The End Of Summer

CHAPTER 2

We would just tell our parents that we decided to go on a road trip for the weekend with a couple of friends, or that a friend of yours was going out of town to stay with their family and you were asked to join. Any convincing bullsh*t that will buy you a weekend, you blurted out.

No one found out about it, the teachers were clueless, the parents were clueless and the kids were pretty proud of themselves because we were able to get away with it every single year.

This year however, everyone was going to find out about the Riverbank Riot.

Not because of a loudmouth in our group which let slip to Principle Gregory, or because some moron posted it as an event on f*******:. We all knew the rules, you let slip you may as well move out of town because these people will shun you out and treat you like the elephant man.

The reason everyone would come to be aware of our little tradition is because amongst all the booze, the s*x and the antics that could end up earning you a guest appearance on Jerry Springer, there was one party goer who wasn't there for all of that.

They had a very different reason for attending this party, and unfortunately for everyone else who was happily drunk and doing the Gangnam Style with their friends thinking they can pull it off, it would end bloody.

I wasn't even going to go this year. I was seriously going to skip it, much to Frankie's begging and incisive death threats if I didn't go. To my surprise my mum and dad had actually said we were going to visit my grandmother in London for the weekend.

But basically due to some unforeseen circumstances, I ended up at the party. Let me tell you what I had planned for my weekend. I was going to drink my own body weight in Jack Daniels, I was going to dance like I genuinely thought I was a breaker (and I seriously am not believe me) and maybe I was going to hook up with a few people. I wanted to have a fun weekend with my friends where I could forget about all the s**t going on at home.

What did I get though?

A crazed f*cking psycho killing people off at the party one by one. I am not joking; my weekend consisted of becoming the next Lara Croft and fighting (literally) for my life to get out of this school alive.

I genuinely thought the worst pain I would experience this weekend would be a very head breaking hangover, maybe a couple of cuts from falling over due to being intoxicated like Charlie Sheen on a Friday night.

Well yeah, that didn't happen.

To top it all off though, not only was I trapped in my school in the middle of summer with a serial killer taking out my classmates one by one; I was also trapped with probably the most useless bunch of pr*cks you will ever meet in your life.

Ladies and gentlemen, we had a character for everyone's taste. We had the bitchy girls who were showing so much breast if they attempted to run away they would flop out.

We had the man w***e males who were more concerned in the fact the sudden murders meant they were not getting laid that night.

We had the geeks whose basic knowledge of confrontation was fighting a troll in World of Warcraft and to just throw in a lit match to that massive puddle of gasoline we had accumulated.

We had the biggest assh*le I have ever met in my life. You know the worst thing about it though? (Yes, it does get worse)

He was probably the most useful out of the bunch.

You never would have thought it though. I have known him for many years, we've lived in the same town all our lives, his mum works for my dad meaning that we've had many awkward dinners where the parents thought it would be 'fun' to eat

together.

It was literally about as fun as getting finger banged with an icicle. But yeah, he wasn't that useless. That unfortunately meant that because he was probably the only one out of the bunch who wouldn't burst out crying or run for their lives if we came face to face with the psycho killing us off, we had somehow formed a kind of Batman and Robin relationship.

Now if you ask him, he will tell you he was Batman. That my friends is a total pile of massive horse crap because Batman would not constantly make passes at Robin in the middle of our struggle for survival.

I don't know if it was the adrenaline or the fact we could die any moment, but I swear the kid was constantly horny.

To be honest, he had been like that since we started High School so foolish of me to think it would be any different with a mad man out for our blood.

So instead of partying the weekend away like we had all planned, I had somehow fallen into this surreal world where there was a crazy murderer looking to cut me up like a fresh piece of ham, a guy who though that being this close to death would 'give me the motivation to give him the best blowjob of his life' (and that is a direct quote) and a group of people that are about as useful as a diet plan for Susan Boyle.

Trying to get out of there alive was going to be the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, mostly because I was genuinely worried I would end up killing someone myself if one more cheerleader screamed like a shrew at the sight of a little bit of

blood on their brand new white jeans.

And if one more assh*le tried to get a grope of me because they thought I was traumatized over the whole experience, there is a good chance I was going to give the killer a shout out to let me on his team.

Looking back now, I realize the hangover would have been a f*cking blessing.