Chapter One

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ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: FEBRUARY 19TH, 2016

CHAPTER ONE

From: Unknown

B2S Party @106 Redwood Drive -- Kayla Romberg's house. Bring beer!

            It's like everyone knew the moment I, Carson Bailey, stepped foot back into town, for as soon as my car passed the sign indicating the exit towards town, my phone buzzed with a text

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            It's like everyone knew the moment I, Carson Bailey, stepped foot back into town, for as soon as my car passed the sign indicating the exit towards town, my phone buzzed with a text.

            After reading the short snippet from a number I don't recognize, I exit the freeway and call Carolina. "You got the text too?" She asks, cutting the greetings out of our conversation completely. Carolina is a short, petite blonde who's got an obsession with boys like no other. Her loud, rambunctious voice and constant yapping make up for her lack of height.

            "You know it. We going?" The car behind me honks and I slam on the gas in surprise, causing my car to shoot forward. The light had turned green without me noticing.

            "Of course," she sighs as if disappointed that I'd even asked. "Don't we always?" True. This summer I'd had the time of my life. Before a few months ago, I'd never really hung with Carolina's clique, but after one spilt drink on her friend, Penelope, we became the best of friends. Parties, which I'd dreaded before meeting Carolina, were the new normal for me and we attended them about as frequently as we ate.

            "You've got a point," I respond. Pulling into my driveway and turning the ignition off, I continue, "I just got home. Text me if you plan on coming over to get ready before tonight. Bye, Carebear."

            "Peace, Bails." I roll my eyes at her nickname based on my last name and end the call.

            I notice my mom's car in the garage as I enter the house. If I hadn't stopped for gas earlier, I could've been here before her, but then again, I needed gas. If I wouldn't have stopped, I'd be stuck on the edge of the highway fifteen miles back.

            I pass my parents' -- my mom's -- room on my way to the stairs that lead up to the second floor where my room is located. I wonder for a moment if I should stop in, but decide against it. I opt to head straight for my room instead.

            My room looks the same it did when I left it three months ago to go down to our lake house for the summer. My gold and grey comforter is slightly rumpled from where my vacation bag was being packed. A few articles of clothing lay here and there. white walls match black furniture consisting of a desk and many bookshelves. 

 

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