Evelyn Noblezada

The men in the back of the ambulance had on hazmat suits. Their faces were lost to Evelyn; someone else's looked back at her from the screens over their eyes. It had a passing resemblance to her own, she thought, but she did not ever look so rough. A sister? A mother?

"Not Leesburgh General," Evelyn said. She wriggled her fingers and toes. It was the most she could do without making the pain worse. She had to be ready if another one came, another rock. Something had taken a huge bite from her side, she thought, a bear, or the rock-beast. It had eaten her, finally, and this was all some fever dream. A boy had bitten her, once, making out, and she hadn't much cared for it. Had that happened?

The suits stopped moving for a moment, then began speaking to each other again. There was a swirl of machines beeping and monitors blooping.

Ignoring me, Evelyn thought, the glare through the back window shining for just a moment before it dulled entirely. "I didn't," Evelyn murmured, each breath a bit more difficult to take in. Her lungs didn't want to go all the way. "Fucking, fucking stutter. Leesburgh General - it - six times malpractice, I don't -" Evelyn blinked. The ambulance had gotten smaller. The edges were darker, the rock thing had begun to swallow it whole too. "I don't consent, I don't - "

Evelyn stared at the back doors, which were shrinking, being pulled further away. It had grabbed onto her face, wrapped something around the back of her head, and the air seemed thicker, sluggish. Someone, maybe outside the rock beast's mouth, said it didn't normally take this much.

Then she was asleep.

--

"Good morning, Miss Noblezada!"

Evelyn did not look up from her phone.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Really bored."

"Ah, well, I'm sorry to hear that. You need to stay here a few more days, however. You took a -"

The words faded. Evelyn scrolled. A few days? Hours, at the most, she thought.

"-and after you change the bandages at home, you - Oh my God!"

Evelyn glanced up. There was a deer with its nose pressed to the hospital window. St. James was near the woods. He had in his teeth some kind of roots that he dropped at the windowsill. The nurse blinked.

"He keeps coming by," Evelyn said. "It's honestly annoying."

"Um, I -"

Evelyn did not want this conversation to continue. She glanced at the nurse. She was old. Maybe 25. She had some tattoos on one arm, and none on the other. Removed. Evelyn let her eyes wander down to her fingers, where she found an uneven tan. Her eyes went back to the woman's chest. The clothes fit too loosely. She'd bought them a size up.

"You seeing anyone?" Evelyn asked, casually.

The woman fumbled with the IV. She left shortly afterwards.

---

Evelyn stood naked in front of her mirror. She had gotten out of the bath an hour ago, but none of the warmth and steam in the room had left.

The cane she'd been told to use for the next three weeks was sticking out of the trash can. The cut. Dark and red and inflamed and crooked like a broken bone. It throbbed as she stared. Her cheeks were defiled by a handful of scrapes and cuts, already near-healed, her hands cut and bruised in a few places, her knees skinned to the bone. But the cut. She let her finger trace it, the pain stabbing into her chest all over again.

When she blinked, sometimes, she was falling again, and the rock thing got her, it snapped off one of her legs and she could see half her bone jutting out from the red and the meat. Then she opened her eyes and she was talking to some fucking nurse.

Evelyn ran her finger along the scar. I always heal back, she thought, but in her mind, she sounded like Becky. She ran through the swimsuits in her mind. It was winter, soon, there would be heavy jackets and sweaters. Layers. She would have months before she was bared to the world again. The fucking idiot runner boy had passed out, he may not have remembered. She should've kicked his stupid head when he was on the ground. Hopkins wasn't dumb enough to say anything. Tattoos, she thought. Someone on the west side was sleazy enough to give one to a minor. It was so ugly and wrong, like when she had painted in the fourth grade and Tyreese Johnson had accidentally spilled his water bottle all over her painting of a puppy. Ruined. Mottled.

She stared. It was far too close to her breasts or her abdomen for comfort. She was so stupid. If she'd fallen a half second earlier, a half second later, she may well have wound up a bigger freak than Becky. As it was, it fell where Hopkins had those guns that hung under his shoulders.

From a certain angle, she supposed, it could be intimidating. Evelyn couldn't remember if she'd been running away or not when she fell.

---

Evelyn grimaced as she stepped out of the car. Her purse - worth more than all the clothes you're wearing now - hung under her right shoulder, the strap gripped closely by a mittened hand. Her knuckles were still bruised and swollen from punching the stupid thing's head. You were an idiot, she thought to herself, But smarter than that thing. Evelyn glanced up the driveway, where a mish-mash of hand-me-down cars were parked haphazardly. It was like a carousel of the pretenses of the middle class. She could turn on these radios if it came back, Evelyn thought, so suddenly and abruptly she was walking toward one of the door handles to see if it was locked before she caught herself. At the top of the hill, of course, was Charles. The house was fine, she supposed. Gaudy in all the subtle ways. New money, Evelyn thought, hoisting the handbag higher. Defending coal miners was what it was, but his dad didn't have the cunning of her father. After Friday, all the money in the world's going to be on some class-action when one of these mutants goes Columbine. Still, she couldn't imagine putting so much money down in Leesburgh no mater who you were. It was pretty boring, even with all that golem shit. The slight bulge from the bandages was masked quite thoroughly under her cardigan, and the bag was insurance. As she walked, the smell of weed drifted down the hill, and was immediately repulsed by a gust of warm air, giving Evelyn a scent sweeter than any perfume. A pristinely, HOA-mowed lawn, fresh-picked flowers.

She walked. She met up with Jamie Armistead, a gay kid at the edge of Evelyn's orbit. Junior, 5'8, also in theater, but a techie. Evelyn thought of him fondly; he was one of the few people neither trying to fuck her nor the guys she wanted to fuck, so there was a certain honesty between them she didn't find very often in school relationships. The two chatted as they meandered up the hill. There weren't people Evelyn really fully considered friends, she supposed, as Leesburgh was far too much a stepping stone to put down roots, but Jaime was probably the closest approximation. He was better than Becky, at least.

A drunk soccer player Evelyn allegedly sexted the past year stumbled up, smiling wide. His name was Mark or something. "Hey, Evie," he slurred.

Evie. In that moment, Evelyn could've punched through the golem head, had it been on Mark's body. A few years prior, Evelyn recalled one of the varsity players getting blown by Mark's sister at halftime. Now what had his name been? Evelyn gleamed with conversational ease. "Hi," Evelyn said, "Do you know where Alex is?"

The last happy smile Mark would have of that school year left his face. "Oh, uh - "

The two walked past. Jamie said nothing, but approved silently. Such was why Evelyn liked him. Evie. Evelyn hadn't had a boyfriend in a few months. It wasn't necessarily that she didn't enjoy the attention. But the gall. Evie.

As they stepped into the party, the energy noticeably improved. The sloppy drunks stood slightly straighter, the weed more biochemically potent, the alcohol smoother, sweeter. Evelyn could feel eyes upon her, not least of which was Chad. Sunglasses inside, Evelyn thought. And Oakleys at that. New money. Coke, maybe? Evelyn gave him a dazzling smile, admiring his jawline. He'd had three previous crushes on Asian girls, Evelyn knew, but she had always been one to help break down racial barriers in Leesburgh. Chad meandered through the crowd, pretend-casually, in their direction. Boys were cute when they tried. Chad was an upperclassman, and Evelyn a mere sophomore, yet being the Marlo of the school's sexual gang wars had done little to slow her social climbing. This was not the first upperclassman party Evelyn had been invited to. A dalliance with a baseball player the previous year had worked wonders for that last year, and these events were far more fun than hanging out with the amorphous cloud of Beckys that clung to her. There had been a brief pause to her party-going the previous year when the two broke up. Being found with weed after cheating on Evelyn was an unfortunate end to his college aspirations.

Her mind was alight with the joy of being out with people after the stay in the hospital, quiet and bleach-smelling and boring. Upstairs, Evelyn could distantly hear a girl faking an orgasm, and the gutshot-groan of some boy. There was a non-zero chance he was thinking of Evelyn, she supposed. She pulled the purse tighter to her side as she heard the bed shake, suddenly a bit cold.

She glimpsed Willow at the outer orbit of a conversation, perhaps looking for a break in, or maybe a break out. Evelyn didn't recall seeing her car in the driveway, and that monstrosity was memorable. Or is it the car of that other girl? Willow was an odd one. Kept to herself. She wasn't necessarily ugly, but she was like a child. Quiet, quiet, the sort of quiet you'd think meant there were schemes to shoot up third period if she'd been a boy. Evelyn watched her for a moment. She assumed Willow disliked her, though Evelyn had never really had much of an issue with her. Evelyn rarely had problems with people who didn't really threaten her in some way, which, as callous as it sounds, is probably more magnanimous than most would give her credit for. The little ghost girl was certainly weird, but she wasn't a 12 foot crocodile. Or someone visibly deformed or marred in some way.

Evelyn checked to make sure her jacket was zipped up. Jamie raised an eye at Evelyn as Chad drew closer. You can stay, Evelyn telepath'd with a nod of the head. Jamie smirked. Chad drew closer, and Evelyn admired the brief glimpse of his abs under his shirt, though she thought, adjusted for sex, hers were superior.

She turned to say something, twisting her torso, and her right side screamed with agony.

Evelyn did not flinch. She did not smell broken concrete and her throat did not feel so dry she thought she was going to choke to death. "Grab me a drink?" She said, sweet as summertime, toes digging into her shoes so forcefully she thought her feet might break. "I'm so glad you invited me. Have you met Jamie?"

Driving to Chad's party was basically second nature to Dexter at this point- he'd been more than a few times since freshman year and had received an invite to various parties of his over the years. Chad was the king of the school and with his progressive growth in popularity, he fancied himself capable of having a shot at the title next year. Sure, passing out on the street had been awkward, but it was nothing that a few minutes of coaxing couldn't fix from a medical professional. He had helped rock that golem's shit. That and only Evelyn had seen him crumple but well, she'd been pretty fucked up too.

A few hearty meals and some daily carb loading and he was good as new, and excited to have something to celebrate that wasn't just a long weekend. There was a long line of cars near Chad's driveway and the novices were parking close by, but the well practiced were parking a street or two away with a pretty good distance. It kept cops from getting your car's tags easily if they came by and busted the place and made it even harder for them to catch you- if you could escape out the back or the sides of the house before they locked it down. That and he had the speed to cover that sort of distance in a very short period of time compared to anyone else.

Dexter could feel the music before he even opened the door, but despite the rhythmic thumps of Ridin' Solo it was the powerful thumps of heavy weight against the ground behind him that caught his attention. He whirled around, half knowing what it would be but on edge regardless. Up until recently there had only been one person in town with that kind of weight, and with the golem's sudden appearance it wasn't worth the assumption.

Luckily, he was right.

Henry ducked underneath a high up tree and Dexter, despite being at the top of the stairs, found himself seeing eye to eye with the man. Henry broke out to a smile but made no immediate moves to greet Dexter, both due to his size and the rather ungainly boot that had been placed around his foot by the doctor for the next week while the fracture mends.

"Dexter!" Henry greeted, taking a few ungainly steps up the stairs and stood alongside Dexter, opening the door for the younger man with dramatic flair. "After you, try not to drink too fast this time." he said teasingly. Dexter huffed in indignation and was almost instantly off into the sea of people. Henry, meanwhile ducked under the door and into the house. That sea of people parted for him. He made his way to the pool table just in time to hear Mateo's taunt, and grabbed a Smirnoff ice on his way over. "Hey Mateo, catch!" he boomed, tossing the bottle to him at reasonable speed. Mateo instinctually fumbled but caught the bottle. "Fast enough for you man? ICED!"

This was the King's party. The Prince and the Dragon had arrived.

With many guests having arrived, the party began to reach critical mass. The music seemed a little louder, the crowd just thick enough that the average person would have to bump into a shoulder or two moving from one group to the next. The smells of leather, sweat, and marijuana melded into a perfect elixir of debauchery. Atop the house on the widow's walk, Chad watched the people trickle in, calling out to those he knew, texting his buddies on various sports teams to figure out who everyone else was. Parties like this attracted folk from other towns sometimes, and that was seldom a good thing. This wasn't Chad's first rodeo, though, and he had...methods for dealing with such folk.

Eventually, Chad spotted who he had been looking for and decided to head downstairs. He slid the glass screen door of the widow's walk closed behind him and walked through his room, perfectly tidy save for a few pairs of shorts lying around in the general vicinity of the hamper. The room was well-furnished: a desk, a bookshelf, a trophy shelf with a few medals and several Debate Team trophies on it. Twin posters of Kobe Bryant and Lionel Messi sat on either side of his bed. Sometimes, when Chad was nervous, he would talk to the poster of Kobe. He felt nervous tonight, but he only gave it a nod. Before leaving, Chad turned to the mirror on the back of the door and took off his glasses. Light erupted from his face, so bright that it shone from under the door. Chad was used to looking at his own reflection- his eyes could handle the light. He mumbled to himself.

"You're the man. You're the guy everyone loves. You're handsome, popular, rich, cool. Let's do this." He winked to himself, put the sunglasses back on, and stepped out of his room, being sure to lock the door behind him. As Chad walked, everyone turned and cheered his name. Chad's classic Buddy Holly smile shone brighter than his eyes as he greeted his fans, giving out handshakes and daps as he moved down the hall. A few drunk girls put their arms around him. He pretended to like it. Alex Viccio, captain of the soccer team, pushed one of the two girls, both out of towners, out of his arms to shake Chad's hand.

"How you doin bro?" Alex said. Chad smiled and gave his old friend a hug.

"Righteous, my man," Chad replied. "Who you got with you?" Alex turned back to his girls.

"This is Vicky, this is Annie," he said, gesturing to each girl. "They're, what's the word again?" Vicky whispered into his ear. "Oh yeah, they're bisexual." Both of them giggled and waved to Chad.

"Well, nice to meet you ladies," Chad said. "Where you from?"

"York Catholic, hehehe," Vicky said. Annie was afraid to speak. Chad nodded.

"Ah yeah? Righteous. Well, enjoy the party! Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you enjoy yourself!" As Chad was about to walk away, he put a hand on Alex's shoulder and brought him in close for a whisper.

"I told you not to bring bitches from out of town," he said. "We'll talk about this later." Then Chad pulled back, smile wide as ever, and left the hall, leaving Alex looking uneasy.

Chad moved down the hall and stairs, past a guest room where it sounded like a guy was having his first orgasm in a girl. All of the important rooms in the house were locked, but Chad learned long ago that if you didn't give horny teenagers a way to vent their sexual urges, they would find...creative solutions. He considered banging on the door and congratulating the guy, but that seemed mean-spirited. He moved down the spiral staircase and to the party, where he saw the person who had made him leave his perch. See, Chad was king of the school, the undeniably most popular, good-looking, and well-liked kid there. But there was one thing he didn't have and hadn't in a long time- a queen.

"Grab me a drink?” Evelyn said. Chad beamed all the brighter and held up one hand. As if it were programmed, someone threw a Smirnoff Iced his way and it landed perfectly in his hand. He popped the top of the bubbly pink drink and handed it to Evelyn without skipping a beat.

"Strawberry lemonade's my personal fav," he said. "I can get you another if you'd like. I'm glad you could make it Evelyn! Always good to have you around." he turned to Jamie and offered a fist bump. "Hey man! Calculus, third period, right?" Jamie only nodded. He stiffly looked down and returned the bump.

"Uh...uh yeah," Jamie said, obviously smitten. "Yeah that's me! You have a...nice house!" Chad laughed heartily.

"You bet I do," Chad said. "Mom's a great interior decorator." Chad looked down at Evelyn and noticed her mittens. That was...certainly an odd look, but Evelyn wasn't important for her fashion sense, after all. “I’m sure your house is much nicer, Evelyn.” he said.

---

Titus caught the ping pong ball midair and looked at it in his massive hands. It was like holding a grape in his massive hands, and took quite a bit of finessing to get into a proper pong form. He looked down at the girl below him. Elle, he remembered her name was. She was in his english class once, though he was usually too busy talking or sleeping in the back to have noticed her. She was pretty- Titus was a sucker for freckles, and she had pretty brown eyes. Titus blinked and realized he had been looking at her for just a little bit too long.

“Hey big man,” Mateo said, pants around his ankles. “You pussying out or what? I got a cup over here that needs-”

“RANDY JOHNSON,” Titus bellowed. He wound up like a pitcher and launched the ball as hard as he could at Mateo’s remaining cup. The Randy Johnson was the riskiest move in the beer pong meta of Jack Kirby high school. Knock the cup over, and you win. Miss the cup, and you had to endure the grueling naked half mile.

The cup exploded on impact with the ball, sending water and shards of plastic flying every which way. Mateo squealed as the ball bounced off of his exposed hairy thigh, leaving a red mark. A healthy splash of water drenched the front of his boxers. Half of the crowd gasped and the other half busted out into laughter.

“Oh dude what the fuck?” Mateo said. “Now I look like I fuckin’ pissed myself.”

“Ah, it’ll dry,” Titus said, stretching his arm like a pitcher. “Think I’m gonna tap out now. Gotta rest my arm for the next time some hoe tries to step on my win streak.” Mateo grumbled to himself as he began to pick up shards of plastic off of the floor.

“Fuck it yeah I’m tired of this game,” Mateo said. “Somebody else can get their fuckin’ pants pulled down.” Mateo pulled his beige cargo shorts back up as he shuffled into the kitchen. The beer pong table remained open for the next round of players. Titus grabbed a blue one-liter thermos from a table nearby and took a sip from it. Then he nervously looked back at Elle. Two kids who were making out had just moved, leaving enough space for him to squeeze in. He took a swig from his pitcher of jungle juice and, feeling emboldened, walked over.

“Hey Elle,” he said. “You mind if I sit here? I’ll leave you plenty of space, promise.”

On the other side of the living room, Willow’s phone buzzed.

From: Helen <3

“Hey giiiiiiirl. U here yet? Come upstairs this shit is crazyyy”

As Willow had known Helen for most of her life, she would know that the use of extra i’s and y’s was a surefire sign that she was high as a kite.

Henry watched Titus with a sort of fascination that he hadn't felt much for in a very long time. This was unlike him.

Titus had always been a big kid and was the strongest around for as long as anyone could remember. When they were younger, that strength and size made him the biggest threat on the playground, and for good reason. Of course, that amount of power had gone straight to his head. Titus had been a bully and had absolutely remained a bully until everyone else started realizing that social influence was a lot more important than raw power. In that time he had lashed out a good deal due to his waning social status and Henry had always been small and weak and generally an easy target so of course he found himself on the receiving end of Titus' popularity death throws a few times. When he disappeared for home school and eventually returned Titus was far lower on the social ladder than he had been at the start of middle school and had certainly tried his hand again at what he was once good at.

That was, until Henry punched him for it. Maybe it was him being tired of being the only one without an ability and just happy that he had one now. Or maybe it was his own hotheaded mind addled by hunger and falling blood sugar- he and Titus were about the same size them. But Henry never forgot the look Titus had given him. Titus had been floored by the punch, likely unused to taking a hit from anything close to his own size, and his nose and teeth had been absolutely ruined. Henry remembered momentarily freaking out before remembering what Titus' ability was and braced himself for the incoming retribution. Retribution that never came. Henry would never forget the look of joy on Titus' face. Not from being punched- nah, that had been a temporary setback for the redheaded oaf. Something that was gone within a few hours. But his look of joy at being challenged by something. Anything.

He and Titus had been pretty alright after that.

They were both older now. Stronger, wiser, and in Henry's case about five times the size he had been even then. Maybe he didn't see it when combating the golem because he had been so focused on not dying himself, but he certainly saw it now. It was that same air about him as it had been all those years ago. For the first time in a long time, Titus wasn't just another of the school's brutes. No, he was a hero.

So was he, Henry supposed within his own head. He found himself staring at Titus and Elle out of the corner of his eye as he sorted the table out for another round of cup pong with surprising dexterity for someone without proper fingers. The difference between them is that Titus had the chance to get the girl and Henry had always left Chad's parties with a few friends or alone. Not that he could blame any of the girls- the other options weren't so big they could step on them and not covered in scales, but in this moment Henry felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time: Small. And powerless.

He looked around the room and realized that he and Titus had flipped again. Titus' reign had ended a long time ago and this whole high school experience had been nothing but a cresendo into moving on to something else. Henry on the other hand had spent so much time relishing his popularity that he had been unwilling to let himself think much about what could come after when he was the weird new kid again. Except this time he was in a furry costume that he couldn't take off. He'd be alone again, as he always had been deep down, but alone socially. He was jealous of Titus. Jealous that he had everything Henry had- incredible strength, size, could heal and be a hero... and he was human. He looked at Elle and realized that Titus could get the girl if he played his cards right. Henry would probably never be dealt in.

Henry sighed, and reminded himself to speak to a therapist sometime between now and the end of the school year to sort out these intrusive thoughts, and decided to remain close by. Elle had always been nice to him, even when he was small and weird and weak. She'd invited him to things even if he had been more of a pity vote than much else (not that he could blame her). Titus usually meant well, but if she rejected him and he was too high on his horse to take it well he was probably the only one that could drag his ass outside to cool off without bringing the house down. He couldn't imagine being hit on by someone three times his size and twenty times his strength. As he rose up from under the table with the previously dropped pong ball, he caught Elle's eyes.

Dont worry. I'm not going anywhere. He hoped she understood. Hoped that she felt some sort of safety in a room full of giants that one had her back. It was a fraction of a second, and he was likely nothing but a fool for banking on it, but he'd be here all the same.

That's what heroes do, he supposed. "Alright, who's looking to kick my ass?" Henry bellowed.

He was terrible at beer pong.

---

Dexter had always enjoyed parties for the music. The normal day to day was so slow it was unbearable. Especially in Calc, but parties were so much fun- and not for the reasons one may think. Sure, the drinking and the smoking was a blast but after his dad, alcohol put a bad taste in his mouth and he had never been a happy drunk. No- it was the music. People like Henry could detect it in different ways but Dexter could perceive it. It was so small, and even he could never see it if he wasnt paying attention to it, but during particularly thumpy or good songs, he could see the air dance. It was like a mirage on a hot road, but softer and in time with the beat. Every festival, every party, was an audio-visual experience beyond the flashing lights and dancing.

And the best part about it was that it was all his. Nobody else seemed to ever see it- they probably couldn't, when a second feels like five minutes, one has the time to become impossibly perceptive. He saw Chad reach a hand out and Dexter grabbed a Smirnoff ice- Strawberry Lemonade- he had seen Chad pilfer through a pack for that flavor pretty consistently at the events they had been at together and it had been confirmed to him at last years bonfire. Dexter squinted, his mind calculating the toss more than a few times over and as soon as the line was clear, underhand tossed the drink to Chad who caught it without even looking. A feat in itself.

He continued moving through the house, likely appearing as if he was dodging around someone sneezing and narrowly ducking and weaving around extremities when to him he was just moving out of the way because he wasn't a huge fan of being touched. Dexter found himself in the kitchen with the War Pig, who was in the process of pulling up his pants- which had a curiously large wet mark on them. Dexter opened his mouth and spoke without thinking.

"Mateo, dude, that's a sink. Not a toilet. Are you okay?"

"What did you do?"

It was the first thing she'd said to him all month. Maybe not. But definitely the first thing that mattered.

"You know what I did, mom!" Chris' voice cracks, spilling down Busiek Boulevard like a can of beer. "I got a date tonight. That's what I did."

In the privacy of an empty intersection, he empties a can of Febreze into the back seat. There's no way he was messing this up, not that he could say exactly what this was. Actually, on second thought, it was nice. That's what this was. Really. Freaking. Nice.

When he got to Letitia's driveway, he wasn't sure what to do. He could wait for her and risk waiting forever or he could go up to her door, like a man, and tell her father exactly what he was going to do with her. Which was...

Before he could remember what manner of devilry he'd perform on Letitia's hypothetical father, her silhouette flickered into place as the front door flashed open and shut. The next thing he knew, she was in the passengers seat and had her cool, sleek hand shepherding him into a warm, chaste, cheek kiss.

"Hey Mister Christer, are you ready to have the best night ever?"

He was not.

As she innocently coddled his forearm, he felt an unholy heat festering in all the folds his clothes hid. He couldn't tell if it was sweat or brimstream that boiled out of his pores. But as she awaited his response, looking into his eyes, breathing minty breezes at him, he lost feeling in his fingertips. As she swallowed his exhalations, seeming to flush fresh oxygen right back into his face, the car grew pregnant with promise of a coming plume of smoke and

"Absolutely," he shifted into Drive, processing the first kiss he'd ever received. "I've never been more ready. What do you wanna do when we get there? I don't really go to parties." It was true. The last party he'd gone to, he had accidentally fused a pedophile's nylon waistline into his flesh. Unsurprisingly, he hadn't been invited back. Or if he had, he'd been too busy being in a detention center to notice.

"Welllllll," she started, "I just want to get to know you, really. I've heard a lot about you but I thought it'd be nice to hear the inside story from the man himself. That, and," her pistachio cheeks warmed to a chartreuse shade, "I might think you're kinda cute? Maybe."

"Oh," he struck his thumb against his kneecap like a spent match, "uh, thank you. You're very pretty yourself, Ms. Green." The one thing that definitely needed to happen, he thought as he parked as close to the house as he could, was that he would need to return this car before it turned into a pumpkin. He'd take her home. "I wish we'd gotten here earlier so we could park closer to the house."

"Yeah, it'd be nice to be able to make a quick getaway if cops show up or anything like the other day."

"Last I checked, the town only has four officers to round everyone up on staff tonight. Unless they came back from their mini vacation early on account of The Rock Show the other day but that seems pretty darned far-fetched given that my dad is one of them and hasn't gotten back yet. Besides, at this point, it's not like they could do anything if there was another issue besides wait for the ASA to kill the party. Nothing but--" Chris' rant was cut off at the knees by Letitia's giggle.

"I didn't know you were smart."

"I'm not smart. I'm just a criminal."

"Keep talking like that and you're gonna steal my heart." Chris' cheeks ignited like a gas station in a firestorm. At that, he exploded out of the car, hoping she wouldn't catch sight of his blush, slinking around, and popping her door open. Fizzing out of a blown out stereo down the street, the *now iconic* city-saving remix of Machine Gun buzzed anthemically like a fruit fly in his ears.

"Hey, Henry's playing pong with some skater girl!" Letitia prompted, apparently picking up on the gospel cross-pollinating across the manor. Interesting, Chris though. He wouldn't have imagined that the place could carry a coherent message through the steady percussion of sin and hedonism that stood before him. He'd set a good example by being here. Not drinking. Not doing drugs. Not having sex. Someone had to not do it for others to follow. Letitia held him tight as she drug him right up to the table, in spitting distance of Elle. Ready for the show.

"I believe in you, Henry," Chris said, attempting to fit in before correcting with an "umm, I also believe in you, Elle."

𝕎 𝕚 𝕝 𝕝 𝕠 𝕨

Willow has never once tried marijuana. And most likely, she never will. Her father’s not a fan of the stuff, but more importantly, the smell is what drives her away from any notion of sampling it. ‘Dank’ does not sit well with the girl.

Helen is much more open-minded on it, however. Over the years, her extended usage of i’s and y’s in her messaging had become a telltale sign that she was high. Sometimes, it’s funny to watch. Other times, Willow just has to sit and wait for it to be over. It’s one of the few activities the two will never bond over. And now, it means they won’t be having a distinctly meaningful conversation about the golem tonight.

Oh, well. Might be for the best. No one’s really here to talk about things, are they?

In the midst of the downstairs crowd, Willow ghosts up and ascends to the upper half of the house. What Helen failed to tell her was which room she was in, so Willow had to resort to checking them one by one. The Charles estate was somewhat labyrinthian to her.

She pokes her head through the floor of the nearest room on the upper half of the estate - a bathroom, as it turns out. There, she finds a young man hunched over a toilet, in the middle of some awful retching and heaving. Willow leaves right before he vomits into the toilet, unnoticed.

The second room Willow enters is a bedroom. Two students are on top of the bed, almost fully disrobed, kissing each other very sloppily. Willow’s eyes widen as she quickly ducks back under the floor before she witnesses any further ‘action’. Thankfully, she goes unnoticed once again.

Finally, in the third room, she happens upon Helen, surrounded by a small assortment of other students, all on varying levels of high. The room is clouded by dim grey vapor. Willow rises up into the room proper, but does not recorporealize out of hesitance towards breathing any of the smoke in. She instinctively waves her hand in front of her face, despite the fact that it does nothing.

“Helen?” Willow asks in her ethereal voice, hovering a few feet away from her seated friend, bong in hand. “How are you feeling?”

---

---

One of the upstairs bedrooms of Chad's house had quickly been converted into a stoner's paradise. The bed and other furniture had been pushed up to the wall, the mattress covering the window. Tapestries of vibrant colors now hung from the previously-beige walls, and a crowd of teenagers sat in the middle of the room as though around a bonfire, except the bonfire was a large blue-and-yellow glass bong. Sublime played from a bluetooth speaker sitting in one corner of the room that oscillated between different colors- reds and pinks and blues and yellows. Various teens of all shapes and sizes sat in the circle, from the black-and-white Andrew Eldridge to Helen, who wore a yellow sundress with pink sunflowers on it, a literal laurel in her hair. The ringmasters of the circle of stoners, though, were clear- they were Lenny Bass and Bobby Sunshine. Both of them sat at the back of the circle, backs to the mattresses, and commanded the attention of the group, Lenny with his puffed afro and open-chested yellow leather jacket and Bobby with his denim vest and guitar across his lap, which he absentmindedly strummed as he watched the bong pass around the room. As Willow phased through the wall, Helen took a champion puff of the bong and released a thick grey cloud into the air, earning a high-five and a "you go sister!" from Lenny. Bobby looked up from his guitar-playing at Willow, and his face stretched into a characteristic surprisingly-large smile.

"Willow!" He said with a calming cheerfulness reminiscent of Bob Ross. "Welcome to the party! It's super groovy to see you sister!" Helen looked over at Willow with an almost-as-wide smile, her head lopped over to one side and her whole body moving as though she were a marionette piloted by a sleep-deprived alcoholic. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair scattered everywhere.

"Willooooooooooooow," she said. "Hey girllll! It's so good to see you!" She leapt up and ran to her friend, nearly trampling Andrew, who frowned and mumbled "Yeah, this is nothing compared to the darkness brewing in my soul." under his breath. Helen attempted to wrap Willow in a great big hug- she smelled strongly of marijuana. She then passed clean through Willow and landed in a heap on the floor, giggling manically.

"Girlllll this weed is so goooooood!" she said. "You gotta try some come onnnnnnnnnn!" The rest of the circle made a place for Willow to sit. Bobby leaned back against the mattress as the sublime track came to an end and propped the guitar up on his thigh.

"It's so nice having you lovely brothers and sisters here tonight," he said with that same calm voice. "It's not often that we get nights like this with so many lovely people gathered together at once, and I sure am having a groovalicious time. So now, I'd like to play a song for you all to show you my gratitude..."

"Here's Wonderwall."

---

Titus' heart sunk in time with his ass into the couch. The piece of furniture strained under his weight and made a sort of black hole, pulling the people sitting nearby towards him. To put it into a word, Elle looked...disinterested. He had racked his brain for something sweet to say to her, some smooth pickup line or compliment, but before he could think of anything she stood up and walked away. figures, he thought. Titus had never had a girlfriend. No girl in school wanted anything to do with him, and he didn't know why. Sure, he was big and a little clumsy, but didn't girls like tall guys? He drained the glass of jungle juice he was holding, dwarfed by his gigantic hand, and then got up from the couch and walked into the dining room, shoving his way through the sea of drunken teenagers. He walked past the DJ and to a full floor-to-ceiling set of windows that looked over the hill on which the Charles estate sat. Pine trees and ferns dotted the hillside as it sloped down to the suburban sprawl below. Off in the distance, he saw twinkling lights of cars whizzing past on I-97. He sighed, crushing the red solo cup in his hand, and felt sorry for himself. Some random partygoer bumped into his elbow, and Titus' head snapped around.

"Oh sorry-" the girl was abruptly cut off.

"Watch where you're going, small-fry!" Titus yelled. The girl jumped back, spilling her drink.

"Christ," she said. "You don't gotta be a dick about it." She stormed off. Titus looked back at the window, frowning. Maybe he deserved the loneliness he felt, he thought.

---

In the kitchen, Mateo attempted to dry the large wet spot on his crotch with an entire roll of paper towels. He rubbed as hard as he could, trying to get the stain out. halfway through, he dropped the towels and they unrolled across the floor like some kind of half-assed teepeeing. People stopped and laughed as they saw Mateo's red boxers sticking out from his half-down pants, and his face grew scarlet with embarrassment. Then Dexter entered the room and taunted him and Mateo just about had enough.

"I didn't piss myself you fucking peabrain," Mateo said. "It's just water. Get the fuck off my case before I turn your nuts into jelly." As he said this, he stepped on a half-full can of Mike's Hard Lemonade, which spurted and caused him to slip. Mateo landed on his ass, now in a puddle of literal yellow liquid. The few people in the kitchen, getting beers or snacks, burst into laughter.

Evelyn arched the sort of eyebrow men in the 1600s spent decades in conservatories learning to sculpt as the drink appeared in Chad’s hand. She couldn’t remember him having any sort of telekinesis, although there were plenty of amazing gifts in the world not borne of that meteor. She took it gingerly with a coquettish grin and sipped at it. It was as saccharine and unfulfilling as the recesses of Becky’s concave mind.

“This is fine,” Evelyn said, “Perfect to start with.” Evelyn for a moment started to say how she liked strawberry lemonade best, too, but as she watched Jaime fist-pound Chad (“if only you could, mon cheri”) Evelyn felt an odd jolt. It was like déjà vu, in a sense, a sudden realignment. I hate strawberry lemonade, Evelyn thought. The blue one’s the best.

Chad turned back to her and Evelyn sipped from her drink, the fizz more evanescent and the glass polished and clear as her lips touched the rim. She noticed Jaime stand up a touch straighter, and the tight jeans he wore were bluer than she remembered. “Nonsense,” Evelyn replied, “Any house with this much booze is the nicest in town.” The house was nice, she thought, the layout modern but not gauche. Cutting-edge, really. Had she disliked it before? The thought seemed quite silly, now.

Jaime made some inane half-fucked attempt at seducing Chad involving something about their calculus teacher, and the mention of something as useless as mathematics made Evelyn zone out for a moment. What a hideous centerpiece, she thought, glancing at the furniture. As she did, the Mayday Parade girl materialized from thin air. The boys around her started, and it made Evelyn smirk. What a useful talent, to be invisible. Evelyn couldn’t relate, although she did wish she had that gift, at times. She could feel it, almost, the sort of psychic pressure of eyes watching your every move. There were no camera flashes or paparazzi, sure, but she knew there were hushed whispers when she left the room, or discussion of what she’d done or said or worn on car rides home. People tried to hide it, but Evelyn was better at watching than they were at lying. That was something she’d learned early, the first time she’d worn a low-cut shirt in middle school and heard snickering in gym. There was always someone watching in Leesburgh. You couldn’t ever drop the act.

Evelyn’s side lit up with pain as someone bumped into her, but her fangs stayed in immaculate order. The invisible girl was talking to Titus, one of the few people who Evelyn did not feel entirely confident she could dominate sexually. For fuck’s sake, he nearly skull-fucked that rock thing. She didn’t let her eyes linger. Elle, she was sure, had no great love for Evelyn, but the feeling was not mutual. She found skater girl interesting, like a rare animal at the zoo. There were few people even in the city of freaks who dared to swim against the current. Evelyn had not yet deduced whether she did it merely to have her own little group of outsiders, or if she truly didn’t care.

Regardless, she was less appetizing than the host himself. “So Chad,” she said, overriding whatever Jaime had been saying about parabolas or something. “What’s in store for tonight?” As she spoke, she could feel the springtime surge start to jitter up her spine. The dull throbbing of the bandaged wound faded, and Evelyn felt her powers light up. It was not often she really flexed her radioactive muscles. Frankly, she seldom needed to. As she took her next sip, the music came through crisper and cleaner, the smell of sweat and liquor grew more tolerable, and the boy gripping the sides of Chad’s toilet in the bathroom down the hall found his stomach steadied. Upstairs, a particularly foolish pair of freshmen had their biological rhythms yanked into peak fertility at what would not only the most inopportune time possible for them, but also the set of triplets the girl would birth in nine months’ time. These, however, were distant concerns. Let’s give the butterflies in his stomach something to dance to. He certainly looked good, Evelyn thought, not remembering a time Chad had looked so nice. He wasn’t like Titus that she could remember – he must’ve worked for his body. “This is an awfully big party. Anything after beer pong?” She let her eyes and teeth glitter.

Chad started to reply, but paused as a theater kid on the other side of the living room started to sing along to the iPod on shuffle. He was hit with an aural wave of “shut the fuck up”’s and booos that briefly drowned out every other sound in the house. Evelyn took the moment to scan the room. It was second nature.

At the beer pong table, the lizard looked rattled for a moment. Interesting, Evelyn thought. Henry was in some ways inscrutable: scales were harder to read than skin, after all. Even so, the sag of shoulders, the hurried move to take a drink, the glance. He was a little cold-blooded island for that moment. Evelyn followed his slit-eyed gaze to the couch. Ah. The giant spoke to the invisible girl, and the couch visibly shifted as he sat down. Evelyn briefly attempted to remember if any of her father’s associates had ever dealt with any home issues. She quietly hoped the foundations of Chad’s McMansion were made of something sturdier than his mother’s décor tastes.

Evelyn blinked at that. The thought felt weird, foreign, like a sudden cold spot in the ocean on a warm day. She liked the style, she thought. The music swept over her again and she wondered if even she could put out enough springtime to make Jersey All Over get into Goliath’s kilt. And as soon as she’d wondered, Elle went up to go play beer pong. Very interesting, Evelyn mused, taking another sip. She normally didn’t drink this quickly.

The Firestarter boy: Chad’s house is truly fucked now. He didn’t show up often, which made Evelyn wonder what prompted this arrival. He was near Letitia Greene. Evelyn’s façade broke for a moment with visible surprise. Jesus, it’s like a Hufflepuff orgy tonight. He looked stiff as stone. Evelyn considered it odd how he could kill them all with a sneeze, and yet looked so scared of a little music.
Evelyn had never felt particularly insecure about not having been born with the world-breaking strength or outright destructive powers of some of Leesburgh’s other denizens. Chris Chandler there was proof enough none of that mattered. An odd duck indeed.

From the kitchen, she heard laughter. Behind Chad, she watched Titus snap at a girl. For a brief moment, Evelyn saw the stone face in front of her, jaw agape, and her side and her knuckles didn’t feel throbbing pain, they just felt cold, so fucking cold the springtime shine around her sputtered for a moment and unaltered reality crashed back around them until she blinked and brought it back.
Evelyn stepped closer to Chad. “You’re so sweet to organize all this,” she said, shifting to put him between her and the flesh golem.

Dexter winced at Mateo's snipe, realizing his folly and feeling second hand embarrassment for Mateo. He had been there at one point in his life, too. The threat fell flat, even if it was weighty. The Pig probably hit like a bus compared to the average strike but, well, Dexter doubted he'd have the speed to actually hit him, let alone catch him. Sure, he might not be able to take the guy in a fight but Dexter had never really been one to instigate to begin with. Everyone in this town that was his age had their aces, and if he was being honest while he might be the fastest kid in town he wasn't going to be outrunning anyone's heat vision at close range.

Dexter's mom had always gotten onto him about that. He was always a little bit stronger than most people in town due to the increased muscle and bone density that supported the forces he put his body through, but compared to someone who could throw you with their mind or something? He could think ten times faster than they could, but they could still think faster than he could move. "Just be nice to people. We've lost enough in this house. Please don't let me lose you too."

Dexter didnt understand the confidence people like Titus or Mateo or Henry had in their abilities to go toe to toe with other Children of Lee with the gusto they did. The first two seemed to be a lot more aggressive about it, but Titus could bounce back from almost anything. At least he had an excuse to be ballsy. Mateo was the smallest of the three aforementioned giants and would probably be flattened by either. Henry had been much more reserved about his strength until recently- holding back the golem had been something that he'd have thought only Titus could've done until recently. All this was for naught though, because both had been served up a cold harsh reality. Sometimes the CoL's had abilities one couldn't fist fight and win. Titus and Henry had been almost enveloped and all their might meant nothing until they were saved.

Maybe that's what Mateo was doing right now- being just like Henry and Titus or any other brute in town being faced with a situation they couldn't muscle out of: Flail. Sitting there with what looked like a piss stain, in a puddle of yellow liquid, caught with his pants basically down. Maybe Dexter should take his own advice and not try to think of everything as something to be solved with muscle.

"You alright?" Dexter said, his voice as genuine as it could be. He knew Mateo was as likely to try and punch him as he was to accept his help up. He side eyed a few of the onlookers, who seemed to make themselves scarce under his gaze, and nonchalantly poured some of his own drink onto the generalized area of his own pants. Dexter was no Chad, but he had some sway, and what were they going to do? Make fun of the dude with half a family for being nice? Dexter took a step forward and offered Mateo his hand to help him up. "It's just lemonade, hey?" he offered.

---

Henry sort of craned his neck back like a bird reacting to something unpleasant at Titus' reaction as he stomped off, and from somewhere within the house he heard the boom of the man's frustrated voice. Elle brought him out of it, though. He'd have to remember to talk to Titus later about it. That probably stung a little bit.

He drifted his gaze back down to Elle, who had just tossed the ball and missed- and it occurred to Henry that he hadn't heard her rules for the game yet, and that for him to drink every time he missed rather than every time the opponent sank a cup meant that he was going to be in for a long game. He was bad at Beer pong, not for lack of dexterity for his size. But simply because of his size. He knelt down to pick up the ball- this tiny thing between his index and thumb claw, and realized that he had only managed to sink two cups last time he played because he was a giant trying to aim a pebble. Henry looked up at Elle and set the ball down on the table. He held his finger out in a 'one moment' motion, and stepped away to the kitchen area. There were several coolers available with various lite beers in each so he grabbed the closest. There seemed to be some sort of commotion in the kitchen and it looked like War Pig and that Dexter kid had wet themselves- but that was just how it went sometimes at a party. He was a man on a mission.

With one hand he palmed the cooler like a basketball, and strode away and back to the ping pong table. People made way for the drake on his way back, and he set it down in a surprisingly ginger way. He flicked the lid open with a claw and selected a Coors from the container. His movements must have attracted some attention, because he heard a cheer or two from the small crowd around him as soon as he stood back to full height. Henry leaned back and pointed to the crowd, following his ear to that kid Chris and Letitia. He brought his hand back to beat his chest once and with his other hand's index and thumb claw, pierced the Coors can in the hull and where the container was supposed to open, and placed his mouth expertly around the opening in the hull as he shotgunned the comparatively comedically tiny beer to a chorus of hoots and hollers. Henry crushed the can effortlessly in his hand and knelt down to retrieve two one (placing the crushed can neatly by the cooler for later collection). He underhand tossed the one into the crowd to Chris, winked, and placed his own unopened beer on the table.

"Gotta keep it fair!" he bellowed, swiping the ball off the table and putting his offhand over his eyes as if he was going to blind shoot it. He feinted, fake tossing the ball, and then split his fingers so he could see through them- very obviously trying to get a laugh out of Elle and give a good show to the onlookers. This time he tossed it. It was a little wobbly, and woefully under powered as he had misjudged how much strength he'd need to toss it without risking turning it into a missile, but it bounced and seemed to be in line to land in the bitch cup if Elle didn't swat it away. With his previous throw to sunk cup ratio, he was starting off hot!

𝕎 𝕚 𝕝 𝕝 𝕠 𝕨

She always forgets when she’s high.

“No thank you.” Willow says, in response to Helen’s invitation to join her in the smoking. She has the slightest hint of resentment in her ethereal voice. Far be it from her to get in the way of her friend having a good time, but it wasn’t something she was comfortable with getting involved with herself. And thus, this was pretty much it for the two of them tonight. No talking about anything golem-related, that was for sure.

“Awwwwww, come oooooooon…” Helen says, still on the floor, trailing off into a giggle as she tries to get Willow to partake of the smoke filling up the room.

“No.” Willow says again, “You just… have fun here. I’ll see you later.”

And with that, the ghostly Willow descended through the floor of the room, leaving Helen and the gaggle of other ‘inebriated’ students to their own devices.

Well, device. There was only one bong.

---

Willow drops down above the crowd of people, taking a brief moment to look around and see what was happening.

She sees Henry and Elle at the pong table, getting started on their match, Christopher being the premier spectator - with a very verdant date alongside him. The image of a gargantuan Henry holding a comparatively tiny paddle in his hand puts a smile on Willow’s face.

She sees Dexter nearby as well, talking with Mateo Ramos - the ‘War Pig’. The latter is seated on the floor in a puddle of yellow liquid. Willow puts two and two together easily enough - Dexter is just being nice.

Willow touches down in the crowd and recorporealizes. The moment she does, she is mashed against by a couple other people who hadn’t noticed her. “Watch it,” one of them says, nearly spilling their drink as they move away. Willow brushes it off and, with little else she can think of doing, decides to sit and watch the grand game of beer pong in action.

Her desire to talk about the golem is still there. But if everyone else is more focused on having fun, well…

She can put it aside for now.

Willow ghosts-and-floats over to the couch by the table, recorporealizing and taking up some of the free room left on it. She sits and smiles at Henry and Elle, and passes another to Christopher nearby, waiting and watching for the game to begin.

“Looks like you don’t have to shotgun another, but don’t forget that the bitch cup doesn’t count on the first throw. Nice toss though, toss me one of those while you're at it?"

Henry hissed dramatically at Elle's snipe, raising his arm up and resting the back of his palm against his head, leaning back as if he had been struck by some mortal wound. "Elle, you wound me!" he bellowed, his voice deep enough to just about vibrate those in close proximity to him. He dropped his pose with a cheeky smile and whistled as Elle took her drink and threw at the same time, his size and bravado raising the some energy from the slowly gathering crowd around them to cheer her on. While Elle had missed, more than a few people in the crowd were now chanting for Daniella to slay the Goliath. Miss or not, to him hitting the table was something in itself. The fact that she was making a show of it was just a turn on.

"Dude honestly, I'm just glad I made it. I'm terrible at beer pong. And darts. Just seemed like you were itching for a game." he replied, his eyes moving away from Elle's and to the beers for two reasons: He didn't really want to catch her gaze, afraid of whatever response she might have. Elle would almost certainly know what he meant since they locked eyes. She could get out of almost any situation she wanted to, they both knew that, so the last thing he wanted to insinuate was that she couldn't take care of herself. It wasn't what he meant, but he realized not a moment after the words left his mouth that they could come off wrong. Elle was as savvy as she was capable as _{she was clever as she was attractive as-}

Henry caught himself lacking, and quickly reined himself in. She had asked for a beer and she would receive, mark his words. He leaned down to reach the cooler and fish out two more beers- one for himself and the other for Elle-, catching Willow's ghostly appearance as she materialized close to them. He smiled and waved to her as he stood up again in acknowledgement but did not grab a third for her, as far as he knew Willow didn't drink. Nevertheless he was a hero tonight, so there was no shame in not showing off a tad. He focused on his arm as he curled the his arm up, producing an impressive bicep for the crowd as he did so. This rioted more of the young meatheaded men spectating than it did anyone else, but he'd take what he could get. Henry released one of the beers from his hand, lowering his forearm as the beer began rolling down the length of his arm, and straightened it suddenly as it reached the crook. The sudden jolt sprung the beer across the table in a neat arc to Elle with surprising dexterity- she had said toss after all! Beers were a lot easier for him to work with than ping pong balls- they were much larger and had a little weight to them which made them easier to manipulate. That and he'd been around them a lot more.

Henry punched a hole into his own beer's hull at two different points with his thumb and index claw and quickly drank it's contents. To anyone else he'd be going... maybe a bit fast, but whenever he hosted a party he basically carried a keg-backpack around for himself. He weighed as much as a horse, a twelve-pack in ten minutes was going to buzz him on his worst day. He crumpled the metal and leaned away to toss it in a conveniently placed trash can. He looked back to the table expectantly, waiting for Elle to take her turn, then realized she just had.

"Oh, fuck." He strummed, his head whipping around to wherever to ball had been rolled off to. He took a step back and felt the tiny pop what could be nothing else but the ball itself under his foot. _{"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck."}, he lamented, realizing the he had just crushed the damn game under his goofy booted foot. They had slapped it down on him the day after the golem to take the weight off the fracture so it'd heal quicker, but damnit all it was inconvenient at times like this. "Hey can we get another b-" he called out, his sentence cut short by someone throwing a sack of ping-pong balls that Chad had no doubt pre-purchased before the party knowing full well some would probably be crushed, or burnt up, or eaten, or... something. One could never tell in this town. "Thanks!" he called out, fishing out a single ball with his claws and attempting to throw it. Unfortunately, his thumb claw slipped off the rounded edge at the last minute. Normally the pressure would just puncture it or something, but no, this was so much worse. The ball was released halfway through the throw, resulting in a distinct lack of power and a single ball falling into one of his own two cups right in front of him.

Henry marveled at his failure for but a second, and then wheezed with laughter, bringing his hand up to cover his eyes as he did. He fished out another beer and cave-man'd it, and then rolled the ball over to Elle, lest he sink another of his own cups again. At least it was funny.

The party raged on. Teenagers boned. Alcohol was spilled. Vomit was vomited. Becky tried to parachute out of a second-story window with a bedsheet and a dream. Chad Charles felt the maelstrom swirl around him. It made him nervous. There were a lot of people in this house, some of whom were from out of town. Evelyn tried to start conversations three times and was cut off by more chaos- Titus yelling, Willow floating down out of the air, Becky unceremoniously landing in a hedge. For a brief second, he scowled, trying to figure out how to regain control of the situation. Before he could lose his composure, though, he swirled back around to Evelyn, who too had swirled to put him between her and Titus. Smart.

"We've got a few different things going on," Chad said. "Beer pong here, pool in the rec room. Think there was a game of King's Cup going on down there too. A few of the AV club nerds came earlier with a Gamecube and I think they're playing some weird game upstairs. I watched for a few seconds- a fox with a gun and a dude with a sword. Not my thing. Lenny and Bobby set up upstairs with a bong, and of course we've got all the alcohol you can drink. I bet I can even get Henry to black out." Chad turned as a boy walked up to him- short and thin with a puff of brown hair and lipstick almost as good as Evelyn's. He hugged Chad.

"Hey, Joey!" Chad said. "Jamie, have you met Joey? He's a friend of mine from out of town." Joey and Jamie's eyes locked.

"Oh, um, hey," Jamie said, smiling. "You look familiar. Maybe I saw you at a drag show a while ago?"

"RuPaul in Philly?" Joey said.

"Yeah! That was an awesome show. She killed it out there," Jamie and Joey began to walk away into the crowd, chatting about wigs and lipstick and dresses and "slay"-ing, which Chad figured would be some kind of slang in about five years. He turned back towards Evelyn.

"I heard you got caught up in all that crazy shit Friday," Chad said. "What was it like?"

---

In the kitchen, Mateo looked up at the ceiling. He bit his lip, trying not to cry in front of a crowd of teenagers. His head swirled with alcohol and self-loathing. Dexter was standing over him, blocking out the light. Mateo scowled and prepared to be insulted. He was met with kindness. Mateo stopped. For a moment, the tears leaked their way into the corners of his eyes. He felt his face burn so hot that he could have cried vapor. The laughter circled him like a flock of gulls, picking at his already garbage self esteem.

"Y-yeah I'm fine," Mateo said. He wasn't sure if he was. He shook his head and the tears were gone, replaced by red-faced anger. "Punk..." he added weakly. Dexter helped him up. Mateo wobbled on his own two feet, and looked down at his khaki shorts- they were soaked through. He looked over at Dexter and tried to come up with something mean to say. Nothing came. He stood there for a few moments, as the laughter died down and the teenaged attention span expired. Then he stumbled towards the dining room. Mateo's gut felt like molten lead- heavy and burning and churning. His face quickly drained from scarlet to pale.

"Ah shit," he said. "I...I need a fuckin' toilet," he said. Mateo bumped into several people as he drunkenly lumbered into the dining room, then leaned on the wall for support. Where was the bathroom? This place was enormous- back at his house, a one-story rancher, he knew where everything was. This place was a maze.

Evelyn Noblezada

Evelyn offered Chad a grin at the prospect of getting Henry to black out, although behind her mask she found the idea less than appealing. One rampaging golem had been enough for a semester, and Titus and Henry both seemed less than fully stable at the present moment. The notion clawed into her mind more than she had thought it would. Before Friday, the idea some idiot would immolate her with a sneeze or knock out an eye with a laser or some such had never bothered her. No one in Leesburgh would be a big enough idiot to not only socially suicide themselves into Evelyn, but bury their family under more law suits than the Brooks Brothers.

But alcohol made people do stupid things, she thought, lifting her drink to her lips and taking a quiet pull. If she wasn't grotesque beneath her clothes at the moment, like the statue of David covered in fresh blood, she may well have come with the plan to do something stupid tonight. An out-of-towner wandered up, and Chad and Jaime briefly chattered. Evelyn's eyes wandered again. Chad may have been pretty, but the conversation was not exactly riveting. Neither was being this close to Titus.

The rest of the room could have been fooled. Evelyn had been standing there for a quarter of an hour now, and whether their semi-conscious minds noticed, their bodies did. The dancers had only continued to speed up; the couches seemed impervious to stains; dizzy brains and stumbling legs steadied.

Chad asked about Friday. A lesser thespian, like the mere mortals who numbered among Evelyn's co-comets (they did not merit the title of star) in the theater department would have faltered. Evelyn's smile only sweetened. "It was exciting," she said, swirling her near-empty bottle in her hand. "Honestly, I don't even know why we have cops in Leesburgh. We had it under control soon enough...though I do wonder what something like that was doing around here." Evelyn left the question unanswered, though she suspected a few possibilities, none of them pleasant. She'd long figured most of Leesburgh's adolescents would wake up after graduation a mile under the Rockies full of syringes. They had neither lawyers for fathers nor foresight. And I don't recall seeing you there, Chad, Evelyn mused. She let her eyes explore the twenty-foot-glass windows bordering the living room. I do wonder what an audit on the Gatsbys would turn up. "I was so worried we wouldn't be able to get everyone out, but I think I did. The worst of the damage seems to be to buildings. All those poor mom and pop stores." Literally, poor. Jaime asked New Gay a question, and Evelyn took the opportunity to bow out, asking if anyone else needed another drink.

Besides, he had to work for it.

Evelyn stepped around a pair of girls, whom Evelyn was entirely certain were heterosexual when they weren't within thirty yards of Lady Dionysus, making out on the couch. Even 5's deserve love. She spotted Mateo. He was reeling in place, leaning against the walls, and Evelyn, ever the social hammerhead, could make out sniggers half a room away between the bassline. Evelyn sidled up to Mateo and put a hand on his back. She would need to be brief. If you pet a pig, you get covered in shit.

But Titus was ten yards away, and she supposed that rule didn't apply when you were already in the slaughterhouse.

She was never one to bother actively learning to manifest her powers (did she really need to, after all?) but she had a vague idea of how to amp it up. "You good?" she asked, flashing him with the enamel equivalent of 12 Hope diamonds. She could feel the smell of alcohol-infused sweat on him diminish a bit, but she didn't think anyone short of Jesus could ward off a suicide-inducing hangover the next day. "There's a bathroom around the corner," Evelyn said, quietly enough not to be heard, "And if you keep going, a little patio area nobody's hanging at, if you need some fresh air." The air carrying her words to his ears was near 100% pure oxygen, and what remained was an aerosolized form of the waters of the Fountain of Youth. Mateo was too thick in every sense of the word to suspect her motives, especially as drunk as he was. She spotted Dexter a ways away, eyeing Mateo and pouring a drink all over his pants. The rest was easy to intuit. The brains of this operation, it would seem. The music was loud enough to avoid being overheard, and Mateo wouldn't remember in the morning, but a jab might endear him for the night. "Looks like he shit himself too," Evelyn slipped to Mateo before leaving the future john to go to the john.

It didn't hurt that, upon leaving the bathroom, Mateo would have a twenty-foot hallway to build up momentum, with one Titus MacArthur standing in front of an unmissable glass window at the end of the path's trajectory.

Evelyn sidled past, ignoring Dexter. She had a suspicion he'd want to talk about Friday, which was a concept she could not begin to wrap her head around (her ribs itched and ached as she turned sideways to slip between two seniors discussing some delayed dragon game) and into the kitchen, where the Breakfast Club was well on their way to fulfilling their adorable little nerd crushes. Whether supernatural or social senses clued her in, Evelyn could not have said, but she'd seen enough awkward fumblings directed toward her to not notice them on others. It was like the colorblind trying to finger paint.

Evelyn made herself a vodka lemonade, with double vodka to make up for her slow showing so far. As she did, she grabbed a gin and tonic for Jaime. He was a pretentious fuck, but a fun one. Evelyn eyed the beer pong table as she did so. The lizard's back was to her, the suitress to the giants facing her way, and the little ghost girl watching the game. They were all almost cute. The little misfits.

An idea occurred to Evelyn. She leaned over the sink, offering any waiting for a drink a view unmatched outside the Louvre, and opened the window. The last gasp of summer air seeped in, and Evelyn turned back to watch the two at the pong table, catching Elle's eye for a moment. The breeze carried Evelyn's aura toward them, and perhaps offered a bit more a headwind than it should have by the purest standards of physics. She's one who wants a challenge, and the lizard's stammering enough as it is. A jitter danced its way along the others in line. The ghost girl's edges looked sharper than they had a moment before. Evelyn gave Elle a knowing nod and walked back past, humming along under her breath. The sound was lost to the bumping Bluetooth stereos around them--nearly. The little extra touch, she found, was often the most important part. For a brief moment, a faint hint of a bewitching charm drifted lazily along the soundwaves, a psychic nudge so faint as to be near-imperceptible.

It wouldn't make anyone do anything they hadn't planned on, but it might help Henry grow a pair of balls a minute or two faster. Evelyn let herself brush past Elle as she went, murmuring a quiet, "Good luck." It didn't hurt her any to play matchmaker, and she found the little skateboarder interesting in much the same way you did seeing a new animal at the zoo. What would it get up to if she gave it treats?

Evelyn resumed her position in the center of the room, in the eye of the summer storm. She offered Jaime his drink and resumed chatting with Chad, though she was now positioned to keep a better eye on the group by the table, as well as Titus off at the periphery, the hallway Mateo would come stumbling out of in a few more minutes, the boy who matches played with and his jolly green giant. She took a sip, and enjoyed the acidity more than the liquor.

"You're impossible to keep up with."

This brought a hearty laugh from the reptile, who maintained his lead in sheer volume of beverage consumed over his competitor throughout the game even if he easily lost the match itself. While neither were particularly good at cup-pong, Henry was bad at cup pong and it showed as Elle maintained her lead throughout the game. It was a long one, with Henry eventually conceding his loss after his fifth missed throw in a row with Elle three in the lead. She was beaming and it was everything he wanted.

It had never been about winning, after all.

He was content to share in her victory, though. A part of him thought of lifting Elle onto a shoulder, but he also didn't know quite how much leeway he had with Chad's roof and wasn't looking to send her head through the ceiling on accident. Instead, he dropped his hand to the cooler and searched for something in particular. Upon finding it he moved over to her side of the table and lowered a fist for her to fist bump. Maybe it was the amount of drink he'd had in a short period of time that had taken the edge off in combination with the thought that she was probably a good deal drunk herself, maybe it was Evelyn's aura affecting him even when he didn't know about it, but he was feeling pretty brazen. More so than usual, at least. Time for his final trick.

As she reached out to fist bump him, he turned his hand over before she could meet his scales, revealing a red Smirnoff Ice. His hands were large enough to conceal an entire bottle. "Congratulations cutie, you're cold as ice."

---

Dexter watched Mateo wobble away and sighed. He'd probably forget that even happened, and now he had a stain on his pants that he'd have to explain to mom, but overall it was a wash. Which was actually one of the better outcomes given the situation. He'd rather Mateo flail a bit and be mostly okay over get pissed and start swinging.

He hears some commotion from the game room and decides that kitchens are for losers anyways. Dexter takes a step to move forward and as always it feels like an eternity getting there even if it takes him a second. He cuts like water through the crowd, moving no more than a walking pace yet avoiding any spilling drinks or waving limbs. He sees them coming after all. He always sees them coming, at least if he can see them. Said reminder delivering itself to him as someone he had previously walked past accidentally hip checked him as he slid onto the couch. He managed to right himself just in time to avoid spilling his bottle on Willow, of whom he basically had just fallen all over, but she'd probably laugh it off. Hopefully.

"Shit, sorry Wil." he said offhandedly as he secure the bottle, trying to ensure that wouldnt happen again. He was pleased she actually showed up- generally this sort of place wasn't much of her scene, but after the golem's defeat, perhaps she too had decided it was time for a little celebration after his invite. Then it clicked. She had been one that street. He had seen her while running. He had seen her go underground, and the golem was attached to the earth. He sorted himself and turned to her, playing with his drink to busy his hands- he'd always had a bit too much energy. "Hey uh, did you see anything while you were down there? On Friday?"

𝕎 𝕚 𝕝 𝕝 𝕠 𝕨

Finally, a hook. Just after she’d given up.

“I saw…” Willow begins, leaning in a little closer to Dexter, as if to talk in secret - she’s not sure why she does it, it just happens. Everyone else is too preoccupied to notice, or even hear her over the sea of voices throughout the estate.

“I saw it go down into the sewer tunnel, inside one of the big concrete pipes. Not really inside but, it fused with it.”

She fidgets her hands around like a small child attempting to illustrate something through a mix of simple and complex gestures.

“It ran away. I don’t know where it went, I didn’t follow it, but… it’s definitely still out there somewhere, underneath the town.”

She’s getting very into this so-far one-sided conversation. She readjusts her position on the couch to meet with Dexter’s eyes more directly. Hers are open wide, the black sclera like some small abyss filled with youthful courage and curiosity. She pays no mind at all to how physically close she is to him.

“I don’t know what it is, but I really want to find out,” Willow calmly declares, “I’ve been thinking about searching the sewers for it. But… I don’t know what I would do if I even found it.”

She has lots of things. Ability, bravery, drive… but she doesn’t have a plan.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know what it is, but I really want to find out, I’ve been thinking about searching the sewers for it. But… I don’t know what I would do if I even found it. What do you think?"

"It sounds like a job that would take local law enforcement a short eternity." Dexter said, offhandedly. He looked to the table pensively, sorting the pros and cons. On one hand it'd be exciting and, well, the golem seemed a lot more interested in destroying things than it did in hurting people. If it was a CoL, it was a person, and if it was a person, it could probably be reasoned with. Or at least, it'd be a lot less inclined to attack on sight. Hopefully.

Dexter's mind went back to when the Golem attacked. Henry had felt it coming before it struck, and was able to resist it alone. Perhaps he'd be able to buy them time if they really needed it. He could hold his breath for a long time, so if Henry got cocooned again helping them get out, he'd be able to make a mad dash for the ASA. There was nowhere in this town that he couldn't reach within twenty minutes if he really needed to.

"It'll probably be dangerous, so if you go, I'll go with you." Dexter said. He threw a hand over his shoulder to point at Henry, who was too busy laughing at his prank on Elle to notice. "And we have the only sewer gator north of the Mason-Dixon line available to us. I'll work on him, is there anyone else you have in mind? I can probably get a hold of them. If we find anything down there, we probably dont want it to be just the two of us."