Chapter Two:

The Party

Note: Nick's P.O.V.

You know those dreams that you wake up and you feel like you're falling? And you kind of jerk awake, pushing your arms out to hopefully break your fall?

That's how I woke up. Except I actually fell. Onto my floor, ass-first, sweating like a guilty robber hiding in the air vent.

Then I realized my graduation celebration was nearly a week ago since I already had the credit needed to pass.

Most dreams are odd. Others are just strange.

I classified mine as strange as I pulled on a pair of jeans and some random shirt off my floor.

Soon enough, I made my way into the kitchen, plopping down at my preferred chair. There was a plate sitting in front of me with one of those cheesy things you'd only expect mothers in commercials to do or mothers who've got little kids. But my mother is an overly involved control freak, she sees to the full rights of it. It had two eggs- sunny side up- and couple bits of bacon curved up to complete the smiley face.

Mom was reading the news paper, holding it way up so it blocked her vision from seeing anything.

"You look tired."

I snapped at her, "How would you know?" It was true, she hadn't even seen me.

She acted as though I hadn't said anything, and simply continued. "Have you been taking the Nyquil I got you?"

"Mom."

She ignored me and started sprouting distractions. "Finals are next week."

"Mom."

This time my tone caught her attention, she drew the paper back a bit and scrunched up her eyebrows. "What."

"Have you thought about it?"

She sighed, it wasn't audible, but she did, I know she did by the way the paper shifted and blew out bit. "Thought about what?"

"That writer's course?" When she gave me a blank look I added, "In London?"

She set the paper down angrily, revealing her dark hair polled back in its usual tight, flawless bun, "I don't need to think about it. You know how I feel about that." She eyed my shirt and smirked. "And what's with the shirt? Irony?"

I looked down. It read "Gluten Free." Sam must've left it here but I saw her point.

I flipped the bacon and ditched as soon as she had her newspaper in its original position.

I hit my room first, snatching a decent shirt to replace the cruddy one Sam left. Then I checked my black hair in the mirror, taking a comb to mess it up so it wouldn't be split away from my face the way mother likes it "because it looks professional." If you don't have the brains, it doesn't matter how professional you look.

I was careful not to make too much noise as I left, I didn't care for a speech on how important breakfast was.

Slipping outside, I grabbed my bike and shoved off for school.

It's not a far ride, maybe half a mile. The hardest part is getting through the traffic since there's a four-lane. But hey, I could do with a challenge.

It didn't take long before I had secured the bike and slipped through the halls to my locker. There was some jock with close-cut light brown hair, a hand shoved in his pocket whose name I couldn't recall standing by it, his eyes locked onto me as I came into his view. I'm pretty sure he must be a customer but I can't remember what his name was.

I raised my eyebrow at him and set to opening my locker.

"Hey, you've got my French final, right?" he reported obediently as I twitched the lock to the last number and opened it up.

I set my messenger bag in the locker and checked it for such. Sure enough, it was there, a Brian Toner typed on it. He was a regular, didn't know much of anything, much less about the classes he took but passed through cheating and charm. Being on the football team also helped.

I fished out the report and he offered up a few green bills.

"Thanks, man- You saved my ass." And he left.

I pocketed the cash.

I was just about to close the locker and leave when a soft hand from behind covered my eyes and a voice whispered into my ear.

"Gotcha." I could hear the smile in her voice and smell the spearmint gum she had.

I turned and closed my locker, facing Lisa.

Lisa was a bit shorter than average, maybe five, three, tops. She had a slender body, a heart-shaped face and red- near blonde- hair. Mischievous green eyes. She made it a habit to wear clothes that show off her curves but show just enough skin to make you wonder what it does cover. She's that kind of girl who gets around, generally if she's talking to you- you have something she wants.

And she had it in for me.

She smiled, showing her perfectly white and proportional teeth, "So, are you going to Brigid's party?"

I started walking, shaking my head, "Nah. Too busy."

She kept pace. Looking up at me she rolled her eyes. "You're alwaystoo busy. Come on, it's going to be the party of the year."

I frowned. I actually did like parties, but not all the idiots who turn into complete whores after a beer. Especially when they grab what's not theirs.

Lisa somehow slipped in front of me, placing a manicured hand on my chest, green eyes tricky. "At least think about it, okay?"

I was considering it. But I didn't want her to know that.

She stood up on her tippy toes. "Please?" she breathed.

"We'll see." I basically agreed.

"Whatever." Lisa rolled her eyes and gave me one last predatory half-smile and turned, it was as if she'd timed it to be perfectly in tune with the bell. She had a confident walk, like one of a predator.

I sighed and turned away.

Author's Note:

This chapter should be the last shorter one, the rest should get lengthier, especially once the plot is plain in the writing.

I do hope nobody minds terribly much that Lissa is not a total slut.

The next chapter will contain our first glimpse of Max and all her fury. It will also have Iggy, Ari, and Sam as well.

Thank you for reading. Reviews and criticism are welcome.

-TheInvisiblityComplex