It’s our senior year. The year in our little boarding school when everything and nothing counts. Every class is a fluff class. Every teacher doesn’t give a fuck because they know we don’t. All signs point to party. And that’s exactly what we do. We party until we can’t stand straight. We sneak out in the middle of the night. But no parents are stopping us. Hell, most of us are 18. As long as there are no advisors. But if a guy hooks up with your best friend. And you hook up with a guy. You don’t exactly have a clear reference point as to where each other are. Especially when a lockdown is in order. But nobody listens. Especially when your piss drunk and don’t realize that the reason you’re on lockdown with two boys named Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson is because there’s a maniac murderer on the loose running around campus. Everyone is to stay under lock down no matter where they are. But we’re seniors. And seniors don’t follow the rules.