Morganstown was your average all-American town, in your average part of the Midwest. It was a place where neighbours waved to each other in the street, even if they hated each other; a place where white picket fences ran around yards, and front doors remained unlocked. Sure, there was probably a disgruntled old hick with a sawn off ready as rain to blast you in the face if you came up onto the porch uninvited, but the door was unlocked all the same.
The problem with Morganstown was that there really wasn't much to do. Not that it stopped Misty Silveria and her brother Karl from spending nearly every hour of waking daylight between June and September outside. This was the way it had been, for as long as they could remember.
By some standards the pair were probably a bit old to be out kicking up dust in the great American wilderness. Misty was 18 and Karl 19, their best friends Tammy, Lisa and Franco all being 18 years old too. They all held menial jobs in gas stations, diners, grocery stores or the local library. For a short while, Tammy had worked in a lingerie store, but the conservative town council had run the business out of town. None of the gang worked more than several hours a week - they didn't need to. A few dollars here or there kept their world spinning. The only real exception to the rule was Karl, who had a full time apprenticeship at Dean's car garage.
But all of this small town goodness was about to change. Misty and Karl's parents had filed for divorce. Their mom, Jill, had been having a clandestine affair with Councilman Hargreaves for the past two years. The teenagers still weren't quite sure how their father had found out, but he had drove to the town hall immediately, and beat the Councilman into a bloody stew right there in the car park.
Mark Silveria had been lucky that the Councilman hadn't pressed charges. A confused and contradictory man of God, Councilman Hargreaves accepted that he had trespassed against Mark and his union of marriage with Jill. This hadn't stopped Jill moving in with Hargreaves, nor had it stopped Mark from filing for divorce.
It had been the talk of the town some months back, but the gossip mill had died down, and most people had forgotten or moved on to the next small town scandal. As the divorce finalised, it came as a shock to everyone - even their father, Mark - when Jill announced that her and Councilman Hargreaves were moving away, out east, to the city. They were going to start afresh.
The parents had been straight up with the kids. They were tols that it was entirely their choice who they decided to live with going forward, and nobody would be accused of picking sides. Karl, stubborn and loyal, immediately declared that he would stay in Morganstown with their father. He'd called his mother a whore that night, and even though Mark had given him a clip around the ear and a boot up the ass, he had been secretly glowing with pride that his son had sided with him.
Misty had let the decision eat her up inside for about a week before she finally professed that she would leave Morganstown for big city life. She expected this to cause a rift with Karl, if not with her father, but much to her surprise they were both supportive of her decision.
Jill and Councilman Hargreaves were set to leave town on the 30th of August. That gave Misty exactly two more weeks to enjoy in the Midwest countryside, messing about with her lifelong friends. She loved all of them equally, but part of her felt that she had began to outgrow Morganstown.
"So, what are you gonna do with your last two weeks in Morganstown, city girl?" Lisa had asked her as they drank crappy regional beer at The Lookout.
Slug, the monster of a man that was the landlord, wasn't particularly hot on asking for ID, much to the delight of many teenagers in the town whose interested had turned to alcoholic consumption. Besides, the gang certainly looked older than their age. Misty rocked the rebellious college girl look, wearing denim, her dad's Nirvana shirt, a nose ring, and washed out purple dye in her hair. Karl was a straight faced young man. Tall and sinewy, with jet black hair. Everyone in town assumed Tammy was much older than she was because she'd worked in that smutty lingerie store, even though she always wore dungarees and her mousy brown hair in pigtails. Lisa was in her grocery store uniform. Only Franco betrayed their true age group, with his football jacket and his sorry excuse for a wispy moustache.
"Yeah, you should totally do some mad shit that you've never done before," Karl suggested, "we should go and egg Councilman Hargreaves' house."
His sister responded with a raised eyebrow.
"How old are you?" She asked him.
"Hey, I think it's a pretty solid idea," Franco agreed, "we can err, borrow, my dad's car, and drive-by massacre that fucker's house! It'll be dank as hell!"
Karl leaned over the booth's table and high-fived Franco.
"I can get us the eggs," Lisa said. When Tammy gave her a disapproving look, she just shrugged.
"Councildick Hargreaves fucked my parents' marriage, but so did my mom," Misty said, peeling the label off the brown bottle, "but I gotta live with those two, so I don't think plastering Hargreaves' house with eggs is gonna do me any favours, guys."
Franco, who always seemed to be overcompensating in some way, loudly ordered the gang another round of beers.
"Maybe we should hit Hutch's gym," he said, lowering his voice to hushed tones, "and hide in the locker rooms until he shuts up shop. We'll take in, what, two crates of beer, and I'll get some joints off Rex, and we can have an all night pool party!"
Tammy giggled.
"Hey maybe we can figure out how to turn the jacuzzi and steam room back on too," Lisa interjected, "that shit is so relaxing, but you can't go in there without old guys staring at your butt."
"What a butt it is, Lis," Franco whooped, "can you blame those crusty ol' fucks? Every day they sit in there like prunes looking at each other's pendulum-ass ballsacks, and then little ol' Lisa from the grocery store walks in with them pins and that ass, yo! I'm surprised you didn't give any of those coots a heart attack."
Misty shot beer out of her nose. Karl smacked her on the back as she coughed.
"Franco, you're ridiculous," she managed to say.
Slug arrived with the tray of beers. His stained apron barely contained his enormous belly.
"Don't forget to tip your waitress," he said with a voice of gravel.
He smiled, revealing a hideous maw in which only three or four rotten teeth remained.
"That guy gives me the creeps," Tammy said, as Slug waddled back to the bar.
"Hey, give the guy a break," Franco replied, snatching up another beer, "he lets us drink here, he's good in my books."
"I guess so," Tammy shrugged, "but it feels like it's only gonna be a matter of time before he puts a hand on my ass or something."
Karl took a swig of his fresh beer.
"I wouldn't worry about it," he said, "he probably doesn't even think that way about y'all. Heck, I bet he hasn't seen his own dick in 20 years."
Franco slapped at the table, causing some of the nearest punters to turn and look disapprovingly at them.
The beers went down easily, as did the next round, and the round after that.
"Shit, I know what we could do before sending you off to the city," Franco clicked his fingers, "fuckin' lightbulb moment over here, I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner."
"Well tell us, dumbass," Lisa prompted impatiently.
"Well, we take my dad's car and drive out to the La Morte estate, I double dare your chicken ass to spend the night there!"
Lisa shaked her head.
"Mmhmm, motherfuck that," she spat, "that place is dead-ass haunted."
Franco smacked his forehead with his palm, causing his curls to shake.
"Well no shit," he said, "that's why I suggested it!"
