So they went to the afterparty; just across the street from the school and Carly’s old house, where last year’s festivities resulted in a fire that destroyed the kitchen. Students habitually partied where they were just out of reach from the faculty; just far enough to reduce prom royalty to commoners. The entire swim team, even some members of the freshmen division, were already crowding the floor of Sydney's two-story starter-castle… the afterparty had started awhile ago, since prom was patrolled by teachers who warned you about dancing too close. Gentry watched stumbling-drunk 14-year-olds bump and grind each other while the upperclassmen pantsed and stripped them. The uneasy suspicion that if Carly wasn’t taking photos, someone else was, briefly crossed his mind. He didn’t want any more pictures. He didn’t want Kylie either, which why he’d abandoned her somewhere in the crowd.
He slipped out the open door and dashed across the street, squeezing through the gate that opened the football field in the back of the school. It stretched in front of him, a yawning abyss of dusty space. The metal goalpost jutted against the overcast night sky, covering the low yellow moon and casting a long shadow over him.
His feet shuffled through the clipped weedy grass, and ears listened closely for any sign he was being followed. There were just moments he didn’t want anyone around. Especially not—Zach was really something. He wondered how Zach had talked him into that. He wondered what would happen if that crazy son of bitch actually were his boyfriend. If they had gone to the prom together. If he’d never left his house, if his father had never hurt him. If, then, when, all amounted to never. Never was, never will be. And that made the night even colder, because all this time there was nothing he wanted more than the hot rush of control.
He’d be happy once he had control. Control who loved him, who hurt him, what he wanted and what he would give… that he would have so much control that he would no longer be a victim— no longer shivering under the blankets afraid of the dark and praying nervously for the dawn.
Well, he didn’t pray anymore, and he’d succeeded in controlling everything. Fragments of the original plan still lingered in his mind, but they didn’t seem relevant anymore. He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know.
It was then that his thoughts were interrupted by a nervous rustling in the bushes. A moment later a small creature darted past him, stopping abruptly at a distance to gaze at him with its twinkling dark eyes. Gentry glared back at it, and it twitched its tiny red body before darting back off into the night and disappearing into the undergrowth.