangerously, until I realised it was his racing heart that was hammering to match the pace of mine.

     I looked up at him as he bowed his head slightly, a small, shaky exhale slipping past his lips. Our close proximity had cast a shadow over his eyes, which were still wide and open as his eyelids fluttered apprehensively. I was pretty sure I was sweating from just about every gland in my body...

     When was I supposed to close my eyes? Part of me had no idea. As our breaths mingled, I just kept staring, not knowing when to stop, when to let myself go.

     Then I remembered: the whole point of letting yourself go is to, you know, let go.

    Fuck it. Swallowing my doubts, I shut my eyes and leaned blindly forward. My palms found a place to rest on his chest, feeling his heartbeat pulsating through my hands. Our upper lips had barely grazed, merely a whisper of a touch, when—

     BEEEEP!

     I recoiled from his touch at a painfully sharp noise that a mic made from the front stage, followed by an unwelcome voice that hollered, "Listen up!"

     Had I just imagined Bradley Lewis interrupting what was about to be my first kiss, or had that dickhead actually just waltzed in and ruined the moment?

     Turns out it was the latter, for when we both broke out of our safe little bubble and turned to the stage, there he was: standing there in his varsity jacket, his fingers drumming the microphone that he'd just snatched out of the hands of Homecoming King, Jeff Butters, who stood confused at the back. Mr. File attempted to intervene but Brad held the mic out of his reach as he hissed, "Give me a second! Give me a second!"

     Everyone had stopped slow dancing, exchanging confused murmurs at the sight of Bradley Lewis right there on stage. If this was some attempt of his to claim the spot for Homecoming King, it was lame, and the exact reason why I usually don't attend these kind of school events if I can avoid them.

     "I would like to take this moment... to talk about something very important that affects everyone. Sydney Novak."

     The crowds parted slightly to reveal Sydney and Dina standing in the middle, who looked around perplexed. What the hell was he talking about? If this had anything to do with detention the other day...

     "Hey, Sydney! Raise your hand! Raise your hand," he said, mockingly. "Raise your hand so everybody can see you."

     Sydney didn't do nothing, just stood with her arms folded. The smile that had been plastered across her face all day ceased to exist. Oh no, I thought, a spark of fear surfacing inside my belly. The breaking point. This was where it all crumbled, the upbeat attitude she'd tried to sustain, until Brad had to come and ruin it. She didn't even make it through a whole day.

    "You see, what a lot of people don't know about Sydney..." Brad reaches into his pocket, pulling out a familiar-looking journal with a cat on the front. "... Is that she is one hell of a writer."

     The diary. It was like a slap around the face, the gasoline that ignited that fearful spark inside of me. A reminder that my cousin couldn't escape this. All of a sudden I felt an impending doom render me motionless. Only three people knew the contents of that diary: Sydney, me, and now Brad too. That made us the only three people in the room who knew how much damage it could do if anyone found out all those secrets.

     "What's he talking about?" Stanley whispered, puzzled.

     "He knows... he knows everything." I told him under my breath, the dreaded words feeling like a knife being twisted in my gut.

     Immediately understanding, his face lost all colour and he looked like he could be sick with anxiety. For a while, both of us could only watch, feeling powerless as we knew that he had asserted dominance over all of us... and all because he had that fucking diary in his hand.

     Why did you say so much? I screamed at Sydney in my head, as Brad jumped off the stage and regained his balance. Why couldn't you have just kept it inside? Why did you have to write it all down?

     He began pushing his way through the crowd, who cut a clear path straight towards the poor girl. "You know, i-it's funny, because everyone's so fast to call me an asshole. But while I was downstairs banging Jenny Tuffield at Ricky's..." there were a couple of gasps and 'Ooh's from students who reacted "... guess what Sydney was doing upstairs? She was kissing my girlfriend."

     "I can't watch this." Stan muttered, and I nodded as my blood began to boil. We began finding gaps in the crowd where we could squeeze through, in the hopes of getting to Sydney to defend her pride and reputation.

     "Now, don't get me wrong. Chicks get drunk, make out sometimes, and I'm all for it —" he paused as some idiot yelled 'Haha, yeah!' before clenching his jaw in spite. He'd reached the clearing in the middle of the gym where Sydney was. "— but being a full-on dyke... that's a whole other ballgame."

     I felt a hand grab my arm, turning my head to see Calvin's eyes filled with worry. Ryder was behind him, mirroring his expression.

     "Hallie, what the fuck is going on?" he whispered, not letting me go.

     Looking helplessly as Stan continued to weave through the crowd, I replied, "I really don't know." and pried myself free of his grip as I tried to catch up.

     "I mean, Syd is fucking in love with Dina. Page after page, it's absolutely pathetic!"

     "Oh, shut up, Brad!" I heard Dina snap.

     "My God... don't even get me started on the daddy issues with this one..."

     I felt my hands tremble with fury. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders, shake that diary out of his hand and shriek, THAT'S MY FUCKING UNCLE, YOU BASTARD!

     "Everyone in her life thinks she's a piece of shit. I mean, everyone!"

     I was behind Stanley when I spotted him emerge into the clearing. "Hey man, leave her ALONE!" he yelled, running to Sydney's defense as he charged towards Brad.

     Not even batting an eyelid, Brad swung his fist around to meet Stan's face. His head jerked violently to the side, evoking a gasp from the surrounding teens that had become an audience, yet no one did anything as the boy staggered two steps before plummeting to the ground.

     "Stan!" I lunged forward to try and soften his fall, but I only fell to my knees as he hit the wooden floor. I placed my hand gently on his back, pushing the hair out of his face. He was completely out for the count.

     Where were the fucking teachers? Mr. File, Mr. Whitaker? Why were they letting Brad knock a student out cold? Why were they letting him take the stage during an acceptance speech? And why were they letting him BULLY MY COUSIN—

     "You ASSHOLE!" I shouted, startling everyone including me as I rose to my feet, hands balled into fists at my side. Brad just laughed manically, and for a moment, I thought he was sick in the head. It wasn't until I went to stand by Sydney's side in solidarity that I got a good look at his eyes: his pupils were dilated, not in the loving way Stan's did. He was under the influence of something. Alcohol, drugs, something. He had no filter. The raw fury in his stare, vengeance in its purest form, froze me to the spot. I could understand now why she hadn't budged, paralysed in trepidation.

     He was terrifying. And more importantly, he wasn't finished yet.

     "But that..." he took a step closer, savouring the small tear that Sydney wiped from her eye. "... is not even the weirdest thing about Sydney Novak."

     You could tell he was enjoying this — every second of it, he was soaking up the attention, knowing for sure that people would shift views and turn on her once he said it. Whether he thought it was real and wanted people to believe him, or whether he thought it was some kind of practical joke to make her look insane, neither of those prospects put me at ease. His satisfaction at the way Sydney's jaw clenched in containment of her anger made me queasy.

     I suddenly feared what she would do. This was an enormous amount of pressure she was faced with, and out of nowhere, too. If she couldn't handle Brad putting his arm around Dina without lashing out, what would she do next?

     I couldn't watch, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, either. There was nothing I could do except take the blow with her. Words failed me, leaving me tongue tied and frightened of what would follow.

     "Get this..." Brad let out an amused chuckle.

Please don't say it. Please don't say it. I'm begging you, please.

"... Sydney claims..."

PLEASE.

"... that she has—"

A deafening BANG! instinctively made me shut my eyes and I felt hot liquid spew all over me from head to toe. As it happened there were shrieks, and I couldn't see and I didn't want to see, but I knew it must have been terrible, and whatever it was there could only be one explanation as to how it happened.

I willed myself to pry my eyes open and I nearly fainted.

Whatever that thing standing before me was, arms collapsing limply by his sides, it wasn't Bradley Lewis. His head wasn't there... it was fucking gone, blown to bits... in its place was a hunk of bone and torn, raw, muscly flesh surrounding it, blood spurting and squirting endlessly from decapitated veins and arteries in surges, being pumped relentlessly by a heart about to stop. Sludges of brain matter had flown across the room and stained various people, and the smell was rancid, like a butcher's shop, choking me slowly and making my eyes water.

A stunned silence ensued as we watched his headless body sink to its knees, then collapsing flat at our feet and submerging our soles in a river of blood that splashed out from his neck.

And that's when all hell broke loose.

There was screaming, SO much screaming, but all I could look at was HIM. The crimson pool continued to grow, thick and strong, churning with death. It slowly expanded and my eyes were fixated, hypnotised. Nothing computed. Nothing registered. Just him. Lying there.

How was it that there was so much blood from one person?

I don't know how long I was standing there, catatonic to everything going around me, but it was the second the pool reached me and touched the tips of my soaked, once-white shoes that I snapped out of it. I gasped sharply, the weight of what had just happened hitting me at once like dynamite being set off.

I remember stumbling back, being pushed and shoved by screaming people also covered in his blood, and being knocked to the ground. I struggled to not get trampled on, my panic heightening at the figures above me rushing here, there and everywhere... I saw Dina crouched next to the corpse, sobbing with her head in her stained hands. Stanley was still unconscious. And Sydney was gone.

SHIT.

A burst of adrenaline made me rise from the ground, and I began following the floods of people that were evacuating towards the exit. It was like a current that carried me through the corridor, rubbing shoulders with terrified classmates, and as I was whisked away I began hoarsely howling Sydney's name. I could see her in the distance, walking with her shoulders hunched in shock.

I caught a brief glimpse of myself in the window of a classroom door: some people had been splattered, but I was completely drenched. It was in my hair, on my shoes, my periwinkle dress now a flattering shade of blood red. It was in my mouth, in my ears, up my nose every time I breathed. GET IT OUT OF ME, I begged. I could feel it on my skin, sinking into my pores and suffocating me.

It was his blood all over me, and that's when it struck me: Brad was dead. He was actually dead.

Another outcry and I finally caught her attention. From the back she was clear of any blood but when she turned around, I saw the massacre stained on her front. She was caked in the stuff: it dampened wisps of her hair, obscured her skin, soaked her dress. From far away we looked charred and burned, but it felt thick, hot, and heavy like an omen.

     Please say it wasn't you, I pleaded inside. Please tell me you didn't do it.

Time seemed to stop as she stared at me a few metres away. Her eyes were ripped open the widest I'd ever seen them, devastated shell-shocked reflecting in her irises. There was something in the way she looked at me, tears cutting a trail through the blood, and it seemed to say, I'm so sorry. I tried.

We both did, I tried to say back wordlessly. She stared at me in response:

But we failed.

We both knew what she'd just done. How no one would ever understand this burden she would carry for life. That she was a... I can't even say it, but we both thought it in that moment.

I didn't know what I wanted her to do. Come home for safety? Run away and never come back? I didn't know which was the better option. All I know is that nothing will ever compare to the soul-crushing desperation I felt when she turned away from me, for the last time, and pushed open the front doors.

For me there was no option but to run after her. What else could I do? I loved... love her.

The evening air attacked my lungs like cold stabbings, sucking the breath out of me. My heart beating, pulsing, thumping, far too fast for me to catch up with.

I ran. I ran, so hard, hoping it would make the palpitating subside— I just needed to find her, before she did something else— but it wouldn't stop— and through the screams of her name that lost their volume, my legs that began to shake uncontrollably with each pounding footsteps against the pavement, it only got worse. I thought my chest was going to explode, just like Brad's—

NO. GET HIM OUT OF YOUR HEAD.

I didn't want to think about him in there, now the epicentre of a murder scene.

Instead I began coughing as another manoeuvre to slow my heart. A flood of bile spewed from me with a sickening hack on the third cough, doubling me over onto the ground. I heaved and heaved the acidic stuff that burned my throat, refusing to open my eyes, pleading for all of this to be over, hoping that it was all in my head...

After a minute of dry heaving I was gagging on thin air, abdominal muscles grinding and gurgling the emptied pit in my stomach. It certainly did the trick to wake my heart up again... but I still felt Brad's blood tightening its coil around me like a python. I couldn't breathe. The sour and hot fumes from the pathetic puddle of vomit on the ground weren't helping, creating a horrific concoction with the blood and brains that engulfed me. The resultant miasma was what nightmares were made of.

Cold racked through my body, every part of me quaking from the breeze and from shock. Sydney was long gone, for sure, and Bradley Lewis was dead. What now? What now?

There was nothing else to do. We had tried to pretend everything is normal. But what Sydney's gone through... that's not normal... people don't just wake up with kinetic powers. She's not fucking normal, she's a freak.

So there I sat, numbed to the core: the silence in my head drowning out Stanley calling my name, or the growing wail of police sirens in the distance. My sticky scarlet coat beginning to dry, but still tasting metallic in my mouth. Letting the shivers seize control and rattle the silent tears out of me. Tormenting thoughts ebbing away at my consciousness, my imagination fuelling me with graphic portraits of Sydney as a fugitive, consuming me in the dread of who would might dead next.

But I wasn't worried that she would kill another Bradley Lewis. I was worried that she would kill herself.

________________________

A/N:

m i n d b l o w n

what can i say, except AHHHHH?

hallie at the end of chapter 17: "tonight's gonna be fun!"
hallie at the end of chapter 18:

you lot didn't think i'd feed you some stallie without ruining it all, did you? sorry 'bout that...

to cheer you up after the kind of depressing way this chapter ended, here are a couple of things that make me laugh about episode 1x07 of ianowt:

• what was jeff butters gonna say in his acceptance speech before brad cut him off? he literally started off with "first off, i wanna thank my mum" but what next? what did his mum do? we'll never know.

• when stanley woke up and saw brad's body, i immediately imagined him thinking "must be the marijuana..." (on a serious note he must have been so confused and terrified! and probably concussed, poor stan 😢)

so, there's only one chapter left to go: the epilogue... wow, that is so bizarre to say. i'd like to thank you for all the support you guys have given me on this story, it means the world! i'll have an ending note to publish at the end as a thank you, but i also wanted to tell you here.

have good day/evening, and i'll see you in the epilogue!

song of the chapter: 'put your head on my shoulder' - paul anka
(brad's head explodes, the aftermath)
^^ if you thought it was gonna play during a stallie scene: 🤡

pre-written: 7th june, 2020
published: 15th june, 2020