"FIRST NIGHT OUT''
It's ten o'clock. Aunt Serena and Uncle Ethan are fast asleep—I'm sure of it. They always go to bed early, as per their rigid routine.
I slip out from under the covers and quietly slide on my shoes. I'm already dressed, a cozy black knit sweater with a delicate lace-trimmed V-neck and a black checkered skirt that skims above my knees. I pause in front of the dresser mirror.
The purplish shadows under my eyes stare back at me. I usually ignore them, but tonight, I hesitate. Maybe I don't want to look so…dead.
A few dabs of concealer, a sweep of blush on my cheeks, and a hint of pale pink gloss soften the edges of my reflection and mascara. Not perfect—but less ghost-like.
I leave my hair loose, as always, then ease the door open and peek out. The hallway is still. Dark. Silent.
Shoes in hand, I tiptoe across the cold floor, careful not to make a sound. I reach the front door, heart pounding, and pause for a breath. Then I push it open.
The night air greets me—cool and still. I step into the garden, scanning the shadows.
Cade isn't here.
I wait. A minute. Two. Panic starts bubbling up in my chest.
What if Aunt Serena wakes up? What if I'm caught? What if this was a mistake?
I'm just about to turn back when I hear footsteps—and then I see him.
He jogs up, slightly out of breath, dressed in a dark green button-up under an oversized black leather jacket. Light blue wide-leg jeans, chunky black headphones hanging around his neck.He stops, hands on his knees.
"Hey, Blue," he says, catching his breath.
I blink. "Blue?"
He straightens, grinning. "What? Never heard of nicknames?" His gaze lingers for a beat. "You look Pretty."he says with a warm smile.
Heat rises to my cheeks. No one's ever called me that before.
Pretty. Especially not a boy.
"Come on," he says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
I fall into step beside him, trying to match his pace. "And what exactly made you call me out in the middle of the night?"
He shoots me a playful glance. "Relax, I'm not going to kidnap you or anything. I just thought we could have a little fun." He winks before striding ahead.
Minutes later, we're crouched behind a dumpster in some neighborhood I've never been to.
"What are we doing?" I whisper-shout, wide-eyed.
"Waiting," he says simply.
"Huh? Waiting for wha—"
"Shhh… okay, come on."
We creep toward a house, the street eerily empty. I watch as Cade crouches near the porch and pours some kind of clear liquid in a line.
"There's this guy—Mr. Denz. Always fucking with me. Every time I try to sell something, or just exist, really."
I stay silent as he pulls out a sheet of transparent plastic and wraps it tightly around the two front pillars of the porch, just above the steps. He glances over his shoulder at me, grinning.
"On the count of three, we run."
"What?"
Too late.
He slams the doorbell over and over, then bolts, nimbly avoiding the liquid and the sheet.
"Blue! Come on!"
"Uh—"
He rolls his eyes and grabs my wrist, yanking me into a sprint. Adrenaline rushes through me like a jolt. We dash down the street and dive behind the dumpster again, barely holding in our laughter.
A moment later—thud.
We peek out. Mr. Denz stumbles out of the house in a rage, steps right into the slick liquid, and crashes to the ground with a loud grunt. Just as he tries to get up, he slips again, this time flailing into the plastic sheet.
Cade snickers, his eyes sparkling with mischief. I can't help it—I burst into a quiet laugh.
We slip away, and before I know it, we're deep in the forest. It's dark and green and whispering with the night's sounds. Moonlight cuts through the branches in silvery streaks, barely lighting our path. I step carefully, trying not to trip.
"Hey… where are we going?" I ask, keeping pace with him.
He glances at me with a mischievous glint. "It's a place nobody knows. Maybe a haunted house." He says it in a mock-spooky tone, wiggling his fingers.
I roll my eyes and nudge him. "Please. My house isn't any less haunted."
He chuckles. "True. Honestly, I think the real truth is probably inside that house."
I open my mouth to ask what he means, but he stops me with a sudden exclamation.
"We're here!"
I look up—and freeze.
An old warehouse looms ahead of us. Abandoned. Weather-worn. The windows are black hollows, the paint peeled and flaking. It looks like it hasn't been touched in years.
Cade turns, facing me with a teasing grin. In the moonlight, his usually-blonde hair looks almost black.
"Wait—don't tell me you're scared?"
I scowl. "Of course not."
But it takes everything in me not to scream when I push the creaking door open. It groans like something alive.
Cade leans in close. I can feel his breath against my neck. A shiver runs down my spine.
"Go on," he whispers, voice low.