Fright Night

Sofia 

The three of us are riding our bikes in a line along the narrow bike path. The only illumination comes from our lights shining over the road. 

The threatening words on that postcard have been on my mind all week. A few times I d been on the verge of showing the card to Dylan, but I simply can t imagine the message is meant for him. Dylan doesn t have any enemies. Everyone at school likes him. There is no address on the card, so someone must have put it through the door in person. But who knows? Maybe it s just a silly joke. 

You excited?  

I look up. Dylan s cycling beside me, our handlebars almost touching. He s wearing a new pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and his eyes are shining. I try to imagine that he was ever seriously ill, but it s almost impossible. 

Yeah, sure.  

Dylan smiles. That doesn t sound very enthusiastic.  

I actually have no idea what to think about this whole Fright Night business. My suggestion was just an impulse thing, because I wanted to do something with Quin and Dylan. Now that it s almost time, my nerves are really kicking in. It feels weird that I can t back out now. It s like the safety bars on the roller coaster have locked shut and the cars are slowly shunting along. 

Nearly there! Quin points at a sign by the roadside. Someone had scrawled the words fright night on it. 

Feels like we re falling off the edge of the world, says Dylan. 

Then we must be in the right place.  

I know Quin s right. The information they sent us said the woods were pretty remote, far from civilization. In the daytime, it s paradise for dog owners, who let their pets run free, but at night it s deserted. 

We cycle up behind another boy and girl on bikes. The girl looks back and asks if we re here for Fright Night too. 

You bet, Quin says, bouncing up and down on his seat. All the way here, he s been listing exactly what he hopes to encounter in the woods. Dylan had looked at me and sighed a few times, and we both laughed. Quin can be so hyper. 

A guy in a yellow vest is standing on the roadside with a flashlight in his hand. He signals at us to turn off the road. We see dozens of bike racks, and we quickly find places. Some other Fright Nighters are already walking around. Who are we going to get teamed up with? And what if we don t get along with them? We have to spend four hours together, so it could be a very long evening. 

I run my fingers over the beads of my bracelet and try to calm myself down. I remind myself that I m with my friends, Dylan and Quin. I don t have to do this alone. 

It s busy at the stand where we have to sign in. The two cyclists who arrived just before us join the line too. 

Some guys who did this last year told me they make you sign a contract, says Quin. 

I look up in surprise. What? Why?  

We have to declare that we accept all responsibility for our participation. You know, just in case someone kicks the bucket.  

I know Quin s joking, but I can still feel myself getting more and more nervous. Signing a contract sounds so . . . serious. 

What have we gotten ourselves into?

Five Days Before Fright Night

Dylan

So what do you want to do this summer break? Quin s lying on the bed with a book in his hands. He never reads, doesn t have the patience. My best friend always has to be talking. He spends half his classes out in the hallway because he stops everyone from working.

Go swimming?

I can t wait to be lying in t