There were a lot of ways teenagers chose to spend their Saturday nights. Saturday was their free day; school hadn't tired them out like it had on Friday, and it didn't hold the back-to-school dread that Sunday did.
Most chose to let loose: going to parties, getting drunk, having sex, etc.
Walking - alone - down a dimly lit, empty street at almost 2am was not how Ava planned to spend hers.
But here she was, checking every two seconds to make sure no murderers had jumped out of the bushes behind her, the summer breeze blowing her messy hair (which, at this time, slightly resembled a birds nest) into her face, and with a growing hatred towards her brother.
She wasn't at all surprised when she got the phone call from Ryan just ten minutes ago; in fact, she'd been expecting it, just as she had done every weekend for the past year or so.
They say that everyone's got their own way of dealing with death. Some turn to alcohol, like her dad did. Some keep all of their emotions locked away and refuse to show weakness, like her mum did. Some decide to keep themselves under the radar, trying to make it through the rest of high school unnoticed until they can finally move away from their dumb town and everybody in it, like Ava did.
Others, like her twin brother Ryan, decide to go out every weekend and get wasted or high or whatever else they think will help them just forget for a bit.
Ava did that for a short while, too, but she soon realised it was pointless, and the pounding headaches and sickness the following day weren't worth it.
A breakthrough she was still waiting for her brother to make.
Ava's other brother, James, had died just over a year ago. A drunk driver had crashed into their car, and James was unlucky enough to be on the side that was hit. His death had affected them all massively (most of all her dad, who decided six months ago that alcohol was more important than what was left of his family and had moved away without so much as a goodbye) but in some ways made them stronger. Ava and Ryan were always close (they had to be, they were twins) but James' death seemed to have brought them even closer.
Which is why Ava would always go and pick Ryan up, no matter what time or where he was.
It annoyed her, but she'd rather pick him up and know he's safe than let him or one of his friends think it was a good idea to drive home drunk.
Except this time her mum's car was in the garage, and she was stupid enough to attempt to walk to the party house.
Turning a corner, relief washed over her as she saw a house a few blocks down; every single light was turned on, the music could be heard from where she was standing, cars were parked on every possible space surrounding it, and a few people were even passed out on the front lawn.
Brilliant.
She was surprised that the party was still going on, actually - most of them had ended by the time she got Ryan's phone call, but this one had at least 50 people still inside.
Pushing her way through the small crowd of people she recognised from her school (some she even used to be friends with, but after she stopped partying, her existence had barely been acknowledged by them) she made it into the kitchen. The kitchen was the place where all the alcohol could be found, which made it understandably the busiest room in the house.
As she stood on her tiptoes, glancing around in desperate search for her brother whilst ignoring the few hands she presumed had accidentally groped her bum, that's when Michael saw her.
He'd told Ashton numerous times to invite her to Luke's party, but Ashton had always chickened out at the last minute, claiming he was still trying to think of a better way for her to go out with him.
