Love Thy Neighbor

Chapter 1

The snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves under my boots slice through the cold, crisp air. My breath puffs out in hot clouds, the frequency of them increasing as I run through the forest faster with each passing second. I don't dare look behind me in fear of slowing down.

The small sliver of moon is the only source of light in the area, but the dark doesn't stop me from charging forward. The shadows being cast down from the falling leaves dance in the moonlight, the bare branches hinting at the changing seasons. So much has changed in the last year...

The toe of my boot snags on an exposed root and I stumble onto the dewy ground. Flipping over onto my back I see the shadowy figures standing over me. I try to scream, but no sound comes out of my mouth. This is the end...

And then I wake up, startled by my nightmare. My frantic breathing slows down as I realize I'm still in my living room, the lights low, a horror movie playing on the TV.

"I think that's the longest you've been asleep," the deep, raspy voice next to me comments. "A whole ten minutes."

"Well, unlike some of us, I don't take any painkillers that make me so drowsy I can't think straight," I mumble, pushing myself off his shoulder into a seated position. "It was the same nightmare."

"I know," Tristan says. "I could tell, but I didn't want to wake you up. I don't care what kind of dreams you're having, you need to get more rest than you have been lately."

"How can I with everything going on?" I ask. "With everything that has happened?"

The doorbell rings and I begrudgingly stand up and grab the bowl of candy on the side table.

"I can do it this time," he offers.

"I think your busted up face will scare the kids more than any Halloween mask," I joke. He glares at me from under his black eyes and cut lip. "What? Too soon?"

"Yes," he responds, turning his attention back to the movie.

I open the front door to more trick-or-treaters, doling out candy into their eagerly open pillowcases. I smile at them, wishing them a happy and safe Halloween, and close the door. My smile drops as soon as I turn the lock. How is it that the rest of the world is moving forward while Tristan and I are still stuck in this mess?

~~~

Three weeks. Tristan has only three weeks before his eighteenth birthday, which also happens to be the deadline to prove that he is the most suitable successor to his father when it comes to all things The Underground.

Two options. We have only two options of how to play this out. I can help Tristan come up with a business plan that is superior to his father's or his pool of candidates that displays how he can maintain the new integrity of the club. Or I can help Tristan collect evidence on why his father should have no say in what happens to the future of The Underground, including picking who will take ownership. This option may involve sabotage, but both will end in front of the old and new board members of the club.

One goal. Kick Brian Johnson, Carter Hayes, and Katy Laney out of the picture. For good.

I sigh, returning the candy bowl back to its place on the table and retake my seat on the couch next to Tristan. There's a pained look on his face as he stares through the TV screen.

"Look, I know I shouldn't have joked about your injuries," I apologize. "Your dad's goons really roughed you up while you were defenseless and I shouldn't have made light of it."

"No, it's okay," he says, turning to look at me. "I know that's just you trying to make me feel better about the situation. And on the bright side, the doctor told me my ribs are healing fine and I should be able to go back to normal activities soon."

"What did you even say happened when they took you at the hospital?" I ask, curious as to if he had told the doctors the truth.

"Car accident."

"And what did you tell your mom?" How has it been days since the carnival and I still don't know the answers to any of these questions? I guess after Brian left our group alone in the dark to lick our wounds, it was an unspoken agreement to just move on and beat him at his own game.

"I didn't tell her anything," he admits, hanging his head low. "She just knows."

"Well, I'm going to make sure she never has to see you like this again," I promise him, lightly kissing his still tender cheek. The doorbell rings again and I get up to hand out more candy.

Three weeks. Two options. One Goal.