When the Sun Goes Down

“I have a feeling today’s going to be perfectly marvelous,” Yasmin beamed as the girls followed Sasha up the wide staircase and through the double doors of the school’s main entrance.

“Yasmin, you’ve said that literally every single day since we were thirteen,” Jade grumbled, pointedly ignoring the scrawny freshman who’d advised her to tuck in her shirt and unroll the sleeves of her blazer. Yasmin continued to bounce up and down in excitement, undaunted by Jade’s comment.

“Exactly!” Yasmin cried, her small legs caring her up the stairs twice as fast as the other three girls.

“Each and every day has the potential to be wonderful!” Jade raised a skeptical jet-black eyebrow, but kept any negative comments she was surely thinking to herself.

“I get what you’re saying, Yaz,” Sasha said, looking down at the pretty girl she towered over as they entered the school’s main hall. “Maybe one day Jade will too,” she added with a playful smile in Jade’s direction, earning herself a lewd hand gesture in response.

“Maybe,” Yasmin said hopefully, shivering slightly in the cooler air and pulling her navy blue cardigan tight around her small shoulders.

“I’ll see you guys at lunch,” Heather called with a smile and a wave a few minutes later as she and her friends parted ways, each headed off to their respective lockers. Heather’s smile quickly faltered, then faded all together, when she spotted a head of honey-blond hair a few yards away. All too familiar tears flooded her eyes once again, despite her best efforts to keep them at bay, as she watched the complete stranger she’d once known better than she knew herself.

Chloe flipped her fair hair over her shoulder and giggled a fake, shrill laugh as she floated down the hall. Heads turned, most of them male, as she walked by, swinging her hips as to draw attention to her long, graceful legs visible beneath her tiny plaid skirt. Chloe’s arm was hooked around the elbow of Don, the senior foreign exchange student. He was incredibly popular amongst the entire student body, mainly because he added a bit of variety to Chamberlin Academy; almost all of the students had been going to school together since kindergarten, and a new face was always a cause for excitement.

Chloe batted her mascara-caked lashes up at Don, although he didn’t seem to notice her sparkling green eyes; he was completely focused on Heather.

Heather felt her eyes widen in astonishment as Don pulled away from Chloe and made his way over to her. She straightened her skirt self-consciously as he approached, wishing not for the first time that she’d been graced with the same outgoing disposition as her brother; instead, she’d been cursed to endure the painful shyness she felt when in the presence of nearly everyone she knew.
Heather stared up at Don, her mouth opening and closing helplessly as she struggled to think of something to say. He smiled down at her, ice-blue eyes brightening as he casually ran a hand through his white-blond hair.

“You are Heather, yes?” he asked in his thick accent, one no one seemed to be able to place.
“I—uh—yes.” she choked out. Don leaned a shoulder against the wall of lockers, then reached forward to finger one of her caramel colored curls.

“Good.” he said, and she wondered what kind of death Chloe was plotting for her as Don continued to twirl the smooth lock around his index finger.

“Come to my party tonight?” he asked, and she couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder to where Chloe was seething, her fists clinched at her sides and her face flushed with anger.

“Uhm, yeah, sure, of course,” she said to her own surprise, suddenly wanting nothing more than to spite the girl who’d once been like a sister to her. His smile widened, and he leaned even closer, causing Heather’s heart to pound furiously. She held her breath as he reached into his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper, which he then slipped into her shirt’s front pocket.

“Good,” he said with a wink, then turned away from her and sauntered back to a furious Chloe.

Heather watched them from her locker, a guilty smile playing at her lips as Chloe shoved Don’s hands away from her and flounced down the hallway, probably in search of a desperate freshman to make out with before first period.
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“What’s that?” Heather’s heart practically leaped out of her chest as she felt Brandon’s hot breath tickle her ear. She’d just started down the hall and was looking over the address written on the ragged paper Don had given her when Brandon had soundlessly fallen into step behind her. He leaned in closer, and Heather was so distracted by his proximity as he read over her shoulder that she nearly collided with a water fountain.

“It’s an invitation,” she told him, turning her head to face him and biting the inside of her cheek to better resist the sudden urge to press her mouth against his.

“Invitation to what?” he asked, shifting so that he walked beside her. He smiled down at her, and Heather wondered not for the first time if he looked as charming as he did on purpose, or if it just came naturally to him. His dark hair was a mess as usual, and a few of the downy locks fell into his soft brown eyes. He walked with his hands in the pockets of his grey uniform pants and looked totally at ease, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Who’s party?” Brandon asked again as he pulled Heather’s backpack off her shoulder and swung it onto his own.

“Don Furfante’s” she told him, and he abruptly stopped walking. Heather turned around to face him with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing up at the clock hanging from the wall. If he didn’t hurry, she would be late for class; Heather was most definitely not in the mood for an afternoon spent in detention with Mr. Burnley and his lectures on the benefits of punctuality.

“Don’t go to that party,” Brandon said, his voice so low Heather had to strain to hear him.

“Why not?” she asked incredulously, her brow furrowing in confusion. He sounded uncharacteristically serious, and she wondered if his previously evident dislike of Don had suddenly grown even stronger.

“Just don’t,” he said, and Heather raised a light brown eyebrow, unsure of why Brandon was overreacting; why was he getting so upset about a stupid party?

“Look, I’m not going to let your unreasonable hatred of Don get in the way of me having a good time.”

“It’s not about that!” he said hotly, and Heather took a step backwards, completely caught off guard.

“It’s not safe,” he continued, and Heather felt a sudden anger bubble in the pit of her stomach. She glared at him, defensively putting a hand on her hip.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much. I don’t need you telling me which parties are ‘safe’ and which ones aren’t. Your dislike of someone doesn’t automatically make them dangerous.”

“Heather, I’m serious,” he told her, taking a step towards her and reaching for her arm. “It’s got nothing to do with the fact that I think he’s a prat. This is about keeping your life out of jeopardy."
She ignored him, yanking her bright yellow backpack off his shoulder.

“Promise me you won’t go!” he called desperately as she jogged away from him and towards her history class.

“No can do, Brandon” she said without looking back. “I’m going to that party tonight, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
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“…but the moment I finish the last verse the whole room stands up and starts cheering their heads off, like I’m the main event and not just the opening act! Even that guy with the beard, the rude manager dude I told you about, gets all nice all of a sudden and is like ‘will you do just one more song?’ and I’m like ‘dude, no, this isn’t even my show’ and he’s like ‘so?’ and then Marcy comes over and is like—“

“They’re all out of hot sauce!” Yasmin wailed as she flung herself to the ground with her exquisite-looking home-made lunch in hand, interrupting Sasha’s story.

“Not exactly what I was going to say, Yaz. Although that definitely would have made last night more interesting…”

The four girls were seated in the shade beneath a large oak tree, stretched out in the cool grass with their lunches. The quad was filled with students enjoying their meals at picnic tables, on the grass, or seated along the low walls surrounding the sunny area. Heather lay on her back, peeling an orange and leisurely watching a group of enthusiastic sophomores clumsily toss and run after a bright blue disk in a pitiful yet entertaining game of Ultimate Frisbee.

“Maybe because you ate it all yesterday,” Jade said in response to Yasmin’s outburst, and the tiny girl glared over her shoulder at the entrance to the cafeteria.

“They should refill the dispensers daily,” she said and poked hesitantly at her food. “I’m seriously considering having my parents start catering for the school. This is ridiculous! I mean, how am I supposed to eat my rice and green salad banana flambé without hot sauce?” she asked, looking around at the other three girls in dismay.

They shrugged, knowing better than to acknowledge the fact that although none of them had any idea what a flambé was, they wouldn’t ever consider putting hot sauce on anything with ‘banana’ in the name. Yasmin, on the other hand, drowned just about everything in hot sauce and probably wouldn’t be able to last a week without it. “Maybe one of them has some?” Yasmin wondered, gesturing to the five or six juniors at the nearest picnic table.

“I doubt it,” Jade said with a disdainful glance at a girl’s tuna sandwich. Sasha rolled her eyes at Jade, who was strictly against eating any type of sea-creature. Sasha had obviously moved on from her story about the local sold-out concert she’d opened for the night before, pointing a salad-laden fork at Heather’s chest.

“What’s that?” she asked, and Heather pulled the wrinkled slip of paper from her pocket.

“It’s an invitation,” she said, and Yasmin squealed in delight, all thoughts of locating hot sauce forgotten.

“Ooo a party!” she cried, and Heather smiled guiltily.

“Yeah, it’s an invitation to Don’s party tonight.”

“Is there a theme?” Yasmin asked, practically bouncing up and down.

“Apparently it’s a costume party,” she said, and Yasmin’s entire face lit up with joy.

“But Halloween was last month; why would he—“Jade was interrupted by Yasmin’s cry of “Oh, I absolutely adore costume parties!” Heather’s face burned uncomfortably, and she turned to Jade.

“Maybe it’s a tradition from wherever he’s from, or something like that,” she told the skeptical looking girl.

“Which is where, exactly?” Jade questioned. Heather frowned, trying to remember where Don had said he was from, when Yasmin asked her when the party started.

“Uhm, around nine,” she mumbled, trying to think of the nicest way to tell Yasmin she couldn’t come along.

“Oh, great, I’m totally free then!” Yasmin cried.

“I’m glad to hear that, Yaz. But you see, you guys weren’t exactly invited, so—"

“Of course we were!” Sasha interrupted, and Heather frowned at her, sitting up quickly.

“You were?” she asked, and Jade looked deeply insulted.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised!” she said, and Heather suddenly felt ashamed as well as embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think that—"

“That what,” Jade asked, her eyes narrowed angrily, “we were ‘cool’ enough for a senior party?”

Sasha gave Jade one of her ‘calm down’ looks. “Don’t be so hard on her,” she admonished, and Jade glared at Sasha.

“I was only joking!” Jade huffed, and Sasha rolled her eyes before looking over at Heather.

“We weren’t formally invited, of course. But if Don invited you, that means that technically, he invited us too,” Sasha reasoned, and Yasmin frowned as she took a swig of her jumbo Arizona Green Tea.

“I’m not sure if Don knows that’s what it means,” the petite brunet said, and Sasha smiled. “That’s not our problem.”

Heather laughed, relieved that she wouldn’t be going to the party alone. Despite her best efforts, however, Heather couldn’t help but consider Brandon’s heated warning. If this party really was dangerous, what had she gotten herself—and now her friends as well—into?