After the service, everyone gathered in the wide, spacious lobby where the adults had their laugh-roarious, genteel talks and the boys chased each other around and the girls danced unprofessional ballet. I was having one of those “adult talks” with my Gangster Guyz. I was trying to convince them into coming for a sleepover this Sunday night.

  “Aren’t you in detention?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes, I am.” Humiliation was sweeping through my body as I uttered my affirmative. As the only person in the whole world who was in summer prison, life truly sucked nowadays. But whatever difficulties lay ahead of me, the threat of the Black Eyed Kids remained too important to ignore. So I pressed on. “Don’t worry. My dad is going on a business trip tonight. He leaves by 5.”

  “I could see this as being more feasible,” remarked Jordan. “But still, what is so important about these Black Eyed Kids?” My frantic heartbeat rose as I struggled to formulate words to persuade them into witnessing in order to believe.

  “I saw these Black Eyed Kids kill Mr. Grincher! They tried to kill me and my dad! If we don’t stop them, all our loved ones will be dead!” Jordan was greatly unmoved.

  “Calvin, as I’ve told you, you’ve been reading too many Black Eyed Kid stories. Mass hysteria is a thing.”

  “Then why the hell am I so sincere?”

  “Because sincere people can be wrong.”

  I had now reached the very end of my fuse. So I blew.

  “Are you guys coming or not?” My voice was near to a yell. Thank God my dad was too engrossed in his conversation with Travis and Dwight to hear my anger. Finally, someone responded.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “I guess I’ll come,” said Andy with a ton of hesitation. “I’ll tell my mom I’m going on a sleepover with Jordan. My mom likes Jordan so there’s no risk in that.”

  “Good boy,” I remarked, patting him on the back.

  “I’ll say the same thing,” came Ethan’s quiet voice.

  “Brave man.” A pat and a hug. Jordan still did not say anything. The Jordanian silence was getting awkward. “Um?” I piped, quite frustrated. She nodded.

  “She’s coming,” Andy translated, which I already knew.

  “Okay Gangster Guyz.” I clapped my hands together in satisfaction. “Come to my place at 6 p.m.”

  Just then, a hand was laid on my shoulder.

  “Calvin, it’s time to go.” I turned. It was my dad, in his usual black church suit. I waved to my gang as I turned to follow him out onto the parking lot. We got into his 1989 Ford Country Squire station wagon.

  “What were you four talking about?” As he interrogated, beads of sweat flowed down from my raven black hair and geysers of more sweat bubbled up from under my armpits. If I made the wrong answer, the sleepover would be nonexistent and then there would be no way to stop these devilish kids.

  “Uh, Jordan wanted to invite me to a party next Friday.” I cringed at that “uh” as that gave away my nervousness.

  “Did you politely turn down her request?”

  “Yes.” This time, I had more confidence.

  “Good.” He gripped his hands on the leather steering wheel and pulled us out of the parking lot.

  In the sky, the clouds, which in the morning had been an ominous grey, had now dimmed to a dangerous black. The surface was quickly turning into twilight. Streetlamps were already on. The cumulonimbus clouds were massing, expanding, and marching in all directions like an army of menacing Orcs. And these clouds were holding distant rumblings that would soon become louder and louder before they struck the ground with terrific flashes. The omens were everywhere.