CHAPTER 8
September 16. Ten Years Earlier.
The school bell erupted right beside his ear — like thunder from a clear sky.
Rick flinched, adjusted the backpack on his shoulder automatically, and kept struggling with the locker lock. The metal clanged unpleasantly, refusing to give way at once, as though it too had something against him.
The corridor was noisy: someone was laughing, someone was talking, soda bottles snapped open, locker doors slammed. Hundreds of voices, dozens of faces — and not a single familiar one. Everyone passed by without lingering, as though he simply did not exist.
He had already chosen his classes, his schedule was in his pocket, but that didn’t make it any easier. He didn’t want to go home — another fight between his parents would be waiting there, arguments and shouting through the walls. His father, who had been reaching for the bottle more and more often. His mother, exhausted, trying to keep the remains of the family afloat and denying the inevitable divorce with all her strength. Their conversations had long since been reduced to three phrases: “How are you?” “Fine.” “Good.”
His connection to his old friends had been left somewhere far away, as if in another life. There had been a noisy boardwalk, salty sea wind, and parties until dawn. All of it had ended in an instant.
And now he was seventeen, standing in the stuffy hallway of a strange school in a God-forgotten town at the edge of the country.
Rick exhaled, slammed the locker door shut with a click, and leaned against the cold metal as though it could keep him from falling into emptiness.
At that moment, two boys stopped nearby.
One had an open smile and seemed easy by nature, as though he felt at home in any company. He gave off an immediate sense of simplicity and friendliness.
The other was the opposite.
Tall, composed, with a sharp, observant gaze. His eyes slid over Rick, lingered for a second, then immediately moved away, as though he didn’t care at all.
“Hey! I’m Steve Miller,” the smiling one said first. His voice was as easy as his manner. “And this is Aaron Lake. You’re new, right?”
He held out his hand confidently, in a friendly way.
Rick felt his mouth go dry.
“Yeah... Richard Parker. Rick is fine,” he said quickly, shaking the offered hand.
Aaron didn’t move. Only a brief nod. No emotion, no hint of interest. As though the mere fact of his presence there was enough.
Parker automatically looked away, thinking to himself:
“Cold type.”
“When did you move here?” Steve asked, leaning slightly toward him.
“Last week. My dad got a job here,” Rick shrugged, trying to make it sound casual.
“Where from?”
“Santa Cruz, California.”
“Wow...” Steve whistled. “Now that’s a contrast. The Sunshine State and...” He gestured expressively around at the dull gray-beige hallway walls. “All this. Must be depressing as hell.”
“Well...” Rick smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. He didn’t want to sound like a complainer right away, but pretending wasn’t working either.
Steve leaned closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially.
“Come on, don’t be shy. Everyone knows this place is a hole. It’s gray and boring, but...” He raised his eyebrows slightly, as if trying to encourage him. “We know how to find things to do.”
He leaned back against the neighboring locker — lightly, almost playfully — and smiled wider.
“Listen, want to come with us tomorrow for horror night?”
“Horror night?” Rick visibly brightened, even straightened, forgetting his awkwardness for a moment.
Beside them, Aaron gave a quiet snort and folded his arms across his chest.
“Just because you don’t go doesn’t mean Rick won’t enjoy it,” Steve said calmly, turning slightly toward him.
Aaron’s gaze slid over the students passing by, and he grimaced faintly.
“Who even enjoys listening to stories about maniacs? A bunch of schoolkids scaring each other for fun.”
“Actually, it sounds interesting,” Rick cut in quickly, raising his eyebrows. “What do I need to bring?”
Steve snapped his fingers, suddenly animated.
“Bring a flashlight and your favorite snack. That’s your entry ticket.”
He winked, and Rick couldn’t help smiling.
“Okay.”
For the first time that day, he meant it.
“Great! Give me your number. I’ll send you the location.”
They quickly exchanged contacts, after which Steve and Aaron headed off to their next class.
The hallway was still buzzing with voices, bells, and slamming doors, but Rick suddenly caught
himself feeling a little lighter inside.
September 17. Ten Years Earlier.
He arrived on time.
The backpack pulled heavily at his shoulder: inside were a flashlight, a bag of chips, chocolate cookies, a couple cans of cola, and, just in case, several cans of beer. Rick felt prepared, although his heart was still beating faster than he would have liked.
The old hunting cabin looked as though it had long been begging to be torn down: peeling paint, cloudy windows, overgrowth all around, leaves already touched with yellow. The perfect place for teenagers who didn’t want adults knowing what they were up to.
A group had already gathered near the cabin.
Laughter, loud conversations, the glow of phone screens, jokes, voices interrupting one another — it all hit Rick at once. The feeling of being an outsider pricked unpleasantly beneath his ribs.
He exhaled slowly and made himself walk toward the crowd.
He spotted Steve right away.
And beside him — Aaron.
He stood a little apart, hands shoved into his pockets, looking as though none of this especially interested him.
“Hey,” Rick stopped in front of him and, unable to help himself, spoke to him first. “So you came after all?”
Aaron looked at him calmly.
“Yes. And?”
His voice was even, but Rick still felt as though he had said something wrong.
“I thought you didn’t like this kind of thing,” he said with a faint smile, trying to find some kind of connection.
“I wanted to come, so I came.” He cut him off shortly. Indifferently. But for some reason, his gray-blue eyes lingered on him a little longer than necessary.
“What crawled up your ass, Lake?” Steve cut in, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “He only asked.”
Aaron merely gave a quiet huff.
Steve rolled his eyes — apparently long used to this mood of his friend’s — and turned back to Rick.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
Without waiting for an answer, Steve lightly took Rick by the elbow and led him deeper into the group.
The tension inside him gradually loosened, though he could still feel that sharp, unfamiliar gaze somewhere between his shoulder blades.
“Guys, meet Richard Parker,” Steve announced with a smile.
“Hi. Just Rick,” he corrected quickly, feeling his palms grow damp with nerves.
“Hey, I’m Mark Cooper,” a curly-haired boy with a broad grin said first, holding out his hand.
His grip was firm and confident, and there was a bright spark in his eyes, as though Mark were ready to jump into the next adventure at any second.
“Thomas Barkley,” a tall Black boy introduced himself next.
His handshake was calm and solid, without any showy bravado.
“And this is Lucas Griffin.” Steve nodded toward a hooded figure.
Lucas lifted his eyes for only a second. Gray eyes flashed in the shadow, then he gave the faintest nod and lowered his head again.
Not a word.
“Good to meet you,” Mark said easily, clapping Rick on the shoulder. “You’ll meet the girls later. They’re in the cabin setting up candles and making the ‘creepy atmosphere.’ They kicked us out. Said we were in the way.”
Rick couldn’t help smiling.
It still felt strange — standing here among people he barely knew — but to his surprise, no one was looking at him like he was an outsider.
“Is everyone here?” Steve asked, turning to Mark.
“Nah. Still waiting on John.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Bastard’s late, as usual.”
The crowd shifted again: someone laughed, someone took a drink from a can, someone started arguing about movies.
And for the first time in a long while, Rick thought that maybe things here wouldn’t be so bad after all.
***
Inside the cabin, there was an almost festive bustle.
The girls were busy in the corners: someone was setting out plastic plates and cups, someone was fixing the crooked string lights on the wall. Wax candles were already burning—the warm golden flames trembled softly, throwing strange shadows across the walls.
Bright blankets and pillows had been spread across the floor, turning the old hunting cabin with its peeling walls into a cozy shelter for a party. The sweet smell of melted wax hit the nose, mixed with the scent of chips and cheap soda.
Rhythmic music poured from a portable speaker — light and far too alive for these dusty walls. It drowned out the silence of the forest beyond the windows and filled the room with a sense of movement and anticipation.
There was something more in the air than just smells and sounds. It smelled like expectation. Like something special was about to happen, maybe even something frightening... but that was exactly what made it so exciting.
“Can you imagine? Aaron came with Steve today too!” Emma said dreamily, setting out plastic cups and twirling a red curl around her plump finger.
“Yeah, I saw,” Misty grimaced, slapping a pillow down onto the blanket to straighten it. “For some reason, he annoys me. Everyone at school talks about him nonstop, and now there’s no peace here either. Why the hell does Steve keep dragging him everywhere?”
“Oh, come on,” Emma snorted and adjusted a candle. “I think he seems nice. Reliable... and insanely handsome.”
She blushed slightly and immediately turned back to the string lights.
“You’re such a slut, Emma,” Misty burst out laughing, smacking her friend on the shoulder. “Any guy with a dick looks handsome to you.”
“Come on,” Katie cut in from the floor, sitting with a bag of chips. She was pouring them into a bowl with such focus that it seemed to truly matter. “Besides, Lake really is damn good-looking.”
She giggled softly, but her gaze immediately slid away.
“I like John better,” Misty said dreamily, falling onto the pillows and throwing her arms behind her head.
“Of course you do,” Emma snorted, launching a pillow at her. “Only it’s not John you want, it’s his daddy’s money.”
“Yeah, so what?” Misty drawled lazily, stretching out her legs.
“Stop it,” Katie murmured, rising to fix the string lights. Her fingers lingered on the wire a little longer than necessary.
“Fine, fine,” Misty rolled her eyes and tossed the pillow into the air.
“So how are things with you and Mark?” Emma asked quietly, giving Katie a quick look while adjusting a candle.
“Nowhere,” Katie answered too quickly and immediately turned away.
She sank back down onto the floor as though hiding behind the bowl of chips. A brief smile flickered across her lips, but her eyes remained sad.
Emma frowned but didn’t press.
“Oh, boys...” she murmured more softly. “Nothing but trouble with them. Want help with the snacks?”
“Thanks, I’m almost done,” Katie answered quietly, straightening the package of cookies.
***
Meanwhile, Mark, Thomas, and Steve didn’t give Rick a moment to breathe.
“What are you into?”
“What movies do you like?”
“Music? Sports?”
The questions came one after another.
At first, Rick was almost overwhelmed by the pressure, but gradually he relaxed, and the conversation began to flow on its own. He told them about the coast, about the friends he had left behind in California, about photography, basketball, and even a little about music. Unexpectedly, he realized that fitting into a new group wasn’t as hard as he had thought.
The guys joked, interrupted one another, laughed at old stories. There was something contagious in their ease—around them, his tension slowly receded.
And still, Rick’s gaze kept drifting to the side.
Aaron stood a short distance away, arms folded across his chest, as though there were an invisible wall between him and everyone else. He barely took part in the conversation, only occasionally lifting his eyes and calmly observing what was happening.
At one point, their eyes met.
Only for a second.
But for some reason, Rick was the one who looked away first.
Outside, dusk was already thickening.
The air had grown damp, smelling of wet leaves and cold earth. The unfamiliar chill crept under his skin. Rick shivered, tightening his grip on the strap of his backpack.
Through the rustle of branches, the low rumble of an engine suddenly cut through.
A red convertible swung dramatically out from between the trees, blinding the gathered group with its headlights. Even in the dusk, the car looked as though it had just rolled off a magazine cover: perfect lines, a polished shine, the confident growl of the engine.
“Finally!” Mark exhaled.
“And here’s John,” Thomas said with a smirk.
Rick couldn’t help whistling.
“Damn...”
The tires scraped over mud and wet branches before the car glided to a stop by the cabin.
“John likes flashy toys,” Steve said with a grin.
“Toys?” Rick glanced at the convertible. “That thing costs a fortune.”
“When your father’s the mayor, that’s not a problem,” Mark huffed. “Believe me, the car is nowhere near the limit.”
“Cheap showing off,” Aaron said indifferently. His voice made it sound as though the car and its owner were worth absolutely nothing.
He didn’t even look in the car’s direction.
The door slammed.
John stepped out of the convertible—his dark hair styled perfectly, a bag of soda in one hand and a box in the other. A smug smile sat on his face so confidently it was as though he had arrived at the premiere of his own movie.
“I’m here. You can start now,” he said lazily, not even bothering to pretend to apologize.
“We were actually waiting for you,” Mark rolled his eyes theatrically, though there was admiration in his voice.
“That’s how dramatic entrances work.”
John squared his shoulders and let his gaze sweep over the group.
It lingered on Rick a little longer.
And that was enough for an unpleasant chill to spread inside him.
“Is this place open to everyone now?” John clicked his tongue in annoyance. “First you drag in that marshmallow runt, and now the new guy too?”
Rick felt heat rise to his face.
He hated looks like that. As though you had already been assessed — and judged worse than everyone else before you’d even said a word.
“You weren’t against Katie coming,” Thomas noted, folding his arms across his chest.
“No one was against Katie,” Lucas suddenly said.
His words came out uncertain and far too quiet, so they were immediately swallowed by the noise of the group. He licked his dry lips and fell silent again.
“Yeah, Katie’s fine,” Mark grinned. “In bed too.”
Laughter rolled through the group.
Rick forced a tight smile along with everyone else, though that unpleasant feeling returned inside him.
“Come on, King,” Steve said, clapping John on the shoulder. “He just moved here. You know what that’s like.”
“So you decided to drag him here?” John narrowed his eyes.
Somewhere off to the side, Aaron gave a short, almost soundless huff.
John’s reaction was immediate. He snapped his head toward him and stepped almost right up to him, invading his personal space.
“Did I say something funny, Lake?” Irritation sharpened his tone, as though Aaron’s mere presence was enough to set him off.
But Aaron’s expression didn’t change.
“No,” he replied calmly. “You’re just acting like a spoiled child.”
The air between them seemed to tighten. Rick found himself holding his breath, looking from one to
the other.
“You want to discuss that?” John hissed.
“I don’t want to talk to you at all,” Aaron said indifferently, sliding his hands into his pockets as though he wasn’t even slightly concerned that the “king of the group” was about to explode in front of him.
And that, it seemed, irritated John most of all.
“What are you even doing here?” John asked with open dislike. “You said yourself these nights were bullshit. Changed your mind?”
His words hung in the air like an unpleasant challenge. Rick could feel it clearly: there was something old between them, something personal, far deeper than ordinary teenage hostility.
“Guys! What’s taking you so long?” Emma called, leaning out of the cabin with a candle in her hand. The flame trembled in the cold air. “Everything’s ready!”
“Coming!” Thomas called back, waving a hand.
The tension reluctantly dissolved. The group finally moved toward the cabin. Mark was the first to pick up the joke that they were about to be “punished for being late,” and the others headed toward the cabin in a noisy mix of laughter, teasing, and overlapping voices.
Rick followed, feeling a strange mixture of anxiety and curiosity. John’s hostility still scraped unpleasantly inside him, but for some reason, right now, he felt more strongly than ever that something important was waiting for him behind that door.
He took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.
From outside, the cabin looked abandoned and gloomy — peeling paint, creaking steps, gaps between the boards. But once he crossed the threshold, everything changed.
The dim glow of string lights spilled softly into the corners in a golden haze. Candle flames flickered between the bulbs, throwing shadows over the walls. Piles of colorful blankets and pillows covered the floor, and the low table was filled with bowls of popcorn, chips, and candy. Soda cans glinted in the light from the string lights.
The air held a mix of vanilla, salt, and something surprisingly homey — as though someone had tried very hard to turn this damp place into a real pocket of warmth.
Rick froze in the doorway despite himself.
It was hard to believe that, only a minute ago, the place had looked almost abandoned from the outside.
“Wow...” he breathed quietly.
“Cool, right?” Steve said proudly, planting his hands on his hips. “This place used to be depressing as hell. This is all Katie.”
He nodded toward a petite blonde girl in a pink sweater.
Katie bashfully hid her face behind her hair, but a pleased smile still flickered across her lips.
“It really does look better in here,” Aaron said unexpectedly, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Rick glanced at him automatically. It was strange to hear anything resembling approval from Lake.
At that moment, a plump red-haired girl hurried over to them. Her cheeks were flushed from running around.
“Hi, Aaron!” she blurted happily.
“Hi,” he answered shortly.
Rick shifted the strap of his backpack and stepped closer.
“I’m Rick. By the way... where should I put all this?”
“Oh! Nice to meet you, I’m Emma!” the girl brightened at once and reached for the backpack. “Give it here.”
She grabbed it — and immediately swayed under the weight.
“Holy shit,” Mark snorted, peering inside. “What the hell did you pack in there?”
Rick smiled sheepishly and ruffled his hair.
“Well... a little bit of everything.”
A girl with black hair in a long purple hoodie drifted over to them.
“Well, well...” she drawled with curiosity, looking into the backpack. “Beer, cola, beer, more beer, cookies... and this.”
She pulled out a pack of cigarettes, then a neatly rolled joint.
“Richa-a-ard,” Mark said theatrically and slapped Parker on the back. “I already love you, man.”
The group burst out laughing.
Noise immediately surrounded Rick: everyone started commenting over one another on the finds from his backpack, someone reached for the cans, someone cracked a joke.
Only Aaron still kept a little apart.
He said nothing, merely let his gaze flick briefly over Rick.
Once the backpacks and bags had finally been sorted out, the group settled onto the pillows and blankets. Some sat by the wall, others stretched out right on the floor.
