Soup Spoon |Discontinued|

| Ch. 8: A Grand Entrance |

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             Sampson's leg bounced up and down with barely contained excitement beneath his and David's shared desk, lead piece scribbling away in his journal whilst one of his classmates reads out to the class in a bored, monotonous tone. Ever couple seconds his green eyes would dart up to the clock hanging on the wall above the long chalkboard running across the entire expanse of the back classroom wall, the hands ticking away much too slowly for his liking.
            The rustle of paper to his right make Sampson look over, only to see David grabbing a note from  somewhere behind him, his eyes locked onto to the form of Mrs. Corey standing at the front of the room as he slowly unfolds it under the desk. Sampson stops his scribbling to lean over just slightly, hiding behind the propped book he was supposed to be reading along with the class.
            "It's the final list of people attending," David whispers to Sampson, barely breathing the words. "I hope you have some more lemonade and cordial than two bottles, yeah?" Sampson snorts, before schooling his face and looking at his book when Mrs. Corey's head snaps in his direction.
            "Mr. Whittager," She calls out, and heads turn in his direction. "Would you like to continue where Miss. Hedgebrow left off, or may she continue?"
            "S-She can continue, ma'am," Sampson stutters out. "My apologies for the interruption."
            With a nod, Mrs. Corey tells the girl to continue her reading, and David conceals a small laugh with a clear of his throat. Sampson elbows the blue eyed boy hard in the side, which gets him a satisfying 'oomph' before he closes his journal and tries to catch up to where they are. Other than that little slip in front of the class, the morning had been uneventful. Sampson hadn't seen Foster on the trail for the second morning in a row, but he also hadn't had any more of his strange visions either. The blonde could only assume it was his medication putting itself to good use and giving him a good nights rest, because what else could explain it?
            When the bell finally rung to signify the end of the school day, most of the students in the room rose from their seats with fervor, a loud sweep of excited chatter filling the room as everyone collects their books and writing slabs and head for the coat room. Sampson feels butterflies in his stomach as he follows David and William to grab their hats and jackets, slipping both on as quickly as possible before making their way out the door. 
            "So I know a lot of people are coming than the original four or five, but who all is telling stories?" Sampson asks them as they may their way towards the trail home, passing by other students as they go. "I want to know who we'll be up against."
            "There are five or six of us, I think," David scratches at his forehead under the brim of his hat, eyes squinting up at the afternoon sun. "Maybe less? All I know is that it's going to be fun, and that I better have a gal' on my arm by the end of the night."
            "Don't think I didn't see you staring at Val again today in class," William snorts, and Sampson raises an eyebrow at David, whose ears had begun to turn red at the mention of the girl's name. "You ask her to tea in town yet?"
            "Who's Val?" Sampson questions, a teasing smile making its way across his chapped lips. They'd started to sting in the cold air; he really needed to stop biting them. "Does David Bottley fancy a girl in our class?"
            "You're a little late on that, Sam," William snorts. "David's been crushing on Valentine Folly ever since kindygarten. Isn't that right, David?"
            "Shut up, the both of you." The raven haired boy grumbles, tugging his hat down to conceal his face. Will and Sampson share a look, beginning to snicker to themselves. "No, I haven't asked her yet, since you're so hard pressed to know of my intentions... but I plan to tonight."
             "Good on you then!" Will pats him hard on the shoulder, a delighted grin on his face. "If you need help with anything, give me a signal, yeah?"
             "I wouldn't ask you for courting advice if you were the last man on Earth." David snorts, and Sampson can't help the loud laugh that escapes him.
             When the two boys say their goodbyes to Sampson at the white fenced gate, Sampson goes to hop it like usual and nearly falls on his face when his left wrist gives out beneath him, making him flip over it and barely land on his feet. He hears his friends guffawing at him in the distance, and throws a pretty rude gesture their way before continuing his way through the yard, rolling his wrist round and round to try and get the soreness to abide some. He really didn't know what he did to it; all he could do is hope that it wouldn't affect his progress on the field later. Another condition to him being allowed to go was that Sampson would still do all of his daily chores, so he had to start as soon as he could if he wanted to make it to the party in time with Will and Dave.
            Barely remembering to take off his boots before bursting through the front door, Sampson runs up the stairs and nearly runs into Deirdre, who has a barely-touched plate of cold food in her hands.
            "'Scuse me, coming through!" He hollers after him, swinging the door open to his room and tossing his books onto the bed before turning and running back down the hall once more. 
            "Well I never-- watch where you're going, Sampson!" He hears his sister's shrill voice behind him as he makes his way back down the stairs, jumping over the last three steps and jogging out of the back door in the direction of the field. 
            The sun passed far too slowly overhead for Sampson's liking as he worked away in the field, getting covered in all sorts of the usual muck of the day. As the sun starts to dip low enough over the horizon for Sampson to get worried he'd be late, the blonde wipes the dirt from his hands on his trousers and pulls out his pocket watch, eyes widening as he saw it was only a quarter to eight. Dropping his hoe where he stands, he waves an arm wildly at his brother across the field until Aiden waves back, signifying he could leave. With a skip in his step and an entire swarm of butterflies in his belly, Sampson runs to the house and up the stairs without a word to either of his sisters, both of which are working on a dinner he's not going to have.
            He'd set everything he needed out earlier that morning; his outfit, his journal, the large glass bottles containing the drinks he'd promised to bring, and a medium sized satchel to carry everything in. Closing and locking the door, Sampson strips and washes up with the water pail and linen cloth in the corner of the room. Lacking a mirror, he did his best to try and get the dirt from around his neck and face, using the refreshing, minty smelling soap bar his grandmother had given him to scrub at his skin and wash his hair. When he was satisfied he would be presentable for the party, Sampson dries himself and wraps his chest in fresh bandages, redoing it over and over until he was confident they wouldn't loosen; shortness of breath was a small price to pay. Stuffing a bundle of cloth down his knickers for good measure, Sam takes as deep a breath as he can manage before turning to his clothes. 
            He'd ironed them, folded them neatly, and had even gone so far as to fleck cinnamon oil over them so that the smell would mix pleasantly with the scent of wood smoke. He quickly dresses himself; a simple dark green poets shirt and a pair of black sheer stockings, tucked into black trousers with a dark brown belt the color of his worn boots. 
            Looking at where he'd set down his necklace - his father's iron ring added to it once more - Sampson picks it up and debates on whether or not he should wear it. After a moment, he nods to himself and ties it around his neck, tucking it under his shirt before donning his jacket and grabbing his satchel. Packing everything into it, Sampson looks down at himself one more time, satisfied, before slinging the back over his shoulder and heading out the door at a brisk pace. 
            When he comes down the stairs, Adelaide is waiting for him at the bottom with her lips pressed into a thin line and her hands clutched together tightly around something. At Sampson's questions glance, she sighs and opens them without a word, revealing a small pocket knife cradled in the palms of her hands. The ivory handle gleamed in the candle light around them, and Sampson's eyes widen at the beautiful craftsmanship.
            "It's grandfathers. He's already gone to bed, but he wanted you to have it. Take it with you, please," She says, taking his hand and pressing it into it. She folds his fingers back over it gently, before reaching down and giving him a light peck on his forehead. "And be safe. Now go, your friends have been waiting on you at the gate for a good minute or two now." When she finishes, she licks her thumb and wipes at the last of the dirt peaking from out behind his ear, before giving him a reassuring grin.
            Giving her the biggest smile he can muster, Sampson pockets the knife and stands on his tips of his toes to kiss her on the cheek, before rushing out the door. Lacing his brown boots on as fast as possible, he jumps down the stairs with a holler to his friends, who were waiting by the gate to the property as they always did. When they spot him, their heads whipping to look at where the sound had come from, he can see their wide, excited grins from all the way across the yard. They were both dressed well; David in a white dress shirt and black slacks, and William in a black dress shirt and cream pants. 
            "Well look at you, looking like you're going on a night out downtown," David chuckles when Sampson gets close enough for them to appraise his outfit. Reaching his hand out, David's smile widens when Sampson grasps his forearm firmly, pulling him close and smacking him hard on the back. "You ready?"
              "He better be," William calls over his shoulder, having already started walking. "We're going to be late if we don't start making our way there right this moment."
              The three boys walk a bit down the familiar road to school, before taking a fork in the path that Sampson had never been through before. It takes them a good ten minutes of walking down the road, and then another ten hiking through a side trail that splits off from the road and is so thin Sampson thought it was animal-made, before the flickering light of a fire starts to cast shadows on the trees around them. Pushing past some overhanging bush and tree limbs, Sampson and his friends step out onto a lead-littered sandy beach, bleached white in the light of the slowly rising moon with small flickers of yellow here and there from the flames. There was a massive fire pit before them, already lit and smoldering, framed by the background of a deep blue lake that was much larger than what Sampson had expected. He'd have to come back here to fish with Aiden at some point. 
            Fifteen to twenty people were scattered about on the beach; some were warming themselves in front of the fire and chatting away, while others were off walking down along the shore of the partially frozen lake in groups of twos and threes. He could recognize some of the faces from class, but didn't have names to put to them until he saw Jackson and Jasper. Jasper was dressed to a T in a white collared shirt, with a light grey pea-coat and dark black trousers, the outfit topped off with  shiny black dress shoes that reflect the firelight in front of them. Jasper was dressed about the same, with a crisp black cap to match and a bonjaw slung over his shoulder on a strap.
            When the two spotted the three of them pushing their way through the treeline, Jackson raises a hand in greeting and a large smile spreads across his face. Turning to quickly say something to Jasper, who nods and wanders off around the other side of the fire, Jackson starts to head in their direction at an easy pace, looking absolutely at home in the amiable environment around them.
            "Welcome gentleman," Jackson chuckles, looking them over. "You three dressed well for the occasion, didn't you?"
            "We dressed well? I know you have a mirror somewhere in that nice house of yours, Jackson." David jokes, and the brunette releases a delighted laugh before turning to the shortest of the three.
            "Sampson, did you bring the refreshments?" Jackson asks, pointing to the blonde's travel satchel. 
            "Oh, yes! I did," Sampson unlatches the canvas bag around his shoulder and reaches in, pulling out three bottles; two lemonade, one raspberry cordial. "I hope these will suffice for now?"
            "Perfect, thank you again for bringing it. It should be enough, I think someone else has brought drinks with them as well," Jackson nods, before pointing to the lake shore. "Go ahead and bury them partially in the sand, where the water will wash up against them. It'll keep them cool until we need to unseal them."
            Sampson nods, leaving the three of them to do as he's told. As he walks past the crackling flame, weaving through the small crowd as best he can, the blonde tries to take in his surroundings, nervous with all of the people there. He only knew five out of twenty or so, three of those six barely more than acquaintances, and the other two he'd only been friends with for about a week now. It felt like time progressed faster here in the Willows than anywhere else Sampson had ever been; that's not a lot of places, but the point still stands. 
            Everyone there were either classmates of a higher age group such as David, Will, and Sampson himself, or people that were even older. It seemed as though siblings and friends  had been invited against Jackson's wishes - or had invited themselves - and as Sampson stares out over the group of people before him he couldn't help but get a knot in his chest at the thought of reading his story aloud in front of them all.
            Sticking the three bottled drinks in the sand, Sampson turns to look around for a place to set his satchel, trying not to get his boots even more wet than they already are. Spotting a group of large rocks by the forest edge where people seemed to be setting their things, he walks over and wedges his satchel in the groove of one, partially concealing it from view for safe measure.  Satisfied with his work, Sampson makes his way back over to Will and Jackson, David having departed in the short time he was gone, presumably to find that Val girl he had been talking about. Jasper had returned to the small group with Alexander in tow, the two of them quietly listening to Jackson and Will's conversation on the 'special effects' the lanky boy and David had been planning, and whispering to each other every once in a while. 
            "Alright, we're going to begin here shortly," Jackson suddenly says, straightening his clothes and smoothing his hair back some. Turning to Alexander, he asks "Alex, could you please go get us some more kindling? I want us all to be able to stay here for a great deal of time without having to go back and forth to the woods."
            With a grunt of affirmation, Alexander turns and elbows Jasper in the side before beginning to walk away, motioning for the well dressed boy to follow him. Jasper grins and does so, and after watching them go for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes, Jackson turns back to continue his conversation with Will. Not seeing David anywhere in sight, and not particularly caring about what the two were talking about, Sampson decides to trail after the Jasper and Alexander to help them get more firewood, catching up to them as they neared the forest's edge.
            "Would two like some help?" Sampson asks, jogging the last couple of steps to start walking alongside Jasper.
            "Yes actually, thank you." Jasper nods, answering for Alexander as well, before starting to look around on the forest floor for dry wood. The three boys quietly scavenge for kindling for a few minutes, the background chatter of the party filling what would be silence. After getting a decent armful of mostly damp wood, which would have to be good enough, Sampson turns around to say something to the two when he sees Alexander pull something shiny and metallic from his vest pocket. 
           Here at the very edge of the woods, far from the fire's light and shadowed from the moon by the canopy above, Sampson had to squint to make out what it was, but realized soon enough when the dark blonde had to audibly unscrewed the cap and bring it to his lips; it was a flask, the sight of it making Sampson's belly stir uncomfortably. Alcohol, especially strong spirits like this seemed to be by Alexander's facial expression, has always been prohibited in the Whittager household. Sampson had never been told why; they weren't the most religious family besides going to church every Sunday and celebrating the usual Christian holidays, so he knew it wasn't that. It was generally just frowned upon, so he'd never been around spirits all that much growing up and certainly wasn't used to it now, though he'd gotten curious once or twice. He was almost positive Jackson had told them not to bring it, too. 
            "Want some, Sampson?" Jasper asked him as Alexander passed him the flask, taking a deep swig before snatching it away from his mouth with a curling grimace. 
            "I-I'm good for now, thanks," Sampson mumbles, barely loud enough for them to hear, before adding one last sizable stick to the stack in his arms and turning back in the direction of the fire. "Maybe later."
            "Whatever suits your fancy," The musician shrugs, before twisting the cap back on tight and giving it back to Alexander, who pocketed it away once more for safe keeping. When Sampson takes a step forward to leave, though, he points a sharp finger at him, squinting at the blonde in the dark. "But don't tell Jackson, you hear? Or we'll never hear the end of it. He's the pastor's son, after all."
            "Understood." Sampson nods with a thick swallow, before walking ahead of the two back to the fire, mouth pressed into a thin line. The whole way he could hear them whispering behind them, but he tried to ignore it as he neared the fire pit once more. 
            More people had started to gather around it now, most of the girls seated on the long rotting logs that surrounded the pit in a square, while the boys continued standing or simply sat in the sand in front of them, everyone looking at Jackson expectantly. In what had felt like a few minutes of gathering firewood, Jackson had gathered his crowd, drinks being passed around along with a variety of treats and such.
            "Thank you to everyone who decided to come," Jackson begins, his features made a defined silhouette against the backdrop of the fire behind him. "We'll begin telling stories in a minute, so make sure you're comfortable and already have your food and drink."
            Sam, Alex, and Jasper all set there kindling down in a large pile beside the fire, before the two of them sit down in the sand to listen and Sampson quickly jogs away in the direction of the rocks.
            Retrieving his journal from where he'd stashed it away, the blonde hurries back over to the group and looks around quickly, before spotting David and William somewhere in the back, sitting on the ground cross legged together. As he approaches, trying to be as quiet as he can while Jackson talks, Sam notices David's cross expression and slightly hunched posture, as well as Will's comforting hand on his shoulder.
            "What's going o--" He starts to ask, but Will shakes his head violently, David not saying a word to the green eyed boy. 
            Nodding slowly and feeling a bit awkward, the blonde settles down in the sand beside his friends, stretching his legs out before him and leaning back on his hands. As David introduces the first person to tell their story, Sampson's eyes gaze up at the stars, trying not to think and to just listen to the boy before them all speak. He'd been forcing himself not to look for the familiar red cap all night, to just focus on what's going on and to enjoy his first big social outing, but so far things seem to be going a bit poorly.
            David was upset, and Sam was almost sure it had to do something with the girl he fancied. Then there was the situation with Jasper and Alexander to add to it, and if they had brought alcohol with them, he could only imagine how many of the older people present had brought it as well, among other things. Sampson had just wanted a night of thrilling stories that made his hair stand on end, not a night of mischief and mind altering substances and being uncertain about the nights happenings.
            The first person finishes up their story with a startling shout, making several people jump in surprise before devolving into small fits of laughter and nervous chuckling. As Jackson thanks the person for reading, Will stands and goes to whisper something in his ear. Facial expression going from curious to understanding, Jack nods before skipping over David on the list of story tellers and going on to the next person while William walks back to sit down next to Dave.
            As the younger girl begins her story about a monster in the lake - easy pickings, but Sampson wasn't complaining - the curly haired boy hears a sound from somewhere behind him that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a way that has become all too familiar the past couple of days. It was coming from the tree line behind the the three of them, but Sampson was the only one to turn his head and look, the other two preoccupied with whispering to one another. The blonde was the closest, leaning far back on his hands at the edge of the crowd where the fallen leaves from the trees met the sandy bank, when the sound gets closer and more recognizable. 
             It was the sound of running feet, getting closer by the second; an entire group of people by the sound of it, leaves and sticks crunching beneath their heavy, quick steps. That was the only sound that met his ears for a moment, until an actual howl suddenly rips through the otherwise quiet night air, making everyone at the fire jump in their places. The girl telling her story stutters to a stop, looking at the tree line in surprise and slight fear. Nobody moves as more howls sound out around them, joined by whoops and hollers and whistles of all kinds.

            Then they broke through the treeline. 

            Five masked figures bolted out of the forest, laughing and hollering and cartwheeling as though they were part of some travelling circus. They wore animal masks made of feathers and furs and carved wood, and black hooded cloaks that fell just past their elbows. One came running right towards Sampson while the other four forked off to run around the fire, the girls screaming in shock and clutching their skirts while the boys stared in bewilderment, slack jawed and confused.
            Bare feet pad through the sand and right towards the blonde. He didn't have time to move, time to think, time to do anything but sit there on the ground and stare at the figure before it was right there in front of him, a well-crafted fox mask leering at him from under the shadowed hood. Then, in a move he'd never expected, the person didn't stop-- it ran right at him, planted its hands on his shoulders, and leaped over him with the ease, grace, and rippling movements of some kind of big cat or predator.
            For a moment, time was brought to a standstill with this person above him, suspended in air. They were so close, Sampson could just barely make out gleaming brown eyes through the holes of the mask, lit by the fire before them all. Then the person completed their jump and time was brought to it's usual pace once more, the five of them all jumping or weaving through the crowd with fast feet to surround the fire in a spread out circle, all of them facing the crowd.
            Everything was still. No one talked, or moved, or did anything but stare at these people, all of them of different height and build and posture, before the one with the fox mask suddenly takes off their hood. There, illuminated from behind by the fire, was the familiar red cap that Sampson had been looking for all evening.
            'See you at the party', the note had said. 
            He would never admit it to anyone who asked, but as Foster lifted his fox mask and looked right at the blonde with the cheekiest wink Sampson had ever received, a humongous smile overtook his features, and no matter what he tried to do he couldn't suppress it. Deciding to try and dispel some of the quickly building tension, Sampson pushed himself to his feet and began clapping loudly, letting out a long whistle of appreciation. Still confused, but slightly more relieved at the thought that this was just some kind of show to spook them, everyone around him slowly joined in, before the entire fire circle was clapping and laughing with relief and bewilderment. 
            The other four took off their hoods and lifted their masks as well, some of them beaming wildly while the others looked nervous, or out of their element. Foster 
            "Well then, gentleman. That was quite a show," Jackson had stood back up form his seat on one of the logs, looking one part frazzled and two parts impressed. "Can I ask who you are, and why you've decided to interrupt this event with your display?"
            "Word got around town that a there would be a group in the woods telling stories," Foster speaks up, voice ringing clear as a bell across the expanse of the  party grounds. "We have some stories to tell, if you lot are willing to listen to them."
            People had started whispering loudly to one another, mumbling in low voices and scarcely hushed tones, before Jackson held up a hand for everyone to silence themselves. Turning back to Foster and giving him a once over, Jackson's eyes narrow the slightest bit.
            "Do I know you?" He asks, and Foster gives a halfhearted shrug and places his hands on his hips, the cloak billowing about his shoulders with the movement. 
            "I get around here and there. Maybe in town?" The brunette asks, before raising his eyebrows expectantly and asking before he can answer "So, may we join you all?"
            "... I don't see why not." Jackson nods after a moment, gesturing for the boys to take a seat. "We'll let Jenna Hedgebrow continue with her story, then."
            And just like that, the group of strange boys in masks that had emerged from the forest had integrated with the rest of the group. Weaving their way through the people on the ground, the five of them settled down on the ground towards the back of the crowd, Foster sitting down next to Sampson with the rest of the boys around them.
            "That was... something, alright." Sampson leans over and whispers to Foster as Jenna begins her story once more, more flustered than before. He was bursting to the brim with questions for the boy - where he'd been for two days, how he got out of the house, who these other boys were - but for now he tried to contain himself and just enjoy the fact that he was here now.
            "I told you," Foster murmurs, looking to the side at Sampson without turning his head towards him. Jewelry glimmered around his neck and now, in the firelight, Sampson sees something gleam through the darkness on his bottom lip. "I like parties."

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