CHAPTER TWO

Terezi made them, Vriska worded them, Feferi handed them out.

And that's how the invitations to the summer's greatest bash made it out into the air, and onto Eridan's porch steps. That, and due to the simple coincidence that it was on Eridan's street that Vriska's bike had hit a rock and made a nasty swerve and crash into his mailbox which caused the plethora of invitations to spill out onto the road and be caught in the wind (mind you, Vriska did actually manage to gather up all within the immediate vicinity of the crash).

[b]Beep Beep[/b]

Eridan shoved his key lanyard into his deep pockets, along with his hands as he stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of his house and watched as his sister leaped out of car behind him, still licking the four scoop ice cream that would surely have fallen had it not been stuffed inside a plastic cup. With her cute shimmering pink converse, she skipped up the sidewalk to the front door and pushed it open with her elbow. Inside, her high-pitched voice of an average young girl could be heard echoing throughout the house, announcing their return home to their ever-elusive parents who, though probably home, were too occupied to greet their children good afternoon.

The teen took a more casual approach to entering the prison of his home, and looked up to the bright blue sky above him, empty of any blemishes and clouds. A half-hearted sigh escaped his lips as he smiled. He pulled a hand out of his pocket to compulsively place a fingernail in his mouth, casually gnawing on the tip with his teeth. He wore a tan and tan striped sweater-jacket over a work shirt and dawned khaki skinny jeans on his lower half, topped off with baby blue Vans and a baby blue scarf.

He found his feet traveling down the cold concrete sidewalk with no direction, and his eyes simply admiring the scenery around him, imagining the chance to capture it all with one single click. Across from his house sat another, similarly large red and brown brick house with a white door that had seemed so ominous for the few years' time he'd stopped visiting it with such a passion that he once had. But, alas, that was where the Peixes' lived, their financial family had built strong relations within the small city on the outskirts of Newark for years, practically as prolific as a family who'd sailed over on the Mayflower and taken the first step on their land's soil.

As he pushed his thick framed glasses up his long, less than eloquent nose, a voice appeared from behind him in a sort of hushed tone. It was familiar to Eridan's ears, but he didn't notice it right away until he took a bit more

"Hey." It said, as if the owner of it had the worst sore throat in history, his voice cracked, and immediately Eridan recognized the puny owner as he turned around, he responded.

"Taw?" His voice, filled with questionable confusion, rang through the air a bit louder than he'd expected, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, "What are you doin outside? Ain't your parents worried sick about you?"

The boy in the wheelchair fidgeted around for a second, before tilting his head to the side, his overgrown Mohawk flipping over to the other side of his head, "I'm completely efficient on my own… um… Eridan." As he looked down at his paralyzed feet, after something finally clicked, he looked up at Eridan again, but not into his eyes, "Uh, right. I thought you dropped something, back in front of your house." The smaller boy's thin fingers held out the enveloped paper frailly, and as his eyes met Eridan's they quickly jumped to the side. Eridan reached out to grasp the paper, thinking it was some scrap paper that'd fallen out of his car, and looked at the front.

[align=center]You're Invited![/align]

The specific use of exclamation points made him a bit weary of the sender, the two, Eridan and the spider-obsessed bitch, had been great friends before, in a hateful sort of relationship. Their arguments and dirty, nasty back-and-forth remarks were what had held up their 'enemy-ship'. Of course, once everything else started to fall to shit, whatever had been going on between the two at any point in time had become pure, hateful, hostility. The insults and horrid remarks were gone, and replaced by serious threats and hollow returns, by either party at any point.

In short, it made the teen increasingly anxious the more he held it in his hand, so he decided on stuffing it into his pants' pocket, along with all the other junk wrappers and gum that was already shoved into them. "Yeah, thanks Taw." He said, waving him off, and turning around on one heel, continuing his walk as he had been.

After a while, he heard the budoomp budoomp of Tav's wheelchair rolling on the sidewalk the opposite way Eridan happened to be walking. The bulky paper in his pocket genuinely bothered him, but the idea of actually opening it seemed perverse. That and he wanted to save it for when he was home in his room, an option that, the more he walked, seemed more and more welcoming. Finally deciding for it, he rounded the corner and turned back for his house, going in the back way.

His house was so quiet, so silent. The steady flip of a pen could be heard behind the office doors, where his father worked, but other than that, it was dead air. It was, of course, absolutely immaculate as well. Everything had its place, and was in its place, and even the smallest speck of dust would have been afraid to enter into the depths of the echoing household.

Eridan's room, however, was the shining opposite. Papers lined the floor, and posters lined his wall. His favorite books, Harry Potter, Witches and Wizards of history, and Salam Witch trials being some of the few, lined his bookshelves which were immaculately stuffed with every type of history text book, fictional book based on magic, and magical history book known to man. If someone was unable to tell his favorite things from the full shelves, they certainly weren't fit to be living. On his desk, papers were scattered, lost papers from fictional stories, and sub-par doodles dirtied his workspace and covered his laptop so well hidden in the mountains of paper. On the right side of his extensively large room, was an unmade twin bed with purple and black stripped covers and a purple pillow.

He pulled out his desk chair and plopped down in it with vigor. He tilted himself to one side as he reached into his pocket for the anxiously awaiting letter. As he held it between cold fingers, he shivered. It made him uncomfortable, looking at Vriska's hand writing again for the first time in a very long time. Eridan slid two finders under the sealed tab of the envelope and ripped it open like a child's told to rip off a bandage. Without hesitancy, his hand dove inside the paper packaging and acquired the letter, printed on pink parchment and so sloppily designed by the most colorblind girl in the school.

Sloppily drawn palm trees lined the bottom of the letter, something so obviously beach/sea-theamed. It read as follows:

You are Invited!

Come enjoy the sun, beach, and surf, and the only great summer party, the party of the century hosted by none other than Feferi Peixes! Spend time with the coolest friends as you tan and chat with your friends about the most juicy summer details.

RSVP with Feferi Peixes either in person or through phone, and leave your other friends at home. Guests will be checked for invites upon arrival.

So it was an invitation. To a party. Feferi's party. Eridan's hands wrung the paper with either perverse pleasure or an intense hatred, but either way, it was rather obvious to himself, and to most others, that he wouldn't allow the opportunity to be passed up again.