Chapter 1 (first half)

     The Orange Flatdraft was the best at being the place to be, the ultra cool, uber chic, hang out spot that denied entry to none and was loved by all. It was a movie theater house on the right side of the county, ten minutes walk from the local school, ten minutes drive from the mall, a bright brown and red building that looked like a grand mansion and smelled like a buttery candy shop. It was a chain of movie theaters, and like all chains, it spread excessively throughout the country. Only one managed to worm its way into Winkel County.

     Winkel County, as any resident loved to mention, was #1 in cheapest movie tickets, #2 in best schools in America, and #3 in diversity. It was also #1 in most dangerous counties to live in but that fact, according to Winkel's mayor, should not detract from the three dollar movie tickets and special popcorn discounts. Unfortunately, that didn't stop people from leaving either.

     The Andrews, who hailed from India, had decided to emigrate to Winkel, America, in fall of 1999, despite their close friend’s and relative’s protests.

     “Why not New York?” Mr. Andrews’s father would ask. “Massachusetts? Even New Jersey?”

     “What if you have children?” cried Mrs. Andrews’s mother. “Think of their future!”

     Despite the well-meaning warnings, the lure of good opportunities could no longer deter Mr. Andrews, a highly prized zoologist, so he and his wife settled down quietly in a safe, well-known suburban neighborhood in Winkel. Mrs. Andrews, being a doctor, had a conveniently high number of opportunities as well and waved these concerns to the back of her mind. Only a year later, when their first child was born, a brown, dark-haired, well-behaved girl, did Mrs. Andrews begin feeling queasy. Her husband tried to reassure her. Don’t worry yourself like this he would say, after she had confided in him, Winkel was safe enough and what were the odds that their daughter, little Janet, would be in any danger? Not entirely convinced, Mrs. Andrews nonetheless put her misgivings aside and resolved to be as careful as possible. So they lived together as a family did, doing the best to raise Janet in the weird little county of Winkel, as family after family left at alarming rates.

     As she grew older, her parent’s decision suited Janet Andrews just fine. She could find no fault with Winkel, other than the slightly than larger death toll, and the less people in Winkel, the less people in line to the Orange Flatdraft, and the faster she could get in.

     She sped up in the movie line quick as a fly, leaned into the ticket counter and said, "One ticket to the Orange Flatdraft, adult ticket, please". The AC from the small ticket window blew a strong, cool current in her face and she waited patiently for Bill, the ticket clerk behind the glass wall, to take notice of what she said.

     "Which movie, ma'am?" Bill was a prematurely balding young man with square green glasses and a pleasantly clashing neon orange uniform. Andrews had heard Bill's horsey, honking voice, magnified ten times through the ticket speaker, for as long as she had been attending movie specials.

     "Blue Grunting Building, please." Andrews eyed him, wondering if he had noticed.

Bill sighed long and hard through his nose and clacked the keyboard monotonously, clicking an invisible key that sputtered out a small, slightly thick rectangular ticket stub.

     "Adult ticket," she said, leaning closer towards him on tiptoes. "Adult!"

     "Three dollars, please."

     She handed him crumpled one dollar bills through the window. "Yesterday I needed a child's ticket."

     He combed through the money carefully, meticulously straightening each bill against the counter.

     "A bummer I have to pay another dollar just cause I'm fourteen." Bill was still counting. Andrews continued, "You know, two dollars for child's ticket, one extra for adults? Bummer I'm turning fourteen today, what a waste of money."

     Bill ignored this.

     "One ticket for 5:55 p.m. Orange Flatdraft is not responsible for mishaps, mischief, and fatal injuries. Popcorn comes with a free beverage, a guard is posted at every movie entrance, pretzels are an extra two bucks with a family meal plan. Thank you for choosing Orange Flatdraft and enjoy your movie."

     Bill slid the ticket across the counter and then said, "Next, please!" even though no one was behind her. Feeling outraged, she walked away and sat down on the street curb, facing away from the ticket stand and Bill. She should go inside, it was dangerous to be out here alone, but the three dollars missing from Andrews’s purse made her feel like she could handle herself. If the Flatdraft considered her an adult, then, by the by, she considered herself one too.

     It was the winding down time of the day, when the sun was beginning to fade, and when most people living in Winkel, after spending a reasonable amount of time at home to recuperate from the day's work, left their houses to enjoy a night out. Families were already shuffling out of over sized sedans in the parking lot, kids leading the flocks towards the ticket stand, making Andrews infinitely glad she had already bought her ticket. The neon sign flashing ORANGE FLATDRAFT overhead buzzed softly, vibrating the air.

     The exit doors on the right side of the building burst open and a small crowd bustled out, talking and laughing. A movie seemed to have ended. Friends busily swapped jokes with each other and Andrews overheard two teenage boys analyzing the last scenes of Blue Grunting Building, a wildly popular film with a terrible ending. She watched them making their way through the parking lot and absently wondered if they bought IMAX or regular.

     Behind her, Bill welcomed visitors with his usual inviting tone and suddenly, like a bird sensing a predator, Andrews jumped up. A tingling sensation tore across her back and as she touched her arms, she found them crawling with goosebumps. Skin along her back spine, the long, skinny area she had never paid much attention to, became unbearably itchy. She looked around in nervous panic, feeling a little foolish. No one else seemed to have noticed anything strange. What was wrong with her? Perhaps she should go inside after all, fourteen really didn’t seem like such a large number anymore, and the three dollars lost was starting to look a lot like a gimmick.

     Before she began to flee inside however, she spotted a dark blue van expertly sliding its way through the parking lot and parking itself in the reserved lane. Andrews let out a relieved breath, put the incident aside (it really was nothing), and smoothed her shirt down guiltily. At least her friends had finally arrived, although she knew well enough that Darby, the speeding driver of the blue van, would not be happy with her. And soon enough, out popped two girls, one brown haired, freckled, and smiling and another much taller and older, more woman than girl, deeply frowning. The former spotting Andrews instantly, ran across the lot and hugged her tightly. Andrews winced, because despite the skinny arms, her friend was painfully strong.

     "How could you walk to the Flatdraft alone?" her best friend, Hidalgo demanded, grinning nonetheless. "Oh man, Darby's gonna kill you!" She grabbed both of Andrews's shoulder and shook them. Mary Hidalgo, who attended Florin Middle School, alongside Andrews, was her best friend in the entire county.

     "I can't believe you didn't wait for Darby!” she said. “Oh yeah,” she added. "Happy birthday!”

     Andrews grinned, her mood rising. “Didn’t you already wish me at school?”

     “Well, yeah. But it feels different now that we’re out of school, doesn’t it? Like it’s really your birthday now. Oh, I almost forgot.” She shoved a hastily wrapped present into Andrews’s hands before she could say another word. “I got your present from my locker.”

     "Wow, thanks!" Andrews said, pleased. "You didn't have to do that."

     Hidalgo brushed her aside and looked around eagerly.

     “So, see anything crazy yet?” Hidalgo teased, though her eyes looked a little serious.

Andrews opened her mouth, debating whether or not to tell her friend that strange sensation she had felt, or hadn’t felt; but, whatever comment that began forming between her lips faded away as soon as she saw the frightening figure heading in their direction.

     Another set of hands grabbed Andrews, this pair larger, meatier, and quite closer to her exposed neck. She looked up at the furious face of Darby Fields.