LUNA'S POV

It's now that our journey has truly begun. The five of us, equipped with flashlights and determined expressions (aside from Alex, who seems to regret having entered), begin working our way through the high school's ventilation shaft.

From in front of me, Sam cranes her head back to ensure that everyone is behind her. We lock eyes, and within the dull light of my flashlight, I manage to pick up on the supportive smile that she flashes me. I return the smile.

"Is everybody in?" Mazzy calls from the head of the group. I voice a rather enthusiastic "yeah, bro", and my other bandmates provide an altered version of my response. Alex, however, voices incoherent mumbling.

The journey to the file room is an endless stretch of darkness and-close to-complete silence. Every inch that we trek within the vent's cramped interior sends the vent's foundation rattling. Dull echoes and thuds resonate within the space, and our ragged strained breathing is amplified. I hear Alex whimper faintly from behind me. Mazzy idly hums the Mission Impossible theme from the head of the line.

In hopes of alleviating the sudden sensation of boredom and the excruciating pain that my knees are experiencing, I watch Sam's fluid movements from in front of me. I try to sync with her movement, lifting my leg when she does and so forth. Even in a space as cramped as this, Sam still manages to uphold the gratefulness that she always projects. I mean, aside from dancing, that is. I smile at the memory, trying my best to suppress laughter.

With my shoulders hunched and my neck bowed, I feel myself beginning to cramp up. I will my body to snap out of it, craning my neck into a new position.

When it seems that my appendages might fail at any moment, there's a dramatic shift from the front of the line. Mazzy has stopped for reasons that I'm not aware of at the moment. However, as if trained to maintain progression, I'm only aware that we've stopped when my face is butting Sam's rear. I try to compose myself, pulling a straight face as I gaze in Mazzy's direction curiously.

"Guys." Mazzy murmurs feebly. There's an obvious note of fear in her voice, and it sets me on edge.

"Somebody's here."

I swallow hard, the sound unnaturally loud and discomforting.

"What?" Sully hisses through his teeth from the back of the line, trying his best to remain quiet, but beginning to grow panicked himself. It's obvious that Sully heard Mazzy's statement, but Mazzy repeats it nonetheless.

We've reached another vent opening to our left, and Mazzy kneels inches before it, out of view of anyone who might be there.

"Who's there?" I question insistently with the hope of alleviating my panic. My arms shake with the strain of holding myself up, and I bite my tongue to silence myself.

"Shh, wait…" Mazzy's voice trails off, and it isn't long until the sound of a door opening is heard from outside the ventilation shaft. The five of us are quick to turn off our flashlights, cloaking the vents in darkness.

I give a sharp intake of breath as the sound of footfalls rises to a crescendo. Suddenly, the lights to the classroom are turned on, and yellow light seeps through the vent's grate. Thankfully, the five of us manage to constrict ourselves out of view of the strangers, our warm exhales mingling.

As I listen, I begin to register that there are, in fact, two pairs of feet. Occasionally, they'll grow out of sync, resulting in an alternating "pitter-patter" of disruptive footfalls. It's evident that stealth is not something of their priority, only fueling the Moon Goat's confusion.

"Find them?" A voice, female, hisses within the deafening silence. There's an irritated grunt in response, and then the insistent shuffling of papers.

"Nah." Another voice, this one male, responds. "I swear on my life, Michelle, that somebody stole my goddamn keys. I'm not leaving this school until I find them."

The realization hits me as I pair the names to the voices. My already stiff limbs somehow find a way to stiffen more. I gaze at Sam beside me. She's biting her lip as if to halt any noise that may escape her lips. Her eyes are wide with both disbelief and fear.

"Doug, this room is empty. Stop searching already." The female voice grumbles irritably, and it's evident that it's Michelle talking.

Doug sighs exasperatedly, verging on pure rage and hysteria. However, his anger ceases, and he releases a rather forced exhale. When he speaks again, his tone is considerably more relaxed.

"Fine. You have a point... " Doug begins rather meekly, as if ashamed to be admitting defeat. "Let's check the bandroom. I'm surprised we didn't try there first."

The steps are heard retreating from the classroom door, and the lights turn off with a dull click. I allow myself to take more air into my burning lungs, unaware that I had been holding my breath the whole time.

Warm breath tickles me ear, though it isn't my own. There's a sharp, and rather loud, inhalation from beside me, followed by a brief, choking exhale. The strained noises repeat themselves, throwing me for a loop.

Amid all the chaos , I finally register what is producing the noise. It's Alex. And they're hyperventilating. I take a very impulsive risk, clicking on my flashlight and aiming it above the head of my distressed bandmate. Eyes wide and glassy with tears, Alex's shaking hands float before their face, as if searching for their fingers within the darkness.

Instinctively, I cup my hand over Alex's mouth, silencing them. Eyes wild and searching, Alex's gaze flicks over me.

"Wait." Michelle's voice snarls faintly from down the hall. "Did you hear that?"

Doug murmurs indifferently in response, evidently burnt out from searching.

I maintain a firm, yet trembling clasp over Alex's mouth, their hot breath causing my palms to perspire.

"I thought I just heard something." Michelle states, much to Doug's exasperation.

"Michelle, it's almost 9:00; nobody else is here." Doug replies, unable to mask his irritation. Ignoring Doug, Michelle turns on her heel, her footfalls approaching the ventilation system. The five of us hold our breath with anticipation, Alex trembling with the effort.

Suddenly, bright light shines within the ventilation shaft, however, our figures and shadows manage to remain out of sight. Michelle doesn't seem to peer much further into the ventilation shaft, however, for she finally emits a grunt of approval. Much to our relief, for we all relax visibly when the classroom lights click back off again.

The band maintains the same stunned silence for a long period of time. My hand twitches nervously over Alex's mouth, and I quickly draw my hand back. They don't respond, juts tuck a strand of green hair behind their ear.

"Is… everyone alright?" Sam's voice pipes up feebly, the noise seeming to reverberate within the ventilation shaft. We all murmur our response, finally willing to flick back on our flashlights.

"I-I wanna get o-out of here." Alex's voice wavers, and I can see their face within the light. They're visibly shaken from recent events, and their cheeks are wet with what I presume to be tears. Though I've seen a vulnerable side to Alex, it's unlike them to voice their fears as they're experiencing it.

"It's ok. We'll get out." I try my best to reassure my friend, though it feels rather strange to do so within such a confined space, and my reassurance doesn't seem to provide such relief.

I consult Mazzy, who's gazing back with a frown tugging at her lips.

"How far?" I question, and I feel Alex jolt beside me when their brother places a reassuring hand on their arm.

"Not far at all." Mazzy replies, already beginning the slow progression towards the file room. "We should be out in a few moments."

I hear Alex release a long breath behind me, as if bracing themselves, before shuffling forward meekly with a whimper. There's another few moments of dull "thunks" and reverberations as the five of us make our way through the vents. All of us, including Alex, maintain complete silence, for fear that Michelle and Doug might take notice of our noise again.

Finally, Mazzy releases a breathy exhale of relief from the front of the line, the noise enough to lift my spirits. The light from my flashlight catches on the ventilation grate up ahead, shining like a beacon for such wanted freedom.

"This is it. This has to be the file room." Mazzy states triumphantly, ensuring that she whispers due to the circumstances. Mazzy peers through the grates in the vent's opening, searching for any possible loose screws. Alex whimpers from behind me.

Placing a hand to the grate, Mazzy gives a gentle push. Nothing monumental occurs, though there's evidence that the grate is loose. It trembles as if terrified of Mazzy's boot.

"Can you get it open?" Sully whispers from the back of the line.

"Think so." Mazzy responds. "The damn thing is stubborn though."

As if releasing her repressed frustration, Mazzy kicks at the grate again, harder this time. It groans loudly, the noise reverberating off of the ventilation's interior. Sam stiffens from in front of me, and Alex hiccups from the aftermath of their tears. I clunk my boots together, itching to stretch my sore legs.

There's another kick, and I can't process what's occurring before there's a deafening rattle as the grate hits the file room floor. I experience a sinking sensation in my chest at the idea that Michelle and Doug likely heard that. It's a noise that's rather hard to ignore. I sigh with sheer relief when I detect no approaching footsteps or voices.

Mazzy crawls from the ventilation shaft, her feet hitting the ground with a soft "thunk".

"Alright." Mazzy sighs, massaging her stiff shoulders. "It's looking clear. You can come out."

"I'm gay." Sam jokes as she falls from the vents. The meek laughter that escapes her lips is strained, and definitely shouldn't be coming from her. I chuckle amid my churning stomach, aware that Alex hasn't laughed behind me. Such a lame, yet amusing, joke would be enough to make them laugh in normal circumstances.

I jump from the ventilation shaft, the feeling of my feet meeting the hard ground enough to make me collapse with the sheer relief of it all. I teeter slightly, as if having forgotten how to stand. Alex leaps out, pale and trembling, followed by Sully, who is quick to enfold their sibling in a hug. Alex accepts the embrace gratefully.

Finally taking the time to gaze around the room, I can barely suppress a gasp of wonderment and surprise, for no student has ever stepped foot inside the file rooms before. The space is incredibly vast, the surrounding shelves spanning for a great distance until they melt within the darkness. Much to my surprise, the shelves and filing cabinets and coated with a fine layer of dust. It seems as if some of these documents haven't been handled for months.

"How the hell are we supposed to find anything in here?" Alex questions feebly, though their voice has lost most of its tremor.

"I don't know." Sully responds, as if coming to terms with the fact that they've successfully made it into the file room. "Just start searching, and maybe we'll discover an organized system."

Seeing how this looks to be the only logical plan, the four of us nod. We all separate to explore the extensive room.

Though I've seen the doors to the file room before, I was not aware of its size until now. Who would have thought that Royal Woods High could fit such a room?

My boots creating a rhythmic "thump thump" noise across the tiled floor is the only sound heard as I scan the bookshelves. There's a moment when I come across a filing cabinet that seems to have been touched recently; there's a lack of dust. I draw upon the cabinet to reveal the student records, much to my evident curiosity. Curiosity peaked, I quickly scanned my student record. "Absent for 3 weeks in early March" was one of the more prominent notes. However, the need to find the Royal Rumble sheet takes over all else, and I suppress my curiosity enough to close the drawer.

Surveying my surroundings, I hear it.

"Hey!"

A shout carries its way across the file room. It's calm, collected, though I know the voice well enough to detect a slight waver of fear.

"I think I might have found it." The same voice, undeniably Sam's, pipes up again.

Turning on my heel from where I stand, I take off running towards the sound of my girlfriend's voice. The sound of my boots slapping against the hard floor is more pronounced, and I finally skid to a halt by the voice's source.

I approach Sam, taking her hands in both of mine and willing her to meet my eyes.

"You found it… didn't you?" I question meekly, unable to fathom having found what we went through the trial of searching for. A search that could jeopardize the remainder of their high school education.

The truth of what's occurring has begun to sink into Sam's features. She nods, clutching my hands tightly.

"I know this is the right move, but it feels… odd all of a sudden." Sam whispers.

Sam seems rather nervous, for her eye contact falters, and she gains a sudden interest in my boots. I cup a hand to her girlfriend's cheek as a means of bringing her back to reality. It seems to do the trick, for Sam's eyes once again meet mine. She presses her cheek further into my palm, succumbing to the affection.

"I know it feels weird, Sam, but we're doing the right thing. You know that." I rasp, before taking Sam's hands in mine and planting a gentle kiss upon them. Our conversation has ceased just in time, for Mazzy skirts around the corner, Alex and Sully in toe. It's astounding how fast Mazzy can run for someone with such short legs.

"No way. Did you…" Mazzy's voice falters, and Sam nods. She leads the four of us to a tall filing cabinet, its condition revealing that it was touched recently. Working as one, pry open the drawers in search of the Royal Rumble info sheet. There are dozens of folders yellowed with age between labeled tabs (music, arts, theater, etc.), though it doesn't take us long to find the "music" tab. We finger our way through every paper before coming to a still halt before the paper labeled "The Royal Rumble".

With trembling hands, I draw the information sheet from the cabinet, relishing in the "whooshing" noise that it makes as it brushes past its neighboring papers.

"I found it." I croak feebly of the feverish scuffle of searching. The faces of my bandmates perk up from their task, wide-eyed. We huddle as one, peering at the works upon the paper. We aren't invested in what most of the sheet has to say, however, for the five of us are hastily scanning the bottom of the page.

Never before has my heart dropped with such reckless intensity.