"Saturday Night Lights" by Chelsea Castonguay

                                                    Saturday Night Lights

            It was Saturday night and the grandparents were out of town. Didn’t really know much about the other kids at the party; a lot had come with friends and it seemed that there were about thirty of them there. Someone had brought a keg, and everyone was outside, enjoying one of the rare warm nights of Maine summer. The raised ranch where the party was at was situated three or four miles from a town; the only neighbors being out of town themselves. It was one of those parties where a few people are invited over for a cook-out and soon it had turned into a full-blown kegger, with people hanging off the rickety front porch, making out under the tree on the lawn and tormenting the pigs in the barn.

            Chelsea wandered around the yard, Smirnoff Twisted in hand, the only drink she would have that night. She never really was one for drinking alcohol, and she didn’t regret her decision as she watched some guy hurling his guts out in the pond. She stood in the dirt driveway, watching some kids race around and around the house on her uncle’s tractor. Only Maine boys could get that excited over a piece of farm equipment, she thought to herself with a wry smile. She felt someone bump against her shoulder and she turned to see a young guy standing there, probably the youngest at the party. He appeared to be fourteen and was skinny, no more than five feet tall. He wore thick, black rimmed glasses and his complexion was that of one who sits in their mom’s basement at a computer for twelve hours a day.

            Oh god, Internet Geek, Chelsea thought, taking a step back. The boy took a step towards her, closing the distance she had made.

            “You’re Chelsea, right?” the kid asked, his voice low and whiny. He sniffled, and wiped his thin nose on the back of his hand, regarding the residue with interest before looking back up at her.

            “Yeah. Who’re you?” she asked rather bluntly. The kid didn’t seem taken aback; he had probably been treated with disregard his whole life.

            “The name’s Ryan, we were in the same biology class in high school.” Chelsea nodded slowly, the remembrance of the nerdy little loner who sat in the back coming back to her faintly. She suddenly remembered that he was one of those kids who the teacher always had to assign a lab partner, even though he was the smartest kid in class, he smelled the worst.

            “What’s up?” she asked nonchalantly, sitting down on a green plastic chaise. Ryan grabbed the seat next to her while Chelsea admired her smooth legs clad in denim capris. God, did she love summer. The Killers came on over the stereo and for several moments she hummed to herself, waiting for Ryan to talk or leave. Finally, after clearing his throat several times, he reached out and laid a tiny hand on her knee. She immediately jerked her knee away and turned to him, shaking her head so her long brown hair flew.

            “What do you want?!” she demanded, leaping to her feet. She looked around for someone, anyone to come get rid of this creep, but everyone was too sloshed to notice the pipsqueak. Her boyfriend was around the side of the house with his friends, most likely drinking directly from the keg and bypassing the plastic cups set on a picnic table.

            “Chelsea, you really need to get out of here,” Ryan said, slowly advancing towards her. She looked around frantically for anywhere to run to, but he had her trapped between a Bronco and an Escalade. She backed up against the Bronco, still holding her nearly empty bottle of Twisted. Ryan leaned forward, using his arms to trap her against the car. In the half-darkness, his face seemed to take on a sinister glow, and the shadows concealed his eyes behind his black rimmed glasses, making him look demonic.

            Stop it!! Stop it!! He’s just had one too many to drink! Chelsea thought anxiously, trying to calm herself.

            “Chelsea, I know that you know about them,” Ryan intoned; keeping her pinned not only with his arms but his foul, stale breath. Chelsea twisted her face away, trying not to breath in the toxic fumes he was exuding.

            “Them, who?” she asked, her voice breathy from trying not to breathe too deeply.

            “The aliens, Chelsea!” Ryan nearly screamed, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her so hard the bottle slipped from her fingers and her teeth chattered together. She squeezed her brown eyes shut, trying to fight off the words he had said.

            No, he’s wrong. You don’t know anything about them. They were a figment of your imagination. Just a kid’s way to deal with your parents’ divorce. You created them, Chels!

            “They were not a figment of your imagination, Chelsea,” Ryan said, abruptly stopping his shaking of her. “They are real, here look,” he thrust his left arm at her, showing her the scar on the inside of his lower arm. Three deep punctures, each about the side of a dime formed a triangle in his skin. Chelsea stared at the punctures, unconsciously raising her fingers to run them across her own triangle shaped scar. Her mother had always told her she did them to herself when she was younger.

            “Hey, creep! Get away from her!” Mikael’s voice cut across the screams and laughter of those at the party. He shoved through the crowd that had gathered around the Escalade and Bronco, although none of the onlookers had bothered to help, Chelsea noted with disgust, and roughly shoved Ryan away. Ryan fell to the ground and his glasses flew off his face, skidding under the Bronco.

            “What’s it going to do to make you stop, creep?” Mikael demanded angrily. Ryan seized his glasses and stood up, the top of his head barely coming to Mikael’s chin.

            “She has a right to know the truth!” he said, his anger making him so pale his pimples stood out on his face in vivid contrast.

            “I’ve caught you skulking around school, her car, outside her house, following her in the mall and now you have the nerve to come here?!” Mikael demanded, seizing Ryan the way he had grabbed Chelsea few moments earlier. Chelsea gasped as Mikael’s words sunk in and she turned to Ryan. “How’d you even hear about this party?”

            “You’ve been stalking me?” she asked Ryan incredously. “How come you didn’t tell me?” she directed at her boyfriend. Mikael turned to her, his blue eyes bright with anger.

            “He kept trying to slip you notes about how he knew you were like him, one of the ‘special ones’ and that ‘they’ would be coming for you soon,” he explained, still holding Ryan by the front of his cheap shirt. “I knew you didn’t want anyone reminding you of that stuff you went through when you were younger, so I tried to keep him away. Apparently, it didn’t work!” he added, glaring at the younger boy he held in his grasp. Ryan cringed, and Chelsea didn’t blame him. Mikael had at least a foot on the kid, and much more lean muscle than Ryan. It didn’t take a genius to see who’d win in a fight. Just before Mikael could begin pummeling the idiot, Chelsea stepped forward and put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

            “Mike, let him go. It’s ok, he didn’t hurt me. The last thing you need is another visit to court,” she said quietly.

            “Are you sure? I doubt anyone here would mind seeing this loser’s face smashed in!” Mike yelled and the crowd cheered drunkenly. Chelsea smiled and leaned up on her toes to whisper in his ear, “Let’s go to my room, ok?” Mike nodded and immediately dropped Ryan, who crumpled to the ground, cowering like a bug. He grabbed Chelsea’s small hand in his large one, and pulled her through the crowd, up the cement walkway and to the back of the house.

            Guys, all you have to do is mention anything near to sex and they loose their focus, she thought, knowing she wouldn’t sleep with him tonight. He was too drunk for anything good to happen.

            Just as they reached the door, screams erupted from the front of the house.

            “What was that?” Mike asked, spinning around. Chelsea shrugged and shivered as the screams grew in volume and numbers.

            “Let’s go see; maybe someone drowned in the pond,” Mike offered enthusiastically, leaping down the stairs and dragging Chelsea with him. He pulled her down to the front of the house, where nearly everyone in the party stood, staring up at the starry sky.

            Ryan stood in the center of the group, which parted to allow Chelsea and Mike to enter the middle.

            “What’s going on?” Mike demanded, holding Chelsea close to him, his Abercrombie-clad body a barrier between Chelsea and Ryan. Ryan looked past Mike, his eyes glinting with victory and fear.

            “I warned you, Chelsea. You didn’t believe me and now they come,” he whispered. Chelsea was unmoved by his melodramatic pose and spoke loudly and sharply.

            “What the hell are you talking about?!” Before Ryan could reply, a girl in the crowd screamed out “There!” and pointed up to the black sky. All eyes followed her direction and a shudder of fear ran through the drunken crowd.

            Above, five stars that had previously just been part of the summer canopy of night began to pulse, growing larger and closer. They formed themselves into a huge V and began to slowly descend upon the group of awestruck teenagers.

            Chelsea stared as the craft came lower and lower, her knees locked and her feet frozen to the ground. Memories began to flood her, and she felt a chill begin at the roots of her hair and go to the ends of her toes. Even though the night was warm and balmy, everyone around her felt the same chill, the same sudden onslaught of cold and all shivered convulsively.

            As if released from a spell, the crowd began to scatter, Ryan and Mike included, although Mike did try to drag Chelsea along with him. She remained rooted in place, her eyes riveted to the craft that still slowly descended, her eyes drawn to the lights she had seen many times before, and still hoped she was imagining.