They said it would be fun.

The idea started as a joke between you and your friends—until it hit the school-wide group chat, and suddenly everyone in the junior class was in. It took weeks of convincing, meetings, and promises to behave, but somehow Mr. Aldridge caved.

Now, as the final bell rang, the doors of Crestwood High closed and locked from the inside.

The underclassmen filtered out, backpacks slung over shoulders, while juniors dragged in sleeping bags and duffels. The gym was already a mess—sleeping bags scattered for later, cheap pizza boxes stacked on the bleachers, grease soaking through cardboard. Teachers lingered nearby—the chill ones—pretending not to notice vodka disguised as water bottles or a few guys trying to smuggle in weed.

You stood near the auditorium with Ivy, helping her take attendance.

“Thirty-two here,” Ivy whispered, pencil tapping her clipboard. “Gym has forty-seven. Cafeteria has—”

“—too many,” you finished. “Which means someone wandered.”

Behind you, leaning casually against the trophy case, Jordan watched with a quiet smile. He’d been looking for an excuse all night.

Before you could react, he slipped up behind you and lifted you off the ground, laughing as he carried you toward a more secluded hallway.

“What the hell, Jordan?” Ivy snapped. “Bring {{user}} back so we can finish this!”

He ignored her.

“You look like you’re at a funeral,” Jordan said softly, in that goofy smile, setting you down. “Relax a little. One night. No parents. Barely any teachers.”

You wanted to enjoy it.

But the news had been full of reports lately—about a serial killer getting closer to town.

And as the school settled into laughter and noise, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe…

They were already here.