Homecoming

Chapter One

I open my eyes to the sight of the starry night sky.

Wait, am I dead? Is this heaven?

Well, it definitely feels like it, with how beautiful and peaceful everything seems to be. The constellations make for the finest embellishment to the nakedness of the sky. The moon, in its near-perfect roundness, sheds light to provide a better view of the black canvas—but not too much to steal away from the stars. The clouds are thin and dispersed enough not to distract from the night's opulence. Everything's just... heavenly.

A welcome upgrade, especially after the nightmare that took place a while ago. Or was it last night?

I can't be too sure, as the throbbing pain from whatever it was that smashed my head remains a nuisance like it was just mere minutes ago. No, not nuisance; pure torture. This constant drumming inside my temples makes it feel as if I'm being lobotomized—all while fully conscious—during a pre-Freudian era, in an effort to cure my psychosis.

Awful.

Maybe this isn't heaven, after all.

Shutting my eyes, I try to recall what exactly happened before I lost consciousness. What could have possibly hit me and knocked me out?

Was it the bucket where all the blood was before it went onto my expensive suit? Or was it the roof falling down on us all, with the god of school dances punishing us for not having an original enough inspiration to make ours a night to remember?

Truly, the Carrie bit was contrived and ineffective, since all I could remember was the frenzy that transpired after the coronation; before it was a blank space for me.

It was the moment when Wendy released that blood-curdling scream that stuck with my brain. It was a testament to the amount of pain she had been struggling to keep inside her reaching its boiling point.

As if empathizing with her, the ground from under us shook and broke open to swallow a few students whole. A surge of blizzard-like winds busted open the doors and windows and sent the tables and chairs flying into different directions, knocking out people and properties alike. Soon, the gymnasium was ablaze—how it came to be was beyond me—and those who managed to stay conscious for the time being were presumably burned to a crisp.

It was total chaos.

A tragedy of epic proportions.

Which makes me surviving all of it a huge shocker, and I did, didn't I?

If all those were still part of the prank, of the homecoming farce I didn't know I was starring in, then I should commend whoever was behind the scenes for pulling off those practical effects expertly like some big-budget feature film.

Was it Ashley? Rose? Brent? Someone else entirely? Or all of them together? Right now, it's hard to tell.

I would've applauded every minute of it; except, the part where I got smacked in the head felt kind of unnecessary. The recreation of the literal bloodbath was ingenious enough; going full-on canon with the Tommy Ross death scene was an overkill.

Honestly, I'm fine with being pranked. Maybe it was some sort of an overdue reckoning for the time when I was a prankster myself.

But Wendy? She didn't deserve it. She had obviously suffered through enough from doing nothing but being herself.

Where is she, by the way? Did we drive all the way to wherever this is to spend the rest of the night stargazing while sharing our dreams and frustrations with each other? Are we plotting revenge to whoever they were who hatched this evil scheme to humiliate us?