As each day passes and my date with Christian grows closer, my excitement grows with it. I still don't know what he has planned, and every time I try to ask he either distracts me with something else or flat out refuses to give away his secrets.

It's Friday now, and today is finally the day. I sit in my chemistry class with Peter beside me, and instead of taking notes to prepare for the upcoming test, I'm naming off all the places Christian could possibly take me on a piece of paper.

Our town, Greystone, isn't very big and we have limited resources. There's a small movie theater and a couple of restaurants —- Christian's parents included —- and a quarry that everyone goes to in the summer for parties and swimming. But it's too cold out for swimming, and I don't see Christian sitting down to watch a movie for our first date. So I honestly have no idea what he's planning.

As I've been lost in my musings, the bell for the end of class rings throughout the halls and classroom. I jump at the sound and jerk out of my thoughts as everyone around me stands up with their things and leave the room. I pack away my stuff more slowly, and stand up with Peter for our next class. I want to ask him if he has any ideas for my date, but when I open my mouth to introduce the subject, Peter already seems to be lost in his own thoughts. I sigh, and think, I guess I'm on my own . . .

+  +  +

Jordan's p.o.v.

All around me people excitedly chatter about their weekend plans; trick-or-treating; seeing a movie; going to the next city over for shopping; visiting family or friends. There are so many different voices and they're all talking over each other. It hurts my head, and exhaling a deep breath, I lean forward and rest my elbows against the tabletop. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on blocking everyone out, only for someone to bang their bag against the table and pull out the chair beside me with a loud scrape. I drop my hands onto the table in exasperation, ready to snap at them for being so loud. But at the last second I manage to restrain myself and bite my tongue.

My day started out hard because my dad had been drinking the night before and decided to pick a fight with me before school, making me frustrated and angry and short-tempered. JoAnna sits down beside me, and nudges my arm as she says, "Hey, babe! Do you want to go out trick-or-treating tomorrow night?"

I glance up at her lazily and mumble, "I don't know . . . maybe. My dad got drunk last night so I'm just not feeling like much of anything . . ."

I watch as JoAnna's face falls, and immediately wish I hadn't said anything. She worries so much about me, and she already has her own parentally issues and I hate to add mine to the mix —- it makes me feel selfish.

JoAnna sighs and tenderly reaches out to touch my arm, a sympathetic smile ghosting along her lips. "You can stay with me at my place if you want tonight?"

I don't hesitate to accept her offer, although a part of me is telling myself that I shouldn't, that if I accept it'll just make things harder later. But I feel like being selfish —- I need something happy today and JoAnna makes me unbelievably happy. I just hate myself for what I might have to do . . .

Flashback: Two years ago

"I don't understand why my sister stuck us together...." mutters the boy beside me.

He's shorter than me by about a few inches, and his hair hangs in greasy strands to his chin. He's clothes are rough and worn and he has a healing bruise above his left eyebrow, and a small split in his bottom lip. The boy is a mess, and when he's sister suggested I take him under my wing, I began to dread everything about today. But being with him now I understand.

He's sister is worried about him.

I shrug. "She probably just wanted to get you out of the house to spend time with her girlfriend," I mutter.

"Ugh, like I need that image in my head," Peter groans.

I laugh. "Well, you asked," I tease.

Peter rolls his eyes. "So where are we going exactly?"

We have just crossed the street, and our distention is straight ahead. It's an old, rundown brick building that looks like it could collapse at any moment. But the inside tells a different story. The interior of the building is warm and rich in the latest trends, with a couch so comfortable you never want to stand up. The walls are decorated in artwork by the people who work there, and it's one of my favorite places in our small town.

"A tattoo parlor? Cool," Peter mutters as he steps inside the building.

When we walk inside, I can hear soft eighties music playing in the background and the distance buzz of a tattoo gun. I smile to myself. I feel at home in this place surrounded by everything that makes sense to me —- a place I can immediately walk into and not feel judged. My home life is complicated with a mother, who is too stuck in the pass to move on, and sees me as a Satan worshipper because I listen to music with too much yelling at a floor shaking volume and have destroyed my body with tattoos and piercings; and a father who is caught more often with a beer in hand than not.

And recently there's a girl I've been seeing; she's beautiful and brave, and makes me want to be better and strive for things I always thought were out of my reach. I want to be better for her, and I'll have to break free of this small town life if I ever plan on being someone she deserves. And maybe I'm crazy, but as I sit down to add yet another tattoo to my inked skin, branding her name as a permanent part of me will mean more than just a fleeting high school crush.

JoAnna Rogers gives me the confidence to soar.

I sigh at the memory as I trace my finger over the black ink on my under forearm, that forever bares JoAnna's name on my skin written in a beautiful script. Things have changed since the day I got it; the future isn't as clear as it use to be . . . I use to want everything JoAnna wants: marriage; the sounds of little feet and laughter filling a room; the calming scent of waking up beside her every morning; and always kissing her good night. But before any of that can happen, I need to be better and deserving of a future with her.

I need to stop staying out late and going to parties, and waking up too drunk on the weekends to remember the night before. I have to crack open a book and study if I want the slightest chance of making it into college; I have to get a scholarship or help through finical aid; I need to stop spending my money and start saving. JoAnna deserves the best out of life, and with each new day, I'm fearful that won't be me.

+  +  +

Megan's p.o.v.

My fingertips have grown calloused and rough from my years of piano practicing, and yet my parents don't see it as good enough. They want more out of me; longer practice hours, more recitals and awards. I hate it. The piano use to be the one thing I clung too, now it's one of the things I hate most.

My parents never ask me what I want, and they never notice that their pressure for me to be the best is running me ragged. I hardly get the chance to study for my classes, which has resulted in a major drop in my grades and multiple test failures. And because of the stress of trying to please my parents and keep my grades up for college, I'm drowning and I can feel myself slipping away.

I don't eat. I can hardly sleep. And I'm absolutely miserable.

I wish they would notice . . . I just want it all to stop. I want my happy life back, before I ever touched a piano that sparked this endless cycle of pain and loneliness.

I just want it all to stop . . .

+  +  +

Christian's p.o.v.

I collapse at our usual lunch table with a huff, and draw the curious eyes of Jordan and JoAnna. Kat is too engrossed in her conversation with Abby to realize I'm here; and Megan appears to be asleep with her head resting on her folded arms over the table.

"Why are you so huffy, Christian?" JoAnna asks curiously.

"I just got out of gym class and the teacher has us doing workouts. It's so exhausting," I reply as I open my water bottle and take a drink.

JoAnna giggles as Jordan says, "At least your in shape . . ."

I roll my eyes. "It still sucks."

Jordan laughs, and a small silence falls over us as I pull out my lunch; which consists of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, gummy snacks, and a banana. Jordan eyeballs my lunch, and around another laugh, he asks, "What are you, five?"

I roll my eyes and mubble around my mouthful of banana. "Don't judge my meal choices!" I cry.

Jordan laughs, and JoAnna snickers. Kat finally glances up from her conversation with Abby then, and smiles at me as she asks, "So I heard from my brother that you're planning a date night with Beau. Where are you taking him?" Kat asks curiously.

I finish chewing my food and swallow, and I'm about to tell them my idea when JoAnna hushes us. I frown at her curiously, and she jerks her chin in the direction behind us, just as the chair beside me pulls out and Beau appears beside me. I glance at him, and he's looking at my lunch with pursed lips.

When he feels my gaze on him, he looks up at me and asks, "Did your mom pack your lunch?"

"Why is everyone judging my lunch!" I cry. Beau blinks at me in surprise, and I sigh before rolling my eyes. "Ugh, nevermind."

Beau bites his bottom lip, and smiling weakly he leans over to kiss my cheek. He smiles at me when he pulls away, and grabs my hand as he says, "I'm not judging your lunch Christian. I think it's cute you feel comfortable enough in your masculinity to bring gummy bears to school." Beau finishes saying with a grin.

I purse my lips and lean in to whisper in his ear, "Now you're just being mean, Mr. Bayes."

Beau giggles and quickly kisses my cheek, and then steals one of my gummy bears and pops it into his mouth. I roll my eyes at him, a ghost of a smile curving my lips. "So what's the subject of conversation today?" Beau asks.

"Well, we were going to ask where—- Ow!" JoAnna cries after I kick her beneath the table. She throws me a disbelieving look, and I shake my head just enough for her to understand.
"O-Oh, I mean.... Um, Jordan and I might go trick-or-treating tomorrow. Are you guys in?"

Beau's eyes light up excitedly, and he cries, "Of course! I've been working on the perfect costume all week!"

JoAnna grins. "How about you Peter, Christian?"

"I wouldn't miss Beau dressed in tights for anything," I reply.

Beau gasps and pushes me as he cries, "I will not be wearing tights!"

I just chuckle, before muttering, "I can dream, can't I?"

Beau rolls his eyes, while Peter says, "I might stay home this year . . ."

JoAnna pouts. "Okay, I hope you come though it'll be our first year celebrating with Christian," JoAnna says, then she sighs. "Anyway, are you guys coming to Jordan's first football game? It'll end just in time for Halloween."

"Oh! I completely forgot about that!" Beau cries. "I'm sorry, and I'll definitely be there."

Jordan rolls his eyes and chuckles humorlessly. "Did anyone else forget?" he teases. Beau glares at him, and Jordan just grins.

"Did you forget four of us are playing in the band and are therefore obligated to be there?" Peter retorts boredly.

Jordan glances at him and frowns, and replies, "Wow, thanks for sounding like you care." He says sarcastically with an eye roll.

Peter rolls his eyes too, and just flicks a piece of food across the table as he mutters, "I didn't realize I'm suppose to be excited . . ."

Jordan's frown deepens, and Kat purses her lips. "Are you okay, Peter?" she asks.

"I'm peachy," Peter replies, curtly.

I bite my bottom lip, and glance at Beau, but he seems just as surprised and thrown off by Peter's behavior as all of us. I can't help but wonder what made him so hostile and short-tempered, and for a split second I think I see a bruise over his right eye, but he turns away and I'm not sure if I'm just seeing things or not. I'm hope it's just my imagination....

Peter's p.o.v.
Flashback: Thirty minutes ago

I groan in muffled pain after one of the four bullies that surround me, kick me in my side. It's been months since the last night they all took the time to track me down and physically hurt me. Maybe they got tired of the name calling, and wanted to mix it up for the new upcoming month?

I can never understand why they chose me as their target, but for the past three years they've been making my life hell in and out of school. And as I lay crumpled on my side, slowly sucking in a ragged breath, I decide not for the first time to take a stand. All my other attempts to stand up to them have ended miserably, but I've been preparing myself for this, and I feel ready . . .

When bully number two leans down —- I've never cared enough to learn their names, just seeing their faces alone is enough to haunt me —- I make my move. I quickly spin into my back and punch him beneath his jaw, hard enough to send his feet flying out beneath him and chasing to the floor —- or maybe he was just surprised and caught off judge, because when I go to jump to my feet the other three over power me. They kick me; they punch me; they call me names; and finally, they leave me alone bleeding and hurt in one of the abandoned classrooms on the second floor that they chased and corner me into.

When I build up enough energy to move, I go to the nearest restroom to clean myself off, but the ghost of a bruise that's blossoming over my right eye can't be washed away. It'll just be another reminder that I'm not able to save myself, and have no one there when I need them.

Word count: 2,541

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A/N: Hello, lovelies! I hope everybody enjoyed the chapter, and thank you so much for reading! Have a wonderful day/night!

Love from,
BunnyBaekkiee ❤️