Innocent (Horror) IC/OPEN

[Tayner]

Dennis Oakland
The Treehouse
June 10, 1992

"Hey, hey, that WAS a good idea. Just because YOU got caught doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good plan.” Thomas said.

"When did the plan include you holding me up so you could find the perfect 'skipping class radio station'? I could've been long gone if YOU didn't force me to wait, and Mr. Dragon Breath would've never caught us. We were this close." He said, emphasizing his point with his index finger and thumb. The point was moot however, and everyone was getting ready to go. Dennis, being the trailblazer he is, decided to take off, barley heading the words of those behind him as he pedaled even faster.

He didn't even slow down to round a particularly sharp turn, but as soon as he got halfway around he saw a figure standing on the trail. Dennis dodged the girl who was blocking his path, but he nailed an exposed root the wrong way and it sent him to the ground, tearing a hole into his blue jeans as he slid across the dirt on his left side. "Fuck. This is why I drive." He moaned before he realized who he was with. "Pardon my French." He added. Dennis always thought of himself as somewhat of a gentleman, preferring not to curse near girls or strangers, and Kenny was both.

Dennis was old elementary school buddies with Ryan, and they'd hang out occasionally, so he had meet Kenny before, but they only exchanged greetings before continuing on with other things. "Where you going?" She asked as he stood up and brushed off the dirt from his jeans.

"Movies." He reported. "How about you? I usually don't have to play dodge the girl when riding my bike down here." He said as he swung his leg a little to see if it would hurt too much. He winced slightly as he bent his knee but it would probably be fine, and of not he could always throw some ice on it.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Thomas Asher
The Forest
June 10th, 1992

Thomas felt himself slowing down, behind both Jimmy and Denny now. The bike skidded to a stop, sliding through the dirt and pebbles and sending dust off into the atmosphere. His hands, sweaty on the handlebars from a hard grip, loosened their clench. He almost found his mouth calling out “What’s the hold-up fellas?” but instead it only gaped at Denny going flying off of his bike. “Shit! Denny, you okay?!” He pushed his glasses up his nose, mouth wide open. The other boy seemed to be fine though, so Tom only recollected himself and shook his head. “Nice fucking spill there, klutz.” He looked at the girl, Kennedy, he thought her name was, and motioned his head at Dennis with a quick jerk. “Get a load of this guy. Can’t even ride a bike.”

He looked at Jimmy next, grinning. “The fuck are you going on about? A fucking panda or some shit? Jimmy, my man, that’s not how you intro-” It was then that the rotten smell reached his nose, one of ancient eggs left in the fridge for too long, one of shit mixed with meat, and one of… it was awful, whatever it was. Thomas grabbed his nose, coughing. “Oh, oh fuck what is that?” He cried inbetween coughs, looking at the girl, Kennedy. “Look, if you’re coming with us, hop on Denny’s pegs and go. I know it’s not the best choice, since he just fucking crashed like an idiot, but he’s the only one with pegs. I’m not sitting around smelling this shit anymore, so let’s go.”

***

The Road from Bedfield High School to Bedfield Suburbs
Marco Ryder

Marco Ryder was alone.

No Dominic nor Maya to bug him as he made the long walk home. A brief breeze blew for a moment, sending a crumpled sphere of paper rolling by like a tumbleweed in a spaghetti western. Yes, truly Marco Ryder was alone. He could talk to one of Becky Garnett’s black and white faces, plastered on seemingly every single telephone pole around. All held the same eerie message, all in red letters; “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?” and a telephone number in smaller print under that. It was during this time, this time on June 10th of 1992, that the horror truly began for the kids, the kids who hung out by The Treehouse, the kids who toiled away with each other, the kids who rode bikes together, the kids who attempted to fight evil together. This was when the horror began; more specifically, this was when the horror began for Marco Ryder.

“Hello, Marco.”

He was spun around, not under his own control. Behind Marco, there was a taller man. No, not a man… a scarecrow. Yes, a scarecrow. It stood inches away from him, straw hat perched atop it’s head, red flannel shirt neat and tucked in under his denim overalls. It’s gloved hands hung loosely in front of it, the scarecrow’s back hunched over as if he were taking a vacation from Notre Dame. His rubber work boots gleamed in the sunlight, the soles muddied and leaving footprints. “Don’t be scared, don’t run.” The scarecrow crooned, or so it seemed. It was near impossible to see his mouth from the position he was in, looking straight down at the pavement.

“I’m your good buddy, Marco, and you’re mine.” With that, the scarecrow’s arms snapped to attention with a crack (of bones) and his back (its spine) readjusted itself and brought the straw (it wasn’t straw it wasn’t straw it wasn’t straw) creature upright. It glared at Marco, who would soon notice it had no mouth. But its eyes, oh, its eyes; nightmarish chasms, full of caverns that engaged with their eternal dark, pits that did not pity.

Marco was still frozen. The scarecrow, the thing, was still leering over him, unmoving. Instead, the insides of its face began jerking and undulating and rippling and… buzzing. This all occurred about where its mouth would have been.

“Mmmmarfo…” The scarecrow tried to say something. “Nnnowww y-y-youuuuu can, can ruunnnnn…” It bubbled, as its burlap sack of a head tore open, hundreds, thousands, millions of insects came writhing out. Maggots squirmed away, only to be shoved out by fireants that had been woken up. Several cicadas bared their ugly heads, one flying past Marco’s ear. They were bugs and insects of all different shapes and sizes. Spiders, june bugs, ladybugs, larvae, earthworms, wasps, dirt divers, cockroaches, and the list only grew larger the longer Marco waited around. The scarecrow moved towards him, opening up its long, wide arms in an attempt to give a bear hug. But there was one thing that may have gotten Marco’s gears going; out of what remained of the scarecrow’s face came slithering a house centipede. It fell to the ground, its many legs clambering onto Marco’s feet. This wasn’t your typical bug, either; it grew as it fell, breaking from itss old skin and shedding it to the pavement as it laid the first leg onto Marco’s sneaker. It was now about the size of a large rat; and that seemed to be the best it was going to do.

The house centipede latched onto Marco’s leg, and the scarecrow would release another batch of insects during every gargled laugh.

Perhaps it was actually best to follow its advice.

[Charlia]

"...They'll come back for me at some point," Rosemary mumbled in response to his concern, not meeting his eyes. "They always do. I guess... I'm just an easy target." For them, for him... so weak. "I'm sorry, though... you should've just left me alone before. They would have stopped eventually. It's not like it's anything I haven't heard before..."

You'd think that by now it wouldn't hurt so much... but it still hurts. Why?

Absentmindedly, she placed a hand on her stomach as if recalling some of their more vicious taunts.

I guess because so much of it is so close to being true.

If they knew, would they still say those things? Or would they leave me alone? Not like it matters, I guess. No matter what, I can't ever tell. Mom would be so sad if she knew... I can't say a word.

As long as the pills keep working, no one ever has to know.

[Granis]

"...They'll come back for me at some point," Rosemary mumbled in response to his concern, not meeting his eyes. "They always do. I guess... I'm just an easy target." For them, for him... so weak. "I'm sorry, though... you should've just left me alone before. They would have stopped eventually. It's not like it's anything I haven't heard before..."

You'd think that by now it wouldn't hurt so much... but it still hurts. Why?

Absentmindedly, she placed a hand on her stomach as if recalling some of their more vicious taunts.

I guess because so much of it is so close to being true.

If they knew, would they still say those things? Or would they leave me alone? Not like it matters, I guess. No matter what, I can't ever tell. Mom would be so sad if she knew... I can't say a word.

As long as the pills keep working, no one ever has to know.

"Jeez, Rosie... Will you take the hint already?" Adrien asked with a small laugh, an action which racked his side with pain. "I'm not just doing all this because I feel an obituary to do it or something stupid like that. I'm doing it because I want to."

He did his best to make sure he was sitting relatively straight now, rather than his fairly slouched original position.

"At this point, whether you feel the same or not, I see you as a friend. And considering the fact that you're my only one, you've just netted yourself the illustrative position of best friend! Even if they bring knives, guns, or the devil himself, I'm still gonna stick around to make sure they don't try to hurt you again!"

He grinned again, once more showing what would be considered to one of his true smiles.

"Besides, you're sticking around right now, even though those assholes beat the absolute shit out of me. Most people would have used it as an excuse to escape and get back to normal life. You though, you're still here, even going so far as to ask me if I'm alright."

He sighed again.

"So if you're not gonna answer whether or not you want to be my friend, I'll just straight up ask. Rosie, would you be my friend?"

[Charlia]

Rosemary glanced over at Adrien, and then looked away again, her hands curling into fists as she thought about it.

Do you promise not to hurt me? she wanted to ask. If you try something bad and I tell you to stop, will you? Or will you keep going? Are you different? Or will you just do the same things?

She didn't put any of her thoughts into words, though. She couldn't. That would have been telling, and she couldn't do that, ever. So instead, she just sighed, staring at the ground, and offered a very hesitant, tentative reply.

"...Okay, I... I guess," she whispered. "If you really want to... I guess it would be all right..."

Are you lying to me?

Are you?

I don't want to do those things anymore.

[Beiarusia]

- Kennedy Tindol -
June 10^th, 1992

---

Dennis, having fallen from his bike, and now brushing the dirt from his newly holed jeans, answered with, "Movies." Then he asked, "How about you? I usually don't have to play dodge the girl when riding my bike down here."

"Just walking," the girl answered, which was basically true considering she had no set destination in mind, only a vague idea of where something of interest might or might not be. She finished the last of her soda with a small sip. Perhaps her coming here was a subconscious decision so as to escape the brunt of the summertime sun since farming communities were more-often-than-not flat and lacking in shady places to begin with, a circumstance which was doubly compounded with them living in Kansas, a state that was flatter than a pancake. "I found an old treehouse last winter. Thought I'd see if it fell down or not.

"Man, is that a panda on your shirt? You ever seen one 'a those?" Jimmy asked before going into a breathless rant concerning black-and-white bears and his father and about the good times that were had. Kennedy had not seen a panda in person but she liked them well enough. Jimmy then caught wind of the unexplainable scent that was decay-but-not-decay. "Hey, who shit in the woods?"

Kennedy cocked her head to one side with a quizzical look on her face. Not the word she'd use to describe the strange smell.

"The fuck are you going on about? A fucking panda or some shit? Jimmy, my man, that's not how you intro—" Thomas allowed his words to die mid-sentence as he grabbed his nose "—oh, of fuck what is that?" Kennedy could only shrug since she had no answer.
"Look, if you're coming with us, hop on Denny's pegs and go."

The girl didn't question the sudden invitation. She knew the teenagers well enough, and even if she hadn't she'd still tag along since the concept of stranger-danger seemed a null point in a town where everyone-knows-everybody. Besides, it had been awhile since she'd last been to the movies, so this was not an opportunity to pass up. Stepping onto the rear pegs of the bike, Kennedy took hold of Dennis' shoulders and held on tight enough to not fall off but not tight enough to bother the boy. "What movie are we seeing?" she asked as they continued down the dirt trail through the woods and away from the strange scent.

[Granis]

Rosemary glanced over at Adrien, and then looked away again, her hands curling into fists as she thought about it.

Do you promise not to hurt me? she wanted to ask. If you try something bad and I tell you to stop, will you? Or will you keep going? Are you different? Or will you just do the same things?

She didn't put any of her thoughts into words, though. She couldn't. That would have been telling, and she couldn't do that, ever. So instead, she just sighed, staring at the ground, and offered a very hesitant, tentative reply.

"...Okay, I... I guess," she whispered. "If you really want to... I guess it would be all right..."

Are you lying to me?

Are you?

I don't want to do those things anymore.

"Hell yeah!" Adrien shouted, shooting his arms up into the air before all but doubling over from the pain it caused. "Oh jeez, I shouldn't have done that. That was dumb..."

After he finished, however, he looked back up to Rosemary.

"Ya know, Rosie, when I woke up this morning, I thought today was gonna suck." He grunted out, a happy, if pained, smile on his face. "But now, it turns out I get to fight a new, really strong guy in the near future, and I got a new best friend!"

Once he'd finished speaking, he gently managed to climb himself up against the tree, finally making it back to his own two feet after about half a minute.

"So..." He asked. "Is there anything you wanna do? You know, besides make more enemies, that is... Hey, maybe we can find some more friends! Maybe we can find someone who you'll feel less scared around, which might also help you feel better around me!"

However, despite doing his best to keep it up, his smile faded slightly as he remembered how she'd acted all that time.

"And, uh, listen." He said, holding his hands up in a general 'can't be helped' vibe. "I get that you're scared around me right now, and... Well I'm fine with it. I mean, I'd prefer it if you weren't, but if you are, I don't want to push you so you might feel even more threatened, you know? So lets just take our time, to make sure you don't end up even worse, yeah? Lets just go and make some new friends "

[Charlia]

"...Um... Okay," Rosemary replied quietly. "If... if you're sure you're fine..."

He didn't look fine. But then again, if she could walk around all day with countless bruises and aches and barely show a sign of how much it hurt to just exist when she was in such a condition--and she was weak, she was pathetic, she knew that--then why couldn't anyone else?

Maybe a few other people would make her feel a little safer. If they were girls, at least. If she found herself surrounded by boys, well--she'd just have to make sure that didn't happen, of course.

"...I think... that'd be okay."

[Hastur]

Brooklyn Ferguson
June 10th, 1992

---

It had been nine days since the disappearance of Becky Garnett.

Vanishing without a trace on the first day of summer. The police had claimed that it was a simple case of her running away following an argument with her father, with her leaving everything and everyone behind in her wake.

The entire thought of that had hit Brooklyn rather hard.

Becky had been the only person in this town that she had really considered her friend. Somebody that she could trust fully and express her emotions with, a person that made life in this backwater Kansas town slightly more bearable. And just like that, she had walked out on everyone, and on her, like everything else in her life. Perhaps if she hadn't of been so clingy, or attached this wouldn't have happened. The selfish feelings of blame sat atop of her shoulders, pushing her down the gravel banks into the black sea of hopelessness slowly but surely. All whilst she attempted to cling and grab onto whatever rational thought could explain it away to avoid drowning in own self loathing.

Brooklyn had assumed that Becky wasn't the type. She had lost a lot once with the death of her mother, but hadn't lost everything. Being left in the arms of her father. He was a good, honest man who tried his best in the difficult situation that fate had left him in. She was lucky in that regard, having a parent that cared for her, which made Brooklyn somewhat jealous. Why would she throw that away? She knew about her occasional spur of the moment ideas of escaping from the grasps of this dying town. Hell, the two of them had hatched those schemes together sometimes.

For Becky, it was the freedom. A chance to get away from who she considered an overbearing parent. For Brooklyn, it was an escape from her own life, a fresh start un-plagued by her the name Ferguson and the burden that came with it. She hated this town, the looks that they gave her due to the rumors that floated around about her mothers debauched and disgusting life style. The town was small, and word traveled fast.

But Becky genuinely cared for her father, and Brooklyn assumed that she wouldn't want to put him through the pain of another loss. However, assumptions were useless.

Nine days however was a long time for a spur of the moment runaway however, and Brooklyn had a sinking feeling that the worst had occurred. She was now awaiting the inevitable second shoe to come crashing down. She struggled with it, and couldn't to concentrate on anything else, including her various classes. The day had passed surprisingly quickly as she pondered the worst, but it resulted in her being held back for a few minutes following school bells final toll. As everyone else stormed out of the classroom, Brooklyn remained seated as the teacher came over to have a word.

“How are you holding up?” Mr Darcy inquired in his typical soft-spoken tone. The older gentleman was sympathetic to the current situation. He ran the photography club within the school, and knew how close Becky and Brooklyn had become.

It was a difficult question. Brooklyn struggling to make up the words to answer it, resulting in her sitting there, producing an awkward silence punctuated by the clock ticking away, marking another second past.

” I'm fine.” She lied meekly, her voice weak.

“I understand that its difficult for you.” Darcy added, pushing his oversized glasses up towards his face, standing there as he tried to think of the best method to move forward in a volatile minefield. ” The sheriff and his deputies are doing their best right now, from what I understand, they haven't found her car yet, which is perhaps a good thing.” Darcy continued on, rationalizing the situation at hand. “Means that she's likely still on the road.” He tried and failing to take the optimistic route. She could tell by looking at him that he was lying to her and himself. The two of them knew that the chances of that were low and Nine days was long time to be on the road. The conversation however, quickly changed.

” Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, turning it on Brooklyn. ” You might feel better if you did.”

Truth was, she did. She wanted to express the hopelessness she was feeling about it, She wanted to talk about how she feared the worst for her friend. Hell, that wasn't the only thing she wanted to get off her chest. How about the burden that her mother was? How about the fact that half of her paycheck from her shitty diner job goes to her mother getting shit faced?

But she couldn't. Anxiety was weighting down on her like a ton of bricks. The idea of expressing that made her more uncomfortable as she sat in the chair. Melting away in the stuffy classroom as the urge for nicotine kicked in hard, feeling the need to escape these walls and light up a cigarette as she felt more and more stressed.

” No, I'm fine.” Brooklyn piped up, putting on a face of ease as she lied through her teeth. ” I need to get going, I have some people expecting me.”

Darcy looked at her with his deep set eyes. She knew he could tell that she was lying, but in the end, he didn't push the subject. After all, he was struggling with the situation himself. The loss of a student was difficult.

” Alright, I won't hold you here any longer.” He added, moving towards the door, opening it for Brooklyn as she made her way out. ” Try to enjoy the summer, and take some pictures yeah? I'm looking forward to seeing what you can come up with.”

” Will do.” Brooklyn stated as she walked towards the door.

“Thanks Mr Darcy.” With that, the door closing behind her.

From there, she headed outside into the sweltering summer sun, the schools campus pretty much all but empty now. Leaving on the facility staff to wander the halls like zombies until they themselves were allowed to leave. Once far enough way from the grounds, she promptly lit up a cigarette, removing one from a twenty pack of unfiltered camels. Taking a number of long drags from the cigarettes as she attempted to calm down. One cigarette quickly became two, and two became three as she stood on the corner with a bag full of A4 posters.

As most other kids headed off to enjoy the first days of summer, Brooklyn was going to be plastering missing posters across town. After all, it was the only real thing she could do to help out her friend, as hopeless as it made her feel.

Extinguishing the cigarette on her boot, she began moving from street to street, stabling up the gleaming picture of her friend onto the various lamp posts across the town, one by one.

[Kwadai]

Marco Ryder

"Hello Marco...", a scratchy muffled voice came from behind the boy of the same name. "Please guys, you've tried that before", he chuckled as he felt himself turn around to look at who he had assumed were his friends trying to frighten him. When he was faced fully with the thing, he fell back into the footpath, evidently startled. Towering over him was a hunched scarecrow like thing. It was hideous with worn clothes and what appeared like damp straw, reeking of old corn plants left out to die. He pulled himself off the ground, his usually clean hands left slightly grazed from its rough surface. This one was definitely Maya's doing, no way would Dominic do that to himself. Marco's nose wrinkled up in disgust as he took a step back, this was hands down her most elaborate prank yet. How the hell was she able to creep up on him like that? Silently. There was absolutely nobody else in sight, how typical.

Straightening his back Marco tried to peer at the scarecrows face but that was when it jerked upright in a serial of painful sounding cracks to share directly at the boy, now it towered over him more than before. It spoke telling him it was his friend then changing its mind insisting he ran away. He stood frozen realising that this, whatever exactly it this is, was not Maya or anyone he knew for that matter. This creature was easily the most repulsive thing he'd laid his eyes on. Eyes widening in horror, he couldn't find the power to get out of there. The scarecrow's eye holes glared down at him, showing nothing but emptiness and evil with their inky black appearance. He shook in terror, before recoiling as the monster's face ruptured like a flour sack that had been filled too much bursting with a mix of the ugliest insects imaginable being poured out onto the ground as it laughed releasing more swarms of filth and bugs crawling at his feet, while other flying creatures whizzed by his face.

It was then as they crawled around his shoes, that the worst clambered out of the scarecrow's body. A giant centipede, scuttling down and then beginning to climb in his feet and ankle. Marco yelled in disgust and panic as he kicked out, and dropped all his books letting them fall and squash some of the crawlers the centipede was dislodged uncomfortably from his leg. Face as white as it could possibly get and clearly distressed, Marco wrenched his bag from his shoulder, almost dragging off his shirt with it as he flung the weighty bag at the invertebrate spewing scarecrow and took the split second distraction to bolt in the opposite direction faster than he had ran before, feeling the crunch of beetles and slide of works beneath his shoes until he turned the first block. He kept running not daring to look behind him, passing one, two blocks; about one hundred and fifty metres from where the beast appeared.

"Where is everybody!?", he thought while still running though not as fast as he had been, now beginning to feel the heaviness in his chest from sprinting, not something he was used to doing. Turning the next corner, he did of course discover the first person he'd seen since leaving school, though equally not in the way he hoped to. Not focusing on his surroundings Marco knocked straight into a girl with a scent of smoke subsequently knocking a stack of posters out of her hand. She had appeared to be sticking up more missing posters. He was sure the monster, and more importantly the centipede were well behind. Rubbing his head awkwardly Marco dropped to his knees to start picking some up, and to hide his burning red face, there's no way she would believe his excuse, so better help her. "I...am...so...very sorry", he muttered quickly, face still on fire as he passed the sheets to her.

[Granis]

"...Um... Okay," Rosemary replied quietly. "If... if you're sure you're fine..."

He didn't look fine. But then again, if she could walk around all day with countless bruises and aches and barely show a sign of how much it hurt to just exist when she was in such a condition--and she was weak, she was pathetic, she knew that--then why couldn't anyone else?

Maybe a few other people would make her feel a little safer. If they were girls, at least. If she found herself surrounded by boys, well--she'd just have to make sure that didn't happen, of course.

"...I think... that'd be okay."

"Yeah, don't worry about it!" Adrien said. "It's not like they broke anything or something like that. At worst, they just bruised my ribs really badly! Maybe fractured, I don't know."

After about a minute of painful manoeuvring, he managed to pull himself up off the ground properly. Once he was up, he looked over to Rosemary.

"Alright, now lets go find some new friends." He said with a grin. "Maybe they'll be able to cheer you up better than I have."

And so they began to wander aimlessly around the park, keeping an eye out for anyone who seemed even slightly familiar and probably wasn't going to treat them as crappily as the 'cool' kids would.

Eventually, they saw a couple of girls under a tree. One of them seemed to be reading, and the other one was... tall.

Crushing down the frustration from that last observation, Adrien smiled and walked over to them.

"Hi!" He said. "I'm Adrien, and this is Rosie! Do you guys need and/or want more friends? Because we do!"

[Hastur]

Brooklyn Ferguson
June 10th, 1992

---

She hadn't been paying much attention as she pinned the missing posters up. The mindless and repetitive task making her go into auto pilot as she stuck up poster after poster, with her failing to spot the teenager that came barreling around the corner right into her path. He collided with Brooklyn with force, the sprinting teen sending her spiraling down onto the hard tarmac. The unexpected jolt causing the missing posters to take flight from her hands and move into the air, scattering across the road only for most only to be picked up by a gust of wind, sending them even further away. The aftermath leaving Brooklyn in total shock as a day of hard work, and only real achievable plan of helping her friend out disappeared almost in an instant.

Her attention rapidly turned towards the person who did the deed, her head turning towards him as she pushed her hair away from her eyes to get a good look at the guy. It was one of the high schoolers from the year below her, Brooklyn hardly knowing anything about him as he stood there gasping for air.

The shock from the fall quickly turned to anger as she threw herself to her feet. Her pulse quickening and her body tensing up as she prepared to give her a piece of her mind and collect whatever posters she could still salvage which hadn't gone to the wind.

"You stupid fucking idiot!" She spat at the guy, her eyes almost protruding from her sockets as she glared right at him before turning her attention to the posters.

She frantically snatched up what she could as the guy mumbled an apology and tried to help. It was commendable, but he had being unfortunate enough to cross her on a bad day, Brooklyn taking out her anger on him as her unreleased emotions came flowing out on one big burst. Once her skinny hands had collected all she could, which wasn't much, her attention quickly turned back to the high schooler as she clutched the remaining posters close to her chest.

"Do you realize how much money I put into these posters? How much effort I went to have these copied? No you don't because you an inconsiderate dweeb who doesn't look where he's fucking running!" She bellowed, moving in to give him a strong shove. Selfishly not even considering the fact that he was running away from something. "God, you are a waste of human skin!"

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Thomas Asher
The Forest
June 10th, 1992

They continued on.

Thomas had pondered the reason as to just WHY he had asked a twelve year old girl to come along with them. Perhaps it was some sense of protecting a young girl as a dead smell wafted into their nostrils, with another girl gone missing for nine days. Perhaps it was an obligation towards an old friend, to make sure debts were paid off in due. Or maybe it was something else; something above him, something that an adult couldn’t comprehend, let alone a fifteen year old boy such as him.

But these thoughts passed, as thoughts often do, sealed away in a vault to be considered at a later date before being locked for eternity. Thomas rode alongside them, Jimmy faster, Jimmy faster than all of them. Considering his two friends and his past friend’s kid sister, he swallowed. A temporary bout of lopsidedness wobbled his bike as he threw his left hand up to adjust his glasses. It was a miracle he didn't go sprawling off, twisting his arm in a way it should never twist. His backpack was still strapped on from school, now only carrying his two musical devices after the books had been dumped in the trash. He bumped along the path, the trees growing tighter, forcing them to go single file. Jimmy in front, Thomas before him, and Denny with the girl in the back.

Jimmy; he had always been a weird kid. He talked a lot, like Thomas, but he talked… differently. Unlike Thomas’ spitfire method of slinging shit and seeing what stuck, Jimmy’s was more sporadic. More… entropic. He went on tangents about anything, ranting and ranting minute after minute, spittle flying from his lips while he jabbered on about licorice or crabs or syphilis or dentistry. Almost every one of Jimmy’s stories featured two main characters; himself and his father. But Thomas liked Jimmy, despite this. There was something about him, something that belonged. They all belonged with the Treehousers. The gang. Whatever they were called. The girl might not yet, and the twins had only come around recently, but Thomas had an idea that they’d come around eventually. Him, Denny, Jimmy, and Toby were the definitive club. The coolest of cool, the conquerors of the world. If they were together, they could do anything. And Thomas felt that, he knew that.

Dennis had always been quiet, reserved, and a bit of a redneck. As such, he had always been the victim of Thomas’ zingers. Jokes about chickens in the barn (whose barn what barn my barn), being a racist, and fucking cows were never unheard of, and Thomas had already begun plotting his next line for once they hopped into the truck. But him and Denny boy had an understanding; the one that understood they were to be insulted with care, given money for gas and ultimately, they were friends. Maybe even best friends, though the concept of a best friend eluded Thomas. A good friend, maybe, but a best one? No, there was nobody who could be the best, the best person you could ever be with, the best friend you’d ever have ever ever ever ever ever in your life. He did suppose that Dennis Oakland came pretty damn close.

They emerged from the narrow path into a field, pedaling past rotting fences and tall bouquets of wild grass nesting beyond the wooden guards. They continued riding, sometimes making jokes as they sped by, Thomas and Jimmy attempting to pass each other once or thrice (never Denny, lest they accidentally send him sprawling again and kill the poor girl). They stopped a few times to catch their breath, painful cramps and itchy sweat pouring down their backs. All in all, it had been thirty minutes since they left the Treehouse when they arrived at Dennis’ truck.

“All… right…” Thomas muttered in between breaths, hopping off of his bike and rolling it the rest of the way down the gravel drive. Denny, Kennedy, and Jimmy had done the same, Kennedy walking alongside Dennis as he rolled it along. “Fuck… your truck has air conditioning, right?” Thomas looked back at Dennis, pushing his glasses up as they slid on the sweat. Dennis shrugged. “Sometimes.”

Thomas groaned.

Denny opened the tailgate, and the Jimmy and Thomas shoved their bikes up into it, Denny leaving his near his father’s front porch. They piled in, the licensed one driving, the nearsighted one taking shotgun, and the liar and the girl in the back. The truck started up with a hitch, and they set off to pick up their friends.

***

They arrived at the movie theater, with the twins sitting in the bed with the bikes and Toby sitting in the back with Jimmy and Kennedy. Thomas grinned, hopping out of the truck before it was stopped. He looked to the back, witnessing the twins hopping out of the bicycle filled bed of the truck. A brief flicker of fear gleamed in his eyes, the fear that their bikes would be stolen. But it was gone by the time Denny was running a chain through the wheels, then hooking it to the other end of the chain and padlocking it. “Nice security measures, champ.” Thomas walked onto the sidewalk, hand brushing along the side of the truck. He waltzed up to the box office with the others in tow, taking a glance at the pimple teenager resting her face in her hands, eyes firmly planted in a book. Her eyes flittered up for a second, then back down, then a second glance as she saw the approaching teens.

“Hi, welcome to the Citadel Theater, how can I help you?”

The Citadel Theater was ugly from the outside. The giant sign that hung over the building only read CITADEL in white, faded letters. The mascot, a giant bag of popcorn with black arms (with white gloves), an adorable button face, and two black legs sticking out from the bottom of the bag resting next to the sign. The way the giant plastic statue had been molded was in the position that it had its left arm holding onto the sign, giving off the appearance that it was just hanging around. Strips of paint were peeling off of it, and the pieces that hadn't begun peeling were faded and grey. The Citadel Theater sat in the middle of Bedfield’s Downtown area, and it was quite the eyesore.

“One ticket to, uh…” Thomas looked over the movies they had; Patriot Games, of course. Alien 3. His eyes scanned over one he finally liked.

“One student ticket to Class Act at 6:00, please.”

He handed over his $4.50 and the girl handed over his ticket. It was as simple as that. Thomas had begun to move towards the inside, when he felt a meaty hand on his shoulder. Dennis. “We buying for Kennedy, too?” To this, Thomas shrugged. “If you want.” With his next line, he tried out a (tried) Dustin Hoffman impression. “There’s no sweat off my back, you feel me buddy?” He turned, walking into the theater, debating whether he should grab some candy or not.

***

The Streets of Downtown Bedfield
Tucker Robinson
June 10th, 1992

Tucker Robinson, seventeen years old, was walking down the street. His walk showed something, something more powerful than a normal person’s clutzy fucking maneuvers. Most people walked for transportation; Tucker walked for communication. It was less of a walk and more of a saunter, a cocky spring in his step, and a bop that swayed like the tango. He was cool, he was cool daddy-o and he knew it, black tac sunglasses resting over his eyes to block the sun (but he was cooler than the sun, daddy-o, much cooler than the sun) and a camouflage hat draped over his crew cut of a hair. He was a natural blond, if you managed to look up under the greasy cap he always had on him. He wore a white tank top right now, his muscles bulging from under his face, a face that knew it was cooler than you, much cooler than you daddy-o. Tucker Robinson knew he was better than everyone else in this backwater town.

Tucker Robinson was also only five foot six.

If you were a person looking at Tucker Robinson on this hot day, as the sun.began to set and orange and purple swashes had filled the sky, you’d see a short redneck with nowhere to go. Muddy work boots, torn jeans, that tank top with the grease stains covering it. The only thing the boy had going for him was he was strong as an ox. He had been held back once in fifth grade, leading to a particularly vicious beating from his father, who lived with him and his mother a ways past the Bedfield High School and out in the “Corn Land” as Tucker’s buddies had called it. His teeth were perfectly straight, and perfectly white. While he wasn't that smart, Tucker WAS cunning. He was as cunning as a goddamned fox. His friends… they were less so.

Tucker’s posse rolled behind him, two of them on this fateful day, right now bitching about the heat and having a particularly riveting conversation about axle rods. The biggest one was Larry Stark, a sixteen year old kid who had eaten way too much. Always gobbling whatever food he could find, he was positively a glutton. That was his one sin, though he might as well have taken ownership of the other six. He was lustful for women, he was lazy, he was proud of his gut, he loved money, he was prone to fits of rage, and he hated everyone who did any of these better than him. He wore a pair of khaki cargo shorts (belt looped around them due to the button popping off after squeezing in too tight) and a XXL t-shirt, fit snugly around his torso.

The tallest one, and the most intimidating of the current trip was a pale kid they had picked up a few weeks ago. He was a new arrival to town, having moved over after some great tragedy or other, a death in the family perhaps. The kid was wearing jeans and a red, plaid button-up (left unbuttoned to show his black T-shirt underneath, of course). His other favorite article of clothing was his smile; frustratingly fake, sinisterly sweet, and the most scary stuff any of the kids had been around this kid. His lips were almost as his skin. His teeth were yellowed. His eyes were brown, but they didn't show you much about this kid. He was homeschooled, so nobody knew his real name except for Tucker, Larry, and another kid in their group. As such, everyone had just been calling him the Kid. The Kid stuck with everybody. It stuck well.

They were walking up the road when the first poster hit Tucker in the face. Feeling the need to assert his dominance, he had uttered a guttural cry then stormed up the way towards where the poster had flown from. And there she was, yelling at the faggot kid about how he was a waste. Tucker could agree with her there. But he couldn't agree with her letting that poster go into his face. He balled his fists up, not bothering to look at the poster, Larry behind him half expecting the tiny man’s (whose complexion had turned red) ears to burst open with smoke. But this did not happen. Instead, he crumpled up the poster and threw it at the girl. “Hey, you stupid fucking bitch! You better fucking apologize you dumb cunt whore! Fuck you!” He screamed, spittle flying from his lips. His buddies backed him up, both towering over him, The Kid especially rising over him a full foot, still smiling with those pasty blue lips.

[Valentine Z]

Samantha "Lanky" Hoshiko
Unnamed City Park
10th of June, 1992

Samantha slowly approached Veronica, who was sitting under the tree and reading a book. She looked closer at the book to see its title; Death be Not Proud, by John Gunther. “Good read,” she remarked to herself.

Veronica looked up at her. “Hey, Sam,” she said, whilst putting a bookmark on her book and putting it aside, “Honestly, I just didn't see any reason to go. I also don't really want to deal with some of those people any longer than I have to..."

“Ooh, I see!” Samantha replied back with much anticipation, “Yeah, it was right of you not to go to school today. It was the last day of school, so… what else was there to talk about? A lot of crazy things happened, sometimes I got picked on a little, it’s normal, you know?”

At the last word, Samantha’s voice trailed off a little. Perhaps if she had as much foresight as Veronica, maybe she might not have been stopped and slapped by Shannon. She slowly raised her right hand and give it a light rub, subtly in hopes that Veronica would not notice. Samantha was able to take physical damages rather well, despite her weak frame; she simply shrug off an occasional slap or a hit despite the fact that she would bruise up for a few days. For her, it was mainly the words that hurt her the most. The words that circulated between Shannon and her friends hurt her a hundred times more than that bitch slap ever will. But most importantly, Shannon was not Veronica’s problem, and Samantha would prefer not to get her involved. She would try to solve this herself… somehow.

“Well, umm, I have nothing much to say, really,” Samantha added, “I just wanted to say “Hi”, that’s all. If you would like a time alone, I will be okay with that! I’m so sorry to disturb you reading though.”

As she smiled sheepishly for one more time, Samantha turned around to find two people behind her – A guy, and a girl, both of which were shorter than Samantha, because of course they do; that is why Samantha got the middle name “Lanky”, even though she did not exactly mind.

“"Hi!" the guy said, "I'm Adrien, and this is Rosie! Do you guys need and/or want more friends? Because we do!"

Samantha quickly glanced at their appearances, though she was not exactly the type that would judge a person by his or her appearance. She was a little wary of making new friends, after what happened with Shannon and the popular girls. At the same time, Samantha was very certain that Adrien and Rosie were genuine. Besides, there was something physically wrong with Adrien. Perhaps it was the many bruises on his body, and maybe a few drops of blood here and there. That made Samantha rather concerned, obviously concluding that he too was a victim of bullying.

“Oh my goodness! Adrien, right?” Samantha spoke up in a slightly raised tone, “Sure, I don’t mind you and Rosie talking to me, but what the heck happened to you? Pardon my language, but you look like crap!”

[Imperial Esplanade]

Veronica Moore
Bedfield Park

---

Veronica offered a simple grin to Samantha as the latter stepped up to her, perhaps inquisitively to see what Veronica was doing, and then transitioned to a neutral expression as Samantha divulged regarding how Veronica's decision to skip out on the last day was a rather wise choice. Veronica slightly rose an eyebrow, revealing both perplexion and interest, when Samantha's voice trailed off and she started to rub her hand - perhaps a tad nervously. Yet, Veronica couldn't help but to empathize slightly with Samantha about how she seemed to be the victim of some bullying that had occurred at school. Veronica wasn't quite the target of such bullying, but bullies were always something she had seriously disdained. "No, it's okay. What happe--" Just as Veronica was about to ask Samantha about the details of whatever incident that had occurred, a voice called out toward the pair under the tree. Soon after Samantha gave her response, Veronica followed suit. "Hey Adrien. Her Rosie." Veronica said simply, looking at the pair - one of them clearly injured. Not wanting to pile on to the questioning posed by Samantha, Veronica simply sat and listened in on the conversation that was occurring in front of her. Veronica couldn't help but to think, however, that it was peculiar that Adrien wasn't brought home or brought to some doctor, given how terrible of a state he appeared to be in, but nonetheless she starting to think that it might not actually be as bad as it initially looked to Veronica.

[Aidannadia]

[...]

“One ticket to, uh…” Thomas looked over the movies they had; Patriot Games, of course. Alien 3. His eyes scanned over one he finally liked.

“One student ticket to Class Act at 6:00, please.”

He handed over his $4.50 and the girl handed over his ticket. It was as simple as that. Thomas had begun to move towards the inside, when he felt a meaty hand on his shoulder. Dennis. “We buying for Kennedy, too?” To this, Thomas shrugged. “If you want.” With his next line, he tried out a (tried) Dustin Hoffman impression. “There’s no sweat off my back, you feel me buddy?” He turned, walking into the theater, debating whether he should grab some candy or not.

Jimmy approached the ticket counter. "Say, you know that's a real nice little guy you got there on the counter there." The fuzzy haired figure almost blinked, seemingly guarding a pack of cigarettes the teenager had handy. Jimmy had seen them before, but never with that color hair.

The cashier just sighed and continued, "4.50."

"Oh yeah, right. Here let me...." Jimmy held up a finger while checked in his sleeve, shook it a bit, and a few coins fell out into his hand. "Oh, and I think I have some over...." The boy continued this act, pull the money from different spots on his person. "Oh, Dennis, can you spare me some- Thanks, buddy." He pulled a quarter out from his friends ear. The cashier was unimpressed, apparently having seen this trick before. "Let's see here, I've got... like 6 bucks here or something. What was it again, 4.50? I uh..." Jimmy handed over the pile of coins past the Troll doll. The cashier begrudgingly counted and made change. "Here's 84 cents change. Enjoy your movie." Jimmy took the change.

"Oh and uh, I s'pose Kennedy needs something right? Here I got my wallet right here." Jimmy pulled out his wallet and handed a couple bucks to Dennis. "Here's part of that, yeah?"

Without further ado, James headed inside, a smile plastered on his face and a pack of cigarettes hidden in his elastic waistband.

[Forest State]

Jeremy Parks

Get out of the house, she said. Hang out with some friends, she said. As if he had anyone that could be called that. Friend was a dirty word to Jeremy, because the truth is, he hadn't had friends since his family's world had come crashing down. Since he and his mother moved back to Bedfield, a place that had sentimental value to her but one that was like a prison to him. He'd told her many times that he didn't have friends, but she didn't believe him. She said he was exaggerating, and she'd sent him out of the house and told him that it wasn't good to spend so much time on the computer, with that newfangled invention called IRC, where he talked with strangers who she said could never be real friends.

She never realized that talking to strangers was easier than talking to the people that knew him, who knew his reputation for speaking his mind and not giving a damn what anyone thought of what he was saying. In a way, it was his fault. He could probably do better with people if he reined himself in a bit and focused on following the norms. But he just wasn't that kind of person. If people had a problem with him, he was fine with it. It only became a problem at times like this, when he was forced to interact with others. Why couldn't his mother just leave him alone? It wasn't like she understood that he wasn't popular.

Maybe he could see a movie this evening, he had thought. He'd rode his bike to the movie theater, figuring that maybe he could get in by himself and chill at the back of the theater. It had been too long since he'd seen a decent movie, anyway. It was always too much work finding someone to go with, and he didn't always like being the one guy who went alone. But as soon as he parked his bike, he realized that the place already had a bunch of others from school hanging around, getting ready to go in.

Shit. So much for coming without getting recognized, and chilling without any human interaction. There might be a benefit to this, though. If there's others, he thinks, he might be able to sneak in with them instead of spending the pocket change that he brought for a ticket. And if he gets busted, why does it matter? He doesn't want to be here that much, anyway. Watching Jimmy and James, Jeremy put on his best confident face and walked directly behind them, keeping a close enough proximity that it looked like he was part of their group. He didn't make any eye contact with the cashier, either.

He avoided eye contact with them, too, in case they noticed him. But they wouldn't say anything and screw him over for no reason, would they?

[Beiarusia]

- Kennedy Tindol -
June 10^th, 1992

---

They biked to where Dennis lived in "Corn Land" beyond where the forest offered its shady protection. The boys were exhausted, Dennis undoubtedly so considering he had peddled for two, but the old pickup truck offered a sense of salvation as they walked the last bit up the gravel drive. "Fuck... your truck has air conditioning, right?" Thomas had asked, panting, his shirt soaked with sweat. Dennis had only shrugged. "Sometimes."

Kennedy was hot beneath the summertime sun, dehydrated maybe, but, unlike the boys, she wasn't near collapse.

The tossed the bikes into the back before heading off, Dennis driving with Thomas riding shotgun; Kennedy was in the backseat with Jimmy, the two chatterboxes having an easy enough time getting along. The drive into town was quick, hot (the AC wasn't working), and uneventful, stopping only to fetch the twins and Toby on their way downtown. The Citadel Theater was an old building that showed its age, small, and was a bit of an eyesore, but although the carpets were unpleasantly sticky with soda, gum, and God-knows-what-else the cinema remained a popular hangout for the local teenagers. Movies currently showing included Patriot Games and Alien 3. Kennedy looked up to the sci-fi movie's poster as the others purchased the tickets. They were seeing Class Act as it were.

"Thanks," the girl said as she was handed her ticket. She had about $10 in her pocket but wasn't opposed to accepting free stuff. If anything this allowed her to buy more snacks. Alternatively, she could buy them all popcorn.

They were walking into the cinema when another boy (Jeremy) slid into their group, doing his best to avoid looking towards the bored cashier or towards any of them. Kennedy didn't know the boy (she barely knew those she was with currently) but it was quite obvious that he hadn't paid. Not that she was a snitch, but she still said something.

"You didn't pay," she accused, loud enough for the boy to hear and for those around her to be made aware of their sudden guess, but not so that the cashier would take notice. It ultimately wasn't a concern for the girl so she continued on towards the snack counter to buy herself and the others popcorn and candy.

[Tayner]

Dennis Oakland
The Citadel Movie Theater
June 10th, 1992

Dennis didn't try to exhaust himself, but by the time they got to his house sweat was streaming down his forehead. He simply went inside, grabbed a handful of snacks to shove in his pockets, and a rag to wipe off his face. He removed his hat as he wiped the white rag over his face. Once he finished he placed the olive drab trucker cap back on his head, the logo on front bearing the school's logo, and class of '94 under it, a little early for that, but he got a good deal on the price, and it fit like a silky glove. He simply hollered to his dad, a halfhearted gesture as he was probably out in the fields, and went back outside, grabbing two cans of coke.

"Fuck… your truck has air conditioning, right?” Thomas said as Dennis tossed the red can over to him.

"Sometimes." He said as he cracked open his own can. For a second he felt that it was unfair that he didn't bring any of coke for his other friends, but then again, he didn't know any of them since the first grade like Dennis knew Thomas. They were unlikely friends, Dennis being a farm boy and Thomas living in the town, but they kicked it off. Thomas was quick to use his friendly ridicule, and years down the road they still managed to rib at each other, although Dennis picked his battles, making his jokes hit harder than Thomas' rapid fire burns. "I've got the 4-40 AC, four windows, fourth miles per hour." He said as they set off.

Kenny and Jimmy were chattering away in the back, while Thomas and Dennis enjoyed some more useful banter in the front seats, the two often picking a subject to talk about but ultimately ending with a "fuck it, that's just stupid" or a "fair enough." Every now and then they'd poke at each other, but they weren't as talkative as those in the back.

Kenny was Ryan's younger sister, and Ryan was an old fiend, near inseparable from Thomas and Denny back in the day, but however he was just another face in the hallway, something to smile or wave at. However Denny still considered the man a friend, and by extension his little sister. Meanwhile Jimmy was just another guy. He seemed to be along for the ride, and Dennis was happy to oblige when the gas money exchanged hands. He could've said the same for the twins and Toby, they were a rag-tag group of bastards, brought together somehow and formed a small friendship in the group. These were good days, hanging out, watching movies, riding bikes, and not dealing with homework 24/7.

When he pulled up in the parking lot they had to cut Johnny Cash short, Patriot Games being more important than the Ring of Fire right now. He ran a chain through the bike wheels, making the effort to steal them not worth it to most. "Nice security measures, champ.” Thomas half joked, half thanked.

"I try." Dennis replied as he locked the doors of his truck before heading towards the theater. "We buying for Kennedy, too?” He asked, and Thomas made a reference to a movie character that eluded him. "Keep your back seat to yourself." He said as Thomas handed over some change, Jimmy adding to the pot after doing some coin tricks. He did the math, and forked in his own $1.75 share for the girl's ticket. Tossing the pile of coins and few green bills on the counter for the teen to count, he asked for two student tickets for Class Act. He handed over one ticket to Kennedy as the caught up with the group.

Dennis was a reserved man, and relied on perception to guide him, and in this instance he noticed that there was an interloper amongst them, Kennedy soon also realizing it and announcing it to the group. Jeremy, a guy he barely knew. A generally good human being from what little he gathered about him, so Dennis being the stand up guy he is, covered for him. "Don't worry, I'm sure he bought his ticket in advance. Ain't that right, Jeremy?" He said more as a statement than a question. "It's probably fine." He added as the group started to make their way through the doors.

[Forest State]

Jeremy Parks
Movie Theater

"Some of us need to save our money for other things, like y'know, food and electricity," Jeremy quipped when Kennedy said that he hadn't paid. That was a slight exaggeration, but it wasn't too far from the truth. He found himself doing odd jobs for money sometimes, but he didn't usually get to spend it on things like movies. It usually went towards more essential things, like bike repairs and every once and awhile, dinner. It was a far cry from life in LA, but that had all been dependent on his dad and his business. Or maybe it was because of his dad's criminal activity through inside trading. He'd probably never know where the money had really come from.

He just chuckled and flashed a thumbs up sign. "Actually, I overpaid one time, so I deserve a free movie," he said, making that up on the spot. Sometimes saying whatever came to mind had its advantages, namely being able to come up with excuses like this on the fly. He knew it was somewhat awkward because none of them were really familiar with them, but he was doing a better job handling that awkwardness than he usually did. Not that he had much of a choice right now, since blending in was his best bet.

Talk to your friends, or make some new ones. His mother's words from earlier remained in his head. Should he try to make friends with them? They probably wouldn't want to hang out much with a loser like him, though. His mind returned to the original goal, sitting in the back of the theater where nobody would notice that he was the unpopular kid who was there by himself. Shit. That didn't sound as attractive as going with the others. What could he do to impress them? He could buy the snacks for them, he figured, but if he wanted to spend his change he would have gotten a ticket himself... He decided to wait before making a decision, sticking with the group and putting a poker face on.

[Main Nation Ministry]

Danforth Zinneman
June 10, 1992

Summer. The time where the typical dog days seem meaningless. However, even in a time of relieve, some problems were present in a town in a midst of trees and cornfields. Danforth Zinneman looked almost like a total nerd, maybe even a dork. He just graduated from middle school, though his mother wasn't at the ceremony as she had to do help at a local farm where she works. Danforth rode his bike home, wearing casual clothes on a summer day.

His house was almost in a suburb, though the spaces between houses were fleshed out. Zinneman's house had a picket plywood fence that made it hard to notice at his tiny 2 floored house. Danforth answered a phone call from a wall phone near the kitchen, where his own mother was calling him. "Mom, when are you coming home? You can wait on the blueberries." Danforth said, in a voice of a child.

"Honey baby, I be back in the afternoon. You know that farm work is hard and the way to have some money. We been over this." Zinneman's mother has a habit of referring to Danforth as "honey baby". "Mom, please be back. Look, I'm going to head down to the movie theater and watch a movie to celebrate, ok? I use the change in my piggybank to pay." Danforth was convincing his own mother, just as she convinced him to move to this dump of a town. "Ok, honey baby. Also, please try to be back before I arrive. You know how I get."

"Ok, mom. Love you. Bye." Danforth hung up the phone and inserted it back on the wall. He let out a long sigh, before heading to his bedroom, getting his piggybank that he had covered with Disney stickers. When his mother had spare change that she didn't need, she would just give it to Danforth, if he got above a B- on a quiz at school. He would put his money in his piggybank to save up for other events. Removing the rubber stopper, he got himself a random 2 dollar bill and about 5 quarters which he believed would be enough.

Getting himself his house key and putting it in his pocket, he locked the door outside and got back on his bike with his money. He adjusted his glasses and pedaled down the road near a small cornfield down to downtown.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Thomas Asher
The Citadel Theater
June 10th, 1992

Thomas squinted at the newcomer, going over the accusations thrown at him and pondering them for a moment. Upon deciding on a butt in that he approved of, Thomas swayed into the new kid’s personal space. “Y’now, I admire that you stole your way in here, but don't think you can mooch off of now.” Thomas grinned, rolling his eyes as he walked away from the boy and towards the concessions stand. Behind the counter, a cute girl with wavy brown hair falling to her shoulder blades. Thomas took notice of her name tag, reading Amber. He sniffled, smiling and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a single finger. The two made their introductions, and Thomas reached into his pocket to pull out a pair of dollars as if they were a rabbit out of a hat, but alas…

Thomas was dead broke.

After buying Dennis gas, his own movie ticket, and chipping in to get the girl some, he was positive he had no cash left. Zip, zilch, nada. Thomas swallowed hard, eyes falling on the giant red bag of Skittles. He looked back at the others with fear gleaming across his eyes. “Uh… sir? Are you going to buy anything?” Amber asked, and Thomas froze. This was it. This was the end unless he got some money forked over to him.

[Beiarusia]

- Kennedy Tindol -
June 10^th, 1992

---

"Don't worry, I'm sure he bought his ticket in advance. Ain't that right, Jeremy?" Dennis had said.

Kennedy had no reason to doubt such a statement, and considering that she rarely paid out-of-pocket for anything — a perk to being a kid totally dependent on adult guardianship — it was entirely possible that movie tickets could be purchased beforehand. Of course, Jeremy quipped about needing to save money so the girl assumed that her earlier assumption had been the correct one, an opinion that was further cemented as the boy changed his story about having "overpaid" that one time. Kennedy rolled her eyes as she sauntered off towards the candy counter. Not her problem, but that didn't mean she had to agree with his antics.

Thomas was already at the concession stand talking to the girl working the counter. The boy was eyeing the skittles behind the glass, but considering his inside-out-pocket and subsequent lack of funding it was clear that he was broke.

"You dropped this," Kennedy said, forcing the $10 bill into Thomas' hand. He hadn't really dropped it, and the money was hers to begin with, but it was obvious that the boy didn't want to appear like a loser in front of a cute girl so Kennedy, having planned to buy them snacks anyway, helped the guy out. "I want popcorn," she said to Thomas, tugging on his sleeve and acting the part of a little sister as opposed to a 12 year-old girl hanging out with a bunch of high school boys.

The girl behind the counter would no doubt think it weird otherwise.

Ten dollars probably wasn't much but it would be enough to buy some snacks for Thomas, Kennedy, Dennis, and Jimmy. It was the least the girl could do since they had bought her ticket. Jeremy could spend his own cash.

[Kwadai]

Marco Ryder

Still shell shocked from his encounter with the scarecrow and not managing to establish a proper thought process, Marco struggled to come up with any sort of response to the clearly ill tempered girl. "This day just gets better doesn't it", he thought while visibly shaking and ghost faced. "I...uhh...well...I...had to", he stammered, trying to regain a sentence structure though his obvious panic, from the scarecrow incident clearly, but also from Brooklyn's outburst. "I'm not sure if you've noticed...", he began looking left and right at each pole in sight before returning his attention to the girl, "...but I think you've put up more than enough posters to get the message across", Marco responded coolly once he composed himself enough to speak.

The girl then made a move to push him but fortunately he saw her arm reaching out so he was able to keep his ground and not fall over when she shoved him. Wasn't this a little bit of an overreaction? Sure he expected she would be irritated or frustrated, but surely not to that extent. "People know she's gone, none of these will actually help find her", he continued, indicating the stack of slightly crumpled sheets he had passed over to the girl. Marco didn't intend to sound that harsh, he really didn't, it just seemed to come out in that way. Her comment about him being a waste of human skin hit like a hornet sting but this wasn't evident from his facial expressions, he'd become quite talented at masking his emotions.

"So once again. I'm sorry I knocked into you, but I had a very goodbye reason to be running", he said, offering an apology again.

[Granis]

Adrien grinned widely when the girl said she didn't mind talking to them, looking over to Rosemary with a thumbs up.

"Yes! More friends!" He shouted happily. "Today is just getting better and better!"

And then he turned back to the tall girl, who seemed worried for some reason.

"Forgive what language?" He asked, his head tilted in confusion. "I didn't hear any shitty language from you... Anyway, its not too bad. Some really strong guy and his pack of followers took me by surprise and started wailing on me while I was on the ground. Nothing too bad, just some bruised ribs. They barely even hurt anymore."

Immediately after he said this, he let out a small cough, causing him to practically double over in pain for a brief moment, his expression showing exactly how bad it actually did hurt. However, he quickly regained control, standing back up and grinning again.

"But yeah, no, perfectly fine. No need to worry about anything here."

After clearing that up, he looked back to Rosie out of the corner of his eyes. It looked like she might've been a bit too shy to try and join the conversation.

"Hey, are you alright, Rosie? You haven't really said anything recently."