Ruined Car

I slip my backpack on and make my way to the school entrance.

The moment I step outside, I notice Henry and Kensey sitting on the steps. When they see me, they stand up and face me.

My instinct is to take a step back. What do they want from me now? And what exactly do they have planned? I glance around, my hands growing clammy. I have to escape.

“Took you long enough.” Kensey smiles. “How was therapy?” Her approach is casual, like we've been friends for years.

I look them both up and down, noticing their lack of eggs or paint. My shoulders start to relax. Okay, so far I'm okay.

"I don't think you care,” I answer.

“You’re right, we don't,” Henry snarls. He brings his thumb and pointer finger to his lips and whistles. The pitch is loud, and for a second makes my ears ring.

Lucas appears from behind a black 1987 Mercedes, a giant duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. He walks over, and I continue to stand there like a fucking dumbass. Why the hell couldn't I move? Is it paint again? I