Kyle
There it was: a single colorful poster advertising the upcoming school prom. Big bold pink letters formed the words "Come to your school prom!" Under the incredibly oversized printing, in somewhat smaller print, gave the date, time, and place, which was predictably in the high school gym.

Kyle wouldn't be going. He made up his mind years ago that if he went, he'd only cause trouble. The last time he showed up to a party-like atmosphere, he managed to make a complete fool out of himself. If he could avoid it, something of that caliber wouldn't happen again. Ever.

Sighing and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his favorite faded jeans, he and his lime green converse continued the walk down the sidewalk. The concrete was old and pebbly; broken and jagged from countless soles traveling the same path.

The journey to his best friend, Kenny's, house was long and always seemed to bring about adventures.

The side of the building he was passing was brick and towered above him a couple hundred feet, overwhelming his own five feet eight inches. Cracked, chipped glass fragments littered the ground from the multiple broken windows; they emanated a dark, creepy feeling. Kenny's part of town had always frightened him. He was afraid he would be mugged or raped, or worse, both. Just his imagination running rampant caused chills to roll down his spine and goose bumps to form on his exposed skin.

After a few more blocks, he eventually arrived in front of the McCormick's front yard. The house was dilapidated and falling apart. Shingles were missing from the roof, windows were broken, and the green paint was slowly chipping away. The porch was practically in shambles; it looked completely unstable by any means, but it was apparent by the welcome mat that the McCormick family ignored this fact.

Weeds and other long grasses covered the yard. Any attempt at mowing weren't noticeable. Stepping stones marked the path to the front door; they were cracked and in multiple pieces lodged into the earth. Taking this pathway, Kyle walked up and onto the ruined porch. The boards of wood creaked under his weight and shook dangerously. On wobbly legs, he stood on the welcome mat and hurriedly knocked on the door. His knuckles rapped against the chipped painted door a few times. He wanted off this piece of unstable architecture.

A few moments passed and then the door flew open to reveal a young woman in her early twenties. Her hair was long and set in a mane down her back. It was a nice light brown color. Her eyes, the color of cold ice, stared through him from behind her bangs; curious and demanding.

"Yes?" she spoke with a stern voice, eager to get the information she wanted.

"Uh yeah. Is Kenny there?"

His own voice shook in fear, but only because the porch was beginning to become more shaky with every passing moment.

"He's upstairs."

Her tone and facial expressions gave off the impression that she was suspicious.

"Can I go see him?"

"I guess so," she said as she swung the door open, admitting him into the house. ",but make it quick; he has to be down for dinner in about thirty minutes."

"Kay," he shouted as he began climbing the stairs.

The interior of the house was pretty much in the same state as the exterior. The walls were bland and peeling in some places; the floor was only a slab of concrete with a huge printed carpet covering it. A cold shiver ran up his body when he stumbled on the step at the top of the stairwell. The air was heavy and stuffy, making it hard for him to breathe. Almost as if there wasn't a ventilation system.

Loud music was playing from under one of the doors down the hall from where he was standing. Presuming the room was Kenny's, he walked down the hall and stood in front of the closed door, contemplating whether to knock or not.

Deciding to knock, he spoke, hoping his voice would carry over into the next room, "Kenny? It's Kyle. Can I come in?"

A loud ruffling sound came from the other side and then the music was cut off, leaving a dense silence.

"Come in!" Kenny's voice called, muffled by the barrier.

Turning the cold brass metal knob, the door clicked open. Kenny stood in the middle of his room, on his heels, so as to not mess up his newly painted toenails. The blonde turned around and realized who it was at the door. He looked extremely guilty; a blush plastered across his cheeks.

"Oh..It's you, Kyle. I thought you were Kayla," the blushing blonde said sheepishly. "I was just painting my toes."

He was right. Each of his toenails was painted a deep bright orange. The paint sparkled in the light of the two neighboring lamps.

"For what may I ask?" he questioned lightly, shutting the door behind him.
"Oh, just prom. It's this Saturday," Kenny confessed, his cheeks burning a brighter red.

"I thought so. You seem like the kind of person who would want to go," he said, smiling. After a moment, however, he stopped and his smile was replaced with a definite frown that stretched from each side of his face. "I'm not going."

Kenny looked at him in a mixture of awe, incredulity, and spite. His light blue eyes twinkled, emphasizing his emotions. "Why not?"

"Because," he stammered. He immediately became extremely nervous; his heart began to beat louder and heavier. The whole situation was becoming awkward. Maybe he shouldn't have come to visit Kenny after all. "I just don't want to."

"But you have to! It's like a high school tradition. Everybody has to go to their prom; date or no," the blond duck-walked over to him and snatched his hand. He began pulling him in the general direction of his bed. The smaller teenager pushed him onto the full sized bed and continued to glare at him. He stood there, pouting. Blue eyes slightly pleaded for him to change his mind.

"Kenny," he began, but was interrupted by a rather loud, excited blonde.
"I have an idea! Since I don't have a date, you can go with me!"

"But…"

"No buts! It's already settled. Oh, I am so excited. I can't wait!" Kenny squealed, sounding an awful like a middle school girl than a guy well on his way to adulthood. He raced around the room, careful of his orange toes, and rattled off the insignificant details he, as his date, would need to know.

Sighing and dropping his head into the palm of his right hand, he just sat there, listening, because he didn't have the guts to tell him no. 'Guess I'm going to prom after all," he thought to himself dreadfully.