Terror By Night

Chapter 1

                                                                November

Only 13140.018 hours left until graduation. I sit counting down while suffering through another boring day in Mr. Jackson's English class. Being halfway through my junior year means I have 18 more months to plan my escape. My sole focus in life is to graduate and say good-bye to the most boring town in America. Population 10,578, Two Egg, Florida is the worst place on Earth to have to endure high school. It means I've seen the same faces for the last nine years. The same petty girls trying to be the big fish in a small pond. The same obnoxious little boys turned into obnoxious teenage guys. Well, all but Xavier. I can't help the mental sigh that echoes through my mind. Comparing him to any other guys at my school is like saying a star has something in common with a lightbulb.

So far, he hasn't made an appearance yet. But tardiness is his specialty. Regardless of the beauty and perfection that is Xavier, I make an attempt to refocus on the teacher. It might possibly be the most boring lecture I've ever sat through. I could calculate the odds, but I'm supposed to be dissecting the paragraph, not mapping out math equations.

It doesn't take but a few minutes of Mr. Jackson's explanation of linking verbs to send my mind wondering again. This class, this school, even this whole town; it's all suffocating! All I dream about and work toward in life is escaping to a real town with a real future. What can I hope to accomplish if I stay in Two Egg? Work on the farm until my hands are too calloused for lotion to ever penetrate? Marry the neighbor and raise kids to work the farm after we're too stooped to stand upright?

That isn't the future I want. I need to breathe smog and smoke and bump into people I don't know. I want to be another face in a big crowd and get lost. That's impossible to do in a town so completely off the map that most people don't know it exists, and absolutely everyone in it knows your name.

I'm sitting at nine in the morning doodling skyscrapers in my notebook while trying hard not to fall asleep. Getting up at the crack of dawn to bring in the eggs means I never got enough sleep. Maybe I'd better rested if I went to bed at the same time as my grandparents- 6 o'clock at night. How can any seventeen-year-old be expected to go to bed that early? My grandparents and I made a pact a long time ago. They allow me to stay up late, even go out, as long as I'm in my room by ten and get up to take care of the eggs in the morning. The first couple times I was late made for being confined to my room when they went to sleep. I learned my lesson, as well as how long I can stay awake and still be functional at 5 am.

I glance across the room to Nolan, my early rising cousin. How anyone can be that alert without high levels of caffeine is beyond me. He's on the far left next to the window, as his usual. I know he's only pretending to take notes. I can't see the journal tucked under the desk, but it's there. He's always writing in it. He writes more than anyone I've ever seen. He always has his rolled-up notebook stuck in the back pocket of his jeans or his book bag. When one gets full, he swaps out for fresh, but they always look the same. He never lets me read what he's writing though. The closest I get to an inside look is when he asks me what word rhymes with whatever word he throws my way. I think he secretly dreams of writing music and making it big in Nashville. Too bad his guitar skills are still sub-par. Nolan spends too much time writing to actually practice. Besides, if I'm not headed to school in Nashville, he won't go without me. A hard sigh slips through my lips. At least I still have 74 weeks until graduation to convince him I can manage life without him by my side.

That sounds harsh. He and Zoe have been my saving grace, my confidants, my fellow in arms. I know how much they care. But a part of me wants to prove to myself that I don't need them. That I can make it on my own.

Thinking Zoe's name causes me to look over in her direction. She's sitting immediately to my right. Her head is tilted down so a curtain of chestnut curls obscures her face. I can still tell she really is taking notes. My best friend got chewed out last night by her parents for her mediocre grades. If she wants to have a social life at all for the next month, she needs to get at least a 'B' on her next test. Not that there's much to do (or anything at all) around here, but don't come between Zoe and her weekend ritual of going to the mall and dinner at Nolan's on Sunday night. The three of us try never to miss the Sunday night dinners. Nolan's mom and dad have this way of making a meal feel like an occasion and we never know what to expect. I think it's their way of making up for the lack of excitement this town has to offer. We have come over more than once to dinner being in some place like the backyard, picnic style. Or everything piled on floats and we had to swim or float around in the pool to eat. I have so many great memories full of laughter and fun from those Sunday nights.