Turn on Dark Mode
|Smells Like Teen Spirit—Nirvana|

DEEP IN THE dark forest, a boy leans against a tree, gasping for air. Sweat plasters his hair to his forehead, and his tattered tee clings to his heaving chest. What he just witnessed churns his stomach, threatening to bring up his lunch. He forces himself upright and pulls a compass from his pocket.

"Come on," he mutters, smacking it against his palm. The needle spins wildly, refusing to settle. "Work, damn it."

He squints into the darkness and spots a tall shadow in the distance. Relief flickers inside him—a slim chance of survival. Driven by fear, he stumbles forward. Each step clumsy and desperate. His breath rasps in his ears. The outline of the weathered structure grows clear, closer.

Then the howls begin. They rise from the depths of the forest, ripping through the trees, one after another. Chilling.

He freezes, his blood running cold as shadows shift. Eyes—pairs upon pairs of glowing, predatory eyes—emerge from the darkness, encircling him.

He dives into his pocket and pulls out his father's novelty knife. Though it feels useless, he holds it out—the blade quivering.

"Please," he croaks, waving the knife around. "Just let me go."

The guttural snarls pick up into a chorus and he spins, trying to track them.

"Don't do this," he pleads.

A sharp two-note whistle cuts through the chaos, silencing everything. For a moment, there's only the sound of his ragged breathing.  Then they charge.

The night erupts into a frenzy. The boy screams as teeth and claws tear into him. Bones crack. Flesh rips. His agonized cry carries into the dark, a sound that seems to go on forever.

Spencer jerks awake, blinking as the vibrations of the brakes rumble through his seat. For a moment he sits frozen and disoriented, but then reality snaps back into place. Around him, the other students laugh and chat— the normal hum of excitement.

Across the aisle, two cheerleaders sit mid-conversation—their voices cutting through the chatter.

"Ugh, this is so unfair?" Carmen says, glaring at her phone. "Everyone else is probably chilling by the lake, and we're still stuck on this dumb bus like losers." She slams her phone onto the seat beside her, arms crossing in frustration. "This is a bust."

Baylee nudges her gently, brown curls framing her soft expression. "It's not that bad, Car. We'll be there before you know it."

"Not that bad?" She shoots her a look. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's been looking forward to this trip since freshman year."

"I know, I know," Baylee says with a small laugh. "But hey, it'll be well worth it once we're there. The stars will be incredible—no city lights to ruin them. You'll love it."

Carmen huffs but doesn't argue further, muttering something under her breath. Baylee's gaze drifts, landing on Spencer.

Her smile is soft and open, the kind of smile that makes people feel seen. But for Spencer, it's like a spotlight, and he's caught dead in its center. He quickly jerks his head away, cheeks burning as he pretends to focus on the passing scenery outside the window.

Baylee doesn't look away immediately. There is a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. Spencer wonders if she's about to say something, but she turns back to Carmen instead, her voice dipping into a murmur he can't make out.

Spencer exhales, his grip on his bag relaxing.  He's never been good with people—especially girls like Baylee. Too pretty. Too perfect. Too far out of his league. But what got him wasn't just how she looked—it was that smile. The kind that made you feel like you were worth noticing.

Not that he'd ever find the nerve to say anything. Spencer might have sharp wit and keen eye, but Baylee always threw him off.

Their chaperon claps her hands from the front of the bus, her voice cutting through the noise.

"Listen up! Quick update. The school's notified your parents about the delay, and they're aware we're running late." She gestures towards the driver. "Mr. Akim says we're still about two hours out, so hang tight."

A collective groan ripples through the bus, but Ms. Pruitt snaps her fingers sharply.

"Enough of that. I know this isn't ideal, but we'll be there before you know it."

As she strides down the aisle, she pauses at a group of rowdy basketball players. "This is the last time I'm saying it—keep it down, or I'm assigning seats. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Quinton says, his tone dripping with feigned politeness.

The second she turns her back, he flips her off. Keat leans in to whisper something that sends the others into muffled laughter.

Spencer watches Keat, his chest tightening. The betrayal still stings, even after all this time. It was dumb for him to think that 'through thick and thin' was more than just an idiom. He pushes everything down, slipping his earbuds into place.

Music floods his ears, drowning out the noise and memories that gnaw at him. As the guitar riff swells, he leans his head against the window, staring at the blur of trees and distant lights.

For Spencer, this trip already feels endless. And it's only just begun.