Now, before we continue on with our story, it might be best if I shed a little light on School.

This institution is not your every day public school. No teachers patrol the busy halls in search of misbehaving children. A principal does not sit high and mighty in his office, presiding over his students like a tyrant. The attendees know nothing of classes or schedules or assignments intended for grading. These practices are too oppressive for the people of Eldritch. The dynamics would simply not do.

And so, School was born.

Children as young as two would take the journey to School, all desperate to stretch their minds as wide as possible. From the moment an Eldritchean child had their first thought, the countdown would begin. The fall into wisdom was every young one's fear, and so they did their best to put off it as long as possible.

The stretchier a mind, the longer youth remained—at least, that's what the children believed. Within the walls of School, any topic could be studied. Eldritch of the past, the way of the numbers, how to use the nice words—all skills cherished by the sane minds of the young. There were no assessments, no obligations, no real reasons to attend. The only consequence was how quickly maturity would set in. Each child made the choice for themself.

As you have with all children, there were those who overachieved and those who decided to slack. For the ones who strived to know it all, School was a sanctuary. Here, a glimmer of hope existed; some attendees believed they could put off adulthood altogether, if only they could just learn more.

Others chose a more realistic route, understanding that their fate was unavoidable. Rather, they used School as a place to have their fun while they could still remember. That's where our sad band of misfits was traveling—to the blacktop, where recklessness ran amuck. Without real consequences in the town of Eldritch, why waste youth on fleeting facts that would be meaningless in the end?

As they say, there are two types of people.

But there was one part of School every child could agree on: without a doubt, it was the safest place in Eldritch, completely free of adults. A unanimous opinion across all specimens within a society is a rare occurrence indeed; School being incredibly important was one of them.

Well—until Margot, anyway.

"This is School?"

The four children stood in the main lobby of School, which to the new attendee Margot looked like a well organized machine. The shadow girl had never seen children so boring in her life; it was enough to make her nauseous. Each passerby kept their eyes down, too wrapped up in their own interests to pay her any mind. The silence was so deafening, it pushed in on Margot's eardrums and made her head pound. The long hallway stretched back into eternity, broken up sporadically by open study blocks. As the group navigated around the collection of kids cramming in the last of their education for the day, Margot slapped her hands over her ears.

"Is it always this quiet?"

Yvonne eyed her curiously. "You really are serious. You've never been here before?"

"Why in Eldritch would I?" the moody girl shouted back, baring her teeth at a random child who bumped into her. "This place is filled with awful people that get much too close and have no fun at all!"

Agnes ignored the shadow girl's complaints and pulled ahead of the squad. Over her shoulder, she called to the pitiful girl, "What does the kid look like?"

"What?"

"Your supplier," Agnes bit back impatiently. "What's he look like?"

"Uh, kinda short, spiky yellow hair... there's a scar over his left eye," Yvonne answered absently, splitting her attention between Agnes and the ugly boy Hugo. It was clear he had no recollection of his last visit to School, and the silence was the perfect opportunity for the voices to claw at his brain, eating away at the pink matter.

"There's a bad feeling here and it makes my head spin," Hugo cried, clutching his sister's arm painfully. She was much shorter in stature and stumbled under his weight. Just as she had predicted, this was going horribly. Suddenly thankful for her companions, she turned to Agnes for help.

But the red-haired girl was gone.

"She does that."

Yvonne spun around and found Margot. "What?"

"Leaves," the shadow girl explained, rolling her eyes. "But on the bright side, it is good fun trying to find her again!"

Agnes was by no means trying to be found. She was busy trying to uncover something without a clue of what to look for. As promised, here are young Agnes' ulterior motives for attending School after all this time. For the last two weeks, she had been hopeful that her brother would return of his own volition. Then, that she would find him in no time; Eldritch was only so big, she had thought.

But now, she was becoming something more—suspicious. Perhaps what happened to Bogart was more sinister in nature, and he'd been trying to warn her about only seconds before his vanishing. Agnes had been putting off investigating what her brother wanted to tell her that day, but now presented with the opportunity, she couldn't pass it up.

She owed her brother that much.

So off she marched in search of clues she wasn't certain would even be there, all while Yvonne searched the dimly lit hallway for her. Hugo was becoming more distraught by the second, and Margot was absolutely no help.

"Have you considered a muzzle for him?" she muttered, edging away from the wailing boy drawing the eyes of the surrounding children. A hushed murmur traveled through the crowd, filled with questions of the boy's age.

Yvonne flushed with indignation. "Will you stop with the smart remarks and help me! Or will you abandon me too, like that horrid friend of yours?"

Margot, annoyed with being compared to Agnes, on top of the growing attention, grabbed Hugo forcefully by the wrist. "You want my help? I'll make you never ask for it again."

Then, ignoring the ugly boy's wails of pain, she bolted down the hall, dragging him behind her without regard. Yvonne's screams of protest fell on deaf ears; Margot only pulled him along harder.

So while the three made their way—er, hastily down the hall of School, Agnes was floors above them, entering random study blocks on instinct alone. There was no organized layout to the makeshift classrooms, each dedicated to different disciplines of study. She passed labs where children of all ages tested experiments from old textbooks. She paid no mind to the art studios on her right, where extensive resources on color theory and the craft of poetry lay waiting for any creative minds.

None of them called out to her as she wandered the corridors she hadn't been to in months, not since long before Bogart's disappearance. Unmotivated to stretch her mind, yet unprovoked by the lure of the blacktop, she had withdrawn more and more to her own room; the earlier comments about Hugo had struck a little too close to home.

And not just in regard to herself. Being his twin, Agnes knew Bogart as she knew herself: down to his core. Which meant she could feel when things had started to shift, even if she was unwilling to admit it. Perhaps she wasn't yet ready to face the mounting similarities the two boys shared and all the implications that came with them.

Her brother was fine—she just needed to find him.

Agnes stopped short. A smaller room filled with bookshelves caught her eye, one she knew all too well. Without thinking, she shuffled over to the low lit study block, where small cushions littered the floor, along with discarded books from earlier in the day. This room was for the quiet, the imaginative—she remembered spending hours in here with Bogart. Not because the content interested her a wink, but because it interested him tremendously.

Of course, he wasn't in here now. Choking back feelings of nostalgia, Agnes was ready to move onto the next space. She took a step, only to slip on the cover of a paperback book that had been left near the entrance. Lifting her foot, she read the faded title: Peter Pan.

Something compelled her to pick up the book and flip it open to a random page. She couldn't remember if she had read this one before; her younger mind had been much more intrigued by the ways of the numbers. But Bogart had poured hours into the pages of books like this, and Agnes found herself reading a passage near the top of the page:

"Pan, who and what art thou?" he cried huskily.

"I'm youth, I'm joy," Peter answered at a venture, "I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg."

It sounded like a load of nonsense to Agnes, and she was reminded again why this junk never appealed to her in the first place. But apparently, the same passage had interested someone else. For in the corner, scrawled small in black ink, was a single question: who was first, bird or egg?

"Bird or egg," Agnes scoffed, tossing the book back on the ground. She didn't have time to get caught up in the passing thoughts of a curious mind. She had been poking in the dark to begin with, but without a clue what kind of fact Bogart had been eager to share with her, she was realizing there was no way of knowing which books to search. There was only one inkling of a clue that lay waiting out on the blacktop, and even then, it was a stretch that her efforts would prove beneficial. There was a chance Yvonne's supplier would know nothing about her brother.

But she had gathered enough from the pitiful girl to get a clue of who to look for, so ditching her efforts, she rushed from the small library back the way she came, winding her way through the labyrinth of School.

Meanwhile.

"Stop!" Yvonne yelled over the heads of strangers as she careened after Margot and her brother. The shadow girl was faster than she looked, and the grip she had on Hugo was tight; his thin wrist fit perfectly within her fist.

The ugly boy Hugo had not a clue where he was being whisked away; he just knew he was not enjoying the journey one bit. Tears mixed with the snot dripping from his nose as he choked on his own fear. All around, the eyes of passing children followed him and heightened his panic. Some taunted, laughing at the display of the strange, lanky child. Others looked on in fear, unable to understand the spectacle making its way down the hall.

Finally, Margot hit a pair of double doors. She wasn't expecting them to give way so easily, and she nearly face planted on the asphalt outside. Instinctively, she dropped Hugo's arm to catch her balance, and the poor boy went sailing straight into a railing that blocked off the rest of the blacktop. Yvonne, finding the collisions moments after it happened, rushed to Hugo's side.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered, hugging his head to her chest. She didn't object when he used her jacket to blow his nose. Rocking him slowly, Yvonne shot Margot a glare that could kill—if only a baby had been born that day!

"I will cut your tongue from your mouth and feed it to those wretched animals you love," she threatened the shadow girl. "I will cackle with delight when they like the taste so much, they hunt you down and finish the job piece by piece, and you'll feel every last moment of it!"

Margot, who had frozen in place, just kept staring out over the blacktop.

Yvonne's threat never reached her ears. The curiosity that overtook her was all-consuming; she scanned the concrete mecca in awe. The makeshift playground was full of children laughing with abandon, a free for all that lacked any supervision. A large pit acted as the central point of the blacktop, surrounded by onlookers of the fight taking place. Two boys no older than thirteen scrimmaged on the bare pavement, neither wearing a shirt. The fresh blood from their injuries mixed with stains of fights past, and cheers rose up from bystanders with every critical blow.

Older kids congregated towards the back of the yard, drinking sticky liquid from amber bottles. Younger ones chased each other around the throng of late dwellers that lingered on park benches, talking about everything and nothing. There were less people here, more space, more air to breathe, and suddenly, Margot saw the appeal of School. She wanted to see more.

She wanted to see it all.

Hugo was slowly recovering from his traumatic trip down the hall. He listened to the beat of Yvonne's heart against his ear. It helped him focus on anything besides the screaming in his head, loud and frantic. He craved the silence only the Good Stuff brought on, the kind that reached the voices. Softly, he whimpered in pain.

"I'll make her pay, I swear I will," Yvonne assured him fiercely. But when she turned back to the shadow girl, ready to make good on her threat—

Margot was gone, absorbed into the remnants of madness on the blacktop.

With a frustrated cry, Yvonne yanked Hugo to his feet, fed up with the whole ordeal. She had lost any lingering patience over the last hour spent with Margot and Agnes, and she was done relying on others. Her brother's safety was her top priority—her only priority—from now on.

"Come, sweet boy," she gritted through her teeth, tugging on her brother's arm to get him moving. Thankfully, he did not resist and the pair moved slowly across the blacktop towards the chain-link fence at the back, where a collection of older boys were loitering about. Amongst them was the kid Yvonne had described to Agnes before. His scar was indeed the most prominent feature on his face, ranging from the arch of his brow, down across his eye, and ending at the corner of his mouth.

"Nickles," Yvonne called, rushing up to the standoffish boy. His steel-gray eyes flickered with cold indifference.

"Where ya been at?" the boy called Nickels asked. Two kids nearby sneered at the pitiful girl and her very ugly brother. Hugo averted his eyes, focusing on a trashcan not too far away. Silently, he searched the air for flies.

"I'm sorry, my brother—"

Nickels spit at her feet, then eyed her with disgust. "Get the whine out your voice, it's drivin' me crazy. And don't go given' any excuses either. You're behind on your numbers and you've been MIA for days."

Reeling in any lingering aggravation, Yvonne fought to keep any "whine" from her voice—and to keep herself from slugging the jerk. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm here now."

Nickels smiled cheekily, flashing a missing gap in his teeth. "That's more like it. Why'd you bring the giant?"

Flushing crimson, Yvonne stepped defensively in front of her brother. "Nevermind why he's here. Do you have a supply for me to push or not?"

"As a matter o' fact, I do." The spiky haired boy snapped his fingers, drawing the attention of a squat child with no neck whatsoever. He handed Nickels a drawstring bag, and the dealer snatched it from his helper impatiently. Rummaging through the contents, he retrieved a small parcel. "Try to draw more kids from inside out to our neck of the woods, huh?"

"Sure, Nickels," Yvonne muttered under her breath, but she took the bag gratefully. Checking the weight, her heart sank. Definitely not enough of the Good Stuff for Hugo and any potential customers. Rousing up all the courage she could muster, she cleared her throat. "Uh, any chance I could pedal some more?"

The scar across Nickels' eye jumped in indignation. "You go off the grid, now you come back begging for more supply? Ya can barely handle what I give you now."

"Yes, but—"

"Why do you sell the Good Stuff to children?"

Yvonne nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden arrival of Agnes. The red-haired girl seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Nickels was equally as surprised—but much more suspicious.

Eyeing her menacingly, he spit at Agnes' feet. "What are you askin,' little girl?"

"The Good Stuff," Agnes asked again, unflinching. She didn't acknowledge Yvonne at all, leaving the pitiful girl perplexed. She also asked no questions on Margot's whereabouts; she was secretly hoping to have ditched the shadow girl. "I don't have to tell you why your client of choice is strange, given the product. Why would kids want to take adult medicine?"

"What a downright ignorant question," the boy with the scar ridiculed. "Let me ask you this. Ever tried it yourself? Nah, you're probably one of those bookworms that believes everything inside School is true."

Agnes rolled her eyes behind the glare in her glasses. She had met a few of these kids during her rare ventures to the blacktop in the past. Some children dare not trust the knowledge within the walls of School and rather buy into the rumors spreading outside them; Nickels appeared to be one of them. Still, she decided to humor this idiot—it was too easy getting him to talk.

"So educate me, then. What's a worm like me missing?"

Nickels snorted, trying at indifference again, but his eyes gave away his intrigue. Not many people had as much gumption when talking to him as Agnes, and her boldness loosened his usually tight lips.

"Well, little girl, it's true a full dosage ain't such a good idea for a kid. Seen some pretty bad effects. Word on the street about that is true. But every process has its trial and error. Let's just say, I've perfected the amount a kid can take to have fun, without it sendin' em to an early adulthood."

"And you took this risk because...?" Agnes still failed to see what tempted someone to seek out the Good Stuff; anything associated with adulthood made her skin crawl.

"The information," Yvonne answered softly, finally finding the nerve to speak.

Agnes quirked a brow. "Information?"

"Gotta get something in return for our product," Nickels snickered, leaning back against the fence. A girl with twisty black hair whispered something in his ear; the next second, he handed over another baggie of the Good Stuff. "Secrets do just fine."

"What secret?" The shadow girl slipped her way in between Yvonne and Agnes, disappointing the both of them. "Tell me, tell me! Why is it only when I'm gone you talk about fun stuff?"

She herself had been having oodles of fun galavanting around the blacktop, doing whatever she pleased. Once recognizing the chaos as the chance to play tricks, she'd snuck behind pinched-nosed girls and pulled on their pigtails until they screamed, then dashed away cackling like a hyena.

Which is how she found her eventual way back to her companions, neither of whom had pigtails—unfortunately.

Agnes, still focused on Nickels, ignored Margot's whines. "So if you're the supplier who sells the Good Stuff for secrets, who gives the Good Stuff to you?"

"You're gettin' a lot for free here, kid," Nickels said, his eyes flashing wildly. "That answer ain't one of them."

"Kids are going missing," Yvonne blurted out, drawing all eyes to her—including Agnes' death glare.

She seethed where she stood. "You have no right—"

"Well hang on there," Nickels cut in, peering at Yvonne like a sitting duck, ready for plucking. "Now that's a pretty payment right there. Whatchu' mean kids are missing?"

"Only pig boys who snort around in the trash all day," Margot added. Agnes elbowed her in the gut—hard.

"We don't know why," Yvonne explained further, ignoring the heat of Agnes' eyes on her. "But there's been a boy missing and he's nowhere in Eldritch."

Recognition flickered in Nickels' expression. "Now that you mention it, I saw a paper on a post that said the same thing. Thought someone's parents was at it again."

"It's true. He's really missing." Despite herself, Agnes felt a bit of relief sink in; she'd feared no one had noticed her flyers at all. Still, she made sure to step on Yvonne's foot as she shifted closer to Nickels. "So, you've got your payment. How about that answer?"

Suddenly, an ear-splitting siren nearly sent them all to their knees. The final hour had come to an end, and the bell rang out the command loud and clear: get out!

It finally stopped once children began migrating towards the exits, most scurrying off in groups to avoid any solo run-ins with any adults. Our group, however, didn't budge; none of them were going anywhere until they got their answer.

"You're in luck, freckle face," Nickels sniggered, spitting at Agnes's feet one last time. "You might get a two for one special out of me, if that missing boy ends up being at the trailer too."

As the boy with the scar began to jog off, Agnes shouted after him, "What trailer?"

"The one where I get the Good Stuff. Where all the Good Stuff comes from," Nickels called back over his shoulder. "The trailer at the edge of Eldritch!"