A/N: Hi! Many of you know me from my story, The Difference… well I'm warning you now: THIS STORY IS DARK! TD isn't that dark, but this story is. It's a horror. What did you expect? A fluffy horror? I can't even do that. PEOPLE SHALL (probably) DIE IN THIS STORY. It may have a happy ending, it may not. For pairing's, we have S/S and R/M (duh. It's one of my stories.), and I think I'm gonna have Marissa be heroine. Review and tell me if you like it! Thanks. This is sort of AU (alternate universe, or something like that, for those of you who don't know). Summer, Seth, Ryan, and Marissa are like, eighteen or nineteen now. This is their summer going into freshman year at college. Remember, this is AU. Did Marissa shoot Trey? Did Caleb die? Did Theresa get pregnant? The answer to all of these, and more is no. Most things that happened in the second season didn't happen. Therefore, if you see, say, Jimmy and Julie still married (which you will), don't review and be all "dude, they broke up." Not anymore, they didn't. But do review. You know I love it when you review. Also, another thing about AUness: if this goes against the laws of science: too bad! Just remember that and don't review me and say, "This couldn't have happened, that's not possible." Too. Flipping. Bad.

Marissa sat in her room, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She was bored. Big shock there. This summer ranked number one on her list of The Most Boring Summers In Newport Beach Ever. Nothing exciting ever happened, for once. She was beginning to wish someone would get eaten by a shark, or something, just for the sake of something actually happening around here. When Ryan had suggested that they and Seth and Summer go out to eat dinner somewhere that didn't cook their fries in ten pounds of grease, she had jumped for joy.

Someone, probably Summer, had suggested that they go somewhere fancy, white tablecloth and the works. Marissa had seconded it, and the guys grudgingly agreed.

So here she sat on her couch, her hair in curls, her nails manicured, and her body in a gorgeous pink spaghetti-strap dress she had found for only a hundred and seven dollars, waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up.

She was startled when the doorbell rang.

"Goodbye, Mother," she said, grabbing her purse.

"Bye, Marissa," Julie called, having missed the sarcasm in her daughter's voice. "Be home by eleven!"

"Whatever," she groaned.

"And don't slam the-" She was interrupted by the sound of Marissa slamming the door as hard as she could.

"Door."

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ryan and Marissa arrived at the restaurant at seven forty-five. As soon as they spotted their friends, they hurried over. Seth looked uncomfortable sitting next to some old prune with no teeth blathering on about her eight grandchildren.

"Hey, Marissa, Ryan!" he exclaimed, glad to finally shut the old biddy up. "You're-"

He stopped short, looking at Marissa. "Oh no," he said. "Not you, too?"

He motioned towards Summer, who was sitting on his right. She was wearing an expensive-looking blue silk dress. "I thought you said we weren't going all out on the clothes!"

Ryan sat down next to his friend, the old lady had left. "I didn't know, either," he said, glancing over at his girlfriend, who was animatedly discussing fashion with Summer. "At least we're not in tuxes."

Their name ("Cohen, part of four!") was announced over the P.A. system, and the hostess showed the to their seats.

Seth's eyes bugged out of his head as he stared at the price menu. "Twenty bucks for a steak?" he asked, his voice loud.

"Shh!" Summer poked him. "It's expensive, yeah. But the food is really good."

A waitress came by their table.

"Hello, I'm Marie, I'll be your waitress today. Can I get you guys anything to drink?"

"Do you guys have Pepsi?" Seth asked hopefully.

The waitress sneered at him.

"Four waters," Summer said.

"Right away."

However, 'right away' may have been an exaggeration, as the group waited twenty minutes, and no water came (neither did the waitress).

"This is ridiculous," Summer snapped. "I'm going to go in there and give them a piece of my mind."

She stormed off.

"Go where?" Seth turned to Ryan.

He shrugged. "No idea, man."

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Summer barged through the door into the kitchen.

"Que? Vous n'êtes pas permis dans ici!" a chef shouted at her.

"Whatever. Listen, I have been waiting twenty minutes for four damn glasses of water, and I want them now!"

"Je ne parle pas l'anglais. Ou parler le français ou sortir de ma cuisine, vous la petite chienne!"

She brushed past him, in search of a sink or someone that spoke English.

She found both. A busboy was filling up glasses of water, his back to her, muttering something under a vaguely familiar breath that sounded like "she's finally here, oh when I get my hands on her I'll kill that bitch!"

"Excuse me?" Summer said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Four waters, please."

He stopped his ramblings and filled up four waters, looking for ice to fill them up with, but only finding one cube. He put it in one of the glasses.

"Thanks," she said, as he turned around to hand her the waters. A look of recognition, and horror filled her face.

Her eyes widened, and she snatched the water and hurried from the kitchen, back to their seats.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God." Summer sat down, and passed the drinks to everyone, keeping the one with ice for herself. "Coop, oh, God, oh holy shit, oh God-"

"Sum! Calm down, what's wrong?"

"I- he- ki-d-" The words tripped over each other as she rushed to explain.

"Take a drink, calm down," Marissa said.

Summer took a sip of her water, and breathed in for a moment.

"Okay," she began.

But she never finished her sentence.

After that one word, Summer's face went rigid, and her body went pale. She fell out of her seat, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

Marissa screamed.

Seth rushed out of his seat and grabbed her hand.

"Oh, my God," he said hoarsely.

"What?" Marissa asked shakily.

"No pulse."

A woman rushed over to them. "I'm a nurse, I work at the hospital, let me see her."

The lady examined her for about fifteen seconds, and shook her head. "Oh, God."

"Should we call an ambulance?" Ryan asked.

"Won't need to. She's dead."

A/N: Sooo, what'dja think? Did ya like it? Did it suck? Don't cliffhangers stink? Who do you think the guy in the restaurant was? Do you guys know what the French dude said? According to my Free Translation, the first thing (Que? Vous n'êtes pas permis dans ici!) means "What! You're not allowed in here!" and Je ne parle pas l'anglais. Ou parler le français ou sortir de ma cuisine, vous la petite chienne means "I do not speak English. Either speak French or get out of my kitchen, you little bitch." Tee hee. Also: Read my story "The Difference". It's good! Review!