Lyla stood alone on the sidewalk watching football players jog off the practice field. She wore makeup to hide the bruises on her pretty face. If it weren't for the chain-link fence, she would likely collapse from exhaustion but she hid it well. She fixed her brown eyes on Jack, the boy who she hoped would be her future.

He pulled the football helmet from his head, pushed a mat of hair from his damp forehead, and gulped a long drink from his water bottle. Jack was effortlessly handsome, nothing artificial about his gentle smile, or his natural good looks. If Lyla had the chance to design the ideal boyfriend, listing every desirable trait and characteristic, Jack Bentley would check all the boxes. He followed his teammates toward the locker room.

A sudden gust of wind broke Lyla's trance. The powerful blast ambushed her, whipping her hair and pelting her face with debris. She squeezed her eyes shut as dried leaves clustered around her ankles.

When her phone's muffled ringtone hummed from her back pocket, her hand automatically retrieved it. Her eyes went wide when she read the message.

"No!" she screamed. The phone slipped from her trembling hands, tumbling to the cement sidewalk.

From the swirling clouds of leaves, a little girl with a head of strawberry ringlets appeared. She simply materialized on the sidewalk not ten feet from Lyla. She picked up the phone, a text tone bringing a smile to her cherubic face.

Suddenly, the wind died, as though someone had flipped a switch.

"Here." She offered the phone to Lyla.

"I don't want it."

"But there's a message for you." Her voice became raspy, a devilish flame flickering in her round chestnut eyes.

"No!" Lyla turned.

The child clamped her wrist with a cold hand. "He wants you to wear the ring," she insisted.

Lyla could see it now. This was an old soul who wore the child like a mask.

"I have it right here." She extended her small hand, displaying a familiar silver ring. Lyla couldn't break free, the girl held her wrist in a death grip.

"You better put the ring on before he gets here. He's gonna be mad."

"Let go!" Lyla struggled furiously, but she was trapped.

"Look!" The girl pointed, the corners of her mouth curling into a sinister smile. "Here he comes."

Lyla glanced over her shoulder and shrieked.

Leaning against her locker, Lyla wore a tight scowl as she read a message on her phone. "What the actual hell?"

The message read: HEY, KITTEN. PICK YOU UP AFTER SCHOOL?

Against her better judgment, she thumbed an angry response: IT'S OVER. I'M DONE. LEAVE ME ALONE.

Before he could respond, she blocked his number.

Darcy peeked around the locker door, pushing her copper-colored bangs out of her eyes. "There you are." Then, recognizing her friend's distress, she added, "What's going on?"

"Keenan, that ass."

"Ignore him. He'll get the hint."

Lyla's voice rose along with her blood pressure. "Then he parks out in front of my house just staring like a psycho."

Both girls' heads turned when the school's power couple, Jack and his super model-hot girlfriend, Carissa sauntered down the hallway arm-in-arm.

Darcy jammed her finger into her mouth, making gagging sounds.

With her eyes locked on Jack, Lyla said, "You sure you don't wanna go to the bonfire?"

"You can't be serious."

Lyla shrugged.

"Good-looking people wanna hang with other good-looking people. Not us."

"Well, ouch," said Lyla. "Speak for yourself."

"Besides, we're not superficial enough to belong to that club."

"Maybe it'll be fun."

"Fun? I'd rather superglue my tongue to the floor."

........

As Saturday's sun drew an orange line above the horizon, Darcy stood on Lyla's walkway, glaring at her friend seated on the porch steps. She grabbed Lyla's wrist and pulled but she resisted.

Darcy crossed her arms. "Why you being so stubborn?"

"Every Saturday night we end up at the food court eating crappy tacos listening to Richie complain about... well, everything. I wanna do something fun. You wanna spend every weekend of your senior year at the mall?"

"Last week we went to Angela's party."

"Oh, wow. That was so fun listening to her and her friends talking about their study abroad adventures. I didn't go to Italy. Sorry. And the only guy there was her little brother. And he's ten."

"Well, I'm not going to that stupid bonfire," said Darcy. "I get enough of those plastic people at school."

"Maybe they'll be different after they have a few beers."

"Yeah. They'll become mean drunks. Forget it. I'm not going."

"Well, I am."

And how are you gonna get there?" Darcy directed her eyes at an old beat-up car in Lyla's driveway. "In that? Does that thing even start?"

"Come on, Darcy."

Darcy walked toward her car parked at the curb. "Text me if you change your mind."

With an edge, Lyla said, "Have fun at the mall."

........

Two hours later, in self-isolation, Lyla staggered through the tall field grass, wishing she'd followed Darcy's advice. Something wasn't right. She sniffed her beer, scowled, then dumped the red Solo cup. She raised her phone above her head, blocking a patch of stars that glimmered beneath a crescent moon.

No signal. Damn it.

The moon jumped to the right, then shifted back to its original position in the night sky. She rubbed her eyes.

Under the cover of darkness, lightheaded and dizzy, she lumbered toward the glow of the bonfire over the crest of the hill. The pounding music's thumping bassline rattled the timbers of an old farmhouse and vibrated her breastbone.

Around the fire, a congregation of the most popular kids at school, jocks, cheerleaders, and their squads, laughed loudly while passing a bottle of whiskey. Flames leaped into the night sky, painting the faces of those nearby with waves of flickering light.

Lyla had made a mistake. She should never have come to the party without Darcy. What was she thinking? It was Saturday night and she was so bored but now she was paying the price for her impulsive decision. She didn't belong at this party and to make matters worse, Keenan showed up and was following her around. As usual, he was drunk or high, or probably both. He was being super aggressive and threatening and that scared her. Every indication her body was signaling led to the conclusion that Keenan had spiked her beer.

Taking baby steps, she focused on the orange glow of cigarettes to help her navigate down through the dark field. The beaming dots marked the locations of smokers leaning against cars parked along the rutted mud and gravel driveway that twisted down a grassy hill.

While checking her phone for service, she stumbled into a guy and girl locked in a heated embrace. She cringed so hard when she discovered that she'd plowed into Jack and Carissa.

"Hey, watch it," Carissa hissed, throwing back her thick blonde mane. In her skinny jeans and tight gray suede jacket, obviously, she had hit the gene pool jackpot.

"Sorry." Lyla wiped her runny nose. "I can't even get one bar." She held her phone high, searching desperately for a signal.

"Good luck with that." Jack grinned, his warm brown eyes peeking out from under his wool cap. He squinted through the darkness. "Are you crying?"

"I'm fine," Lyla replied.

"High school girls spend half their time crying," Carissa sighed, zipping her jacket. "That's how they're wired."

Carissa was anything but a typical high school girl. She grinned and pulled Jack into a deep kiss.

Embarrassed, Lyla made her escape. A short distance down the driveway, when her phone signaled two bars, she dialed excitedly.

She heard her friend's message. "Hey, it's Darcy. Leave a message." BEEP.

It wasn't like Darcy to ignore her best friend's call or not text back.

"Where the hell are you?" Lyla whimpered. "I wanna go. Now! Keenan's here and he won't leave me alone. I need you."

She jumped when Keenan emerged from the shadows like a phantom.

"There you are, Kitten." He grinned, obviously intoxicated. He looked like the devil with his narrow penetrating eyes and the blue serpent tattoo inked on his neck.

"You scared the shit out of me!"

When he leaned in to kiss her she retreated.

"It's over, Keenan. It's been over." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Why are you fighting me on this?"

"It's time to face reality," she said, doing her best to sound assertive. "We're done."

He played with the zipper of his faded green bomber jacket, a behavior he frequently exhibited when he was feeling anxious.

Lyla's ringtone startled her. It was one of her guilty pleasure songs, "What Makes You Beautiful."

He mocked her. "What are you? Like twelve?"

She flipped him off then checked her messages.

He yanked her toward him, kissed her neck roughly, then gave her a playful bite.

"Owww!" She pushed him away and toppled to the ground, glaring up at him. He was rimmed in a hallucinogenic glow of yellow and orange neon stripes.

"What did you put in my drink?" she grumbled.

He squatted at her feet and mocked her in a creepy little girl's voice. "What did you put in my drink?" His jaw shifted like a lizard with a gummy bear stuck between its teeth.

"Get the hell away from me, Keenan. I mean it!"

"So, that's how it's gonna be?"

He stood and extended a hand. The word SNAKE was spelled out on tattooed fingers.

She slapped his hand away. "I hate snakes."

"Okay. Okay. Be like that." He turned and trudged off, swallowed by the shadows.

Lyla found it difficult to stand. She pulled the strap of her canvas bag over her shoulder and reached for the phone in her pocket. With the drug coming on strong, her face went numb. Her head felt floaty, her lips buzzed. She couldn't feel the tips of her fingers when she struggled to write a text.

Suddenly, Keenan burst from the darkness and knocked her to the hard turf. Her cell phone bounced out of her hand when she hit the ground. The loud music enveloped her scream.

He savagely tugged at her pants.

"Get offa me!" She desperately kicked and dug her fingernails into his neck.

"You wanna play rough?" He cracked a wicked grin. "Bring it."

"Stop it!" she screamed. Her cries evaporated in the thick fog of music and loud voices. "Stop! You're hurting me!"

He wedged his hand between their bodies, found her zipper, and yanked it hard.

She spat at him, her thick saliva dripping from his cheek onto her face. She hammered his shoulders with her fists but she couldn't stop him from tugging her jeans down below her hips. Cold stones and gravel dug into her exposed skin.

He jammed his palm into her open mouth to prevent her from screaming.

As she rolled her head side to side, Lyla saw streaks of starlight ripping apart the night sky high above her.