I had an image in my head that wouldn’t go away here you go.
TW: profanity, blood, speeding
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Danny Fenton, Tucker Foley, and Sam Manson were missing—and the Amity Park police department seemed to not want anyone to care.
Paulina heard it all through the grapevine—the grapevine being papa didn’t have an indoor voice even regarding important phone calls—getting a report issued had been like pulling teeth for all three families, and papa, a Sergeant on leave after his back surgery, wanted to know why.
“These kids go to my daughter’s school, goddammit! What’s going on over there?!”
Paulina didn’t know if he got any answers. She spent the last four days trying to stave off the overwhelming anxiety that came after those losers disappeared. She didn’t care about them much, personally, nice as Fenton was to her. But when three kids go missing at once, and it isn’t chalked up to running away, the air around you gets eerie as you wonder what’s next.
Paulina and Star didn’t do much for the search—they wouldn’t know where to start. What was it—the first 48? Those were long gone. It was in the back of Paulina’s mind as she drove toward Clarkson’s barn.
“Are we late?” Star asked, checking her phone anxiously. Star Benson was never late. Paulina was sure her own parents were hoping that trait would rub off on her.
(So far, it has not.)
“Just consider anyone already there as being early,” Paulina told her. She did press the gas a little harder, and the little white Yaris picked up some speed.
Clarkson’s barn was out in the sticks, just over the county line, “abandoned” for years but forever known as the perfect place to have a private party with proper refreshments. Dash invited them, though Paulina wasn’t sure if he was throwing the party or if he was latching onto someone else’s plan as an opportunity for free beer. There wasn’t really an occasion for a real rager—graduation wasn’t until June, and currently April still had a bit of a winter bite to it, a Midwestern special.
“So you never answered,” Star began. She locked her phone, and needed a distraction, “are you breaking up with Dash tonight?”
“I…” Paulina just exhaled. She never answered because she didn’t know. What she did know was that it was time to focus on her future—she knew the life she wanted, the posh one she was used to, and she didn’t know if there was room for whatever Dash Baxter had planned in it.
If he had anything planned. That was kind of the problem.
“Depends on if he embarrasses me tonight,” she finally answered. She saw Star purse her lips, unsatisfied but not surprised. “If he shotguns a PBR in front of me we’re—“
“Lina!” Star shouted, and at the same time Paulina caught sight of a shape on the unlit road, too tall and skinny to be a deer but damn if she didn’t break and swerve like it was one. Luckily the side of the road was just mud and grass, no sheer drop offs like there were about a mile back. When they came to a stop, she exhaled, her heart practically vibrating. She looked out the driver’s side window and saw the figure was still there—a person.
“What the fuck?” She tore off her seatbelt and got out, “are you fucking insane?! Who do you think you are?!”
“Lina, don’t do an…” Star began, stepping up behind her friend, but she trailed off after a second. “Holy shit.”
Paulina followed her gaze and fully took in the appearance of the stranger, who hadn’t run away from them.
Standing before her and Star was a bloodied and bruised Sam Manson, looking like she’d walked through hell to get there.
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