The party was in full swing when Lucien returned from the bathroom on the restricted second floor, which made him thankful that the party was in his own home. Everywhere he looked there were teenagers in various states of inebriation, from slurred words that created their own language between a trio of highly intoxicated footballers, to the squeals and shouts that were the universal language of teenage girls.

He moved from the central stairwell towards the back door, passing Heidi Lavesque and Carmine Vesper — a leggy Latina with curves for days and a pale-skinned brunette nicknamed ‘snow white’ — heartily engaged in a make-out session with their swim team beaus. At least, their beaus for that night. The finer details on who was just hooking up and who was actually dating escaped Lucien’s notice at the best of times, especially since he legitimately couldn’t have cared less.

The sound of music permeated the house with sternum-rattling beats, showing off the powerful sound systems that Leonidas had installed with gleeful abandon across the majority of the property. His eyes idly drifted towards a large group playing a game of beer pong in the kitchen as he passed it, noting with amusement that Eduardo was swaying slightly as he tried to keep up with the Amazonian cheerleader currently slamming straight dunks into his cups to the cheers of her companions. Somehow, it had devolved into a boys versus girls game. Unsurprisingly, the boys were losing.

The security systems in play within New Avalon, especially places like Eastport, were the only reason such a raucous party full of underaged drinking didn’t attract negative attention. The Washingtons’ home contained two emergency response EMT droids with a private medical suite, and their systems scanned and catalogued the school ID of every person on the premises. In the event of an emergency, parents and emergency services would be notified automatically by the system; a failsafe that also served to passively keep the vast majority of teenagers well-behaved.

No one wanted to be responsible for killing a rager, after all.

When Lucien passed from the kitchen to the open doors to the back yard, he was assailed by a fresh wall of noise. Dozens of his classmates were lounging and laughing under the glow of artificial tiki torches, with several messing around in the Olympic-sized pool or hanging out on one of the many benches installed for barbecues and family gatherings.

He spotted Ty sitting with his girlfriend Jessica — a stunning half-japanese, half-caucasian girl in a flattering two-piece swimsuit — and some of his varied social circle, including Hailey Williams, a gorgeous mocha-skinned cheerleader, and Taylor Addams. Both members of The Squad gave him a look as he approached, but neither were overtly rude. After all, it was technically Lucien’s party.

“Yo! Birthday boy!” Ty said with a grin, lifting a cup to Lucien in greeting. “What’s the haps?”

Lucien shrugged by way of reply, glancing at Tiberius’ companions with a mild flicker of discomfort. Even knowing that he was pretty much as safe and secure as he could possibly be, given his proximity to Ty and his location, the faintly disparaging gazes of those around them made his skin itch. “Just thought I’d let you know it’s getting close to Ten, and I know you wanted me to remind you about—…”

“Right! The Cake! Hell yeah dude, I’ll start prepping.”

“It’s fine, I was thinking we could skip it.” Lucien said quickly, firmly avoiding the looks from Ty’s clique. “I think it’d end up being kind of a buzzkill.”

Ty’s face scrunched up at Lucien’s words, and he lightly tapped Jessica to signal her off his lap before standing up. “Nope.”

“Come on Ty, it really isn’t a big deal.” Lucien said, feeling embarrassment turning his cheeks red as the others watched on. “Party’s a slam dunk! No point distracting from the festivities, right?”

“Nuh uh.” Tiberius repeated, moving over to put his hand on Lucien’s shoulder. “You’re not getting out of this one, Luc. It’s your fucking sixteenth, my guy. You deserve this night, you clean up nice as hell, and I know for a fact that Taylor said you looked hot.”

“Hey!” Taylor squealed. “I did not!”

Lucien glanced over at her in bewilderment as she ducked her head, hiding from the stares of the rest of the group. Her reaction wasn’t convincing anyone, and that only confused him more.

“This is your night, man.” Ty said in a quieter voice, powerful hand squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t forget that. Ride or die, remember?”

Lucien felt his resolve crumble at Ty’s words, and he smiled ruefully. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” Ty said with a victorious smirk, before turning to the others. “Who’s ready to help make cake prepping my bitch?”

A round of laughter followed Ty’s statement, though whether it was forced or sincere was unclear. Jessica stood up immediately to stay by her boyfriend’s side, a habit Lucien noticed had only grown into prominence after his rant about Harper’s goals for Ty. Jessica was, in fact, one of the very few members of The Squad that Lucien didn’t find impossible to be around — and her smile when she passed him to join Ty’s retreating figure was, at least, mostly genuine.

Hailey hurried to catch up to them, followed by two massive black footballers and a lithe asian swim team guy whose names Lucien didn’t know. Taylor hesitated for a moment as he turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow, still too surprised to be embarrassed.

“I mean…” She said quietly. “… you do look good, but it’d never like… Work out. You’re, you know… Uh…”

“A loser?” Lucien asked casually.

“I… uh…” She seemed flustered, and a little panicked, and he understood why easily.

“You can’t admit to thinking I’m date material because The Squad would mock you relentlessly, but you can’t trash me to save face because Ty would lose his shit. I get it. Don’t worry, I never thought there’d be a chance anyway.”

Taylor’s face flickered for a moment with something Lucien might almost call regret, followed by shame, before she fixed a tight smile on her face. “Okay. Cool. Sorry about…”

“Just go before they start accusing you of making out with me.” He said, suddenly feeling extremely tired.

Taylor turned red, opened her mouth, and then closed it before scurrying off behind the others — though she hesitated a moment longer just before passing earshot.

“You really do look good, Luc.” She said quietly, before resuming her retreat in the wake of her friends.

Lucien watched her go with a growing sense of antipathy for the entire event, and a bitter sense of regret for allowing Ty to talk him into it. It was true that he’d enjoyed the party for the most part and had been able to interact with the less popular members of his grade — that was to say, the majority — with pleasant results. Most people felt it safe to be seen talking and laughing with him at his own party, and it helped that they had to offer him happy birthday greetings either way. A fair few of those conversations had lasted the better part of an hour or more, with different people drifting in and out of them.

Despite that, however, he realised with reflection that while those conversations had been pleasant, they had also been in-the-moment. He doubted people he’d spoken to earlier in the night would be as eager to resume conversation at school after the summer break, and in truth he couldn’t blame them. Jason had been seen at the party, but he’d studiously avoided Lucien and Ty, and neither of the boys had wanted the baggage of forcing him to leave.

Left alone at the pool chairs by Ty and his friends, Lucien sighed and cast his eyes across the spacious outside area of the house. Dozens of teenagers still chatted, laughed, and hung out in the area oblivious to the personal distress churning in his stomach, and for some reason that fact made him even more bitter. One might have thought that being the King of School’s best friend — and Ty was the King of School — would give him some form of advantage, but all it offered was a lower probability of having his ass kicked. While some might have counted that as a blessing, Lucien saw it as condescension.

He didn’t blame Tiberius. He’d never blame Tiberius. He still hated it.

The revelation itself was startling. He’d always thought he only found the entire situation annoying, but in reality he really did hate it. It made him angry and resentful, it made him feel powerless. It wasn’t his fault he was scrawny or had acne. It wasn’t his fault his parents had died and his best friend was blessed with both brains and impeccable brawn. The entire situation was an aggravation, and a stark reminder that no matter how paradisiacal Eckhart Grant’s dream for New Avalon had been, reality did not give a shit about idealism.

Lucien felt his pocket vibrate and reached down to pull out his phone, anticipating the check-in text from his godmother and sorely tempted to tell her he hated the entire event — until the identity of the sender stopped him dead.

Harper Keen.

Lucien unlocked his phone with a suddenly dry throat and a racing heart. Harper texting him was unheard of since their falling out, and especially after the blow-up they’d had at school. In fact, her last message was from two years prior asking him to come over. That was the day they’d had their fight. His eyes dropped down to read what she’d sent, and he furrowed his brow at the words.

Can you meet me by the lifeguard shack on the beach? I want to talk.

Lucien hesitated for several long moments before texting her back.

Why? I’m at the party.

He hit send and waited, glancing up and around as if he were doing something he shouldn’t be, as if he were doing something he had to not be caught for. It was ridiculous. It was also the reality of his life. He nearly jumped when the response text came, reading it quickly.

I need to talk to you. I need to clear things up. I miss you.

Lucien’s jaw nearly dropped, and suspicion warred with traitorous hope in his chest, before he grimaced. Why should he be hopeful? Harper Keen was a poisonous bitch. She’d made her choices, and clearly taken her side. She’d been nothing but awful to him for years. He owed her nothing. He wouldn’t be taken for a ride, or tricked. Not on his own birthday.

I have nothing to say to you.

He hit send with a firm nod to himself, feeling vindicated. She didn’t deserve the time of day. When the response text came a few moments later, he anticipated the entitled reaction, ready to laugh — and instead his heart stopped.

Please, Lulu. I’m all fucked up. I need you.

Harper’s use of her name for him, the one she’d used from childhood due to her inability to pronounce ‘Lucien’, floored him. She hadn’t called him that since before their fight. He swallowed as his heart pounded, and his thumbs actually shook as he considered what to text back. Seconds passed. Then minutes. Finally, he made a decision.

I’ll be there in ten minutes.

He glanced at the clock on his phone, noting the time. 2148. He clicked his tongue and turned, moving back through the house and shooting a text to Tiberius.

Gotta handle something RQ. Back at 2230. I’m AG. TTYT.

He stuffed his phone in his pocket and hurried through the house, passing laughing faces and drunken teens without fully seeing them. A couple of people he’d spoken to called out to him but he ignored them, heading out the front door quickly and to the garage. Crossing out under the sensor-triggered lights in the front yard, he reached the far side of the garage and grabbed one of the four bikes resting there, swinging his leg over it and pushing off.

The path from the house to the beach was about a fifteen minute walk, a three minute drive, or just under a seven minute bike ride. His blazer flapped in the wind around him as he descended through the wide, neat roads of Eastport’s residential district and headed towards the all-hours beach entrance near the bottom of the artificial hill that sustained the expensive properties in the area. Harper’s message had been completely unexpected, but for her to call him that way told him that something bad had to have happened. She’d never have asked him there in any other circumstance.

A lot of words could be used to describe Harper Keen, several of the more colourful of which he’d made liberal use of. What she could not be called, however, was weak or needy. Neither descriptors fit the de facto queen of First High, and that alone was enough for Lucien to lean into his bike and take the trip in the dark at dangerous speeds. If she was calling him and not her parents, something had scared her or she’d felt trapped, and Lucien wasn’t petty enough or good enough at lying to himself to deny her if she truly needed him.

All the feelings he’d thought burned and buried reared up in his mind, and he struggled to push them back down. Getting his hopes up was stupid; they lived in different worlds. He’d see what she needed, and he’d call her mom to pick her up — or call Vanessa, depending on the situation. When he arrived at the entrance to the beach and the connected car park five minutes later, he stowed his bike next to the metal railing separating the car park from the beach and hastened through the large archway leading down to the surf.

The lifeguard shack in question was visible in the distance, thanks to the moonlight. He made his way over with only slight difficulty, cursing the unsteady sand as he made for the silhouette of the one-storey building. “Harper!” He shouted, squinting to try to spot her outline or some indication of her presence. “Hey, Harper! I’m here! Where are you?”

His path took him closer to the shack and he reached the ramp leading up to it, gripping the edge and moving around to advance up it, peering around searchingly. “Harper? You can come out, I came alone.”

Silence greeted him. A cursory examination of the little area in front of the door showed no signs of occupancy, and a quick test of the door knob told him the shack was firmly locked up. Exasperated, he turned and descended the ramp with the intent of searching behind the building. She might have fallen asleep if she was drunk, or something worse.

Abruptly, a “Yoohoo!” reached his ears and Lucien froze, turning to look behind him.

Several silhouettes approached from the shadow of the Shack’s other side, resolving into the faces of Jason and several of his more vicious lacrosse cronies; Morris, Jackson, Clint, and Tim. All four were the same preppy assholes that dominated the lacrosse team’s population. Clint and Tim were cookie cutter white American boys, one with black hair and one with brown. Morris was black and Dominican, with a cropped hairstyle out of place among the more leisurely cuts of the others. Jackson was a half-korean, half-latino kid shorter than the rest, but built like a martial artist.

Lucien reached into his pocket to send an SOS to Tiberius, not giving a single damn about his pride, when a pair of hands grabbed him from behind. He cursed and thrashed, but it was pointless; Tim had him firmly in hand, and Lucien cursed when Clint retrieved his unlocked phone. “Got it Jace. I’ll delete the texts.”

“You… You set me up?” Lucien asked, struggle forgotten as he looked at Jason’s calm face.

“What, you really thought Harper wanted to meet with you? You fucking loser, look at you. The only reason my girl would want to be near you would be to spit on you.”

The other boys laughed, and Lucien started struggling again, until a sudden blow to his gut knocked the wind out of him. He looked up through watery eyes to see Jason’s furious face sneering down at him, a vein throbbing in his temple. “I know what you said to her, you piece of shit. You called her all sorts of names. Nobody gets to talk to my girlfriend that way.”

Another punch and Lucien wheezed, lacking the air to cry out. Saliva sprayed uncontrolled from his mouth at the strike, and Jason recoiled. “Did you just fucking spit on me? Fuck you!”

This time he took the hit across his barely-healed jaw, crying out in pain at the heat that spread across his flesh. He tasted copper immediately, and panic seized him. This wasn’t school, there was no Tiberius to save him, and he didn’t think Lucien would be back for at least another twenty minutes. There was no reason for anyone to come looking, and he’d told no one where he was going either.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! He told himself, feeling despair taking hold. You walked right into it!

Jason glanced at Clint who nodded, and then dropped the phone to the ground before smashing his heel into it. A couple more stomps and it shattered, the screen going dark. “Now that that’s taken care of, I owe you a lesson in manners, Lousy Lucy. Your boyfriend can’t save you this time, and there’s no cameras here to tattle with.”

“I never said a word to—!” Another punch had Lucien seeing stars, and he felt blood dribbling from his nose and mouth as it landed, sucking in a breath and coughing violently as some blood went with the air.

“You think I’m going to believe you, you pussy?” Jason demanded, grabbing him by the air and lifting his face, expression twisted in disgust. “God, it would’ve been so much easier if you’d had the good grace to kill yourself when your stupid mother died.”

“Don’t talk about my m—!” Jason kicked him in the groin and Lucien vomited, falling to the sand as Tim dropped him in revulsion.

“Shut the fuck up!” Jason seethed, his eyes wild. “You’re a fucking piece of dirt. You’re nothing! You’re shit under my heel! You mean nothing to her!” His foot hit him in the stomach then, and Lucien curled up reflexively, covering his head with his arms. Tim, Clint, and Jackson joined in: Raining down blows with their fists and feet that rattled and shook his head, and sent bursts of agony radiating from multiple damaged parts of himself.

“Hey, Jace, maybe that’s enough man.” Morris ventured hesitantly.

“Shut up Morris!” Jace spat, rearing back to kick Lucien again viciously. “Fuck off if you’re too much of a pussy to handle it.”

Morris shifted uneasily but stayed where he was, not willing to go against the incensed captain. Lucien, who felt a flicker of hope at Morris’ objection, felt that hope wither and die as another kick came. He felt something wrong in his arms, and pain radiating from something giving way within them. Another kick and he cried out in agony, curling away from the punishment.

Not to be denied, Jason bent down and straddled him, shoving aside his arms despite Lucien’s protests. Immediately he started punching, slamming his fist repeatedly into his face. “Fuck you!”

Jason’s fist burst his lip.

“Fuck you and everything about you!”

His eye socket ruptured, and he felt blood colour his vision.

“You piece of shit, you absolute waste of fucking matter! How dare you!”

Another hit and his jaw cracked, making it difficult for him to do more than whimper.

Lucien felt himself rapidly losing consciousness as the blows rained down, and then abruptly he felt Jason being dragged off of him, still snarling invectives. Several more vicious kicks landed against his body and he heard multiple voices arguing, before some sort of consensus was reached. Another, final kick had him whimper and then he heard nervous laughter which retreated away from him.

The night was a red-stained haze to Lucien as he lay on the sand next to the hut, struggling to breathe. His head turned to the size and he extended his left arm slowly towards his phone, whimpering at the pain in his body from each tiny movement. His fingers eventually found the broken device and he flipped it over with an exertion that drew a choked sob from his lips. His entire body was pain; it hurt to breathe, it hurt to move. Even lying there felt like being stabbed by shards of glass.

His fingers brushed a small section on the back of the phone, and something beeped when he did. Another brush of his fingers, and the beep repeated itself — followed by a silent, flashing red light on the bottom of the device. Sorry Ty. He thought as darkness crept along the edges of his vision. I think I’m gonna miss that cake, man.

Unconsciousness claimed him a moment later.