It All Started In A McDonald's...

This is it.

This is the one you've all been waiting for.

Or one of them.

Stupid author had a 16000 word chapter so had to split it up.

I am not stupid, I value content.

Stop being smart and authorly.

No. Anyway. Sorry for the wait. At least I published them both on the same day I guess.

Aren't you a wonderful author.

I am, aren't I?

---

"I would say you look beautiful but I know you'd hate that. You do look very smart though," Dad said as I modelled my Homecoming outfit, frowning.

"Feels weird," was all I could think and say, tugging at the collar. I'd never worn a smart shirt before, or anything like a turtleneck sweater where the collar was close to the neck. It was a sensation I absolutely could not get used to it. "Apparently some schools force kids to wear shirts all day. I'd choke."

"Tell me about it, I don't miss those days at all," Dad said, shaking his head. "You'll get used to it. I'm proud you can tie a tie though."

I was proud of that too. I guess my middle school's class's Harry Potter obsession had paid off, since everyone wanted to tie their Hogwarts tie and so we had many, many lessons on how to do so when the teachers relented. That was probably why none of us knew math, except studious Peter, who would always sit in the corner and study instead of partaking in the free time. I always thought he was weird back then.

I still think he's weird now, but I can at least understand him a little better.

And I bet he couldn't tie his own tie without the aid of YouTube.

Honestly, before I was a bit worried about being shown up by everyone in the room. But I kinda felt overdressed now. After all, with my bright hair, dead eyes and now all-black outfit with Doc Martens... well, all I needed was some dramatic eye shadow, and I could pass as emo. That wasn't really my intention.

My other issue was finding a way to sneak in my hoodie. It didn't exactly fit into a formal event, plus – why the hell would I bring it when I also had a blazer? I was hoping to just be able to sneak it into the cloakroom and hope no one questioned it. I knew, I just knew that the one day I wasn't prepared, I would need it. And I was not taking any chances.

I checked my phone. "Nearly seven. I should probably start walking up."

"Alright," Dad said, settling back down into his armchair as though for a nap. "Call me when you're fed up, I'll walk back with you. Don't want you walking back at midnight by yourself, after all."

"I won't last til midnight, but alright," I said, snagging my hoodie off the back of my own armchair. "Bye then."

"Bye."

As I closed the door to my apartment, I hoped against all hope this Homecoming would actually have something at least mildly interesting.

But maybe I should stop jinxing it.

*

Peter's heart thudded against his ribcage at thrice the normal speed as he sat in the back of Liz's dad's car. He was surprised Liz couldn't hear it. A cold sweat had started up the moment her dad had opened the door for him – as though nothing was wrong. When, in fact, every single thing about this was wrong.

Even now, his hands were fidgeting, he chewed his tongue nervously, and tried desperately not to seem totally terrified and tried to remain totally cool with it. Which, he suspected, he was barely doing a good job of. It was lucky the other two car occupants weren't paying him much visual attention.