The Teacher

The Teacher: Part I Unchained, Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

MY OLD TRUSTY JEEP EASILY negotiated the rough rural roads of Schoolcraft County without incident. Of course, it helped that Lydia had heard about the farm and knew how to get there. Blaire was curious to learn more about Holden and his friends.

"So, how did you find out about the rave, again?" Lydia asked.

"Holden told me," I replied.

"Right, his band is hosting, at least that was the word. Somebody I didn't even know handed me a flier today when I was at the mall," Blaire said.

"I was at Starbucks this morning and one of my friends told me about it," Lydia added.

"So, it looks like I was the last to know, but no matter, I'm just glad you guys are going to be there with me. This will be my first rave, and I'm a little scared," I didn't mind admitting.

I'd heard of raves being held in neighborhoods with abandoned houses, in warehouses no longer in use, even right in the middle of a corn field, so choosing a vacant farm house in a remote area made sense. Most of the kids who go to raves, usually 16-to-17 year olds, have transportation or go with friends who drive, so, even miles outside of town wasn't a problem.

Looking over a typical group of ravers, a few might be in their twenties, probably rave regulars going back years, while the youngest might not even be in high school yet. Getting away with regularly going to a rave usually involved some dysfunction in the family—parents who for whatever reason just weren't keeping tabs on their underage offspring.

The first thing I didn't understand was the secrecy. We all had cell phones, we texted, had Twitter and Facebook accounts, email addresses, but people organizing raves don't go there. I can see why those digital transmissions might not be considered private, but it's hard to believe anyone would show up when fliers and word of mouth are the only ways to get the message out, especially since most raves are spur-of-the-moment events.

Someone gets the idea and a few hours later kids are showing up at the designated location. Whenever drugs are involved, people can get paranoid, so I suppose discretion would be the order of the hour. No one, especially the organizers, wanted to see their rave busted and all those good drugs lost.

It's not that ravers actually care about being busted. It's all about the no-holds-barred good time! Blaire knew what the scene was all about where Lydia and I were rave virgins. We really didn't fit the stereotype.

The ravers were more often the crazy metal heads, the colorfully dressed weird kids who wore beaded necklaces, and others who were completely unique and wanted a way to assert their individuality by doing something that the other kids in the mainstream, the jocks, the cheerleaders, the geeks, just wouldn't do. They wanted their own click—a group where the members understood each other.

This rave was really going to be different, though—a trip to the dark side of the twilight zone even for rave regulars.

HOLDEN'S BAND PULLED IT TOGETHER quickly and easily by simply reaching out to their growing local fan base. Everyone suspected the band members were different, but no one except me knew just how potentially dangerous they could be. Suddenly I got scared. Holden would never let his friends hurt me, or Lydia, or Blaire...would he?

We stopped to get gas and I picked up the bottled water Holden asked me to bring. About ten more minutes down the road and we were pulling into the farmhouse driveway. Cracking the car door, the unrelenting trance techno was already cranking. Most of the kids were in the barn, so we headed there.