Allister and I went for the dead-end medallions, seeing as we hit three deadends within the first 20 minutes. Maybe we would've done better if we focused on the maze and not each other. Allister has proven to be pretty cool, however. Before when she came onto me with intensity, I think she was scared just to have someone there to protect her from everything that had been happening recently. Now, she seems back to normal: cheery, bright, and happy. I've learned a lot about her in our time in the maze. So far, I like what I've learned.

It's been totally dark for, roughly, the past half hour, so we've been using the flashlight. 

"I think there's supposed to be fireworks soon," she eagerly says. "I haven't seen fireworks since my mom died."

"How long ago was that?" I inquire, studying her crystalline eyes. 

 "Eight years ago."

I whistle. "That's a hell of a long time." There's a silence as we collect a plastic yellow medallion from the end. "My dad died in a motorcycle accident."

"Let's talk about something fun," she suggests. "Like, when was your first kiss?"

I laugh. No one's ever asked me that and I almost forgot. Almost. "I was thirteen – the prime age for mortal embarrassment," I tease, which earns me a laugh from Allister. "I was with her friends and she was being mean to me, so I kissed her."

"So if I got mad, you'd kiss me?"

"No," I answer. "I kissed her because I knew she absolutely hated me, so kissing her in front of her pose made her look stupid."

"So it was a Spite Kiss?" All jokes, laughing out loud. "I'll admit, that's the best first kiss  story I've ever heard."

"Thanks, I'm glad you enjoy my awkward stage of entering teenager-ism. What about your-?"

"Shh!" she insists, putting a hand up in a "stop" gesture. "You hear that?" I stop walking and strain to hear what she hears. There's a shrill noise, followed by an explosion. My first thought is oh shit, it's a bomb. But then the sky fills with greens and blues and golds: fireworks. Al gasps and takes it in. 

Three more mortar fireworks burst in the air, making it look like the sky is raining shimmers and sparkles. The colours fizzle out more and more blasts crackle in the air; each firework is more elaborate and grand than the one before. "They're beautiful," Alli whispers, eyes wider than saucers, light pink lips parted in awe. 

Rather than look at the intricacy above, I look at the girl who I tried to avoid earlier. Now, I'm glad for Enzo telling me to get a date. I'm glad I got the chance to get closer to the school's Golden Girl. The Golden Boy of the family and the Golden Girl of the school. I lean forward and gently kiss her glossed mouth. For a moment, she's surprised. She parts from me. "Is this a Spite Kiss? Did I piss you off?" Allister teases. 

"Just the opposite," I assure, leaning in again, cupping her light face with my hands. 

Allister reaches up to put her hands on my shoulders as she kisses back. The firework shiss and fizz above, illuminating the maze with a flurry of colours. One of the hisses sounds a little too close for comfort and Allister's body jerks before stopping all motion. "You okay?" I ask, looking into her pale eyes that are wide – not with awe, anymore – but pain."Allister, what's wrong?"

The warm liquid drips onto my hands, which hold the sides of her head. She begins to fall backwards as another firework sings off. I bend down and catch her before she hits the ground. Rapidly, I look for where she's bleeding. My hands fly to the side of her head and I use the flashlight to get a better look at what the hell is happening. 

A giant hole on the side of her head gushes blood like a geyser. I turn her head to see the other side. A similar hole bleeds as well. An entry and exit of a silent bullet–silenced sniper. Whipping out my phone, I try to dial 9-1-1, but the call button isn't working. "Come on..." I grumble, hitting it harder and harder. "Work!" But the touchscreen is unresponsive to my touch as if it's been hacked. I toss my phone aside and press my hands to Allister's bleeding wounds. "Stay with me, Al," I coo. But I know it's too late. Her blue eyes have glazed over, and they reflect the technicolour display in the sky. I open my mouth to convince her to magically come back to life, somehow, but I don't know what to say. A tear hopelessly trickles down my cheek. "You got your fireworks," I assure, cradling her head in my lap. 

If there's a sniper, there's no use in running. I'm already dead meat. 

"HELP!" I shout, trying to reach someone. I can't get Allister out of the maze because I can't navigate to the end, and nobody can hear me over the shrieking fireworks. "Someone, please! Call 9-1-1!" Shouting is hopeless. Everyone is oohing and awing over the spectacle and not paying attention to the maze – a bunch of green bushes without any lights. 

There's no way to reach help, but it's too late anyway. Allister Casada is gone. 

I can't get over how quickly it all happened. One second, our future looks bright and promising; and the next, it's ripped away from me and torn to shreds. Allister has ripped away from me. The setting with the fireworks and the dysfunctional maze lights... it's almost like it was planned.

 I stay hunched over Allister's lax body, stroking her curly blonde hair until someone comes our way. I don't recall how long that was, but I know it felt like an eternity.